The moment comes. It is now inevitable. In a small, unnamed yet historic village in the westernmost reaches of Aisorbma, on the borders of No Man's Land, Duke Tenil gu Srander waits for the other boot to drop.

He wanted war to start. Now it will.

The following account is taken from historical records.

Episode Thirteen – the Road to Perdition

Duke Tenil gu Srander held a vigil over his dead wife that night. One of Samfr's colour-men offered his flag – and through it, his regiment's honour – as a burial sheet. Come the morning they would take her body home. For all that they had taken this place, there was a stench of bodies and they had no desire to stay any longer than necessary.

There was a second colour-man, and his flag had been hung on a makeshift flagpole on one of the houses. The wind was still tonight and it did not flutter.

Every so often one of the sentries would pass by, at the beginning or end of a shift, and offer some form of comfort. They had encamped to the north of the village, where the damage was least. Mostly they wanted to avoid the stench of the burned barn at the south-east, where several Paladins had been killed while they tried to wrench the gates open. It appeared that they had been locked shut and barred. Tenil suspected his traitor had been at work long before he gave the call.

Tenil himself occupied the house at the north where the Prime Minister had stayed. The body of the Duchess Caira iwl Srindra was on the large bed, and he sat on a chair beside it.

At one point during the evening, Tenil paused in his vigil to stretch his legs. It was then that he discovered the parchment.

It was on the floor, presumably dropped when the bugle-call was heard. An envelope was beside it. The envelope had a broken wax seal on it, in bright red.

Tenil knew that shade. He picked them both up and folded the
envelope, to piece the seal back together. Two halves of the Royal Crown joined almost seamlessly.

He looked at his hands. They were shaking. He slowly unfolded the
parchment and began to read.

To his Honoured Grace the Prime Minister of Aisorbma,
It is my most sincere hope that this message doth find thee in the utmost of good health, and that no untoward incidents hath delayed the Ranger to whom this message wert entrusted, for the times doth alter with each passing day and I fear that war doth loom almost unstoppable upon the horizon.

My beloved Queen and I hath between us spent many hours in contemplation of the various ways and means by which that thing which we all dread, war, might be avoided. Many of the options with which we are presented doth not sit well in our minds, for they contain means and measures unpleasant and unacceptable to both our peoples. Despite this, through great fortune my Queen hath determined two options which may, should luck be on our side, prove acceptable to thee and thine people in our hope of averting war.

Tenil paused in his reading. He was a dabbler in politics; all nobles of the Kingdom were. This was a Royal Document, and its intent had been to stop attacks such as his.

But peace? That made no sense at all! Except...

The concept that the success of this document might have prevented the death of his wife began to slowly tap on the shoulder of his mind.

He steadied himself against a wall, and read on.

The first of these options doth possess a quality of purity which I must applaud heartily, for despite its stark simplicity it will bring to a close all hostilities between our peoples.

My Queen believes, and I am in agreement, that the sole requirement would be the cessation of this irrational habit of storing rice pudding for later consumption at lower temperatures. If this grand gesture on thine part wouldst prove difficult to commence quickly, then a display of non-aggression may prove adequate to the nobility of these fair lands. Many of them have expressed to us their displeasure at being unable to travel freely through the countryside of Aisorbma. There are
some tales told to the Royal Court that there is excellent game to be hunted in the southern reaches of thine territories.It is our feeling that were the nobles more free to explore the land and culture of Aisorbma they might develop a greater respect for its people. In time the people of Aisorbmii could explore further into the Kingdom to learn
more of their ancient origin.

Sadly it is also our belief that thou hast little time to consider your
options, for I fear the nobility are already conspiring to provoke a
response from your people.

Finally, my Queen hath cast a spell to quicken our communication during
these times. Should thou utter the word 'Alfonso' a pigeon will speed to you, and will convey thine messages to us.

Tarry well, and good health,

HRH his Majesty the King Arit fre Togr of the Kingdom.

The metaphorical tap on the shoulder struck a metaphorical gold brick against the side of his head.

The parchment fell to the floor. Tenil sat, knees against chest, rocking slightly.

There were words for this; he'd been taught them by one of his tutors. It was called 'What If?'. What if... he'd charged the Prime Minister himself, or forced his wife to stay home, or never conspired with Lord Samfr de Samfr, or never attended that lacrosse match in No Man's Land?

What if the Prime Minister had had chance to respond to this letter?

His tutor said they were the two most devastating words known to
mankind.

He was agreeing. He was toppling. He continued to rock.

At some point his hearing began to slowly tap on his shoulder that there was a commotion outside.

Some notion of self defence against metaphorical bricks urged his arms to help him stand, and his feet to carry him out of the house, where the stench of the dead hit him anew.

On the ground in the courtyard was a large Aisorbmian man on his back with blood-crusted hoof-prints on his front, several empty bottles at his side.

Within feet of the body were many others in far gorier condition. The blood was still spilling from some.

His glazed stare glanced east, where a number of sentries were gathered. There was a Paladin on horseback there too. His legs took him to the commotion.

'Duke Tenil,' one of the sentries said, 'this Aisorbmian says his name is Seto... what was it?'

'I am Setovarinesa, of the Minister Cadre of Aisorbma,' announced the Paladin on the horse. 'I bring a message to you.'

'Hmm?' murmured Tenil.

'The Prime Minister of Aisorbma is dead. All his hopes for peace are
over. Tell the King... there will be no conversion to his heresy. There will be no quiet invasion. The country of Aisorbma hereby declares war upon the Kingdom, and we will fight you all the way.'

History records that Duke Tenil gu Srander ordered a party of five
lancers back to the Kingdom with this message. The rest of the riders were to be escort for the deceased.

There were many dead, but none so revered as Duchess Caira iwl Srindra, and none so tragic as Duke Tenil gu Srander, who impaled himself upon his own sword at the end of his vigil.

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