Vaticide

By Coty Clogston

A raging holy war carries on, consuming everything in its path. Kabol is drawn yet again into the crosshairs. Only this time, he’s fighting alongside a new ally—a faction living out of the underground, beasts wielding strange and foreign tech, ready to hold their own against the further encroaching armies of the Avon. Meanwhile, a secret team consisting of old friends and old foes searching for Kabol moves undetected. They need to find him before the enemy does.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jun 6, 2019
• ISBN: 9781728313900

Book preview

© 2019 Coty Clogston. All rights reserved.

Cover credit @ Kat Tschupp

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse  06/06/2019

ISBN: 978-1-7283-1391-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-7283-1389-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-7283-1390-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019906746

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

1

Gordon felt his head hit the roof of the vehicle.

The personnel carrier was well armored and heavy, but that didn’t stop it from bouncing violently whenever the vehicle ran over some rubble. The suspension on the wheels was completely useless, perhaps due to the snow outside, doing almost as much damage to his insides as the ensuing laughs from the other soldiers.

To call them soldiers would be inaccurate: More like armed civilians. Three mutts with their dog-like snouts snickered, not including him; seven leonas with their cat-like tails curled, sitting silent save for one who chuckled. The only thing in common with them all was the conscription notice at their door three months ago.

After training, him and the others in this godforsaken APC were given an option. Go on a volunteer mission to supply care to Swethish forces, or wait in line to get on a boat and join a possible war against Rome.

One option had them charging head first into something they didn’t need to be involved in and were woefully unprepared for, and the other had a lot of snow. No matter how bad his head gets hit, he wasn’t going to fight a war he doesn’t belong in.

The more Gordon thought about it, the less he imagined the snow and debris was a reason for the bumps, but the old age of the vehicle along with the century it was not in use.

Another bump made him hit his head. One of the mutts laughed at the same joke. Everyone had seatbelts instead of him. His own belt snapped twenty knocks ago.

So, One of the leonas, Percy was his name, asked, anyone know what’s up? I mean, about Swethin.

Gordon answered, If you thought what the Avon did to Albion was terrible, I heard this place could make our occupied time look like schoolyard bullying.

Oi! I heard it all over the news, One of the mutts said, The Avon blew up this, Naseer burned down that.

Nobody important died yet. The mutt who always seemed to laugh at a bonked head said, You can hardly call it a war. They came in without a calling card or a knock and just starting killing.

I heard it wasn’t that bad at all. The final mutt said. I heard more people died trying to take back Albion than fighting here in Swethin.

I don’t think that’s anywhere as true as you think. Gordon stated matter-of-factly, You ever seen— the hell do they call the blokes… a Seraph?

Aye, Percy said, I saw one in London once. Bloody threw a guy into a shop window. Poor mate was blitzed and pissed out of his mind, whiskey in hand. The Seraph was kind enough to start sobering him up after a wisecrack or two.

You ever seen one of their knives? Gordon pressed, trying to remember every detail of a silver, power-armored avian that looked more machine than man. I saw one once. I was in the middle of Southend when that warship flew over. Pulled out a slick knife. It was strange, looked like it had a blue hue near the edges, like it was lined with sapphire. He was a nice guy, actually, he showed it to me like it was a normal day on the job burning down houses. He had me cornered and he said, he asked if I wanted to see something interesting and took it out. Told me not to worry, the knife wasn’t for killing.

What kind of military-issued combat knife isn’t used for killing? One of the mutts asked.

Ask him. Percy nodded his head to the other side of the APC, towards the front.

There was a lone seat just behind the driver, perhaps used for a radio operator or a commander, maybe even a spare gunner should the one in front be shot out of the turret. In the seat was a slim leona with his tin helmet on his head.

He had amber eyes that leaned on being red, dark grey fur that bordered on being black, and a white triangle on his muzzle that shot up to his brown and well-groomed hair. It was more than enough to show he was an ordinary man with not a single visible scar. What was also peculiar about him was how he was dressed.

Everyone in the APC was dressed in lighter grey attire, as well as heavy coats for the winter. He, however, wore a green outfit. A plate that covered his chest along with a tin, brimmed hat and two shoulder pauldrons were all the armor he ever wore.

On them was the symbol of a brown medic’s cross in a white circle. Over the cross was something else. What looked to be a large red skull of a cat with boney ears rested and overlaid the cross. On his breastplate, the Union Jack flag, New Albion’s own standard. Just beside his left armpit was accompanied by the same symbol.

Soon, Gordon realized the man was holding a knife, and sharpening it gently against a whetting stone. It was silent enough that the hardly audible music on the radio was louder. On closer inspection, it wasn’t just any knife; it belonged to a Seraph.

Hey, Gordon spoke up, How did you get that knife? What’s it used for if not for killing?

The leona ignored him and simply continued rubbing the blade against his stone.

Gordon turned back to the only man whose name he had known since entering the vehicle, What’s his problem?

He’s a murderer. Percy muttered through his teeth and turned to face the man, Convict, we’re talking to you. The leona said. The group was quiet, but there was still no reply from the man. Another bump came from nowhere, forcing Gordon to hit his head again. No one laughed this time. Hey, Percy kicked the muzzle of his own submachine gun under his chair as light as possible but enough to draw attention to it, answer him.

Still no word from the stranger.

With those marks on your armor, we can shoot you and it wouldn’t even be a crime. Percy threatened, leaning his body closer to the man. How many people did you kill to get those skulls?

The amber eyed cat sat the whetting stone back into his bag beneath his chair and placed his knife in a sheath that was strapped across his chest, located just above his flag and red skull. He spoke in a surprisingly low pitch, at least compared to Percy’s, voice. Civilians, soldiers, or both?

The man’s smooth voice did little to distract Gordon from the horrible implications the man had said.

Both.

Percy narrowed his eyes.

Considering whom we are up against… The man paused for a moment and looked directly at the weapon beneath Percy, I’ve killed more people than that gun ever will.

Before Percy could reply, the vehicle shook violently and stopped.

Status? The driver was heard.

Over the radio, Gordon heard the reason clear enough. A soldier called, The APC 2 hit a mine. They lost a wheel. Looks like no one was hurt too badly.

Everyone fan out and make a perimeter. The commanding officer ordered.

The APC’s back door lowered down and the troops began to debus. Gordon was the first to get out. He jogged ten paces out, pulling out his Callum SMG and aiming down its iron sights.

His armored truck was in the middle of it all, two behind and two in front. Looking around and doing a quick recon, he could see the ruins of buildings that lined the narrow street. He couldn’t call them buildings anymore, most of them weren’t in one piece.

Bricks, lumber and other debris littered the ground, making Gordon wonder how his head didn’t get hit twice as often as it did.

One of the first things that struck him was the cold air. There was some snow here and there; perhaps that’s how the mine was hidden, but it wasn’t cold enough to write home about thanks to his coat and tail-sleeve.

The night sky didn’t help. The sun set earlier than anywhere else in New Albion; while it should be dusk, it looks like the sunset was hours ago. The soldiers pulled out their flashlights immediately upon debussing.

A mechanic rushed by him towards the second vehicle before the officer from before gave an order, Keep your eyes open. Best-case scenario, the mine belongs to the wolfen. Worst case, this is a kill box.

Gordon thought for a moment about how both of those scenarios were equally scary.

He shown his torch on the nearby structures seeing nothing at all. A few minutes passed, and the coast was as clear as the snow was white. Gordon turned his attention to a nearby flumf of snow falling onto solid ground, seemingly from a mound behind him.

There was nothing here, but he wasn’t senseless enough to believe there was just a random mine set here. Perhaps it was a left over from a previous battle?

No. The shells that destroyed these houses surely would have had enough impact and shockwave to set off a mine. It was definitely placed here. Perhaps by fleeing wolfen, or avians.

But as Gordon began inspecting his surroundings, he looked back at the snow mound behind him. Something was intriguing about the pile. There was a brown stain left behind from where the snow had fallen. It wasn’t dirt.

He moved in closer to investigate, and reached out to brush away the snow. He wished he hadn’t. The first thing he saw was fur. He brushed again, revealing what he dreaded most.

The lifeless face of a wolfen. Eyes frozen open, skull bashed in, blood that had turned solid and brown painted the face down the eyes and nostrils. His ears were also absent.

Gordon turned away to the officer, ready to warn him that the wolfen are not the cause for their disruption. As he turned he noticed something that hadn’t been there before. A footprint in the snow, the very white flakes that had fallen moments before. But he had saw no one walk by him.

As he opened his mouth to warn his comrades, someone got to it first.

What the hell is that?! A soldier called.

Everyone motioned their lights and sights to where the crier was looking. On top of a building was a figure standing in plain sight.

It was an avian in gold armor and mask. He was covered completely by the metal. For a moment Gordon thought he was looking at a Seraph like he had seen long ago. But this one was different, slimmer and less armored.

The slits of the helmet’s eyes turned from red to white once everyone had their sights on him. The creature held out his hands to his sides, as if he were to surrender, as if he were to show his palms were weaponless.

Then, as soon as he came, he had vanished.

In thin air, the creature disappeared. Not immediately, more like slowly fading out of reality. Gordon’s fur had already been bristled in preparation for a fight, but now he was numb; now he could not understand if he were dreaming or not.

His ear flickered as he heard the crunching of snow beside him and a terrible cry in pain.

He turned to see the golden creature had stabbed Percy’s throat from behind.

2

Kai bit off a piece of chocolate from his bar.

His legs felt stiff after the helicopter ride. The Deutschlander hound had never liked being in the air. When he was in a car crash, he was normally in the bigger truck. When he was in a plane crash, he was just in a glider that’s getting very hot, with some parachutes should he want to chicken out. But if he were to be in a helicopter crash, he’d have to twiddle his thumbs in a ball of fire. Considering the Avon were here just a few months ago, along with their nasty habit of shooting things out of the sky with ease, he wasn’t looking forward to today.

As he stepped out of the aircraft, he admired some of the scenery before getting bored almost immediately.

There was a single trail to the cathedral ahead with many routes that led to scenery. The path on his left would go into a hedge maze that was so complicated it could fool even the smartest of toddlers. The dead ends were simply educational with a statue to give you a taste of je ne sais quoi, tricking you into thinking you’re not just staring at a rock.

The path to his right led to a fountain of the nigh-century-old emperor known only as the self-named Cerberus. It seemed every statue of him had him sat amongst a throne of thorns in the middle of a pond. And this one wasn’t special. Ruby eyes, old and clunky power armor, feral wolf skulls for shoulders, and all of it made of metal.

Below was a plaque that was nothing special. ‘Ode to Our Savior, the Daemon Cerberus.’ No phrase is closer to perfect to describe New Albion. Find something to brag about, slap gems and a slogan on it. That statues in Deutschland were made of marble and had him standing and raising a torch, instead of sitting like a lazy mongrel.Kai was, for a moment, distracted that the main path was lined with gravestones. That’s the perfect way to invite someone over: remind them of the fragility of life before they sip the wine.

In front of the mutt was a glorious chapel, by no means mundane. Gargoyles leaned over almost every gutter, as if the souls they were made to scare were somehow in the drops of rain; geodes invaded almost every tip amongst the spikes to keep pesky birds from roosting on the steeples or edges of the shingled roof. The windows…every window was stained glass and showing some image of a battle, a priest, a prophet, or any troglodyte that said something profound.

It was a special day, in both formal and informal tense.

In his off hand was a letter from the very merry Queen of Albion herself, and she had invited him in for a chat. He has no idea why, or what it was about, just that the family seal was on it to show how important he was. He was also here for the free food, but it was British food so the perk canceled itself out.

The church was built around the time when churches actually meant something. It was big enough that it was a place of worship, then a school, then a museum, then a place of worship again. Why a place where friends met needed to be so big was beyond him.

He walked through the garden of statues outside the place. Before it was appropriated for the Queen’s use, these too used to mean something. Months ago, the Avon stole several pieces of art from museums and homes. But not here, not from their own church.

Why some big named Brit would want to talk to him was not something he could predict, and he may as well make his day interesting.

The path in front of his was broken as a roundabout made a hole in the road were a small floral garden was planted. He stepped off the path and through the flowers, on the flowers, and then away from the flowers as he got back onto the path on the other side. He was a simple man, he wouldn’t let plants waste his time. He even snagged a blossom from a bush as he was passing through, giving it a whiff and placing it in his coat pocket.

He finished his chocolate and carried the wrapper until he could find a pile of garbage.

A man in a fancy military suit approached him, arm outstretched, with the rank of Corporal on his shoulder. Exactly what Kai was looking for.

May I take your coat, sir? He asked.

Kai slapped his hand, leaving the trash behind in the guard’s palm, tugging on his collar, No, it’s mine. He wiped a bit of chocolate from his lips and moved on with his life.

He finally got a look at the inside of the place…and only a few seconds in his eyes began to hurt. Colored light filtered in from the stained windows, and made up most of the light in the room. It wasn’t necessary, as there seemed to have been a candelabra every two square meters. He had to take his eyes off the décor and decided to look at the ceiling where no one in their right mind would put one.

That was a mistake. Above was a tapestry of Cerberus outside of his armor. A grey wolfen with red eyes stared down at the plebian and pious that must walk below. Next to Cerberus was Avon, an avian that was his right-hand man and most trusted adviser who definitely had nothing to do with Cerberus’ demise, nothing at all in the slightest; who definitely didn’t reform Cerberus’ own religion to turn against the wolfen and name it after himself. He was so humble!

Below him were all the united Generals, Caesars, and governors that helped him run his empire: A white foxen, known as Dmitri Swift the Hunter Okhotnik, who was in charge of half of the wildland known as Russia. And beside him was another, much greyer, amber eyed foxen, known as Calamity whose real name was erased from history due to him trying to succeed his half of Russia to Asian states; luckily, his brother Dimitri made sure that didn’t happen. And below them were people not worth remembering, considering they all killed each other off trying to take control of Europa after Cerberus’s passing.

They are all dead now, so why someone put them on a ceiling to look down people’s shirt would require someone cleverer than Kai to figure out.

He then turned his eyes to the floor to hopefully find something worthy to stare at, only to be disgusted that they too were decorated with images from The Recounting. Was there anything this place people won’t try to make artistic? There’s beauty in simplicity. Just make a door and call it a day. He didn’t need reminders from the history of Europa from now to almost a hundred years ago with Cerberus, to a hundred years before that with the Great War for Europa, or a hundred years before that which he may have forgotten about due to how surprisingly irrelevant 300 years ago was to the present.

The Great War started due to the wolfen of Muscovy claiming that Rome belonged to them. It was somewhat true, that a son of a Caesar was married to them long before. When the Byzantine Empire, the spinoff to First Rome, not the sequel, no matter how many times they thought so, fell into disarray, the title of Rome was up for grabs. The Holy Roman Empire tried claiming it, Romania tried claiming it, Roma itself tried claiming it, but it was ultimately Muscovy that had the rights. Russia spent several centuries awaiting their chance, trying to get all the clans together. Whenever they tried to press their claim, no one acknowledged it; they needed an army. Eventually, they fell under rule of the Cabal of Clan Minsk of Muscovy, of Cabal Muscovy. A clan that started a war so powerful and brutal, that every other Clan from beyond the Caucasus mountains, through Serbia, to the most western tip of what was once Norway at the time before Swethin happened. Millions of wolfen barreled down on Europa, and even to this day, gorges and ravines and rivers and cliffs scarred the land that was once clean in an attempt to stop the invasion.

A Caucasian invasion, Kai liked calling it that. Rolled of the tongue easily, like Asian persuasion. Or Dalmatian defenestration, and Malaysian euthanasian.

Kai was glad no one was able to read his thoughts.

He continued down the main hall, noticing the gothic architecture and how every glass, carpet, wall, stone floor, ceiling and anything the eye can see was decorated to the point it looked like they ran out of things to spend money on before they ran out of money. He wondered what the bathrooms looked like, or if the janitor’s closet would reflect gems if he were to shine a flashlight in it.

New Albion must have spent more ducats on this church than their military. He’d laugh at that thought if it was a joke, though it clearly wasn’t. A single ducat could buy a cup of coffee or a duo of ducats could buy a booster pack of trading cards. He wondered just how many ducats bought this lavish life rather than spent on coffee to make the country more productive.

He had to take his mind off of it all. He had to think about something, just anything else.

It occurred to him just how important he may be. He was the officer that trained a fifth of every conscript from New Albion during the time the Avon babysat the island for them. If it wasn’t for his humiliation at the hands of one of the cadets, he’d be getting a medal and a new shiny pair of boots from the Highness. That or he would be undercompensated for dealing with pampered civilians that had enough money to build a palace-church-thingy in the middle of nowhere, fit for a queen!

It’s not that he hated the art or skill that was put into it, but rather he thought of all the that could be fed with the ducats rather than how a humble religion requires gold plated goblins watching over the toiletries.

As he reached the end of the hall, he stopped at the door to the meeting room that was once a sanctuary. A leona that was brown furred, and nothing else to note, was sitting at a desk beside the door with documents. Beside the door, behind the desk, were two guards. One was New Albion; the other was Deutschland.

Name? The brown leona asked.

Kai, He said.

And last name?

The mutt was silent for a moment, realizing his error as the comment caught him off guard. Kai. You know what, the name isn’t important. What is important is—

You aren’t on the list. The man said, looking through his notes.

What is important, before I was rudely interrupted, is this: Kai held the letter up with his right hand and slapped it on the desk.

The man looked at the parchment and grabbed it gently and reading it out loud softly. Siegfried Kai, by order of—

—The Queen of New Albion, Kai recited, then interjected, It was a long helicopter ride, I had not much to do— You are to report to the specified location listed below by the end of the month. When arrived, you are to speak to her immediately and no one else… Kai paused, I think I just did what I wasn’t supposed to, and I blame you. And the Queen will too if you do not let me in.

The leona was still silent, reading everything over. He pulled out a sheet of paper and compared the stamps at the bottom with Kai’s own letter. Everything seems to match. She is in the middle of an important meeting though; I would suggest not to bother. Kai snatched his letter from his hand and placed it in his pocket over his heart before he turned to face the doors.

The letter said immediately. Kai rushed to the double doors and tackled them. The guards tried to get in his way, but he was bigger and he threw his entire weight into them. He slammed through the doors, knocking them open and bringing the guards in with him, Surprise—Oh, crap!

The mutt was greeted with several dozen guns all around the room pointing at him. Marshals, Generals, officers and royal guards pointed their weapons at the mutt with the intent to fire should he make one more move.

Restrain him! A Marshal at the other end of the room yelled and the guardsmen were more than willing to comply.

Stop.

The room, once tense and restless, has then become silent at the voice of a woman. Kai helped himself to his feet and saw that on the other end of the room, where the altar once was, sat the youngest person he had ever seen in charge. A hound of golden retriever blood and fur sat slouched on a throne. Couldn’t have been out of her twenties. She seemed to bear scars on her eyes and cuts at the base of her ears.

This was Queen Isabelle.

This is ridiculous, The Marshal from before, a white furred leona with a strong jaw and a well pronounce apple in his throat said. Looking at the Queen, he continued. He has ignored an important regulation and the code of conduct. He will not be in this room while I am.

He already is. Isabelle motioned her hand towards Kai.

He can be armed. The Marshal said again.

I am, Kai admitted, patting his stiletto on his waist, Though it is merely a knife. Calm yourselves; if I was here to kill the Queen, I’d be using a bomb big enough to blow up a church. Kai motioned his hands around with a look of awe, I mean by the gods, look at this! How many important people are in this room? The Avon either know about this and are planting a bomb as we speak, or they know about this and are going to send someone to taunt on how they could be planting a bomb as we speak. Maybe both! Whose idea was this? Kai locked eyes with the Marshal that wasn’t fond of him and pointed, Was it you? You sound like a bitch, I bet it was you.

This must have triggered something in the Marshal, he began using his outside voice, I will not have an insubordinate soldier address me like that.

I’m not in your army, so you don’t have to worry about an insubordinate soldier, mate.

He turned his attention to the Queen, I will not stand idly by while he makes a mockery of me.

Then sit down. The Queen said, leering at the man. After a few silent seconds, the Marshal muttered a curse and pulled his seat under him. The Queen motioned her hand for Kai to come to her, Never mind Marshal Ackerman. What did the letter say about you seeing me?

Immediately. He responded as he strutted down the side of the large table full of gentlemen.

See? Immediately. She recited and turned to Ackerman, And you tried to stop him, and you call him insubordinate? Oh, well, you didn’t know. Kai, do be a dear and wait next to me, I have to slog through this.

Don’t make this sound mundane when it is blatantly important. Ackerman continued, We aren’t just talking about a war with Avon, we’re talking about a war with Rome. Many sects of the Avon religion are vassalized by Rome, their second Holy City is Roma. To declare a formal war on Naseer will bring us into a fight we simply cannot win. And war with the Avon is bad enough. We have not the military nor technology to fight them, only numbers, and we will lose that advantage should Rome be involved. Need I remind you: half a year ago we hardly had or needed a military?

We have one now, most of whom trained by me. Kai smirked.

Irrelevant! Ackerman responded, Rome has reserved supply, better roads, allies with Mesopotamia and Assyria, they can trade with Asia for technology, skill and goods we can barely fathom. They own the straits and canals to most of the Mediterranean. Their merchant fleet is powerful enough that pirates won’t attack them, in fact because of Rome there aren’t any pirates in or around Europa. They have colonies in Africa they could pull men from. A spare Nimbus near the Fortress Colonies in Oceania. Another Nimbus at the Persian Gulf. Not including the warship that was just over us not too long ago. We haven’t enough resources to last long against them, and a single pompous nobody we’ve never heard of will not change that fact.

Of course, you’ve heard of me; you just don’t know it. Kai crossed his arms, Former Sergeant Kai. Formally known as: Demon-class Stormtrooper, Praetorian Slayer, Friendly Fire Expert, Sergeant Kai; in that order. I invented the tactic of Kai’s Leap, the finest way to jump off a building, with a bomb, onto a giant mech, and not die hor-

I still never heard of you.

I wasn’t finished.

Kai, Isabell spoke, We’re in the middle of a debate. Considering the only person who has seen combat in the past ten years is you, I’d like your opinion.

Go to war. He said, It’s not just Albion. You forgot about your allies, and not-enemies who are fighting Rome. Greece is in revolt, Carthage is defending invasion with not much success, while Deutschland is defending with comparatively great success, Spain and Gaul are resisting as well. If you go in and cut the head off the snake of the Avon sect, you would destroy one enemy before you even go to war.

Ackerman scoffed, So your plan is to not worry about losing the war, so long as we don’t run out of heads to throw into a wall?

Kai turned to the Marshal with a dumbfounded look, I’m sorry, I must ask: is that not how you got New Albion back? Was that not the plan all along? Whose idea was it to send hundreds of thousands of people into occupied territory without combat readiness? Honestly, what was your plan? Bury the enemy in bodies? Do you honestly think the Avon retreated because they were afraid? They left because they knew they could get away with it with much less casualties. The more of you they killed—and they could have killed a lot—the less support they would receive from their homes or gods or even their own troops. You fell right into their palms and they laughed all the way to Swethin. And no, that was not my plan.

Kai helped himself and took a drink of water from a glass on Ackerman’s desk, holding a finger up to show he wasn’t finished, before setting it down.

My plan involves surgical strikes, the ones more accurate than the operation that turned me into the man I am today. The ones that Cerberus himself-

Wait, Ackerman stated, I don’t get that analogy. What exactly are you implying in that first statement? Military oper—?

Kai picked up the glass cup and slammed it on the desk, shattering it, leaving a puddle of glass shards and water on the desk.

That was the second time you interrupted me. Kai spoke through his teeth, Please act like an adult and make sure there’s not a third one. He then shot his head to the other end of the table. And who the hell are you?

Every set of eyes in the room followed Kai’s gaze. At the doorway stood a foxen. Not just any foxen, but one in armor suitable for combat on his torso; normal brown pants with light boots; along with a brown leather cape that drooped down from his left shoulder and over his arm, stopping at his hips.

His other arm was armor free save for a beige glove with padded knuckles. The hand waved above the fox’s head in a form of greeting, Hello! He said, Don’t mind me, I’ll wait.

Kai didn’t continue. He only narrowed his eyes. He’s seen his outfit before. That’s a Roman.

No? The newcomer asked, Then I’ll talk. He took a bow, I go by Cypher. He rose, And I am here on behalf of the Avon and Rome with a message.

How come he got to come in without a ruckus and I didn’t? Kai asked the board of Marshals.

Cypher showed what he had in his hand, a letter. With the Queen’s seal of approval.

The board turned their heads to Isabelle, but she was silent.

Oh, don’t look at her. He said, waving the parchment, It was an easy forge; she doesn’t know who I am. But I know whom you are. He began walking, pointing to Marshals and saying their names. Wow, there’s a lot of important people here. Marshal Banner, how was your sister’s birthday? The song you couldn’t remember the name of was ‘Behind Me.’ Marshal Cornell, don’t forget your anniversary; divorces are just as important as the wedding, enjoy your separation. Brigadier Foss, congratulations on graduating New Albion OTC, did you know it’s plagiarism to allow other people do your homework and you get the credit?

He went on, naming everyone who sat on the board and reminding them how scary it is to have someone know so much about them.

Cypher continued until he got to Kai. The mutt waited for the orange foxen to say something great about him, like how he is clearly superior. The foxen simply stood there for a silent moment before pointing, No idea who you are.

Kai put on a frown and muttered a curse in German.

The foxen added, Kannst du Deutsch sprechen?

Ja. Kai added, speaking in his native tongue, Können Sie auch Deutsch?

Of course, Cypher continued, backing up, It was in preparation for when people start calling it a Romantic language. He turned around, smirking, You’ll learn to appreciate it.

Kai muttered another curse as the smug canine stepped in front of the Queen.

His hearty attitude disappeared as he bowed once again, Your Majesty. You are the only one in this entire room who has earned my respect. He got up and placed his right hand behind his back, straightening his posture, "Not because of title but because you’ve managed to hide from me. No one has ever done that before.

And if I heard correctly, I have arrived just in time. He cleared his throat, While Rome does support Naseer and his title, we do not support his actions. He paused, Let me remember how to English. Caesar does not support such an assault. His glorious people do, as per faith and free will. You see, there were terrorist cells hidden in Swethin, as well as the Russian wastelands and since you can’t call those places ‘governed’ due to the constant wars and inbreeding, Naseer took it upon himself to see to their destruction. News came that Deutschland planned to evacuate the wolfen from Swethin to here to Deutschland, all wolfen, background-checked or not, and supporting terrorist groups is seen no less than an act of war. And since they planned to take the wolfen here…I’m sure you can do math. Naseer did not have permission to take his crusade to New Albion, nor did he have support of the church. Leave him to Rome and we will make due with him after the war and the church will reimburse you for the damages. Or…

He shrugged, before he continued, You could kill the people’s hero. It’s up to you. I hope I don’t have to remind you what you’re up against. We have more infantry than you have artillery shells, shells which we’ve counted by the way and it’s 5 to 1 to be precise. Oh! He snapped his fingers and turned around, Marshal Ackerman, you’re low on toothpaste, wouldn’t want a third cavity, would we? He turned back to the Queen, To put it short, He raised his right arm, In this hand, we offer you peace. He raised his other arm under the cape, what was remaining of it, And in this hand, we offer- Oh, crap! Where’s the rest of it?

He held a grin at his own joke. The room was silent though.

At least it was until Kai broke the silence, pointing, Oh, I get it! he said plainly, he began clapping, Give him a hand!

The room was still quiet, Kai looked around, wondering why they didn’t chime in. When he turned to the Queen, he noticed all elegance and jest was long gone from the room.

To say Isabelle was furious would be doing her injustice. She glared at the foxen, her hands shaking from the humiliation and rage Cypher had brought her. She then stepped to her feet, silencing Kai’s clap as she took a deep breath and sighed.

By now everyone was on their feet, bracing themselves to get