Chapter 15:

Division

Convergence of the Three Empires


In roughly the same hour, the Antediluvian senate is having their meeting. After an uneventful roll call, the senate began their hearing with the first person to talk, Consul Seneca. Seneca carefully read the paper in front of him, it was a proposal by the Green Division, Julius himself, for additional Antediluvian troops to be commanded by him for the battle of the Amazonias.

The first senator to speak, a man by the name of Leroux Monet, gave his support to the proposal. This immediately messed with the entire half of the senate that is vehemently opposed to the idea of Julius von Kaiser, they went into violent uproar. Brutus immediately stood up, smacked his table a few times to reclaim order and said, “Why do we wish to play still with the whims of von Kaiser!? He is not even a citizen of Antediluvian!”

“Julius is not the enemy!” Leroux answered back, “You are the people that are making him out to be the enemy!” Leroux was seated as the former Consul, and despite his somewhat relatively young age compared to other Consuls of his time, he was still a veteran of the Caledonian war.

“He is an exile of Caspian and a warlord, what trust have you been giving this person!?” Brutus retorted. There was merit to his words, after all. The senate was putting its trust--blindly, might i add-- towards an exile and a warlord. With obvious ill intentions.

“We best be careful about him,” Brutus continued, “He is not asking only for citizenship, but for nobility. It would make him qualified not only for the seat on the Senate, but also for Consulship!” It was entirely possible for Julius to acquire Consulship, but,

“You are not making any sense, Brutus,” Said Leroux, “Senate and Consulship is not open for new nobilities. A man’s name must be noble for two decades before they are available for both positions.” The supporters of von Kaiser went into an uproar, they scream and yell of slander which the anti von Kaisers were obviously doing.

“Then we are giving him a prime example of our Empire’s martial weakness!” Yelled Brutus, perhaps to burn himself in order to burn the opposition with him, “What if he so desired to exploit it, he could very well win against us! What would you then, Former Consul Leroux, say if our glorious Democratic Empire was taken down by a thief in angel’s clothing!?”

“We do not call him an Angel,” another supporter of Julius stood up, a man by the name of Michael Metternich, “He is not our savior, he is not even a citizen of the Empire. He is merely a man, but he is a man that is only willing to help for gold, nothing more, nothing less.”

“He is not merely asking for gold! Mr. Metternich, he is asking for NOBILITY! He wants to be one of us, he is never one of us. HE is less than human, he is an EXILE!” Brutus’ followers repeated the word ‘Exile’ to mock the supporters.

“ENOUGH!” The thundering voice of Seneca echoed through the senate hall. Immediately, the arguing ceased. And there was a sordid silence in the air, as if a single drop of a pin could not only be heard, but would break it once more. The opposing factions of Metternich and Brutus glared at one another. Seneca cleared his throat and the rest of the senate came to stare at him, “Continue with the voting procedures. And do not SPEAK, unless permitted to.”

The voting continued. One said yay, another said nay. Not a single senator abstained their vote, yet at the end, Julius didn’t win out, he would not receive additional troops for the battle of Amazonias. The senate proceeded normally after. A few arguments here and there, but nothing as terrible as earlier.

As Seneca sat in his study, pondering, he realized that Julius never needed the troops in the first place. No, as he remembered the argument, he saw how divided the senate had become, how fractured the once indomitable senate had been. The goal of Julius with that proposal was simply not to get troops, but to divide the senate. To lay the seeds of the tree of discord and put chaos in the senate, in the Empire. Chaos that Seneca oh so terribly wanted to avoid, and yet he played into it.

*

Smoke and fire claw into the night. Fires rage in the heartlands of the Amazonias as one by one, camps of the Sakilo-Jawani’s army caught on fire. At first it was a few minor fires, a campfire being flipped, small gun discharges. Yet over time, the fires grew. And they grew, and they grew. Soon, the fires were so wide and massive that they almost linked towards one another. But there was another sound amidst the flames, the sound of gunfire.

For the soldiers of the empire, the idea that their own allies, their friends, firing at them was very… hurtful. And yet, as they hid behind cover, that seems to be what was happening. The fires, started by the secretive ‘Black’ division of the Kaiserreich, threw fire at the camps, they burnt it down, trapped the people inside. Murdered people that treated them like friends, lovers, all in cold blood. Mercenaries remain mercenaries. And yet, even then, some of them didn’t fire their guns. Some of them refused to do what they were told to do, perhaps because they found a new life with the Sakilo-Jawanians. It is during these times that they drop their gun, that they surrender. Yet there was one thing that they forgot, only to remember as the barrel of the gun is pointed directly at their head.

It is the Holy Sakilo-Jawani Empire’s divine right to purge the Galaxy of heretics.

Fanatic idealisms seeped deeply into the core of the average citizen of the Empire. They fully believe their divine right, that they’d die for this divine right. That every enemy they have shall die under this divine right, and those of their own that die in battle, simply did not believe in their God enough. God would make them invulnerable, or so they believe. Every dead they have are merely people that did not believe enough. They charge head-on towards their enemies like hydrophobic dogs. All in an effort to show their faith towards their God.

The black division did not consider this through, and so, they felt themselves slowly pushed deeper and deeper into the jungles. Between the relentless fire of the fanatic soldiers of Marthusia on the ground, and from the sky. They felt sandwiched as they retreated. The fires grew, they grew, they grew, they grew. And yet the Sakilo-Jawanians never once considered putting out the fire.

It is this divine fire, they say, that will cleanse the Galaxy.

Cora
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