Although assassination was a common tactic throughout the Great War, the peak of murdering each other behind enemy lines was reached roughly four decades in. Although I, as the author, have pledged to remain unbiased and to add as little of my own perspective as possible into the text, my unique position does allow me to in detail about the choices made. It is a fruitless effort for one to pretend they have biases regarding a subject when they have lived through it themselves so these sections shall be divided into a general analysis and my own personal experiences. History is nothing more than a grand collection of personal experiences after all.

To begin, assassination has remained a common tactic throughout all history. The Empire of Arascus had a notable advantage from the onset due to their backing of Baalka, of Disease, Fer, of Beasthood, Malam, of Hatred, and, most notably, Irinika, of Darkness. Those four individuals and their respective followers were the largest blight in the back lines of the Pantheon. Whereas on the White Pantheon side, individuals or ancient, Divine-less cults were used for dirty work whilst being supported by Helenna’s borderline omniscient information network.

In response to the chaos caused through the second, third and fourth decades, both sides formalized counter-assassin systems. The White Pantheon, largely due to the backing of Helenna, of Love, focused on pre-emptive action and reactive support. Important individuals, generals of armies, kings and queens of supporting nations, order representative were assigned elite guards. Several pairs of eyes remained on protected individuals at all times, even when bathing or sleeping. Kavaa’s Clerics would check every piece of food and every drop of drink that was going to enter someone’s mouth and battlefield tents became enchanted with their own magical forcefields. Counter-intelligence caught by Helenna was sent off to Maisara and Fortia. The cost, covered in further sections, was enormous, although it was one of the few policies that had almost unanimous approval throughout the Pantheon. It was also a success, after its implementation, only targeted strikes by Imperial Divines or groups of sorcerers saw any sort of relevant success. The success rate of Imperial assassins been slashed tenfold.

On the Imperial Front, White Pantheon assassins were never as dangerous as the Shadows sent by Irinika. Nevertheless, the Imperial response was, as we were made aware once the war had ended, designed by Arascus and Kassandora. They never went to the sort of extent at protecting their own as the White Pantheon did, only Imperial Generals that commanded Legions received troops from Arascus’ own guard to protect their lives. Instead, the very system they had finished did the work for them. Bar the very highest echelons of the Empire, everyone was replaceable. The death of a local garrison captain would have to be handled in the White Pantheon would trigger a set of ancient regulations and contingencies unique to that captain’s standing, allegiances and position. In the Empire, a temporary replacement would be assigned immediately, a travelling commission would make periodic reviews of these replacements and make them permanent or install a new soul into the position. It matter not whether one was a sergeant, a captain, an admiral or a general. The Imperial Code was absolute.

The extensive chain of command that Kassandora had designed, once thought to be a mere bureaucratic nightmare, had revealed its own resilience and adaptation. Their officers were trained in martial arts just as much as they were in leadership. Whereas on our side, once the king was reached the hardest job was done, it was not uncommon for Imperial Officers to fell pairs or trios of assassins singlehandedly. I would never say that they became an open kratocracy but to what extent they embodied such principals is up for negotiation.

Once each side had their respective systems in place, assassinations began to slow down. There was simply little to gain for us, and our counter-intelligence was far too difficult to pierce for them.

Yet generally, a major reason that is left unsaid in most debates about such tactics is this: To truly harm the Empire, one would have to assassinate either a Daughter-Goddess or Arascus himself.

As the saying goes: No matter can kill a God. Never happened. Never will.

– Excerpt from “The Archive of Arda”, written by Goddess Elassa, of Magic. The Archive has been continuously expanded throughout Elassa’s lifetime. This section was added in the decades after the Great War.

Ciria stood behind President Rudyard Kochinski as the man allowed Arascus into his office. She glared at the God of Pride as he confidently strode into the highest office in all the UNN alone like some conqueror that was being given a celebration by the very people he was about to subdue. Ciria stood straight backed and as still as a statue, save for tilting her head back to look down her nose at Arascus. Did he think he could just saunter in and declare what he wanted and receive?

Ciria kept herself from clicking her tongue. As things had been going, then Arascus could indeed saunter in and demand whatever he wanted and have it be given to him. When it had been just Kavaa, things had been different. Then, Ciria had forced the conversation to be about what to do with the Clerics, even if everyone went against all her suggestions then the most gain the Empire would was simply the establishment of a Holy Order here. But that had changed with the arrival of Arascus into the UNN. After that first humiliation, where Ciria had miscalculated and thought he would have just as short a temper as Kavaa, the position she had built up here had started to chip.

It was still influential of course, but another show like that could not be done. One time was enough for Ciria to know she was hopelessly outmatched in that field. He had dominated her in everyway, from baiting her to ascend above him to making her display power. Here she had thought the God of Pride would come in with all his ego and try to show off, but no. Of course he had not.

So now, Ciria stood in her white dress as the President met with him once again. The God towered over her and the humans were practically ants in comparison. Arascus had come in that terrible black regalia, fashioned with red and gold around the shoulders and the edges. In one hand, he carried a huge briefcase. In the other, a bottle. “Greetings.” Arascus said, Kochinski’s security did not even move to attempt to block the God of Pride as crossed the room in a few steps and placed the bottle of wine on the President’s desk. Kochinski stared at it for a few moments, Ciria’s eyes only flicked so that she could read the label: Château De Paida. Paida’s own brewery for the famed Rancais Purple. “As a gift, consider nothing of it.” Arascus said as he bowed his head and took a few steps back.

Ciria made sure to watch every move he did. Not because Arascus was a danger, if he wanted to take over the UNN through violence, he wouldn’t have bothered going so far as to come himself. Besides, from what she had read, Ciria doubted she would be able to defeat the God of Pride in a direct battle in the first place. No, she would follow a piece of advice that she had come across from one of Arascus’ texts long before the Great War even started: There are two types of people that can truly teach a concept, the master who mentors and the opponent who defeats.

So Ciria would learn. This gift of Rancais purple was a small thing for him and yet Rudyard smiled as he inspected the bottle and passed it around for the others to inspect. “Thank you.” He said like a little child who had just been given sweets he didn’t even know he was going to receive.

Arascus extended an arm to one of the tables of the decorated President’s office. Another faux-paus in classic diplomacy but nothing amongst friends. “May I have a table?” He held up the suitcase. Clever. Ciria would have not thought of it. The White Pantheon had infamously demanded their own embassies to be the places of negotiation. Arascus wanted a table.

“Of course.” Rudyard said. “Bring God Arascus a table.” He snapped his fingers and two of the President’s aides immediately started to move a small, hand-made table of oak. “We apologize for the lack of seating.”

Arascus chuckled. “Standing is good for one’s spine.” He made a theatrical gesture of rubbing his hand down his back. “And even Gods get old.” What a lie. Gods did not get sick and they certainly did not get aging pains. Ciria watched the reactions of the room to the joke. A few men smiled. Anthony Garcia, the eldest amongst them shifted and sat up straighter. His blue suit bulged as it tried to stop his stomach from escaping. Arascus merely smiled, bowed his head again and put the suitcase on the table. Papers upon papers.

“Firstly.” Arascus cut out a sheet of paper. “I have the most interesting Imperial proposition.” He said. Ciria stepped forwards, by Etala’s side, to look over Rudyard’s shoulder. “To sum up.” Arascus said. “It is docking rights for the fleets assisting the Rescuers in the east.”

That brought a chill to the room, but this room had been chilled several times already over the past few days. Nothing had been harmful of course. Arascus had not pushed on Imperial integration or anything of the like. Ciria had learned on the first meeting that there was no point reminding the humans to be wary. The fact they needed constant reminding had become a sore-spot that Etala had communicated in private to Ciria. Treaties opening UNN agriculture to sell to Imperial markets weren’t integration apparently. No. They were just stabilizing the one sector of the economy that was still standing after the east had been washed away. “Docking rights.” Rudyard said with a sigh.

It was step forward of course. This was integration out in the open. Arascus took the stage, he always did in these scenarios. “What benefit to you is minor compared to the benefit for us.” Arascus said. Ciria knew the playbook by now. Arascus would list them off casually as if they were nothing. “Our sailors.” Good choice of word. Sailors

. Not soldiers. “Would of course be allowed entry onto land were they would spend money and ingratiate themselves. We run tight ships. Anyone who breaks your local laws will be tried first by your courts and then by ours.”

“That would work how?”

“Representing the Empire abroad implies respect.” Arascus said. “Our courts will only follow through if they find yours too lenient.” Ciria could not help but smile at that. Everyday, there was a new video online of Imperial soldiers giving out food in Arika, or hunting bandits and making arrests in the Ashlands, or of local garrisons assisting with backbreaking construction in Epa after their conflicts. Arascus’ Empire had managed to turn the image of their men who fought into mere helpers who pulled cats out of trees. He pulled out another piece of paper. “There is a lot of text, apologies but I write fast.”

What a lovely game. Ciria wondered if it was actually him writing or whether he was just signing off on these. If it was a bluff, then it was one that wasn’t worth calling out. A few members of the cabinet shared a whisper about how good it was he was going through the effort of doing them himself. Lie or honesty did not matter then, it was truth now. “It’s better to cover everything now than it is to make changes later.” Rudyard said lightly. “Especially with such a contentious issue.”

“Of that, we share a mind.” Arascus said as his eyes scanned the paper before he passed it to Rudyard. “This is the document detailing legal procedure. Point Eight is what you are looking for.”

Ciria scanned Point Eight as Arascus set it down: In terms of handling criminality, then the laws of the UNN and of the Empire will apply consecutively. What sentence is handed out by the UNN shall be respected by the Empire and vice-versa and neither nation shall make attempt to interfere with the other.There are no limits, even a case of the UNN death sentence shall be respected.

What was there to even argue with here? That was the worst part. “These papers are for us to keep?” Etala asked.

“Of course.” Arascus said. “Publicize them all you wish. If a deal comes through, it is naturally Imperial policy that they be accessible on our websites.” Ciria wondered how much of that was true. Certainly the Empire celebrated its success and owned up to its failures of ambition in public statements, but what of Anassa’s barbaric method of awakening sorcery? Unless one had taken the time to inspect what that looked like, there was nothing online. “And before I forget.” Arascus said. “Here is the promised document detailing the formalization of Kavaa’s order. If you take no issue with it in the next three days, we shall assume agreement and publicize it too.”

Ciria wanted to slow the conversation down so that they could study this next set of papers clearly and ask their questions. Kavaa’s force in Anver had grown to just nine-hundred already. The Imperial ministers were taking open applications in their Anver office and Kavaa was adding another fifty or so Clerics at her morning blessings and then another hundred in her evening one. Arascus brought out another piece of paper. “As I was saying though, the case of docking rights is self-interested.” He put it over the Clerical Formalization papers immediately. Maybe Rudyard and Etala and the rest of the cabinet missed it, but Ciria caught the lesson he was teaching.

If a topic was uncomfortable, hide it in a bigger issue. “That is to say, we currently refuel our ships with tankers. It would be simpler for us if we were allowed to construct fuel silos, expand your ports and refuelling capabilities, and repair, refit and refuel here in the UNN rather than sailing back to Imperial ports every time an issue comes up which can’t be fixed at sea.” Arascus brought out another piece of paper. “These are the Expansion Rights plans. They’re skewed towards you heavily, I tried to make them as unoffensive as possible.”

Ciria believed that. Dragging the conversation back to the Clerics now would throw the room in chaos. “This is a lot.” Etala said as she looked at the five-page document Arascus had just dropped on the desk before Rudyard.

“If there’s one thing I think we have a reputation for, it’s efficiency.” Arascus said jokingly and some of the room laughed. One man even said how true it was and how fast the Empire moved when compared to the Pantheon. “There are more.” Arascus said, pulling out even more papers. “Even minor cultural things from our side. The Code of Conduct the men shall abide by is here.” He pulled four fucking pieces of paper. “Here is the condensed version.” Only one sheet this time. Ciria caught the font-size he was using. It had to be smaller than standard. Even more information to pour through.

“Condensed version?” One of the cabinet ministers asked.

“The full code, the men shall be expected to know by the end of the month. The condensed version is one they will know by the end of the week after signing.” What an inundation of information. Ciria kept her mouth shut. She obviously wasn’t wanted here, the rest of the room had not even glanced at her throughout the entire meeting. She wandered if they saw that he was paralyzing them with this tome’s worth of diplomatic documentation.

“There is a lot.” Rudyard said jokingly, sounding more in disbelief than in the righteous rage he should have.

“Of course.” Arascus said. “Rulership is complicated business.” That put a smile on everyone’s face. Ciria rolled her eyes and saw Arascus smiling like a viper at her. A taunt, she had learned to keep her cool. How could she argue back anyway? Try to make them think it was simple? No. She wasn’t so short-sighted as to insult the room and let Arascus frame her caution as just thinking they were stupid. The God of Pride must have caught she would not say anything so he spoke himself. “But I am sure you will be able to handle it.”

“We may need some time to parse all this.” Rudyard finally said the first smart thing as Arascus pulled out even more papers and set them on the small desk before him. Was Ciria actually supposed to believe he had hand-written all that? They were still going through the technicalities of yesterday’s treaty regarding flights of Imperial aircraft over the east, that of course had been just as inoffensive as this, the planes would carry nothing and would just assist with capturing aerial imagery of the ruins in the east, and here he was dumping all this?! A few thousand words was possible but at this point, how fast could fucking fingers move?!

“Of course.” Arascus said. “Apologies for putting so much into your lap. We would appreciate it faster than sooner because, as I said, this deal is much more for us rather than for you.” How honest of him. How wonderful. Fantastic! Here he was saying it out in the open and all he got was nods in return. “A timeline would be appreciated though.”

“How long?” Rudyard mused. He looked around the room. They had not even started reading the papers yet. No doubt in Imperial bureaus, Arascus would have a dozen men at the ready to pour over everything as it came in. “A week?”

Ciria took a deep breath. Etala flashed an angry look at her. So it had been audible then. Whatever. Ciria did not even care at this point. Control of this band of idiots had slipped firmly from her grasp. A week or a day did not matter, this about of information would take a week to simply read through and then a month to speculate on.

Well, it would if this country supposedly embodied the Democracy it spoke of. In the Empire, it would take as long as it would for Arascus to make up his mind. “A week then.” Arascus said. “For the Docking Rights Treaty.”

“For it.” Rudyard replied and Ciria sighed again. She would remind after this finished so as not to embarrass them in front of Arascus who they obviously so respected at this point. A week for this and yet they had agreed that the Clerical Formalization would come in three days.

If there was a lesson in that, then it was to be decisive and overwhelming in all facets of life. Arascus would make a terrible lover. “Will we need more meetings regarding this?” Rudyard asked.

“I am here.” So no. No. Of course they wouldn’t.

“And you won’t go back on this?”

Arascus actually laughed in the President’s face. It was a small chuckle that sent lightning down Ciria’s spine. “Please President.” He said. “We are not unbending Maisara, but we don’t go back on our word.” Great comment. No doubt these fools would chew over why he made that comparison to the Goddess of Order. It was worthless information. Ciria could assume herself in Arascus’ position. He would just no doubt ignore such a comment.

“Can you promise that?” Kochinski asked.

“I am the Empire.” Arascus declared the words as he spoke. “My word is the Imperial word. I can promise all you wish.” Arascus sounded so honest that Ciria almost believed him. “Yet that is why we shall make the documents regardless of what you do. My citizens will know what to expect here.”

Of course they would. Arascus was not even handing them a problem. He was giving them the solution whether they liked it or not. Besides, what a revolutionary method of diplomacy it was. So out in the open that one could feel stupid if they missed something.

Of course, the cabinet did not see it that way. Ciria had been through this before with the agricultural treaty. Now that it had been on Imperial News, it was impossible for the UNN to back out of. They felt good about themselves, the UNN benefitted materially, and it was set in stone. “If that is all.” Arascus closed the suitcase. “Then I shall go, unless you have questions. I’ll be about though if you need me.”

“Of course.” Rudyard replied. “You’re a busy man, I understand.”

“In work, we meet each other.” Arascus said as he turned around. Ciria could only watch his back as he left. He even opened the door for himself and shut it without looking back at them once.

But there was one thing he did say right at the end. One very important lesson to take.

He was the Empire? A bridge materialized across the great valley of a problem in Ciria’s mind. A bridge that seemed to solve every problem. It would be difficult of course, but there was still to pull Arda out of the reaches of the mad God’s tyranny. It was a terrible thought but at this point, Ciria did not even care. If this was the game the Old Gods played, then she could either join or remain a spectator forever.

Let him be the Empire.

What was the Empire without him? 

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep