Over a thousand paladins departed the capital at the dawn of the promised date. Leading them from the very front was young Emperor Karolus, who wore a newly-made regalia specially designed to embody and to show the noble might of Francia. On his head glittered a golden crown; his black robes fluttered in the wind as he strode forth armored in streaks of red and silver. This was no ceremonial garment. It was the impression of a ruler willing to fight for the sake of his people.

  For Karolus, this was his very first voyage outside the castle. It was the first time he stepped foot beyond the boundaries and confines of this once restrictive nation; and yet, he left not with grudge or regret, but with certainty. For he knew his home would be waiting for him no matter the mountains he crossed.

  Those to serve as his aide during the long march were two Peers, Sir Ruggiero and Sir Lucius. The others stayed behind to protect the empire. Regardless of the emperor’s wishes for peace, he couldn’t deny that his absence would leave Francia vulnerable, and all it would take was one betrayal, a slyly hidden force, for the cities under his reign to come under attack. The Peers were spread all about the empire’s borders. In the capital, Sir Roland maintained a stalwart guard.

  The summit taking place this day would decide the fate of the entire continent, and so his Holiness’s guards clenched their weapons and marched forth with a staunch determination. Only the best and the brightest were handpicked to come.

  Thanks to Lucius’s recommendations, however, some of the players were allowed to attend as well. Of course the gentleman was accompanied by his regular trio. Surprisingly, Miss Enapay and her fellows wished to come too. The warrioress said she couldn’t allow herself to rot forever, and so even if a battle were to take place she needed to face her fears and confront the threat of death boldly.

  So it was that the emperor’s army trampled through the roads gradually winding past their familiar homesteads. Unlike the previous expedition with Mister Renaud, there were no beasts or creatures that attacked them. The once untamed wilds of the border regions were barren, its occupants long since fled from the massive procession of blade and steel. Only a few hours later did they finally arrive at Lucius’s prepared stage.

  “Woah,” Karolus muttered, turning to the gentleman and nudging his side. “I thought it was just going to be a few tables and maybe some banners. Is this really the right place?”

  Lucius gave the young man a confident smile. “Of course, of course! Doesn’t it set the mood?”

  “It’s definitely… bold.”

  A grand display unfolded before Karolus’s eyes. What was once a flat, dull green field had been transformed into a giant colosseum of concrete, the architecture reminiscent of classical roman structures mixed with a bit of Frankish influence. It had a large circular shape, wide entrances perfect for armies to storm through just in case, as well as a lavish table made of melted swords that rested at the very center.

  Lucius had built the beauty all by himself, with some assistance from the Starlit Shop. The project cost a pretty penny and drained quite a bit of his collected coins, but staring at his work now the gentleman felt nothing but pride. He already had experience rebuilding the Christ the Redeemer statue after, accidentally, reanimating the original using the souls of countless indigenous tribesmen slaughtered in Brazil and the grudges of their untimely deaths, so it had taken no time at all!

  The paladins were quite baffled by the sight, but nonetheless they entered, steadily pouring into the massive atrium inside. The space was big enough to hold an entire city’s worth of people inside.

  Ruggiero glanced around, his face cast entirely in surprise. “You did all this in merely a month, Sir Lucius?”

  “Indeed I did.”

  “How curious. Where was this constructional talent whilst the capital needed laborers?”

  The gentleman shrugged. “Why do you think it was completed so quickly? Come now, an undertaking of that magnitude would have ordinarily required half a year’s worth of time. I could’ve completed it sooner were it not for my duties in uncovering Sir Ganelon’s conspirators.”

  Besides, how boring would it be if such matters were to be handled in so quick and convenient a shortcut? No, this was a chance for the community to unite, to heal and to bond through shared labor. It made for a heartwarming lesson of man's cooperation despite the tragedies they might face.

  Putting aside Lucius’s skill for design, the Franks were the first to arrive, and so Karolus ordered them to stand a distance away before seating himself at the table and waiting. Lucius and Sir Ruggiero were the only ones permitted to remain by his side, lest the visiting nations be intimidated by their army.

  Time marched on. Lucius could feel the air growing tighter, more tense, as the sounds of approaching footsteps grew deafening. Everyone felt it in their bones, the rhythmic stomp, the vibrations rumbling the earth from thousands upon thousands of boots trampling in unison. They were here. They had answered the emperor’s call.

  From each separate entrance, the lords of the continent revealed themselves. To the left came the fur-clad Saxons from Britannia with their menacing axes and gruff battle hardened faces, while the right held the penitents of Lombardy, who dressed themselves all in white and wore obscured veils as if in perpetual mourning. Those of the middle were familiar, for their colorful tunics and curved swords belonged to none other than the Saracens.

  Each nation poured into the mock colosseum and had their attending warriors stand cautiously at the rear. Then, they sent forth their respective leaders.

  Emir-al-Balijan of Arabia was the first to arrive at the table, his rainbow cloak shimmering in full display. He stared at Karolus for a long moment, inspecting him. In his eyes flashed a hint of wariness, but that feeling soon gave way for amusement to shine clear.

  “So we finally meet, heir to Francia’s throne,” he said, sitting down with his body poised and tall. “I’ve heard a lot about your character. Sir Lucius’s letters, especially, sings your praises to no end. I hope his words prove correct after this day.”

  The next to approach was a hulking, bear-like goliath of a man, with a white scraggly beard and muscles that looked capable of deflecting blades. He wore a fur and animal leather coat like his Saxon subjects, and unlike typical royalty he had no jewels or frivolous decorations. Instead a long, winding chain wrapped around his forearms, curling up to his fingers and making what resembled a pair of steel knuckles.

  The Saxon Lord gave no greeting to Karolus and promptly slumped into his seat with a low grumble.

  “This, emperor? No. Still boy. Haha… thin, frail. No hair on chest.”

  He spoke in a crude amalgamation of the Frankish language, yet still somehow managed to convey his disappointment quite bluntly. Karolus didn’t seem bothered, though. He merely bid his guest a respectful nod and then replied in what Lucius assumed to be the Saxons’ language.

  “The wolf must take care in the hunt of sheep, for beneath its wool might hide a crueler, smarter predator”

  The Saxon Lord straightened up, perplexed by the emperor’s response.

  “You speak the words of brigands,” he said. “I thought your kind regarded it a filthy tongue.”

  “I had the opportunity to study it over the years. What kind of ruler would I be if I didn’t know the language of those I’d forge bonds with?”

  The man stayed silent, his arms crossed and guarded. After a little while he broke out into a crude laugh and then slammed his arm on the table.

  “I am Widukind, he who united the warring tribes,” Lord Widukind declared. “Perhaps you are different from the madman your father was. I will see.”

  The next person to arrive was the King of Lombardy, whose body and flesh was entirely hidden under a bramble of thorns and plated silver mail. Where would ordinarily be his face was instead replaced by an eerie mask carved to resemble the features of a man crying out in perpetual terror, alongside a pointed cone-like helm. The King uttered not a sound as he joined the table. He refused to even look at his fellow lords, clasping his hands together and praying silently with his head bowed down.

  “Welcome, King Desiderius,” Karolus humbly said. “Thank you for accepting my invitation.”

  The masked penitent didn’t reply, nor did he so much as twitch. He remained unnervingly still.

  “You have undertaken the oath of silence, a noble vow. Please do not feel pressured to speak. I will respect your penance and proceed as in accordance to the Katholic customs. If you wish to participate, please do so with this quill and paper.”

  Right on cue, Lucius reached into his suitpocket and pulled out the aforementioned tools, passing them over to the King of Lombards. There were no thanks or pleasantries exchanged. Desiderius quietly grabbed the quill and then made a cupped gesture with his hands, a sign of acknowledgement.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  With that, only one seat remained empty. Sir Ruggiero looked a bit sad, for the missing nation was the one he once called his home, the Moors where thrived the advance of technology. The Peer had long come to accept his dual identities and backgrounds, but still he would have liked to see his people again. Despite over an hour of waiting, however, they had still yet to appear. Either they were late or simply weren’t planning to attend.

  But just as Karolus sighed and moved to start the summit, a loud horn rang through the air. There was the creaking of gears, the shrill release of steam, and from the distance came a rapidly approaching vehicle similar to the flying train Ruggiero commanded — only this one traveled by land. Its wheels were covered in a curious crystal layer that prevented the vehicle’s gargantuan weight from sinking into the ground.

  “Do forgive our tardiness,” a brash, female voice blared from what sounded like a speaker. “Callibrating the Express Locomotive to the proper levels took some tinkering, but we’re here now. Hopefully you haven’t started yet, hm?”

  The group gawked at the new arrival as the locomotive came to a roaring stop right beside the colosseum’s entrance. From its doors, a dark-skinned woman dressed like a mechanic in oily garbs jumped out and casually plopped herself on the last seat.

  “Well, well, look who we have here?” she said, leaning back and giving Ruggiero a grin thinly veiled in malice. “The traitor’s looking quite comfy with his new people. Oh, congrats on your marriage by the way! Your wife is a very unfortunate woman, Atlantes.”

  Ruggiero turned stiff and took a deep breath, before replying with an unshaken resolve. “Let not our past grudges impede the way to peace, Maleficent. You’re the president now. I know you’re not so petty a woman to refuse a good deal when freely offered.”

  “Oh, please. Now you’re even speaking like them. But you are right about one thing: I never let go of an opportunity, even if it’s from someone I despise.”

  President Maleficent cackled to herself, before turning her attention to the young emperor awkwardly waiting to speak.

  “Aren’t you young,” she teased. “My time is precious I’ll have you know, but I just had to come over and see what all this fuss is about. You at least look cuter than your old man.”

  “Oh, um, thanks?” Karolus replied.

  Maleficent was even more blunt than the emperor had expected. He had to take great care not to show his fluster, for to do so would mean reducing his status to a common child rather than the emperor of a nation. The battle had already started. In order to retain the upper hand, he needed to show all the rulers here that he wasn’t someone to be looked down on.

  “Thank you for your kind words, President Maleficent, and I shall do my best to make this a summit you won’t regret attending.”

  Karolus cleared his throat and then stood up, beckoning for the other rulers to listen. One by one these great and powerful leaders of the continent soon cast their gaze on the young emperor. Some still retained grudges. Others merely wished to see what kind of man Francia’s new monarch was, and whether or not they could take advantage of him. Karolus knew all of this, and so without fanciful pleas or sly games of wordplay, he spoke to them exactly of what he desired.

  “Lords from afar, I wish to create an alliance,” he said, voice clear and without pause. “I know my nation has committed many wrongs. If you choose not to forgive us, then that’s okay. Those are our consequences and we’ll continue to bear them. But look at me when I say that we can’t let the land stay like this. For all these years, we’ve allowed hate, and scorn, and fear spread without end, and I don’t really blame you. It’s hard to forget about what Pepin did. The scars he left behind still impacts us, and that’s why I want to work together and create a future where someone like him can never seize power again.”

  The initial reactions to Karolus’s speech were dull, to say the least. Though they saw in the young emperor a true passion, words were merely that, and without good reasoning or accountability then that passion would be nothing more than naive, idealistic drivel.

  “Francia is already the master of all,” Lord Widukind said with a grunt. “Why hide behind words like alliances, when your fangs already dig in our necks?”

  “Because Francia is no longer the conqueror it was before,” Karolus replied. “It may take some time, but I plan to formally withdraw our influence from each nation. That means those of Britannia, Moors, Arabia, and Lombardy will no longer be considered our vassal states. You won’t need to learn our language; you’ll no longer have to force yourself to learn our religion. There’ll still have to be some talk about which borders to draw. When that time comes, I hope to do so while gathered around like this.”

  President Maleficent cackled as if the emperor’s proposal was the most amusing joke she had ever heard. “Doing charity work? Far be it for me to refuse. It’s just… well, do you really think that’s enough? After forcing your rules, exploiting our mines, taking whatever you please and robbing us of any chance to actually make a living of our own, do you think just running off and pretending that nothing happened will make us thank you? What, do you want a trophy and a pat on the back as well?”

  Her voice soon turned scathing, and she flung her head back with a disappointed sigh. “Listen, boy. I don’t care if the flag we hang is gold or green. That’s just hollow patriotism. It doesn’t put food on the table, and it doesn’t get us the research materials we need. I came here because I was hoping that, maybe, we could come to a suitable arrangement — something tangible, physical, beneficial for me and the Crystologists I have to care for. If all you have to offer in return for this alliance is empty apologies, then I’d rather take my chances going alone.”

  The president had a point. If Karolus’s only course of action was to take back what Francia had already caused, then the Moors were no better off than they were before the war.

  Fortunately for her, the young emperor had a juicy bait prepared just for this moment.

  “You’re right, President Maleficent. It wouldn’t be fair to the Moors at all.”

  The woman snapped to attention, bewildered by Karolus’s honesty. “Oh?”

  “The alliance I want to make is one where all of us stand to gain, to profit and to enrich the daily lives of our people. That’s why I hope you’ll listen to my offer.”

  “... I like what I’m hearing. Do go on!”

  Karolus nodded and turned to whisper into Lucius’s ear. Not a second later, the gentleman brought out a large drawn map detailing the various territories and geography of the continent.

  “Ruggiero has told me much about the Crystologists,” the emperor continued. “Rather than religion, your citizens value progress and education. That strange machine you rode on is a result of that research, right? It’s impressive, but also quite costly I imagine. You need a ton of what us Franks call the Holy Gems in order to mass produce it.”

  Maleficent glared at Ruggiero. “Blabbering about our secrets, Atlantes? I should’ve expected as much.” The president seemed hostile at first, but Lucius could see a slight twinkle in her eye, one that grew brighter the more Karolus spoke. “You’re right. The Express Locomotive took me a decade to invent, and even then we exhausted our crystal supply just to make the one. Unlike those juicy mountains of yours, we only have a few mines to excavate from.”

  “If you had a steady, consistent way to get more materials, then your research would progress much faster, right?”

  Maleficent’s lips curled into a wry smile. “More than you could imagine.”

  “Then… if you agree to joining the alliance, Francia will give you exclusive rights to mine our biggest crystal deposit.”

  “The one in Mount Caroline? Now that’s to my taste. With the ores buried there, we could ramp up production thricefold. That sounds a little bit too generous, though… what’s the catch?”

  Karolus shook his head. “You’ll have to mine it yourself, with your own people and your own equipment. But other than that all I ask is that you sell your technology with everyone.”

  “Sell, not gift?”

  “Right! As you said, your people have to make a living somehow. By selling your machines and inventions, everyone will benefit from it. Imagine how wonderful it would be if, in the far future, the people could travel between cities in hours instead of days. If your locomotive was widespread, then merchants wouldn’t have to worry about being attacked by beasts or losing their products. The world would be more connected. We’d be able to go farther than ever before.”

  In response to that, the Emir of Arabia chimed in to support Karolus. “I would love to have one of those machines myself, Lady Maleficent. With its speed and protection, my caravans could stock finer products, those too precious or brittle to last long journeys. Instead of every few weeks or a month I could visit the Moors regularly. When commerce circulates, so too does greater wealth.”

  President Maleficent crossed her legs and pondered for a long while. This was the opportunity she sought; in exchange for opening their borders, the Crystologists of the Moors could research and invent all they wished. But doing so would also risk making their enemies stronger. Who was to say that their technology wouldn’t one day be used against them? Perhaps it would be better to hoard their knowledge…

  And yet, to do so would mean sullying her very soul as a researcher. For who could possibly resist the temptation of having a fat budget?

  “Emperor Karolus,” Maleficent said, standing up and tossing the young man a small gilded token. “With that, you’re officially recognized as a friend of the Moors. You have yourself a deal.”

  Karolus’s eyes brightened, and he narrowly stumbled over himself out of excitement. “Thank you, Miss President.”

  “Don’t worry about it. But there’s still one problem we’ll have to solve together, yes?”

  He nodded. “Mount Caroline is in the Demon King’s territory. If we’re to safely recover it, then we have to slay its ruler.”

  “And so you’ll need my Crystologists. That’s your true goal, isn’t it? You want us all to help you kill those creepy things.”

  But to that, Karolus refused. “I won’t deny that I’d like to have more support, but this alliance is meant to last far longer than just until the Demon King is dead. I wish for it to be the thread that connects us, our nations and people, even when we ourselves have long passed. But in order for such a reality to come true the demon spawn has to be removed. For as long as they remain, there will never be true peace on the continent.”

  “Kid, you don’t need to flatter me with more of that unity talk. I’m already convinced.”

  Maleficent pointed her thumb at the locomotive resting behind. “If it means we can make more of those beauties, I’m sure I can round up some volunteers. My people are itching to test out our new weapons anyway; just tell me the date and I’ll be there.”

  Thus did Karolus succeed in recruiting his first ally. It was a monumental achievement, for with the token in his hand the young emperor had proved that, despite their differences, despite their past, there was hope of moving on. The Emir of Arabia was already willing to work with Francia, so his involvement was less uncertain.

  But now, through persuasion and a little confidence, Karolus used his own ability to sway another once destined to be an enemy. His dreams of fostering a peaceful continent weren’t so impossible after all.

  However… the President of the Moors was the one with the least resentment toward Francia. Karolus still had two more nations to win over.

  Two lords who would never be moved by the promise of wealth.

  The Esteemed Gentlepeople of the , to whom I am forever grateful.

  [The Distinguishedly Dandy Gentlemen Hall of Fame]