Two Sided Coin: Elasia and Troyius

[NDak 0]

Rows of minarets lined the squared off edges of the central building in the Temple City of Ela that rose from the ground in bricks of gold and hand cut crystal into central building formed atop a quincunx of towers. For generations it had housed both the primary court of the Dohlman as well as the chambers of the Council of Nobles. Jaj’Lon or “Heart of the Planet” was at the figurative and near literal center of the politics that dictated life for the Children of Elaa.

 

That statement held true especially today. As the gentle sea breezes swept into the open windows of the ocular chamber room atop the central tower the fate of two empires swung in the balance pushed by fate, emotion, and chance.

 

“This latest provocation by the Troyians cannot be tolerated!” Shouted a man dressed in light grey robes adorned with simple golden weaving. “They have gone too far.”

 

Across and a few seats down from the grey-robed Elasian, another man – dressed in a dark black tunic and pants suit rose and placed his hands flatly against the carved marble table that rose from the floor. “We cannot simply stand by while they invade our sovereign territory and take hostage our citizens, let alone a member of the nobility.”

 

“I agree with your sentiments,” the disembodied voice of Aon N’Dak said from his projection. “But Marshall Asaoln, are you prepared to commit the lives of the citizens of Isan to this conflict?”

 

Isan, still standing nodded. “Isan has never been one to shy away from conflict, let alone one with those vile Troyians.”

 

Further down the table, a deeply tanned middle aged female Elasian in a white and blue dress lifted a hand. Lakina, First Counselor of the Corineth rarely interjected herself into the more petty arguments of her fellow council members, but this wasn’t a petty argument. “With due respect to King Athormin,” she said motioning to a grey-bearded man sitting near the middle. “Perhaps we should reconsider the diplomatic option?”

 

“I am keen to agree with the First Counselor,” another female voice added.

 

Everyone, including the projection of the Lord Regent lifted their brows. Entering the room was another Elasian female; her simple white chiton flowed as she moved and the gold diadem’s sole gem – a dilthium crystal – cast prisms across the room as she moved. The Elasians still sitting at the table rose and bowed their heads respectfully as the Dohlman made her way to empty chair at the head of the table and seated herself before nodding for the rest of the council to follow suit.

 

“Council,” she said. “As you know it is rare for me to address this council directly, I have always preferred to leave politics to those of you who live and breathe them, however…”

 

“With respect, Dohlna…”

 

Her deep, dark eyes locked onto the gray-robbed man who’d dared interrupted her. “Satrap Omalli,” she said her voice razor sharp. “Do not forget that you are here only at the will of the Dohlman… it would be best if you did not interrupt me in attempt to tell me what I should or should not be doing as the leader of my people.”

 

Omalli blinked several times and mentally made himself close his gapping. “Forgive me Dohlna I did not mean any disrespect.”

Those gathered in the room were equally at a loss for words. In the past five years, Elaan of Troyius had graced their meetings rarely. And when she had, she’d never been so forceful.

 

“Members of the Council,” she finally said. “I have served as the Dohlman of my people for many years. I have sacrificed much. I gave my happiness for my people and married a man whom I could never love and lived unhappily on Troyius for many years. I did that in the name of peace.

 

“Now you stand ready to ruin that sacrifice, and to throw the lives of our people into mortal danger and war over pride.”

 

“Your highness,” Athormin said his face flushing. “This is not over pride, this is over my son. He is sitting in a cell, likely being tortured by those blue-skinned bastards. Perhaps if you had not lived your life in the comfort of palaces and underst…”

 

Elaan glowered. “You forget your place,” she said coldly. “Do not lecture me on comfort. Living with those vile, pompous, arrogant people was torture in and of itself and I do not wish to condemn any of my people to such a fate, let alone your own flesh. However, I refuse to send the people whom I am sworn by the Mother Elaa herself to protect into a war over a single individual. Were your son not among those captive, would you still be so eager for war?”

 

Athormin pursed his lips and remained silent.

 

“They have invaded our space,” Aon finally interjected himself. “We cannot simply let this matter go and give them ransom for our citizens; it would be an open invitation for further aggression, your highness.”

 

“I must agree,” the till then quiet gold and black robed male wearing an circlet formed from golden eagle wings said. “The Dohlman is correct when she says that we should not so blindly throw ourselves into war, especially since the Klingons may or may not be able to provide us with support as they have done in the past …”

 

“Yes, but from what we’ve seen outside of Prosperity, Prince Galo,” a white robbed and turbaned man spoke up. “The Federation is not backing their Troyian allies entirely either.”

 

“That does not mean we should throw ourselves headlong into a conflict,” Elaan said. “We must consider the larger implications.”

 

“Then what would you have us do?”

 

“We must reconsider our options, open a dialog with the Troyians… perhaps the Fed…”

 

“Your faith in the Federation is misplaced,” Asaoln growled. “They were more than happy to help us broker the last treaty, but they neglected us time and time again in favor of the Troyians. How can we place our trust in someone who is allied with them?”

 

Frowning Elaan stood from her chair. “When this council was formed,” she said. “The Great Mother Ela intended us to work together for the betterment and protection of our people. She tasked us to work for the greater good of our people. By going to war now, when all options have not been exhausted, are we doing that?”

 

A long silence provided the room.

 

“In my lifetime, I have never used my reserve powers over this council, and I would do so only as a last resort, just as we must only use force when we have exhausted all other options. However, if you force my hand… I will do as I see fit… I bid you well, all. I leave this matter to you solve as best you think, but heed my words, Elasian blood is not to be shed until all avenues have been exhausted.”

 

With that Elaan made her way out of the chambers, leaving them in stunned silence. After a few moments, Asaoln of the Isan spoke up. “Surely she cannot expect to tie our hands and put the safet…”

 

“Asaoln,” Prince Galo said. “I do not have to remind you that she is our leader, we must obey her.”

 

Frowning, Asaoln finally nodded his acceptance. “Still...”

 

“I think, perhaps, I have an idea.”

 

They looked to the project of Aon N’Dak with interest. “Oh?”

 

“Leave it to me… but if I should fail, our forces must be ready to act. And you, Galo, get in contact with the Klingon Ambassadors and see what their position is…”

 

---

 

Steel and concrete dotted the landscape of the administrative capital of the Troyian Empire –Jesan. Modern, clean, and inherently ordered, the avenues of Jesan lead to a glass and steel rectangle that rose fifty floors above the city. Every surface in the city was smooth and orderly, every edge perfectly cut. Built in the days after the Troyian-Elasian War had come to an end, the city of Jesan was to symbolize a new era for the Troyian people, a symbol of modernity and galatic standing. And though the figurative heart of the empire remained in the city of Lavelin where the ancient Imperial Palace stood surrounded by manicured gardens, the brain of Troyius lay in the banks, business headquarters, research centers and government buildings of Jesan.

 

Today that brain was overtaxed. Rain fell in the far off distant mountains that sat on the horizon of Jesan and would soon make its way to the City of Order, as its inhabitants called it. In Government Center, a blue skinned male looked out from his forty-fifth floor office at the looming clouds. First Minister of Defense Atrin Yalon placed his arms behind his grey and white pinstripe suited back.

 

“When we build this city,” he said continuing to look past his reflection. “There was little here but dirt and scrub.”

 

“And look at it now,” a voice said behind him. “Your people must be rather proud of yourselves.”

 

“We have accomplished much…”

 

“With the help of the Federation.”

 

“On our own,” Atrin said quickly. “The Federation has been our partner yes…”

 

“But you saw how quickly they were willing to abandon you when it suited their needs. Challenger and Cepheus did not bother to lift a finger during the engagement outside of Prosperity. And now they make port in an Elasian city.”

 

Atrin sighed heavily and glanced briefly towards the simple charcoal flooring before averting his eyes to the coming rains once more. “As I said… has been…”

 

“So your Premiere too my…your advice then?”

 

“Yes,” the Troyian said with a heavy effort. “As of 1300 hours, Earth-time, the Troyian Empire will have formally withdrawn from our treaty with the Federation.”

 

“And Ga-Gaol?”

 

“That… that’s a more complicated matter.”

 

“How so? I would have thought taking the asteroid base along the Elasian border would have all but ended that agreement.”

 

“In theory,” Atrin said. “In theory it should have, but the Elasians have yet to formally respond to our request to cede the territory according to the treaty’s clause for disputed territory or our demand for the ransom of the prisoners we’re holding.”

 

“Most curious.”

 

“Indeed.”

 

“I assume your government is prepared for a counter-strike?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Well then, I am sure that the Elasians won’t waste much more time in doing something. Knowing them, they likely were caught so off guard that it will take them a while to respond. Which is why if…”

 

“I know you think we should have hit them harder initially but…”

 

“But?”

 

“The Premiere and the rest of the civilian leadership was loathe take major action, least the Elasians actually don’t have the stomach for war. And the crown was hesitant to even back what we did.”

 

“How woefully inefficient.”

 

“Give it a few more hours… you’ll get your war.”

 

“How can you be so sure?”

 

“Because the Elasians are a brutal, blood thirsty people who’ve only ever needed the thinnest of pretense for fighting, let alone us capturing one of their bases and demanding ransom for some of the captives.”

 

“Well then,” the voice said. “If you’ll excuse me Minister, I have a pressing engagement.”

 

“Of course, I’ll let you know when we know anything else.”

 

Behind him, Atrin heard the doors close shut as his visitor left and he glanced only briefly towards the doors before returning once more to the window, where the smallest drops of rain had begun to collect against the glass windows.

 

In the hallway two figures exchanged glances before heading towards the elevators in the center core of the building. “Do they know who they’ve captured?”

 

“Not that I can ascertain.”

 

“Curious.”

 

“In deed.”

 

“I would have thought for sure the Elasians would play more easily into our hands, considering who was stationed there.”

 

“It is most… surprising. Perhaps we underestimated their desire for peace?”

 

One of them scowled at the other. “You do not believe that.”

 

“I suppose not. But perhaps the Federation played a larger role than we had anticipated.”

 

“Perhaps. We should look into this, if the Federation is playing a larger role and attempting to play peacemakers, it could disrupt the entire operation.”

 

“Agreed.”