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Emergency sessions of the Congress were not unusual these days.
Minister Cabarra was used to being called from her supper. Over the past several months, nothing but bad news has come from the Ealantic fleet. She was never surprised anymore when the call came.
The runner had looked haggard and frantic when she opened her door. He said the premier was beside himself and demanded the Congress meet immediately.
So, she left her husband and children, threw on her formal cloak, and headed across the city to the chamber.
Sanctuaron had been the capital of the republic for seven centuries. The Chamber of Congress, along with the House Administratus and the premier’s manor, had taken three and a half decades to construct. They stood long and proud, not just as symbols of power but as symbols of authority and the art and culture of the republic.
A thousand years ago, the Cromah people had been attacked on all sides by the kings of the small nations to their borders, a coordinated attack to overrun a peaceful people.
Rather than resist with equal force, they had persuaded their attackers that they could have a better life, that their kings were despots who cared nothing for their wellbeing, and that they were naught but fodder for the wealthy and powerful.
The scholars of that age had been incredible orators, and they had won the hearts and minds of their attackers. Soon, each army had been turned back against their crown, and each of the despotic leaders had been deposed.
The brilliant minds of that age had determined that only a government by the people and for the people would bring about the fair and equitable nation that the former subjects of the kings desired, while the peaceful clans of the Cromah would remain secure.
With that, they created the Congress. Every three years elections would be held, and the members of Congress would run to retain their place. They could only hold that place for three terms, guaranteeing a renewal of governance every decade.
Every village, town, and city would send three representatives to the Congress, where the ministers would debate policy and law, working to provide their countrymen with the most fair and equitable government in the world.
The Administratus was made up of the territorial governors, each also elected to three-year terms, never more than three total. They would go over the bills and edicts of the Congress, alter them to stay in the same language as the existing legal framework, and forward the final items to the premier.
The premier was elected to no more than two five-year terms and was the chief administrator and spokesperson of the Cromah Republic. His or her power lay in oversight of the Militia and Navy and final signing of bills and edicts into law. Without the backing of the Congress or Administratus, they had nothing.
More than once, a power-hungry premier had been deposed and replaced by the next in line - the prime minister of the Congress.
This form of fair governance had been in place for a thousand years, eventually overtaking the whole of the continent through treaties and alliances. The Cromah maintained a navy and an army to protect themselves.
The sorcerers were directed by the wizards, who themselves answered to the Congress. Engines had been designed and constructed to provide electricity across the lands, as well as to provide their military with weapons equal to or greater than those of the outside world.
For nine centuries they had peace. The Navy dealt with pirates and the occasional incursion by the Wesific Islanders before they had been brought into the republic. The Militia had handled strikes and occasional uprisings by disgruntled farmers, all the while training and preparing if needed to defend against foreign incursions.
But they stood alone, and they had peace for generations.
Minister Cabarra had been a professor of history at the University of Sanctuaron before she had answered the call and taken up public service five years ago. She knew all-too-well what had transpired on the next continent across the oceans.
A small kingdom called Hustav had raged a bloody war with their neighbor to the north - a kingdom called Alcarn. Both armies had fought for decades, ravaging each other’s lands and working tirelessly to wipe each other out. The clans of the Troppok, a nation to their west, decided they had worn one another out to the point of being easy pickings and attacked.
While the Hustav and Alcarn did not like one another, they equally despised the Troppok. They joined what remained of their forces and fought off the Troppok.
United against a common enemy, they eventually overtook the Troppok clans, eliminated their leaders, and took their people as their own.
The aging King of Hustav had no heir, and the Alcarn ruler had been without a father since he’d been barely a teen. They made peace and combined their kingdoms, renaming themselves the Huscarn.
For three decades, the Kingdom of Huscarn rebuilt the lands of the three peoples it encompassed. They worked long and hard to clean up the devastation of their half-century of warfare. And for a time, they were at peace.
The next kingdom to the east was making its fortune on the sea. The Kingdom of Huscarn had no access to the sea, save a fast-moving river that could not be navigated by the technology of the era.
One night, an unexpectedly large army overran the nation to their east, and soon the Huscarn kingdom was almost double in size.
The kings to the west of the Huscarn did not like this in the least, and so they united, preparing their armies to meet any Huscarn invasion. But the leaders of the Huscarn were cleverer than that. They poisoned one of the kings and somehow assassinated the other, taking the crowns with very little bloodshed, once more doubling their nation’s size.
The remaining nations of the continent were rightly fearful of the growing power of the Huscarn, and though they made efforts and preparations to guard against their anticipated incursions, it would not be enough to stop them. One by one, the kingdoms of the continent were toppled by the Huscarn juggernaut until the entire continent fell under the Huscarn banner.
Emboldened by their accomplishments, the royal family threw off the title of kingdom, and declared themselves an empire. For the next three hundred and twenty years, the Empire of Huscarn flourished.
For a time, the Huscarn, controlling one continent, and the Cromah, controlling the other, were at peace. The nations traded, had ambassadors on one another’s shores, and respected the autonomy of the other. This lasted for over two centuries.
Then the empress died. Her sons, Halvi and Macraw, took up arms against one another, eventually splitting the army as they fought for dominance. Macraw, shrewd and cunning, snuck into the palace, at the time occupied by his elder brother, and killed him by his own hand.
Emperor Macraw swiftly took control of the empire, and he dispatched the ambassadors of Cromah while withdrawing his from the Cromah Republic home. For over two decades, the Huscarn isolated themselves and did not venture outside their continent.
The leaders of the Cromah Republic found this distressing, and quietly built up their Naval forces, while continuing to send ambassadors - who were immediately turned away. They suspected that the Huscarn had intentions on their continent, and spies learned that, though isolated, the Huscarn were expanding their war machine.
One morning, the Wesific Islanders witnessed a mass of sails on the horizon. In a matter of hours, the coastal villages were in ruin, and the islands were overrun by Huscarn forces.
Diplomacy was wasted, as the first few ambassadors never returned, save their heads. No declaration was made, but the Huscarn made it clear they were at war with the Cromah.
All too quickly, the Huscarn had made fortresses of the islands. Attempts on the part of the Cromah to reclaim them all failed, and soon they considered it a loss, working to focus instead on protecting the continental lands.
Eventually, staging from both the continent and the islands, the Huscarn landed troops upon the Wesific coast. Slowly, they pressed and took several cities.
But the Cromah Navy had been building up, and soon they managed to keep the Huscarn from reinforcing their forces from the main continent. Only their island stronghold could move anything to the mainland. Over time, their incursion had been reduced to a few towns along the Wesific coast.
A bold move by a combined naval and militia force had landed troops on the Wesific coast of the Huscarn one night, and soon they had taken control of a coastal city, turning it into their own stronghold.
That was how things stood for the next sixty-five years. The forces would fight one another on occasion, and the navies would battle, but they built up forces at an equal pace and they remained at a stalemate for decades.
Emperor Macraw passed away, and his son, Dromm, assumed the crown. He did not withdraw his forces, but the war of aggression ground to a near halt. Each side continued to build up their forces, but neither moved against the other, apart from a skirmish from time to time.
Dromm spent thirty years on the throne, and while he did accept Cromah ambassadors, their talks were pointless, and nothing changed. He passed on.
Edvin claimed the crown next. For a decade, he made no aggressive moves. But then, he bombarded his own coastal city and chased the Cromah forces into the hills inland.
Naval attacks resumed, and soon the navies engaged one another in continuous battles. The Wesific forces were pretty evenly matched, but the Cromah dominated the Ealantic ocean. Their superior naval forces successfully kept the Huscarn at bay, and things remained static off Cromah’s western coast.
Then, almost a year ago, everything had changed. The Ealantic Huscarn Naval forces became unpredictably aggressive and began to systematically wipe out Cromah forces. For a while it was random, and it was swift, employing tactics none had ever seen before.
Cromah intelligence came to learn a single commodore of the Huscarn Navy was responsible, quite possibly without permission from her superiors. But knowing the identity of their aggressor was not enough to locate and stop her.
A few months ago, matters worsened. All Huscarn forces sought out and obliterated any Cromah ships on the Ealantic. The naval leadership and the premier were becoming increasingly concerned by the new, more aggressive Huscarn posture, and they readied their militia for a possible incursion by Huscarn forces.
This was the fifth time an emergency session of the Congress was called after dark, so Minister Cabarra had no doubt the Huscarn were doing something new and destructive.
She crossed the streets, which were teeming with the usual crowds. It was supper time, most of the businesses had closed for the day, and only a few merchants and various folk walked about the city.
Sanctuaron was a peaceful city, so it was perfectly safe for a middle-aged woman such as Minister Cabarra to walk alone after dark.
Lamps illuminated the streets, powered by sorcerous engines on the outskirts of the city. It was a crisp night, which was not unusual for late spring. The marble, glass, and concrete facades of the buildings reflected the light back into the cobblestone streets, which were well maintained and clean. Minister Cabarra was proud of her city.
She turned a corner and was immediately granted access through the gate into the inner courtyards of the government campus. She saw other ministers moving smartly towards their chambers and also saw the local governor making his way there.
If he had been called, something big was going on.
Minister Cabarra quickened her pace. She entered the immense hall, and no one was lingering in the foyer as was the norm. She moved through, and entered the tall, heavy double doors into the chamber.
The other ministers were already taking their seats, and the premier was standing at the speaker’s pulpit, surrounded by the Congressional Quorum.
Every year they rotated who sat on Quorum. This was the three people who ran the meetings of the Congress - the prime minister, the secretary, and the exchequer. They simply steered the Congress and were always placed by popular vote.
Cabarra was favored to take over as either prime minister or secretary in the next round, in fact.
She took her seat, beside the other local minister already present, Projov.
“Moffit,” she greeted him.
“Omrah,” he responded grimly.
“Do you have any idea what is going on?” she questioned softly.
“No. But I have never seen the premier arrive here ahead of the rest of us before. This cannot be good news.”
Cabarra took note of that. The current premier, Yul Tropoli, was the second during her time as a congresswoman. He was better than his predecessor about attending sessions of Congress, but he, too, devoted his energies to other activities most of the time.
The local governor had taken his place in the Administratus Gallery, off to the left of the dais. Joint meetings of the three bodies took place in this hall as it was the largest and most able to accommodate such. Another governor she did not recognize was there as well, looking particularly agitated.
Sometimes, Minister Projov seemed able to read her mind. “That’s Governor Linn, from the Northern Ealantic Province.”
And that explained why Cabarra did not recognize him. “Didn’t he just take office only a few weeks ago?”
“That he did,” stated Minister Dan Bartokk as he took his seat. The immense man was not quick on his feet. He was finishing out his third and final term on the Congress. He was the third representative of Sanctuaron. “And I have word he arrived here on a fast horse he nearly killed.”
“None of this bodes well,” said Moffit.
Before more could be said, the prime minister had sounded the gong. The murmured voices of the Congress were dimmed to silence.
“Ministers, Premier Yul Tropoli,” introduced the prime minister, his voice giving nothing away.
The architects of this hall had been very, very clever, and they had managed to create an acoustic space that enhanced and projected sound from the dais out to the hall. Normal levels of speech could carry well in here.
“Ministers, Administratus executives present, I have called this emergency session to relay the gravest of news,” began the premier.
Cabarra noted now that he looked disheveled and unwell. His eyes, even from this distance, looked haunted.
He obviously intended to press forward. “The increase in Naval activity in the Ealantic by the Huscarn has taken a new and sinister dimension, my Lords and Ladies. Not only are our fleets being ravaged with greater frequency and more disastrous results, but it would seem even our civilians are no longer safe.”
His tone darkened - if that were possible. “A Huscarn fleet attacked the northern seaside village of Drovan, wiping out almost the entirety of their fishing fleet, and leveling half the village. Two days later, they bombarded the town of Trappa-en-Mar, doing incredible damage to the entire coastal business community, and soiling the gold-sand beaches.”
Cries and shouts of outrage rang out, before the premier raised his hands and retook control. “We believe that it was the same Huscarn Commodore that had been considered rogue. That is until the fleet we were assembling to locate this rogue was assailed and obliterated. The survivors were put on longboats and sent home, which is how we hold any knowledge of this. But our own Admiral Grayback has been lost.”
More cries and shouts and calls to take up arms followed. Cabarra found herself stunned. Attacking civilian targets had not occurred in over sixty-five years. It was brutal. It was unthinkable. This time the Huscarn were going too far.
“We are doing all that we can to seek out and eliminate this new threat. But truth be told, Ministers, we have a far greater problem. Our Ealantic Navy is being systematically wiped out. The once passive Huscarn fleets are no longer so. They are on the attack, and we are in danger of losing our dominance of the Ealantic.”
“I thought our Navy dominated the Ealantic!” shouted an obviously disgruntled minister.
“Yes! Yes! How are our forces suddenly being so readily out-fought?” shouted another.
“We must respond in kind!” came another minister’s shout.
More shouting, and then the gong was rung again to reclaim their attention. “Ministers! Ministers! All we can do now is take action! We cannot portage ships from the Wesific fleet as it has become increasingly clear that the overall Huscarn tactics are shifting, and they are going on the offensive. We need to vote emergency funds and to find workers, skilled and unskilled, for our shipyards. We need to work smartly to rebuild before it is too late!”
More shouts, angry, despairing. Cabarra admitted to herself this looked worse than anything she had seen before.
“The way I hear it,” whispered Minister Bartokk, “this will be too little, too late. Our fleet is being smashed, and no amount of emergency ship building will be able to overcome that.”
“I thought our forces outnumbered theirs?” whispered back Minister Projov.
Minister Bartok blew out his lips, making an angry noise. “They did, but the Navy waited too long to take the increased Huscarn aggression seriously. Now, we may be the ones who are outnumbered.”
Cabarra did not like to hear that at all.
“Further, Ministers,” continued Premier Tropoli, “we need to recruit for the Navy and Militia. If this is the new tactics of the Huscarn, we do not doubt it is only a matter of time until they attempt to land more forces on our sovereign shores.”
More shouts came, but one actually cut above the random others. “Premier! What can the wizards do to help us!?”
“Silence!” roared the prime minister. That got everyone’s attention.
The premier pointed. “Minister Ulfmin, that is a fair question. Our wizards have been instructed to work on new engines that might be able to provide some sort of defense for our coastal villages. We are also looking to move some cannonade to our undefended villages as they would appear to be under threat.”
“What, Premier, do we do if the threat of the Huscarn worsens? How can we protect our republic, how can we defend our people, if they make war like this?” came a loud shout.
Cabarra wanted the answer to that as well.
The premier took a deep breath. “The republic is a thousand years old! The empire will not overtake us! We will not surrender! By all the goddesses, we will stand our ground!”
Cabarra heard the premier’s words, but they did not sink in. How could anyone stand their ground when it quaked beneath them, clearly intent on upheaval?