Chapter 1
Summers in Palas were always of the pleasant sort. The constant breeze that washed in from the sea carried just enough moisture to maintain a moderate temperature without the heavy dampness that kept so many Asturians inside in winter. Still, the cooling air of late afternoon failed to make swordsmanship training any less strenuous.
The Knights of Caeli demanded a certain standard of performance and while they had never in a vast history stretching out over centuries stripped a man of his knighthood, they made it very clear that it was not an impossibility. It was especially likely for the youngest child of the Trevelian family. True, the Trevelian dynasty had been among the highest ranking Asturian nobles for years, but power was always fickle and such things depended greatly on the accomplishments of the next generation.
Such pressure was especially great for Baedan, the youngest of five children and the only son. He had been sent away at a young age to train with one of the greatest swordsmen on Gaea only to return prematurely at the outbreak of the war with Zaibach. He had been waylaid in the Duchy of Freid and injured during the collapse of the city, leaving the boy's memory in shambles. Among the patches of memory remained much of his sword training along with a basic knowledge of Gaea's geography and culture, but any and all recollection of faces or names had been completely wiped away.
Despite such setback, the boy had gone on to excel in his swordsmanship, making fast progress under the tutelage of the Knights of Caeli. His progress was so phenomenal, in fact, that he was offered a position among their ranks a year after his return to Asturia. Now at the age of seventeen, he remained the youngest of their ranks and the subject of constant criticism from a number of his peers. Jealous aristocrats claimed his parents had bought his position while others claimed he had fallen into favor with some of the older knights. Very few seemed to attribute his success to an unrivaled talent with a sword and those did so only with the greatest reluctance. He had never shown such promise as a child.
On that afternoon, Baedan had managed to work himself into a sweat quite earlier than was his usual, but time was limited. He had been officially excused from sword practice that morning due to the evening's festivities, but Baedan had never been the type to neglect his work. Of course, he would have to make haste to his room in a few minutes to clean up and dress for the banquet. He hated banquets, but they were a necessity when you were a representative of the country. The Knights of Caeli were Asturia's best and thus they were forced to make appearances at every banquet, every diplomatic function, and every other event of importance to the royal family.
He had only just sheathed his sword and was wiping the sweat from his face with the sleeve of an old tunic when the sound of approaching footsteps drew his attention to the doorway. He'd hoped the roof would serve to keep his work private, but once more he had no such luck. Finding privacy in the palace was as impossible as sitting straight-faced through sword lessons. Matters were only made worse when the unexpected and unwelcome visitor stepped into the fading light of oncoming evening.
"Trevelian, are you still not dressed?" Allen Schezar. Of all the men to bother him now it had to be the picture perfect Allen Schezar. Baedan had never been able to explain it, but the simple presence of that man, golden knight of unquestionable skill and bravery, provoked a slight queasiness in his stomach. The man quite literally made his skin crawl. Still, Baedan had a talent for dealing with the other knight and none of his distaste showed, even for a moment.
"Forgive me, Allen-san. I lost track of time. I'll be ready." He gathered up his discarded shirt, strapped his sheath to his side, and stepped past the other knight, not bothering to offer another word. He had nearly reached the far door that would admit him to the back hallways when there came another set of intruding footsteps. These, however, were not the heavy footfalls of a knight, but the soft, delicate echo of a pair of lady's dress shoes.
"Here you are, onii-sama. They're calling for your downstairs." Baedan did not need to turn to know just who this girl was. He had always felt nervous in the presence of Celena Schezar. It wasn't the same sick churning her brother caused, but more like the delicate tickle of butterflies. Even catching her eye for an instant was enough to send him into a nervous sweat.
Perhaps it was out of a pure desire to torture himself, but the young knight cast a glance over his shoulder.
He'd been right! She was looking at him! It seemed for every effort made on his part to avoid the girl, she made twice the effort to find him. And always, she gazed at him with such a quiet, knowing look. They had barely exchanged five words and yet she gazed at him as if they'd known each other all their lives.
Such a look demanded an answer, as it always did. And such a look was always answered only by the swift retreat of Baedan's boots. That afternoon was no exception.
However, as he pushed the door closed behind him, he thought he heard the faint echo of Celena's musical laughter.
In the two years following the conflict with the Zaibach Empire, Gaia entered into a period of renewal. Countries destroyed by the war were rebuilt. New pacts between nations were forged, making way for new alliances in both the military and domestic domains. New trade routes were created and economies bloomed. The only country excluded from all of this enlightened progress was the ruined remnants of Zaibach.
The allied nations refused to accept any responsibility for the ruins of their enemies and for the most part the struggling citizens were ignored by the rest of the world, left to fend for themselves and rise up from the ruins of a collapsing government. Dornkirk's death had left them with no leader and a broken chain of command consisting mostly of a dead Strategos, a number of dead Madoushi, three dead generals, and a wealth of bitter nobles.
It was the military families that stepped up first, demanding their power through show of wealth and force. They formed a council, blanketing the country with their hard and dominating rule, leaving little room for the country to right itself. Their major concern was not to rebuild homes or economies, but to train fresh soldiers. Any spare money was put into the development and construction of new weaponry leaving hundreds of citizens to starve.
The military tribunal remained in power for nearly half a year before the country fell into civil war. While the chief Madoushi had been killed during the war, they had left behind a number of promising students studying in the sorcerers' tower. These men were trained not only in the art of science, but in the art of diplomacy and economy. Once an exclusive facility open only to men handpicked by the Madoushi themselves, the tower opened its doors to the public only a month after the tragedy. Scientific study became the alternative to military training and any man who hoped to avoid serving in the army fled to the tower. Within six months the Madoushi boasted numbers rivaling that of the military with a council of its own set in opposition of the militarists.
The first Zaibach Civil War lasted nearly a full year, pitting the strength of the military against the cunning of the Madoushi. Having lost the intellectual support of the research department, the military was forced to look to outside sources for weaponry that could somehow compete with the vast technological advances pouring out of the tower by the day. This opened up chances for the more opportunistic nations to stimulate their own economies by selling weaponry to Zaibach, sometimes to both sides. Basram was the first to take advantage, but rival nations followed suit almost overnight. It was often speculated that without such outside aid, the war might have ended in two months, but due to the continued supply of weaponry, the militarists were able to hold out so long as their money did.
Still, money alone could not compensate for the complicated devices of the Madoushi. The Madoushi leaders, now calling themselves the Diet in order to give some form of legitimacy to their rule, battled the militarists to a standstill, finally offering them a settlement for peace. This peace agreement, however, consisted of a wealth of strict rules to limit the power of the aristocracy, diminishing the powerful military patriarchs to little more than well-dressed figureheads, the last remnants of a dying way of life for Zaibach. Madoushi leaders believed that there was no room for old fashioned chivalrous combat in a world of science. The future of warfare lay in the bowels of the tower, locked away within the minds of their students.
At the end of the civil war, the Diet was left with a country even more in shambles than it had been a year ago. Having spent more funds than truly necessary on war, Zaibach was left with little alternative than to seek outside aid. However, instead of turning to the greedy nations who had fed funds into the conflict, the Diet instead chose to plead its case to Asturia and its allies. Asturia, being the most prosperous nation on Gaia, allowed Zaibach to present its case for aid.
A conference was scheduled during which Asturia and her allies would evaluate the request from Zaibach and determine in what way they would aid the development of the country. Representatives were called from the allied countries and invited first to a grand banquet, as was the pompous style of the Asturian court. A banquet which played host to the country's nobility along with visiting dignitaries and three members of Zaibach's Diet. The morning after, Zaibach would present its case before the representatives.