The seating was divided into five key factions:
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The Estra Faction – Representing the Kingdom of Estra, known for its staunch loyalty to the Ancorna Empire.
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The Hliem Faction – Representing the Hliem Kingdom, a landlocked territory renowned for its vast mineral wealth.
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The Foster Liam Faction – Representing the independent city-kingdom of Foster Liam, a hub of commerce and innovation.
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The Lonala Faction – Representing the Lonala Kingdom, famed for its fertile plains and agricultural strength.
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The Imperial Faction – Representing the Ancorna Empire itself, including members of the imperial family, ministers, and envoys.
The Council of Vassal States was an entity unlike any other in the empire. Established during the creation of the Ancorna Empire over 700 years ago, it was a union of kingdoms that had voluntarily joined the empire in exchange for a degree of autonomy. In principle, decisions affecting the vassal states were made through a majority vote in council sessions, with the empire pledging to honor the council’s rulings—a cornerstone of the original pact.
This pact had been devised by the empire’s founder, who believed the council would devolve into infighting, weakening the vassal states and leading them to willingly surrender their autonomy. Yet, contrary to those expectations, the council remained united, wielding substantial influence. It held such power that, under imperial law, a unanimous vote could even dissolve the vassal states’ ties to the empire entirely—a topic increasingly whispered among the vassal nobility, though no formal motion for secession had ever been made.
Seated among the Imperial Faction, Prince William was a striking presence. His sharp eyes scanned the rows of seats above, where his elder brother, Prince Landon, sat alongside the Justice Minister in the more prestigious section for speakers. Landon appeared to be engaged in a lively conversation, his composed demeanor exuding confidence.
William gritted his teeth, his frustration boiling over. Somehow, Landon had convinced the Justice Minister to allow him to speak during the session—a privilege rarely afforded to anyone outside the highest echelons of the imperial court. It was a maneuver William found unsurprising but infuriating. The ministers of the imperial court rarely concerned themselves with the southern vassal states, often treating their issues with calculated indifference.
With a heavy, exasperated sigh, William turned to Eugene, seated beside him. “You told me we’d encounter a stroke of luck by coming here,” William muttered bitterly. “And yet, look at that pompous bastard. He’s going to speak for the imperial family and bask in the glory once the Morgen Dukedom situation is resolved.”
Eugene, with a calm and calculating demeanor, offered a knowing smile. “Patience, Your Highness. Landon may steal the spotlight for now, but that won’t last. When we reach the Morgen Dukedom to eradicate the magical beasts, we will uncover something far greater. Something that will give you the edge you need in the succession.”
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William huffed, his annoyance only partially abated by Eugene’s reassurances. “He always gets the upper hand,” he grumbled under his breath.
Eugene leaned closer, his voice steady and deliberate. “Do not underestimate fate, Your Highness. The imperial family has always thrived on perseverance and opportunity. This time will be no different.”
Before William could respond, the resonant sound of a ceremonial staff striking the central table echoed through the grand auditorium, silencing the murmurs of the assembly. The adjudicator, a high priest of Solious stood tall, his flowing white robes adorned with intricate gold embroidery. His presence commanded reverence as his piercing gaze swept across the room.
With deliberate authority, he began, “Welcome, esteemed members of the council, to Session 1403, convened in the year 1804 following the Absolute Being’s demise.”
The hall grew utterly silent, save for the faint rustle of robes and whispers of anticipation.
“This session carries a weight far greater than most,” the adjudicator continued, his voice calm but grave. “Today, higher-ranking representatives of each faction have assembled to address an urgent crisis threatening the stability of the vassal states. As dictated by our laws, let us proceed without undue deliberation.” Turning toward the high seats of the Estra Faction, he gestured respectfully. “Prince Finel Gustav, representing the Kingdom of Estra, you have called forth this emergency meeting. Please enlighten us on the cause of this assembly.”
Prince Finel Gustav, rose from his seat. With deliberate precision, he took a jasmine flower inscribed with faint magical runes from his pocket. Crushing it between his fingers, the runes shimmered briefly, amplifying his voice to carry across the vast hall.
“Honored members of the council,” Finel began, his tone formal yet edged with urgency. “I once again offer my apologies for summoning this meeting on such short notice. However, the matter at hand demands immediate attention. We have received a direct report from Duke Morgen that an eight-floor dungeon has spawned within his territory. Given the unprecedented threat this poses, the royal court of Estra has deemed it imperative to act swiftly.”
He paused, allowing the gravity of his words to sink in before continuing. “Additionally, intelligence suggests that the Conley Empire may exploit this situation to advance into the mountainous regions of the Morgen Dukedom. Such a move could destabilize not only Estra but the entire region of vassal states.”
The assembly erupted into murmurs, nobles and ministers exchanging concerned glances. The presence of a dungeon was already a perilous matter. The suggestion of foreign intervention heightened the stakes even further.
From the imperial faction’s seats, Prince Landon stood, his polished demeanor exuding authority. “The imperial court shares your concerns, Prince Finel,” he declared, his voice amplified by magic. “We recognize the dire implications of this situation and fully support mobilizing a large strike team to contain the dungeon’s threat and prevent any encroachments into the Morgen Dukedom.”
His statement, however, did not go unchallenged. A sharp voice rang out from the opposite side of the chamber, originating from the Foster Liam Faction’s section. All eyes turned to Minister Ryan Frank, a prominent duke of the city-kingdom, who had become a vocal critic of imperial policies.
“With all due respect to the imperial court and the imperial family, Your Highness,” Ryan began, his tone edged with both defiance and decorum, “it is highly inappropriate to rush into action merely because this dungeon lies within the territory of your uncle, Duke Morgen. This smacks of favoritism and undermines the autonomy of the vassal states.”
The room buzzed with muted agreement from several factions, particularly those harboring growing discontent with imperial influence. Foster Liam, a thriving city-kingdom, had become a nexus for such dissent in recent years.
Ryan pressed on, undeterred by the visible tension his words provoked. “Furthermore, the claim of Conley’s supposed advances into the mountains is purely speculative. We have yet to see a single shred of verifiable evidence to support this assertion. Prejudiced assumptions are a poor foundation for council decisions.”
His gaze shifted briefly to the Estra delegation before returning to Landon. “If anything, this matter should be considered an internal issue for the Kingdom of Estra to resolve independently. The council should not overstep its bounds in aiding a kingdom that has sufficient resources to address this on its own.”
The chamber buzzed anew with debate, the sharp divide in opinion palpable. The adjudicator raised his staff again, the echo of its strike cutting through the noise.
“Order, esteemed members,” he commanded firmly, restoring silence. “The council shall deliberate on the merits of the proposals presented. Let us proceed with measured discourse and uphold the unity upon which this body was founded.”