The Consulate

“Impossible! Unprescedented! Irresponsible! Is General Prettana to blame for this? Or Counselor Vassi? Or am I to face the consequences?”

A collective wince. The silent screens flicked between various broadcasts of the violence on Tertius, casting their light on this abashed room of Verdan heads of state. Gregor kicked the table, then slumped into his chair.

“And the shipments… What of our ships? Which idiot consolidated the transports to all be on Verdanus at the same damn time!?”

The answer was, of course, reflexive, and Con Gregor recognized it only after voicing the question. His cabinet retained silence. Now Pretanna spoke.

“We have lost contact with our forces in twelve of their nations. However, I have secured loyalty in at least three others. Fighting continues in four. And Koagrad has unwittingly accepted my proposal for a parlay.”

Gregor waved to her his acknowledgement.

“Keep on with all that. Counselor Vassi, assemble me an analysis team. I need to know how I let this happen.”

Two days had passed, and the stagnation reflected in Con Gregor's eyes.

"Frankly, I am at a loss."

He had lost the intensity of emotion that had stifled the advisors previously; now they were stifled by his surrender. One of the advisors, likely of science or culture, tried to fill the resulting void.

"Con, considering our remaining forces, could we not simply capture the University at Koagrad? Without the University the rest of Tertius would be left without the teachings and..."

The advisor's own fervor waned as the glares yielded scoffs and smirks, one even from General Prettana. Con Gregor took notice.

"General Prettana, why don't you share your thoughts on this subject."

Prettana looked momentarily startled, but with a shallow bow obliged.

"Our only hope rests in prolonging the current infighting among the nations. The capture of Koagrad would remind them of the University's importance."

She glanced about, then explained.

"Such aggression would cause them to unite against us. We would lose."

Kender Vassi, Counselor of Internal Affairs, studied the stylized rendition of the Brotherhood's hierarchical structure. Each member had up to three subordinates and one contact, which kept individual knowledge of the entire organization to a minimum. If any one member was compromised, the Brotherhood need only to dispatch that member's contact to cauterize the wound. The action would yield a loss of every one of that contact's other subordinates down the line, but the main structure of the Brotherhood would remain untouched.

That is why the few who were privy to this overview of the Brotherhood's structure thought of it as a tree - either as roots, splitting and thinning into the ground from the central trunk, or leaves growing on twigs on the branches of the central trunk. Since each representation reflected facets of the Brotherhood's operations, the tree was only more applicable as a metaphor.

Counselor Vassi ruminated on how to go about destroying it, while also wistfully wishing he were a brother.

"Voices. You are all mad voices in my head, pulling this way and that. I feel like a crazy person!"

Con Gregor had cut short a councillor mid report.

"We have idled for two weeks, doing nothing. Nothing. We have issued no ultimatums, mobilized no troops, taken no action. Your democratic witchery has made me into an old fool."

Such outbursts were best left uninterrupted.

"First I am told that we must attack. Then our forces are too few. Then that we could attack Koagrad to neutralize their bargaining power. Then that attacking Koagrad would force a united Tertius. I am tired. I am tired of searching for the perfect solution. I want action, before Verdanus begins to decay, and before I die damn it!"

Which counsellor could risk speaking at that point? They feared not that their ideas were subpar - they feared that the Con would put them into action. And when things went horribly wrong, as they undoubtedly would, who would be held responsible? Only Prettana dared speak.

"We do nothing; events will unfold."

"Good lord," Antony muttered, as the echo of Prettana's voice faded down the stands. "This is what happens when you have an Empire with no enemy to keep its blade sharp," Antony said, leaning back in his seat. The stage glowed bright with light, and from there stacked several rows of Councilors and behind that Antony and several other men and women in white robes sat shaking their heads. This was the Prefects row. The children of the Consulate. "This is so stupid," Antony commented, as the Councilors muttered among themselves quietly about the few words that had been said and the fewer actions that would arise from them, "I could call out at least twelve Generals who would be eager to mobilize in the next fifteen minutes."

"I thought you were the one who wanted to initiate peace-talks," A Prefect said to him from the row behind.

"I do want peace, but Ive found peace works best when there's a gun in the picture," Antony replied. "And judging by this crowd, that gun wont be leaving Gregor's holster anytime soon..."

Proof! Undeniable, unequivocal, proof. Vassi had long wondered if perhaps it was possible, and sometimes imagined that it was true. But now... now he knew! His face had turned into a frightening grimace of vengeful joy, and his eyes must have sparkled so brightly as to blind all in the room - so he guessed. But what did it matter, now that the ruse was over?

Of course, he could not reveal his discovery yet, at least not during this council meeting. It was proof to him because it was based on years of observation and speculation, compounded and now verified - to others it could very well be inconceivable. Saying it out loud, to everyone no less, would likely get him dismissed from the council, if not imprisoned. Without his current status he would be powerless to affect this cataclysm in any way.

He knew now that Prettana was of the Brotherhood - near the top, or perhaps even Grandmaster. Kender Vassi now needed to discover the ends to her means, and quickly if he were to salvage the situation.