“A desperate man would do anything in their power to stay alive.” - Old folk saying.

“You old fools! Don’t you all see that they’re just planning to make use of us for their own benefits!? All we will achieve by going out to fight is to kill ourselves sooner!” yelled High Lady Selice Deveraux of Nomen at her fellows. It was an argument she had made multiple times in the past couple of days, since the latest reply from Podovniy arrived, bearing the seals of both the Marquis and the High Regent of Anduille with it.

It was also the cause of the folly that had taken over the mind of her fellows of late.

Selice herself used to be an odd sight at the table reserved for the First Lords of the Southern Coalition, being only in her late twenties as she took her late mother’s position as High Lady of Nomen just two years ago. Nowadays she was no longer the youngest on the table, however, as Gerard Dukoz of Sebaque who had similarly taken over for his late father just half a year ago was nearly a decade her junior.

She was also the only member of the First Lords to advocate for internal development rather than attempting further conquest, a point of view that the others had always mocked her for. She had been against the foray made by then High Lord Esteban Dukoz against Levain, but had been overruled, and now they were paying the price for that failed foray.

Yet she was outvoted once again by the others who seemed almost desperate in their bid to retain power, no matter the method.

Her eyes glared at her fellow First Lords – High Lord Jerome Fandol of Cezar, High Lady Corrine Olstien of Olfas, and High Lord Gerard Dukoz of Sebaque – who had all chosen to agree with the proposal sent by the Podovniy March and Anduille Regency. A proposal to sally forth and delay the troops belonging to Caroma and Levain from returning, at the promise of a share of their territories after the conquest.

Clearly a promise made in bad faith, to Selice’s considerations, but none of the other High Lords chose to see it that way. They saw it as the final straw to grasp in order to retain their position of power.

She could only scoff helplessly in frustration at their short-sightedness.

“The Lords have spoken, High Lady Deveraux,” said Gerard’s arrogant voice from across the table. The boy had not been anywhere near the line of succession for his house, being a no-good prodigal who only knew how to have fun all day and night. However, the late High Lord Dukoz had been so confident in his victory that he brought his other sons with him to the campaign, and that ended up leaving Gerard as the last survivor of his house. “Three voices against one. We shall sally forth and win back our honor. If you are too craven for this worthy undertaking, then I guess we wouldn’t mind having you guard your city.”

“Courageous boy,” cooed the old crone, High Lady Corrine of Olfas, which just seemed to make the boy inflate himself more. Of course the stupid boy had quickly been reduced to a puppet of the two old high lords within moments of his induction to the rank, which granted them an easy majority in any vote. That rendered Selice helpless to contend against them. “Let the Deveraux cower in their towers. We will need someone to play the watchdog over our empty homes anyway.”

“Hear, hear!” added Jerome all too cheerfully. The High Lord of Cezar was a morbidly obese man who likely never contributed to any of his state’s many victories, which Selice knew was mostly thanks to competent generals from the previous High Lord’s time. There were also rumors of his affair with High Lady Corrine, which was almost an open secret in the coalition, but would also go a long way to explain why the two were always in agreement during any votes. “Just the three of us can muster an army fifty thousand strong between us. You should just stay behind if you’re scared, little girl.”

And of course the two older High Nobles loved to call upon their seniority over Selice, as both of them were old enough to have been her parent, or even grandparent.

She could only sigh in defeat, knowing all too well that she had been politically outplayed since the old pair had sunk their claws into Gerard, not that the boy would have seen reason had she gotten to him first anyway. That boy always had delusions of grandeur and great ambitions, yet with none of the ability needed to make them come true.

A few whispered sweet words and praises from the “kind seniors” were all it takes to bring him over to their side.

Instead, Selice tuned out the mocking of her fellow High Lords and began to consider the sort of preparation she would need in order to ensure her and her people’s survival. She could already envision the end of the Southern Coalition – a Coalition started by her late grandfather, then taken over by her father – within a year, so her priority now was to prepare for it.

Because unlike the other three, Selice still felt a measure of responsibility to her people and nation. She tried to become a better ruler compared to her compatriots, but she was powerless to make any changes to the overall situation, with the best she could do being to change things within her family’s own territory. Now change came for them, and violently at that. So violently she highly doubted the Coalition would survive.

Even if she couldn’t escape the fall unscathed, she would do her damndest to save as much as she could out of her family’s legacy and attempt to at least not let her people be disadvantaged too much. It was something she would do anything for. Even if it meant she would have to grovel before another and lick their shoes clean or become less than a slave herself.

No matter what it takes.