Huskar was once dominated by numerous rival petty kingdoms. Midway through the 11th century, the region was at the height of its golden age, known as the Eternal Sun Era. Conflict among the kingdoms was rare, and the Huskar people flourished under regional trade and prosperity. Unfortunately, this would come to an end. Huskar's geographic location places it between Abydos and Vanora. When the Crusades began, it was inevitable that Huskar would be drawn into the conflict.

In the early years, most of the Huskar kingdoms maintain their nuetrality. Occasionally, they would offer services to one side or another, but this was rare and on a small scale. It is highly debated which faction was the first to openly violate neutrality, marching through Huskar, but once one did it, everyone followed. The petty kingdoms tried to repeal the invades, but suffered major defeats. A coalition was formed that would start the kingdoms on the path to national unity. The coalition performed much better and eventually entering Huskar was a bloody and costly affair for any crusading army. As the Crusades began to die down, the petty kings were forced to lay down their crowns by the coalition armies. It is for this reason that Huskar can be considered an "anti-crusader" state. But the question of who would lead the new nation weighed heavily. Eventually, it was agreed that the Riven family, stewards of the Holy Blade, would act as the symbolic Imperial family of the nation, while the commanders of the coalition would be the de facto rulers. Thus in 1495[1], the Empire of Huskar was born.

Peace would only last for three years. Unable to decide upon a structure of leadership, the coalition commanders divided the Empire amongst themselves, carving up what was effectively their own kingdoms. Because the Empire was ruled by warlords (known as Haisen) whose strength came from the armies they commanded, they eventually started to desire larger pieces of the Empire to control. The first conflicts were small, minor skirmishes, but they quickly escalated and combined into a massive civil war. By 1498, the Era of the Warring State had begun.

The Era of the Warring State was one of the most gruesome and horrific wars in Mundus' history. The Haisen were all former generals of the coalition and their armies were made of veterans of the Crusades. These were battle-hardened soldiers, and quickly armies turned to cruelty to gain advantages against each other. For over two hundred years, the nation bleed. Survivors of passing by hordes faced famine and disease. When peace finally came with the rise of the Three Pragmatic Houses, whole generations had been born and died by the sword. Peace seemed like an unimaginable dream. The Pragmatic Houses were anointed as the Protectors of the Imperial Riven Family, and the Huskar Protectorate was born.

Government Type:- Meritocracy
Population:- 967
Capital City:- Orphela (21 Permenant Residence)
Largest City:- Mourningfort (121 Residences)
Demonym:- Viernan

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Currencies:- Guilders (§)
Exchange Rate:- §1- $1
GDP:- §20.5 Million
GDP per Capita:- $21,198
Unemployment Rate:- 0.1%
Main Industries:- Priniting of Coinage, Medals, Fine Arts (Painting, Sculpting and Theatre), Financial Services

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Cultures:- Viernan, Dsur, Tar'Shen
Languages:- Khimeric, Women's Script (Written Only), High Vir (Ceremonial Only)
State Religion:- Cult of the Twin
Average Life Expectancy:- 81

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Head of State:- Harbinger (Currently Vacant)
Name of Legislative Body:- Council of Grandmasters
-Grandmaster of the House of the Black Roe
-Grandmaster of the House of the Night Lily
-Grandmaster of the House of the Evening Primrose
-Troupe Master of the Dsur
-Guardian of the Tar'Shen

1.	I'm not entirely sure when the Mundus version of the crusades ends, so I'm just assuming the real world year of 1492

Should have posted this a while ago, I will be take a leave of absence as I'm devoting more and more of my writing energy into personal projects. If you need anything, just DM me on discord and I should reply fairly quickly.

Name	Emo
Titles	Harbinger
Nationality	Traetorian
Star Sigil	Fiirla
Season of Birth	Spring
Age Range	Late 70s
Associations	Cadet Branch of the Traetor Dynasty Council of Elders White Lily Cadre (Former)
Family	Aerila (Great Niece) Ciklo (Great Niece)
Physical Description	Emo’s once blonde hair is now fully white. Her face is covered in laugh lines and she walks with a limp in her left leg.
Biography	Emo, or “Mae,” was born to the Traetor Dynasty while it was flourishing. There were more members of the Dynasty than they knew what to do with. And as such she spent her first years with little care or worries. Eventually it was decided for Emo to be educated among the White Lily Cadre, disinheriting her from the Dynasty. During her time as a White Lily, she was noted for her beauty and grace, in addition to her skills with a blade. She became a leading figure in Cadre politics and befriended Giphil, the future Archon. This friendship led to her being granted the title of Harbinger, assigned to oversee the Cadres for the Archon. But during Giphil’s reign, the power and influence of the Cadres waned, and eventually Emo was little more than a figurehead. Eventually, Giphil and the other Harbingers died, leaving Emo to hold the title alone.

Name	Ciklo
Titles	Duchess
Nationality	Traetorian
Star Sigil	Vulpari
Season of Birth	Spring
Associations	Council of Elders Cadet Branch of the Traetor Dynasty Confederate Bureaucracy (Former)
Family	Aerila (Cousin) Zunetu (Half-Brother; Deceased) Lady Emo (Great Aunt)
Physical Description	Ciklo has all of the distinguishing features of the Traetor Dynasty; the light blonde, almost white, hair, the pale blue eyes and light brown freckles covering her face.
Biography	Ciklo was born to the Cadet Branch of the Traetor Dynasty. Early in her life, her father was put under house arrest for an attempted coup against his older brother. Since then, Ciklo has only seen her father a handful of times. From then on, she was raised alongside her cousins. Like Aerila, but to a lesser expect, she was tormented by the five Traetor Boys. Except for Zunetu, who she regarded as a brother. As Ciklo came of age, it became clear to her that she was of lesser importance to the Dynasty, and so she chose to leave and strike out on her own. She passed the Confederate Bureaucratic Exam and became a government official, quickly rising through the ranks. During this time, she worked closely with Dutuzu. A few years after Dutuzu became the Helgaran Seeker, he nominated Ciklo to join the Council of Elders as the Traetor Duchess. The position of Duke was officially still held by her father, and the Council was eager to be at full strength.

Ciklo crossed her legs and looked out the window in front of her. The view outside the window was quite gorgeous with the giant Statue of the Reaper hover in the background. She self-consciously touched the briefcase on her right, making sure it was still there. The Oversight Committee Hearing was only supposed to take two weeks. Three at the most. But they were nearing a month, and no results. The Committee was still trying to come to a consensus on whither military operations should cease until after an official ruling was made. The whole thing was a disaster. Thankfully the vote was tomorrow, and then the Committee could finally get back on track. It was times like this that the Duchess wondered if the bureaucracy of the Confederacy was really worth it.
 
The hotel room door behind her opened. She didn't move, continuing to stare at the night sky. "Zonuc." She could feel the Special Delegates unease at her being in his room unannounced. But when an Elder came calling, you did not turn them away. "Please, take a seat."
 
He shuffled through the room, passing by her and took a seat on the bed as she was already in the only chair.
 
"Duchess Ciklo, how nice it is to see you."
 
"Always the charmer, Zonuc." Her voice was flat, showing her displeasure at being here. Zonuc was Azori's charge. But as pure usual, he was shrieking his duty. If there was one Elder the Duchess couldn't stand it was him. Ciklo was about to speak when her phone vibrated. "Excuse me," she held up her first two fingers, the Grissin gesture of one moment, and pulled out her phone. It was a message from Dutuzu. Reaper. Now. What could he want? And at this time? Dutuzu was currently dealing with the human trafficking crisis. She quickly typed out her response: Wait for me. In the middle of something. Should be thirty minutes. She then put her phone away and looked up at Zonuc. Silently, she sent thanks to the Twin. Now she could do this the fast way rather than drawing it out.
 
"I'm afraid another pressing matter has come to my attention, so I have to be quick. In the case next to me is 〆10,000. You are going to take it and tomorrow vote in favor of the Confederate military. And then when the time comes, you are going to vote in favor of the Decree of Traetorian Mourning. Is that clear?" Zonuc was one of the last votes they needed to secure. If not, he was the last one. And he had been annoyingly dodgy. Avoiding all attempts by the Elders at contact. Which sent a clear message to them that he didn't want to fall in line. It's why the Duchess had come herself. To show him the severity of the matter.
 
"This isn't right, you can't do this. I won't go along with it." Ciklo was already standing up, looking at the time on her watch. 11:23PM. She smiled.
 
"It's so exciting, being a Special Delegate, isn't it? Getting to be part of the Oversight Committee. It's a once in a lifetime chance. So sad that once this whole mess is over, all the attention will melt away just as quickly as it came." Ciklo paused. This was the important part, not too long or not too short, otherwise it wouldn't have the sinister effect she needed. "Do you know how poorly attended middle ranking government officials' funerals are? A tragedy really, for them to devout their whole lives to the state. A thankless job if you ask me." Ciklo turned and walked out of the room, leaving the briefcase. Not even checking to see Zonuc's expression. She'd get the vote she wanted tomorrow.
 
She took the elevator down to the first floor, exiting the building. Her car was already waiting. She got in the backseat. "Reaper." The driver nodded with a yes ma'am. It was a quick drive to the statue; she'd be there earlier than she had told Dutuzu. During the ride, Ciklo found her thoughts drifting to Aerila. "Do you think we could start again? That this time we might be friends." Those words had been ringing in her mind ever since. Aerila signed away her kingdom without a second thought. All while asking for friendship with her usurper. It was so childish. Weak willed. But why couldn't Ciklo keep her out of her mind? Why did it matter still?
 
The car came up upon the Reaper. A shrouded massive faceless figure, plunging a sword into the mountainside. Normally the roads around it were blocked off for foot traffic, but this late they were closed instead. Her driver had waved her clearance through security and drove all the way up. No one batted an eye; this was a common meeting spot for Dutuzu and Ciklo. She exited to see Dutuzu leaning up against his own car opposite her own. She waved to him and the two of the walked diagonally toward the statue, meeting at the sword.
 
"Seeker, it is good to see you." Dutuzu raised an eyebrow at her formality. The pair were quite close. Maybe too close. Azori had joked the other day about how often they were sleeping together. Ciklo cleared her head. She'd had enough of sitting next to that harlequin. His constant comments were slowly getting under her skin. She looked at Dutuzu, examining him with new eyes, thanks to Azori. He had a soft face, thick eyebrows, and the striking purple eyes of a Helgaran. She had to admit he was cute, although too young looking for her typical tastes.
 
"A nice chilling air, isn't it, Duchess." He stressed her title in mockery to her formality. She blushed but tried to hide it. In the night air he didn't see it, thank the Twin. "I hear tomorrow it might be warm enough for cold noodles."
 
"Seriously?" Ciklo was beaming at this. Cold noodles were a delicacy throughout the Confederacy. Unfortunately, it was only served in warm weather. And it was rarely warm in the north. You were lucky to eat cold noodles four or five times a summer season. And with it turning to autumn, this would likely be the last chance until next year. "I can already feel it in my mouth. Oh, man." Dutuzu laughed.
 
"Perhaps we could get some together. It's been awhile since we've had a work meeting." With Dutuzu and Ciklo working on two different projects, they had rarely seen the other in the past few weeks. Such was how the Council of Elders worked, everyone pursuing different objectives.
 
"Unfortunately, there's a vote tomorrow in the Committee. I'll be lucky if I even get a chance to eat lunch, much less noodles."
 
"You're right. I totally forget. Next year then, the first warm day of the summer, we'll carve out the time." Ciklo smiled and nodded her agreement. Dutuzu smiled back at her. He truly was the only friend she had made in their line of work.
 
"What is it that you asked me here for?" Immediately his demeanor changed as she asked the question. He went rigid and the smile faded from his face.
 
"I have information for you. About the insurgency." Cilko opened her mouth to ask how he would have gotten that, but he continued on. Whatever it was, he wanted to say all of his piece at once. "I went to Irkallu today. I saw Prisoner Humbaba." The name sent a shiver down Ciklo's spine. She was from Traetor, she understood just how fear inspiring of a crime lord he once was. She had never had to deal with him, even indirectly, he was imprisoned just before she joined government work. "He was extremely forthcoming. He gave me all the information I wanted and then some. But it came at a cost. Next time, he won't speak unless his release is guaranteed. And he knows another Elder will be coming for him soon, and he's right." This confused her, no one was actively pursuing work that they would need information from Humbaba except Dutuzu. Besides, nothing could be valuable enough to negotiate with him, especially if he wanted those talks to include freedom. "He knows things about the Talaos. I don't know how much, but he gave me the inner-workings of full cells, complete with their entire rosters. I verified a couple with the intel the Wraiths have recovered in their raids. It's accurate. I don't know how he knows this, but he does."
 
Everything had changed. "Does he have enough to turn the tide? To break the insurgency." It was all that mattered. Dutuzu had a pained expression on his face. He didn't want to answer. It was all the conformation she needed.
 
"There's a chance, yes." His words weren't necessary. Ciklo had already made up her mind. Breaking the insurgency would change everything. Her land, her people, they were under siege. If she could end this war, she'd do anything. "Ciklo, please. Don't."
 
She didn't respond. Instead she pulled out her phone and quickly dialed a number.
 
"Yes, mehk."[1]
 
"I need you to clear my schedule for tomorrow and arrange for a visit to Irkallu."
 
"But mehk, tomorrow is the vote in the committee." It was an awkward position for the attendant. He didn't want to argue with an Elder, but from his perspective this was insanity.
 
"I understand. Something has come up and this is more pressing. Now do it."
 
"Yes, mehk. I'll make the arrangements, who do you want to see?"
 
"Prisoner Humbaba."
 
"Yeh mehk." The attendant's voice cracked on that. "Is there anything else?"
 
"No thank you that's all." The line went dead. She pocketed her phone and turned to start walking back to her car.
 
"Ciklo, please, don't do this. There has to be another way." She looked back at him, shook her head and continued walking away.
 
 

1.	translation (Khimeric): ma'am; literally: "She Above Me"

For the first time in history, the Grissin will compete in the international sensation of the Mundus Games. This year the games are being jointly held in Royal Seleucid and Tamora, members of the Midaranye region. When the member nations bid was chosen many hoped that the because Midaranye is said to contain a number of artifacts of the Twin, this might be the first Games the Confederacy participated in.[1] Unfortunately, there has been huge controversy surrounding the Games due to parts of Tamora practicing slavery and Seleucid practicing indentured servitude. Some nations such as Tytor and Rokkenjima have called for a full boycott. While the Confederate government hasn't gone this far, they have refused to sanction a Grissin team. As such, Grissin athletes have to fund all expenses out of pocket. Fortunately, through a combined effort by Asurian nobles and Novan corporations, every athlete wishing and who qualified will get the chance to compete. But most disheartening is that the athletes will compete under the Games' flag rather than the Confederate one.
 
Grissin athletes have historically done poorly internationally due to a combination of a lack of participation and differing rules and regulations. Their first real push for international participation was in the 1970s but after a series of upsets in numerous sports due to different scoring procedures and differing legalities, interest was quickly lost. Audiences didn't care to watch Grissin fail or be disqualified on technicalities. The few that stuck it out to learn and train based on international regulations ended up performing poorly domestically, a huge blow to their careers. Grissin athletes have to remain relevant in the Confederacy or they lose public interest, which could cost them their endorsement deals and sponsorships. Over the years some athletes have formed coalitions demanding that Grissin sporting federations follow the international ones. These have failed to gain any real traction or interest, mostly being seen as extremely unpatriotic.
 
The athletes competing in this year's Midaranye Games have worked intensively to be top level competitors both domestically and internationally. In many cases, going from competition to competition constantly shifting rules. For example, in the case of the gymnasts, they have spent the last year constantly switching between two different routines in order to get high scores with both Grissin and international judges. Whether this is attainable remains to be seen. If the Authorized Griss Athletes are able to cause an upset and win a number of medals, this dual approach could become the future of Griss sporting.

1.

OOC NOTE: Haven't fully fleshed this out, but because of religious issues Grissin avoid most the south, believing it to be dominated by dark energy, but there are pockets of protection and since Midaranye is the closest region to Griss figured it might be one. If someone is interested in expanding on this, feel free to message me.

Ciklo accidentally kicked the bag at her feet over, spilling the morning flower clippings all over the stone pavement. She got off the bench and started gathering them up and putting them back in the bag. She was far more nervous than she cared to admit. It wasn't often that she saw her cousin. The two meeting would be awkward at the best of times, and this was anything but.
 
She had flown into Traetor quite early, coming to the Winter Gardens directly from her flight. She had planned on waiting for Aerila here, on the bench across from the snow roses. But she saw that they needed clipping and almost without thinking ordered one of her men to bring her a tool to prune them and got to work. It had taken some time and she was covered in a dewy sweat and patches of dirt. But it reminded her of her childhood. Of the little time she did spend with Aerila and her half-brothers. The Traetor children grew up among the gardens and landscapes of the ancient Traetorian castles and keeps, including the Winter Gardens. To think the family was all but wiped out in less than a year.
 
Ciklo had wished Zunetu had lived. He almost did. He, like the rest of his brothers, was groomed for statecraft. Born to rule over the Dynasty. Aerila had been raised in daydreams, isolation and idealism. Her world was fairy tales and trashy romance novels. As they got older, Ciklo always felt such pity even just standing in the same room as her.
 
All that were left of the Dynasty was Aerila, Ciklo and Ciklo's father. And the Harbinger, Lady Emo, Aerila and Ciklo's great aunt. But she was disinherited once she joined the White Lily Cadre, not that she had much of a choice in the matter. And Ciklo's father had been locked away from the public's eyes for years for his own crimes. Never formally charged or triad for the scandal, he had spent the last decade under house arrest. The Dynasty truly was on the verge of collapse. And if the family did fall, it would be anarchy and chaos until the Confederate forces established order. Which every nation would take issue to. The Dynasty needed to survive, or it would mean civil war. Not to mention that in this scenario, Ciklo would have to be dead.
 
Ciklo finished gathering the last of the clippings as she heard soft footsteps approaching. She looked up, "Princess, it is good to see you."
 
Aerila slightly bowed to her cousin before taking a seat on the bench. Ciklo joined her. As Aerila took in the white roses, Ciklo analyzed her from the corner of her eyes. She looked in rough shape. Her face was red and her eyes puffy and raw. There had been an admirable attempt to this under a skill level of makeup, but it wasn't very good under close inspection. Aerila, who had been only seen as an annoyance to her family and known this, was now left with the muddled task of mourning them. She was carrying all the grief on her shoulders. Ciklo had abandoned her just as everyone else had for her whole life.
 
No. Ciklo was busy doing the difficult task of protecting and leading the Dynasty. The task that Aerila had ignored. It was her birthright and she didn't care for it. Ciklo took a deep breath to steady herself. It was Aerila's fault, none of this was. Besides, it was better that Ciklo took over for now. Maybe in a few years, when the Talaos were broken, maybe then Aerila could take her rightful place as the Traetor Queen.
 
"Y'know, I planted this bed of flowers." It started the Duchess and she turned her attention back to the roses. "It seems like a dream now. It was so long ago. We had only been in the Gardens for a few days, the beginning of the winter season. As always, I wished to play with my brothers, and they were content to ridicule me until I gave up. As a child, I never understood their hatred towards me. I thought we were one family. It was a long time before I realized their disdain for my mother was what guided their treatment of me. A mother I don't even remember. A mother I will never get to meet now that my father is gone. That day, as I did so many days, I ran from them to hide alone in the gardens and cry. My father found me, a hoe and seeds in his hand. He asked if I wanted to help him plant some flowers. We spent the afternoon working this patch of earth. It was the most time I ever spent with him. I don't know your feelings towards them cousin, but they were monsters. All of them. Just like their father."
 
Ciklo nodded. It was true. Aerila may be childish and weak, but she was correct. "Cousin, I want to apologize for what my brothers did to you. Forcing you away when you were so young. It wasn't fair."
 
"That is not your burden to bear."
 
"It is now. I am the last of my family. Their mistakes are mine now. It is up to me to atone for them and to right the wrongs they have done."
 
"Aerila-"
 
"Cousin, I know you would not come if you did not have something official to discuss, so go ahead."
 
As horrible as it was to say, Ciklo thought that the tragedy had done Aerila good. She had matured so much. Or perhaps she was always this way and the Duchess had refused to see it. "Aerila... as you know, the situation in the kingdom is complex and dangerous. You already asked the Council of Elders to oversee Traetor until you were ready. I'm here to ask to take that a step forward. We want you blessing in formalized the provisional government, with me as acting head."
 
Aerila smiled. "Of course, cousin. This way the Dynasty remains in our hands. It is the best solution. But in exchange, I ask a favor."
 
"Anything."
 
"Unlike my brothers and you, I have little knowledge of ruling. Could you, could you find me instructors so that when power is returned to me, I might actually be able to perform my duties?"
 
"Of course. I apologize, if there is nothing else, I must be going, there are things to finalized." Aerila nodded and Ciklo started to walk away. She could imagine that in a year’s time, Aerila would make a strong and powerful monarch. Her grief would be a powerful motivator. So much so she might even become a player. But whose side would she be one was the real question.
 
"Cilko."
 
"Yes?" The Duchess turned to face Aerila. Her face was bent down, her long hair dropped over it, hiding most of her features from view. In an instant Ciklo could tell she was crying.
 
"Do you think we could start again? That this time we might be friends."
 
"Of course, cousin. Does not the same blood flow through our veins?"

Quin grunted. As a child she had always imagined the outside world. She had longed to see it. Begged her instructors to let her roam free, even if it was just outside the temple grounds. But the answer was always no. Darkspeak. She had grown to hate that word, same as any other member of the Temple. Now, older and wiser, she knew that was done on purpose. Everything in her childhood and training was purposeful. A Doll is not born but created through careful cultivation.

She finished adjusting her robes. She despised the things, their loose frame, the way they sort of drooped everywhere. In the temple no one ever wore them. She'd much prefer her form fitting temple uniform. But that would look too militant, it would upset the powers that be, scary them more like. Better the outsiders thought the Temple was still clinging to its lost nature as a Cadre. That they were lamenting what they lost rather than having moved forward decades ago. Quin almost smiled at the black silk; in a Cadre she would most certainly be a talent of her generation. She'd have walked the Way of Shadows and already passed the trials to be a Seer. She was glad it was the Temple that found her and not the Cadres, a life of mediocracy, no matter the unearned praise she'd receive, was not for her.

She looked across the room at Tezisi. She moderately knew him. While the same age, they had been raised in separate broods. The first time they met was over Gungi. Everyone at the Temple was an accomplished player in some right. But as children Tezisi and Quin showed great promise. They were singled out for additional lessons. After a few weeks, Tezisi proved himself as the superior player. While Quin had the mind of strategy, she lacked the patience. Why command the army to victory when you could lead them from the front? He continued his lessons and she was assigned to learn other things. It was her greatest weakness according to her instructors; she had such potential but focused only on the talents that brought her pleasure.

Tezisi was also wearing the black robes of the Way of Shadows. It sort-of surprised Quin. He'd always been well mannered and kind, a strange and rare quality among the Temple. His buzzed head made him look young and approachable rather than hard. His eyes were soft and unassuming. But Quin felt like there was something missing from them.

"Ready to go?" Quin spoke in Darkspeak. Even though they were alone, she dared not break the Decree. Punishment for the whole temple would be swift and without mercy. She knew she was assigned to guard Tezisi as a test of restraint. Everything had a purpose within the Temple. Everything was a test; the question was always could you recognized of what. Tezisi nodded and the two walked out of their modest hotel room.

It was a short walk to the conventional hall that the tournament was being held in. The pair walking in a line, Tezisi in front, and Quin his perfect shadow. They did not speak, did not look at the others passing by, despite the looks. The two were like celebrities, all the other players were enamored with them. To Quin, who had spent her whole life learning how to blend in, to move unnoticed, it was nerve-wracking.

They entered the hall, and Tezisi took a seat at his designated play area. For simplicity and ease, Tezisi had an assigned table and his opponents rotated. Everyone else was constantly moving between tables throughout the day, but Tezisi remained sitting. It made sense, he couldn’t ask questions, couldn't ask for help if he got lost. Not that he would have. Quin took her guard position behind him. One the first day she had been offered a chair but turned it down with a nod of her head. She didn't mind standing for long hours; her endurance training had been unspeakably worse.

This was the second to last day of the tournament before the finals. Quin was actually disappointed in Tezisi. He had done little to prove himself and seemed to be an average player. Quin constantly found him making simple errors while playing. She had wanted to say something, but she wasn't allowed to speak, even in Darkspeak, in case she was advising Tezisi during matches. She consoled herself with the knowledge that it meant she would get to go home soon.

Tezisi' first match took the seat across from him. He was an older man, his grey hairs blading. Quin could see his ley lines were blocked in numerous areas. His posture was horrible. She doubted he'd live for another year. He must already have some terrible illness. She guessed cancer. He must be a regional champion. Knowing he was nearing the end of his life, he thought he'd give the tournaments a chance. Or maybe he was seeking the prize money for medical care. No, from what Quin knew, money was not an issue for health care in the Confederacy. It was either an experimental surgery or a spiritual healer. Given his age, it was probably the later.   

He gave Tezisi a smile showing his numerous missing teeth. They had played on the first day and he had easily won. No doubt he thought Tezisi wouldn't be much of a match. They began laying out their pieces. Gungi was an interesting game because even the set-up was shrouded in tactics. Players took turns laying out one piece on their side of the board. It meant you have to keep track of what they were holding in reserve, which side should you defense, where their weak spots are, what are traps and feints. The old man placed his pieces in a simple left side rush. It was simple maneuver, the idea was that the left side aggression would to so swift and strong that it would overwhelm the opponent and then collapse on their right-side push, winning the middle no man’s land and eventually the game. Tezisi responded to every one of his pieces swiftly and almost without thought. It was not how he normally played, usually taking much more time. The old man sensed it too and rubbed his joints uneasily.

The game lasted a few minutes. The old man pushed, and his advance was quickly broken. Tezisi used his strong pieces to slow the advance while his fast-aggressive pieces flanked, breaking the old man's push. He quickly surrendered. 

The rest of Tezisi matches followed suit. No matter how skilled or cautious the opposition was, he crushed them in minutes. His moves were varied and dynamic, unlike games he had played earlier this week and unlike any other player. It took a few games before Quin realized it. In Gungi, personal strategy and tactics were sacred. It was why the Masters wouldn't play until the GCS and the Cadre players didn't join the tournament circuit until halfway through. No one wanted to reveal their hands. Players tended to develop unique playstyles similar to how one develops a personality. Tezisi had been hiding his own skill and playstyle for as long as he could. Using basics and common strategy to win. It was actually a testament to his skill that he was able to do so well with well-known maneuvers.

But now that pretense was gone. Quin had a small grasp on how Tezisi would play (she had been trained the same as him), but even she struggled to keep up. From the looks on those across the table, they had no idea how to counter him. Most didn't even understand what he was doing. Tezisi tended to favor sacrificing strong pieces to slow or weaken enemy advances and then rushing into the open spots and exploding the enemy's lines. He was reactive, using the other player's tactics against them. Where they fortified, he ignored, where they strengthen, he spread his line. When they advanced, he retreated. When they were careful, he was brutal. When they were aggressive, he was cautious.

The smartest of his opponents, those who had some grasp on his skill, simply looked on in awe. Even Quin was shocked. Lunch break was called. The board was removed from the table and their lunch was put in its place. Quin took the seat across from Tezisi. She looked up at him. He was unpacking their lunch from its box. Flash fried fish flaked with spices and a small side salad. He separated their meals, passing Quin her food, before quickly digging in. He ate quickly, but with precision. He looked up at her, noticing her eyes on him.

"Is something wrong?" He had just taken a large bite of fish and his words were muffled by the food in his mouth. She looked at his eyes. The emptiness was gone. In its place was something dark, powerful, hungry. He deserved the black robes he wore. And for the first time, Quin understood. Tezisi wasn't her equal, he was her better. When the two were learning Gungi, it was to see who had the superior mind. Who should inherit the Temple of Silence. Tezisi had easily won and Quin had never even known. This assignment wasn't a test, it was a punishment- humiliation for her failure.

"No, I just didn't realize how good you were. You've improved much since we use to play." 

"Oh, you are too kind Je'tu (sister). It's just hours of practice and study. If you had stayed studying with me, I have no doubt you would be my better. You have a much better mind for it than I. A natural talent."

Quin smiled weakly. He had always known. How she had thrown away her chance at leadership, to become the Grandmaster without a care. "Perhaps you could teach me."

Tezisi smiled broadly, all traces of the dark creature within him gone. "Of course, it would be my pleasure." It was in that moment she resolved to kill him.

Due to the nature of this tournament, there are no upsets and few crowd favorites. At least at the beginning. As the majority of participants are new hopefuls or amateur rookies, every player is an underdog. Heartbreak and emotions run high because the Traetor Open can end careers just as easily as it starts them. And after a grueling week, the Finals are set to begin.

The Traetor Open is the longest Gungi tournament, designed to be a more forgiving environment. A single lucky game won't make or destroy anyone's chances. Here it's about consistency and endurance. Each day, players play dozens of games, scoring points for wins and the manner in which they win. Closer games score fewer points. Every day, the players with the lowest total score are sent home. Meaning the competition and stakes get increasingly tougher as time goes on. The last two days of the Traetor Open before the Finals are referred to as the “Boiler”, due to the combination of fatigue, stress and pressure many players feel. Usually by this time, the crowd favorites have been decided.

With the six finalists declared, they will get two days of rest before the Finals begin- a single elimination bracket. The winner secures a spot at this year’s GCS. The top four are invited to the rest of the tournament circuit for the rest of the season, and the least two have to wait until next year. This year there are two finalists that have drawn major attention of viewers. Both are warped in controversy. The first is the overall top point scorer of the tournament, Kassi.

Kassi early one drew high praise early on from the audience for her sportsmanship and kind conduct. In addition, she is only 19 years old, meaning if she does join the tournament circuit, she is primed to break a number of age records. Many thought that Kassi would be the darling of the Traetor Open, and this year's Gungi season. But unfortunately, she lost most of her fanbase after it became known that she is Talaos. Few Talaos compete in the professional Gungi scene and few get very far. Kassi is already the most successful in decades. And maybe if this was last year people wouldn't care as much about her heritage. But with the rising unrest in Traetor and the increasing attack by insurgents, tensions are running high. Not to mention that while the tournament is being held in Orphela, it is the Traetor Open and most of the Traetor Dynasty have lost their lives in the past six months. Despite this there has been a rallying cry for politics to be kept out of Gungi, and for Kassi to be judged on her own merits and not by her heritage. She is also beloved by Talaos fans across the country.

The second controversial figure is actually well-liked by most fans. Like Kassi, Tezisi is also 19 years old. But he is much more striking to looking at in his black Cadre robes. Tezisi is not a Cadre monk, but rather a member of the infamous Temple of Silence. The Temple filed a special petition asking for permission that he be allowed to compete in the Traetor Open. This is because since the Temple is no longer considered a Cadre, it cannot just send players to compete during the midseason. Tezisi is not allowed to speak and is accompanied by another member of the Temple at all times, although she appears around his age, nothing else is known about her. He was doing relatively okay in the tournament, scoring near the middle of the back at the end of each day. Until the Boiler. This is when Tezisi proved himself and became the crowd favorite. While every other player slowed down, their games taking longer, their point earnings decreasing as games were closer, and fatigue affecting their ability and decision making, Tezisi went on a rampage. He outperformed everyone else in the tournament, ending as with the second highest overall points. There has been huge speculation as to the reasons behind this- was he purposely underperforming? Does it have to do with his training at the Temple, is he adapted to performing while exhausted? Unfortunately, Tezisi can't answer any of these questions, only adding to his charming mystery.

In two days’ time, the Finals of the Traetor Open begins, and four will secure their place in Gungi this season, and one will ensure they will get a place at the coveted GCS.

The Twin is the two-faced God known for representing duality and opposites. The twin is both mischievous and humorless, logical and enigmatic, cruel and merciful, light and dark. Unlike the other Grissin gods who have mostly been forgotten, the Twin has chosen to spend their life on Mundus among the humans rather than in the Heavens. The true message of the Cult is that duality is a lie, there is good in every act of sin and profanity in every act of virtue.

The Twin was a powerful shapeshifter wandered across the whole world spreading chaos and order equal measure. This came to an end when Kain, a Talaos Warlord, captured the Twin and using a mystical blade, maimed the God. The Twin succumbed to their wounds, dying. This is were animosity between the Talaos and Grissin people begins. The Twin was able to survive by embedding their soul within a nearby human. When that human died, the Twin was reborn as another human, starting the cycle of Avatars of the Twin- humans carrying the spirit of a God within them.

The Avatar of the Twin have varied greatly throughout history. There are the blade-saints like Sozu, who championed the Helgaran people and killed Kain. Then there are those like Thelne who helped to guide or ruled over parts of the Grissin people. There are those like Amutu who pursued their own ambitions. There are also the Explorer Avatars, lifetimes that left Grissin lands to see the world, to deal with outsiders and learn from them. There are a series of rituals and purifications that can prove that one is an Avatar. Having undergone this process, they become known as a Sanctified Avatar. Usually only the Avatars involved in politics or the Cult submit to be Sanctified. 

The mystic blade that killed the Twin is said to be imbued with evil and dark energies. Its presence perverted the North for many years until one of the Avatars found it and took it South. Since then the superstitious Grissin have done their best to avoid the South, fearing the power of the blade. The Cult has long preached that the South and its people have fallen to the blade long ago. The only protection from Kain's blade (its name long ago purged from all records) are the artifacts left behind by the Avatars, trinkets and items that remnants of the Twin's energy linger on. The Confederacy is dotted with these artifacts from the hundreds of Avatars that have lived and died within its lands.


The Cadres are religious societies that are all across the Confederacy. Most trace their origins to an Avatar, either being founded by one or being created in their memory. Cadres have extremely varied beliefs and lifestyles, often trying to emulate the Twin in some way or another. The members of the Cadres can roughly be divided into two camps, the Way of Shadows and the Way of Light, both representing the conflicting faces of the two-faced God. Some Cadres are mixed while others fall directly into one of the Paths. Monks distinguish themselves by wearing black and white robes, respectively, for either Way. As Cadre monks grow older, wiser, and more enlightened, they tend to adopt some ideals and practices of the other Way, often symbolically adding the other color to their robes.

The Way of Shadows
Pragmatism, machiavellian, chaotic, clever, cunning. These are words that might describe those that walk the Way of Shadows. Those of the Way of Shadows have a historical tendency to be involved in politics, subterfuge, and commerce. The Way of Shadows regrets the idea of morality, only caring for intention. Every action posses an intention, ill regardless of the outcome. That intention may carry positive or negative will towards you, or not regard you at all. As such, there are no monsters and no heroes, it is all a matter of perspective and the will of the intention. The highest ranks of the Way of Shadows are those known as the Seers, noted by their violet and purple accents on their robes.

The Way of Light
Honor, dignity, kindness, humility, generosity. These are words that might describe those that walk the Way of Light. Those of the Way of Light have a historical tendency to be involved in society, medicine and charity. Unlike the Way of Shadows, the Light embraces morality, and its followers are those that wish to do good. There is some disagreement on what this means, but they generally dedicate their lives to others, forgoing many of their own desires and attachments. The highest ranks of Way of Light are those known as the Augurs, noted by the gold accents of their robes.

Undivided
While many Cadre monks adopt aspects of the other way, there are those that walk both Ways. They are one of the most elite and exclusive groups within the Cadres, akin to the Augurs or the Seers. Known as the Undivided, they can be easily distinguished by their multicolored robes. To become Undivided takes many years of training and the passage of numerous rigorous trials. The Undivided have a number of responsibilities included the regulation and settle of disputes between the two Ways. As such, they often posses a form of detachment in order to remain objective, a major criticism by both the Augurs and the Seers.


The White Lily: One of the most social of the Cadres, the White Lily is an all-women Cadre that was founded in memory of Avatar Jealki. Members of the White Lily spend their first years learning a strict code of honor, discipline, history, spirituality and formal combat. Then they are sent to live among another Cadre to help maintain the Lily's relationships.

The Temple of Silence: The Temple of Silence was once known as the infamous Dollic Cadre. Most of the history of the Dollic Cadre is sealed by the Decree of Darkspeak. The Decree renamed the Cadre to the Temple of Silence, revoked their status as a Cadre, and barred them from ever being involved in Grissin politics ever again.
The Dollic Cadre was a simple house of assassins, claiming descendancy from the god-beast Enkidu. But they learned the arts of manipulation and politics in addition to their shadowy discipline. Instead of taking jobs from outsiders for money, the Dollic used their skills to puppeteer the entire Confederacy, making the entire council of elders into their figureheads.
This lasted decades and could have continued much longer if the Cadre did not fall to infighting. Since then the Temple has been in isolation, members only venturing out to recruit to maintain their ranks.

The Traetor Open, the first Gungi tournament of the season, begins today. For the first time in the tournaments history, it will actually not take place in the Dynasty. Due to recent unrest and and threats against the event by Talaos terrorists, organizers requested governments aid in the colossal task off relocating to the capital city. Despite the rush and many potential problems, organizers said they are extremely pleased with the outcome so far. Game Master Zaidu, the man in charge of the whole event, had this to say, "we've never had to deal with something like this. A week out from the tournament, having to relocate is something that would give any event organizer nightmares. And as the first Gungi tournament, it is expected that the Taetor Open be pristine and without a hitch. That's the only way to start the season. Thankfully the Confederate government aided in every way possible, including footing the bill. Had they not, we would have gone way over budget. I wish all the players luck and hope all the spectators enjoy. Thank you to all who support us every year."

While the Traetor Open is the first tournament of the season, it is also were the majority of newcomers try to prove themselves. Many of the more experienced Gungi players don't join the tournament circuit until later in the season. And members of the Cadre don't send their own representatives until halfway through the season, in the Orphela Series. As such, there is a lot of excitement and energy as any of these players could be the unexpected breakout star of the year.

Government Type:- Tribal Meritocracy
Head of State:- War Chief (currently vacant)
Head of Government:- Council of Chieftains 
Population:- 84 Million
Capital City:- Greepa (8 Million Permanent)
Demonym:- Falmians

The Falmi Tribes have one of the richest and most distinct cultures among the Confederacy. Most of the Falmi lands are rural small agricultural focused communities. Some tribesmen even follow the ancient nomadic lifestyle of their ancestors. The Falmi tend to be fiercely independent and wary of outsiders. Leadership of the Tribes is done by a conclave of the Chieftains. Individuals tribes are left to pick their leaders on their own by their own standards.

War Chief
In times of war, when the tribes must unify to protect themselves, the Council of Chieftains will elect a War Chief. The War Chief only serves for the duration of the war, stepping down from power six months after peace is declared. In addition, the War Chief cannot come from a member of former member of the Council of Chieftains.

Give our present position, we would like to extend an offer of cooperation. I don't think it is a a far jump that the present human trafficking crisis in Ionia[1] and our own are connected. Unfortunately our Decree of Northern Supremacy outlaws political ties to southern nations. In truth some might even say that this dispatch is illegal according to the Decree. But pragmatism rules the day. As a newcomer navigating international politics, I think it best if the Confederacy followed the lead of others. We are willing to extradited some of the criminals arrested in our bust as they are not Grissin nationals, but rather belong to Ionian nations. Our only stipulation is that this must be done quietly as this could cause major ramifications if made public. The rest I leave up to you. I eagerly await your reply.

Signed
Seeker Dutuzu

1.	the Grissin name for Alba Karinya

"Emperor Azurewind, the pleasure is all mine." Emo thought to give him a short bow, the precedent had existed before when Grissin dealt with Talaos kings and Emperors, but she thought better of it. Better to pretend to be the Emperor's equal. Well maybe they were in equals in their representing of their nations. And the Confederacy would bow before no outside nation. "But please, call me Mae, mother. It's want everyone calls me. I've reached the point were I'm told old to be a lady." Emo laughed at her own joke.

Emo admired the courtyard, it reminded her of her childhood, before the days of being the Harbinger. When she was part of the Traetor family. "Oh before I forget, Princess Aerila sends you her thanks." She looked intently at Peter Azurewind now. In an instant hoping to size him up in this moment, hoping for the possibility to see the man underneath whatever masks he might wear.

"This is fucking illegal and you know it!" Maz was pissed and he didn't care to hide it. The Council of Elders has gone too far this time.

"We gave you what you've been asking for for years. Nova City is now free from Confederate regulations. Can't you just look the other way." Duchess Ciklo of the Traetor Dynasty. Not that it mattered much. Few on the Council of Elders ever remembered to remain loyal to their old allegiances.

"A puzzle box and a political disaster is what you gave me. The city and not the whole republic. What does that mean? And now I have to sort through this mess. Don't think I don't know that this was done on purpose. You want to silence me, to lessen my pressure on you." Maz was standing at the head of the conference table, his chair somewhere behind him from when he jumped to his feet earlier. His hands were gripping the table hard, trying to calm himself done. Surprisingly, Maz was a relatively serene man. But the Elders knew how to push him to his limits.

The room was empty except for Ciklo. The other Elders no doubt dealing with other matters. Maz didn't even warrant two of their attentions. It made him feel weak, small. The Council of Elders was designed so that their infight and national connections would act as a check and balance on the council's power. Unfortunately, in practice the Elders were almost all of one mind- centralization and an increase in Confederate power. It always came down to one of the national leaders to keep them in check. Maz, unfortunately, had stepped into that role some years ago.

"Maz, I'll be frank here. This isn't a power grab by the Council. My cousin Aerila asked for our aid. The Dynasty needs it. It's turning into a warzone. We don't know how the Talaos got this kind of power, but it needs to be crushed. Withdraw your complaint against the Confederate military presence in Dynasty lands and walk away. You stand to gain everything. I'll personally fix this SAR issue for you and extend it to the whole Republic, and the Council will owe you a favor. We don't have to be enemies. I never understood that about you. Why not work with the Council. Imagine what we could get done?"

"Duchess, you cannot buy me off. It doesn't matter how many favors you offer me. What you're doing is wrong and it sets a bad precedent. I won't allow it. I have the support of the Chieftains and the Legislative Courts have allowed voting in my favor. This will go to a review committee. And you and I both know they will rule in my favor."

"At what cost?" This time it was Ciklo who was yelling. "The Talaos terrorists stand to gain everything while we fight. You're playing into their hand. The Council needs you to step down from this issue. Immediately. I will not take no as an answer." Maz was about to open his mouth when the Duchess spoke again. Her words might as well have been gold. "The Decree of Northern Supremacy."

"You'll revoke it?" The Decree of Northern Supremacy is that has kept Griss isolated. The Decree bans any political connects to southern governments. And it only gets worse from there. Later Council has expanded and added to it in order to make any sort of connection to the south harder. Travel, trade, scientific research, international crime all have been severely hampered. Its removal would be Maz' greatest accomplishment. It would change the Confederacy forever. It would be his legacy.

"If you do this for me, I'll do everything I've already offered, and the Council will revoke the Decree of Northern Supremacy. Play your cards right and you might even end up being a special advisor to the Council of International Affairs, the Twin knows will need it." Maz looked up at Ciklo, uncurling his fingers from the table. They were stiff and hard from the strength he'd been putting into them. Her face looked sincere, there was no hint of mechanics in it. Instead she looked tired.

"They didn't authorize you to offer this did they?" She didn't have to answer, her face showed it all. "Why?" Why do this? Why help him, she didn't have to. She could have offered him something far smaller that he might have taken.

"Maz, I've told you so many times, we don't have to be enemies."

"Will the rest of the Council accept this?"

"I'll tell them it’s the only conditions you were willing to accept. We can't announce the Republic being granted the autonomous status for a few days. You'll have to say that because of domestic issues you cannot pled your case to the oversight committee yourself. You'll appoint a proxy. It can be a good one for all we care. The complaint will slowly die in oversight."

"How?"

"The provisionary Traetorian government is calling for a Talaos War. The Council is of a mind to declare one. If it happens, no one will care about some complaint on confederate military presences."

"Will there really be a war? A war against terrorists? What would you even call that? A war on terrorism? That sounds so idealistic and manipulative.” Maz couldn't help but almost laugh at the idea.

"No. Not a full war. I won't allow it. Your logic prevails on this one. It would set a bad precedent." Maz smiled. He and the Duchess exchanged their goodbyes. A good compromise had been reached tonight. And Maz had learned something even more valuable. The Council was not as monolithic as they have led him to believe.