The mistress strides through the bejeweled halls of the palace of light, her arms tucked behind her back, radiating an immense sense of royalty.

The fact these meetings take place at the light empire's heart reveals most of the world's armies side with her ever-boasting rivals. Each year the sessions become more and more like an interrogation of her every move rather than an event where rulers can bring up their issues to fellow royalty.

She examines the gold-framed portraits lining the elegant walls. Depictions of the past holy commanders, each a bit too generous in her humble opinion, but that's expected from a kingdom built on braggery and demonization.

She finds the idea of glorifying these commanders for their bravery and sense of justice when they've all earned their title through flattery and backstabbing amusing. Her amusement is quickly dispelled by the notion that the fools have risen an army of more gullible fools dead set on her demise. Not much you can do when they ignore your words when your visage is too intimidating.

The mistress pauses at the last portrait.

Ambrosio...

Undoubtedly the most cunning of holy commanders, and the one who holds the title of her most despised.

The creaking of the doors to the main hall cut her internal bashing of Ambrosio short. She turns, a lengthy, marble table of shameless extravagance emerging into view. Leaders of the prominent kingdoms of Razorvannyy each sit upwards and elegant, greeting the rulers to their sides.

The dark mistress steps forward, entering the room.

All eyes turn to her.

She meets their gaze one after another with her polite smile and piercing stare.

Shiphrah, the gorgon queen, the one person in the room to give a friendly nod. A long-time friend and the only fellow ruler the mistress can claim to have any affection for. Shiphrah's more willing to go along with the plans of others than the shade monarch herself, but that is forgivable compared to the acts of trust she's shown to the mistress in their long history. She's been a great role-model for Zmey, who holds her in very high regard.

Despite her age, Shiphrah holds the same youthful elegance she held in her younger years. The greens and blues of her head of snakes curl gracefully together, and her clean scales are smooth, the tone of her emerald skin enhancing her scarlet eyes.

That sentiment doesn't apply to the hotheaded King Damon of the flame-kins. The tips of his ever-burning hair are yellowed with age, detracting from the bright orange roots of his younger kin. His eyes are sunken and his face hollow. He's a perfect model for a man on the brink of madness.

Damon's actions are almost identical to the war-focused god he serves, to the point of implementing Fudo's words from the Book of War into the laws of his kingdom. The mistress knows very few positive aspects of the king and still doubts the existence of the one or two she periodically catches glimpses of.

The Minotaur King, Redmane, continues his long stretch of absences. After the last war, Redmane, freshly pronounced king, claimed Minotaurs have little need for support and cut himself off from the alliance. From how his people flourish, despite being stuck between the feud of the two largest empires Razorvannyy has ever seen, the claim is not unfounded.

Mantieo's chair lacks its owner similarly, though his absence is more worrisome. The past few meetings he's been wearing increasingly thick cloaks. He's quite the vain creature, so it's presumably to cover the scars he earned years ago, but because of his conniving nature, it's something concerning, nonetheless. With Ambrosio's sudden boost of movement, the mistress is certain Mantieo is up to something. She must be more cautious than usual.

The dwarf and centaur kings still hold their seats, a fact that would surprise the mistress if they weren't Ambrosio underlings. Neither has done anything worth value in their entire career and lacks the agency to change that fact. Nothing notable to their name, just like most of the royalty who gather here.

The physically imposing cyclops, queen Vasailiki, differs from those backup throne-fillers as she has actual feats under her belt. Her intelligence is limited, as is common for her kind, but her combat prowess raises her statues far beyond her cohorts. A common legend is that Vasailiki wrestled the hellcat Jigoku barehanded to claim her throne. It's doubtful she ever met the cat, but knowing Vasailiki, it's not impossible.

The rest of the rulers here continually come despite being eternally undecided or too cowardly to let their opinion known, never uttering a syllable.

Except one... There is another person in the room that might have significance, one completely unexpected.

The leading monk of Tengu Temple, peace-bringer Kazuya. The half-oni has always been invited to join, being the only fully neutral leader, but rarely accepts, saying, "should I speak words of peace to the hungry tigers who refuse to understand me, while ignoring the rabbits at my feet who plead desperately for protection?"

Kazuya piqued the mistress's interest ever since she heard of him. He is the first non-Tengu peace-bringer of Tengu Temple, breaking the tradition of only Tengu's being allowed in the position. Unsurprisingly, internal issues rose from the change of leadership, leading to a chain of rebellions. The intriguing part is that Kazuya stopped each revolt single-handedly and without causality, convincing the rebels of the meaninglessness of their attempts.

Kazuya's appearance here changes the mistress's plans, as it will delay Kazimir's mission, but it can also shift the room slightly more to her favor. She'll make do with what she's given.

"Here to bring even more misfortune?" Damon says, tapping the table with a glare across his sickly face.

"As much as that would bring me joy, sadly it is not the case," the mistress responds, passing him without a glance.

"Are you holding up well?" Shiphrah asks.

The mistress sits to the gorgon queen's side. "Well enough, considering the circumstances. How about yourself?"

"Quite well. Zmey has brought a certain upcoming project to my daughters' attention, and if you have a chance, I'd like to converse the subject with you."

"I was thinking the same thing. We'll have to meet up and chat about the project over a nice cup of tea... or wine, depending on our mood."

Shiphrah chuckles. "I'm leaning towards wine if the world continues as it is."

Damon side-eyes the conversation but stays quiet.

The mistress glances to the empty chair of light. "Where's Ambrosio? It's unlike him to run late."

"I'm unsure," Shiphrah responds. "I asked the same before you arrived, but no one knew."

As if speaking his name summons him, Ambrosio enters the room, accompanied by a blond, grim-faced man.

"Apologies for my tardiness, I was just having a chat with Mantieo, the poor man." Ambrosio smiles with the slyness of a fox, his magnetizing lime eyes pulling the rulers' gaze to meet his own. "Sadly, Mantieo is feeling under the weather and cannot attend this session. As his replacement, I have brought light army home division general, Viktor."

Viktor nods. "I'm here to keep everyone safe and put in my perspective if I feel it's needed. Until either of those situations come up, you can see me as ignorable."

"Mantieo is one thing, as he's technically considered a neutral party, but putting your general in the security role..." The mistress shakes her head, clicking her tongue. "You're showing your hand, Ambrosio."

"Now, it may seem unfair, but I had no option. Mantieo's sickness was quite last minute, as you can tell. But have no fear. Out of all my men, General Viktor here hates me the most. Isn't that right, Viktor?"

"It would be untruthful to deny the fact," Viktor responds deadpan.

"Very well," the mistress complies.

Something about this Viktor is familiar... She's sure she hasn't met him before, but his facial structure and voice are almost identical to...

"Let our meeting begin!" Ambrosio pulls back the chair at the table's end and takes his seat. The seat is built taller than the rest, just tall enough for him to reach past the mistress's height.

How petty, he's not even trying to hide his feeling of superiority. Her seat is on the side of the opposite end, almost invisible compared to his own. He plans to deafen her arguments with difference in positions.

"Our first subj..."

"Before we begin," the mistress interrupts. "I would like a change of seating. I feel this chair is a bit underwhelming compared to the light's usual extraordinary service."

"Very well, you may take the seat of King Redmane if it fancies you," Ambrosio responds, waving his hand in direction of the chair.

The mistress glances to the other end of the table. A beautifully decorated chair, though throne is a better word for it, kept in honor of the elves and the deeds of King Eldemar. The perfect seat to counter Ambrosio's scheme.

"Actually, I have a different chair in mind."

"I don't see another, did you bring your own?" Ambrosio asks, clearing trying to lower her further with mockery.

"Oh no, it's been here for centuries." The mistress melts into the ground, reappearing on the sacred throne.

Gasps fill the room.

"That's sacrilege!" The dwarf king slams his fist against the table.

Queen Vasailiki breaks out in laughter at the act of defiance.

"This is not a laughing matter. That is an ancient throne!" The centaur king says.

"Yes it is, and it seems neither she nor I very much care," Vasailiki responds.

Kazuya keeps silent, his thoughts elsewhere. He may not be as helpful as I hoped.

Shiphrah cracks a smile, while the flame-kin at her side bursts forth, his flaming hair spreading upwards. "You damn shade... you disrespect us time after time with your vile acts. Is everything you do to bring us shame?"

The mistress responds her voice calmed, "I am the closest relative to the elves. If anyone is to decide, I feel the choice lies in my hands."

"How do we know you speak the truth? Lies has been one of your primary tactics in every war you were in."

"Are we in a war, now? Besides, I beat you in age more than tenfold, you have no way of confirming my words are lies."

The voices of royalty become mixed and undecipherable, as they try to shout over their peers. The shadow mother silently watches the rising chaos she created.

"Quiet!" Viktor shouts, his voice echoing through the halls of the structure, bringing all to silence. "Did we come here to fight like children? Your bickering wastes all our time!" With a deep sigh, he returns to his normal volume. "Now, continue."

"Thank you, Viktor," Ambrosio says, matching the mistress's demeanor. "The debate of whether she should sit in the chair is currently irrelevant, we'll deal with the issue at a later date. On a more important topic, the legality of a few of the mistress's recent actions has been brought into question."

And so it begins.

"What actions do you speak of, Commander?" The mistress asks, feigning confusion.

"First, one brought to my attention by King Damon, though we still lie uncertain of your involvement. Speak forth the issue you brought to me, Damon."

Damon speaks more hushed than the moments prior, but his voice is still strained. "A rebellion broke out in many of my major cities, including the capital Kamin, led by my firstborn son, Prince Damien."

"How does your poor leadership have anything to do with me?"

"Be quiet, you!" All restraint melts away at the flame-kins rage. "I believe you pushed Damien to revolt. My men spotted Prince Kir near Ochag, the city Damien was staying, a few days before the rebellion started."

"What's your explanation for this Mistress?" Ambrosio asks.

"I sent Kir to the mountains near Ochag to investigate a sighting of the demons of sunlight." This was technically true, though it was more of an afterthought than anything. "If Kir's presence alone brings your son to rebel, I must again bring up both the quality of your leadership and parenting into question. A better question I could ask you, though, is why demons of sunlight were openly meandering through your territory?"

"You lying witch! I have not..."

Ambrosio raises a hand. "Calm yourself, Damon. She explained herself well. There is currently no proof of an alternative motive in her actions." Ambrosio turns to the gorgon queen. "I would now like to ask Queen Shiphrah why the shade princess Zmey is visiting gorgon lands."

Though the title is accurate in the simplest form of the word, the idea of considering her daughter a princess is humorous to the mistress.

Shiphrah responds, "my daughters are all close friends with Zmey. Are you saying friends acting on their friendship is an abnormal activity?"

"Your reasoning's fair, I like to indulge in some nice companionship myself from time to time," Vasailiki says. "But I have to ask, mistress, why does your daughter think to hang out during a time where war is becoming nearly certain, especially in a place so far away from her homelands?"

Eyes widen at the open mention of war.

"I agree, the action is odd," Damon says, unshocked by her lack of restraint. "Along with what I overheard you two talk about, a project of some sort you plan to collaborate on. What exactly is Zmey doing there?"

"Well, I believe the information is rather unnecessary for you to hear, but I will tell you the truth to clear both Shiphrah and my own names from accusation of conspiracy." The mistress turns to the gorgon queen with questioning eyes. "If that's alright with you?"

Shiphrah widens her smile and nods.

"My daughter, as you know," the mistress leans forward, "was blessed by the goddess of reptiles, Midori, with spectacular abilities. The queen's daughters as gorgons also owe the goddess much thanks. So when Zmey heard a couple of our villages became infested with large rodents, goddess Midori's favored treat, she came up with a wonderful idea for them to give the rats to the great Midori as an offering. I didn't want to speak of it to you all because a matter between god and man dampens the more people know of it."

The room quiets at her response.

Kazuya examines those on both sides of him, now mentally here but still mute.

Viktor sits expressionless, writing notes on all that occurs in the meeting. A guard enters and taps his shoulder, whispering something into his ear.

"Excuse me, there's something I must attend to." Viktor rises from his seat, giving a respectful bow before leaving.

After the general's exit, Ambrosio breaks the silence, showing no sign of defeat. "I have a personal matter that happened in my lands to bring up to you now, mistress. The situation involving you entering one of my villages."

The mistress responds, "I entered that village to pick up my child, did not attack the villagers without provocation, and left under the limit of causalities. Those all fulfill the conditions of our deal in the treaty." Her voice deepens, "what do you have to bring up?"

"It's not the number of causalities I'm talking about. The problem lies with the damage of property, and loss of productivity from the mental turmoil done to the villagers. Thankfully, the villagers are alright now, but we lost a good amount of profit."

His care for those people would be almost cute if it weren't for the fact his phrasing puts their property as a higher priority than themselves. "You overestimate the damages to your profit. It was an isolated lumber town in an empire that mainly uses metals, it has very little impact on you overall. And for the mental turmoil, you say I caused, it wouldn't have been a problem if you didn't teach your people that shades are barbaric liars that will devour their children."

"I only say what I believe to be true, but that's beside the point. My past actions don't matter when we're talking about your breaking of our agreement. You still broke our rules, the deal says you can gather your children without being attacked, it does not say you can traumatize my people and destroy their houses."

Light and Dark grow more intense and the onlookers watch in silent awe.

Kazuya mutters to himself something too quiet to hear.

The mistress decides it's time to turn this on Ambrosio. "I know the damages don't surpass the threshold of cost, I made sure of it. If you need to check, ask your assistant when he returns. But I have a question for you, commander. Why did, right after the birth of my child, multiple groups of pro-light terrorists simultaneously begin attacking my direct family and people?"

The mistress rises, and the commander stands to meet her.

"I know what your implying mistress and you have no grounds to make that accusation. They may be pro-light, but I have never and will never support or ask for support from them. Their actions are entirely independent."

The mistress stabs her finger at the dumbfounded centaur king, "can you truthfully say you have no connections to the group of centaurs who've been coincidentally attacking all of your political opponents?"

Ambrosio turns to him, his fox smile remaining. "Go on, tell her the truth."

The centaur's confidence returns to him. "I have no connection to the group, everything they've done has been entirely independent of my kingdom."

The dwarf king gives a confirming nod to his allies' speech.

Kazuya suddenly stands from his chair and saunters towards the exit, his robes flowing behind him.

"Leaving already?" Ambrosio asks.

"You haven't said a single damned thing since you arrived," Damon adds. "Why did you even come here?"

Kazuya turns, his dual-colored red and blue eyes glowing. "I came to see if preventing a second war is plausible, but it seems my thoughts long ago were correct." His voice is somehow both clear and mumbled, hushed and pronounced. "None of you even consider that violence isn't the sole option. You are two snakes watching the other for weakness while a hawk stalks from above. There is nothing I can say to any of you." He leaves without another word.

The mistress turns from the long table. "I feel it is time for me to leave as well, I'm done with this interrogation you call a meeting."

"Before you go... I have one last question," Ambrosio says. "Some of my men saw your youngest and eldest children running away from the premises of a known anti-light ogre... carrying imps. Now raising imps is quite a serious crime. Could you explain this?"

The mistress loves her children, but their actions have provided very little support in this meeting.

She begins to respond, but Viktor's reenters the room, cutting her off.

He whispers into Ambrosio's ear.

The holy commander's eyes wide and his fox's smile fades.

He says to the crowd of royalty, his voice a bit rushed, "I must apologize once again. It seems the important matter is something I must attend to, as well. The meeting will have to end early."

How peculiar. Ambrosio has never once ended a meeting early. He'd only do so if...

It seems the winds of fate finally blow in her favor.