3rd of Glade, Year 120
"Things are often less complex than we believe," he whispered, proceeded by a heavy breath that dispersed the smoky salts he had cindered by the candle's flame. As they blew into the wind, they proliferated their unique aroma, and the two men both appeared to mutually smile as they laid back into the grass beneath them. They were set upon the slope of a grassy knoll, each with a bottle in hand. Renfier's was a Daravinic vintage, while Taelian's was an unsurprisingly creamy dairy drink, as was generally his favorite. Ever since he'd found a taste for the sweet, upon leaving Elainian lands, he had indulged in it far too much for his own well-being. As Renfier, and Riven, often pointed out.
"And they are often more," Taelian added, looking towards the opaque blue of the sky. The man beside him nodded in agreement, though he would not offer him more than that. "Tell me of Daravin, Lord Valran." The Siltori faintly grinned. "I read recently that Daravin was not always as it is now -- that once, it was far more unified, held beneath the adjudicating fist of the Emperor. That only in recent decades did it begin to waiver, divided by the hegemonic interests of the Entente."
"You read correctly," Renfier replied. "When I was a boy -- younger than you are now, the Empire was at peace. The Montese did not fear for their survival; they were protected by the Emperor from one another, and their subjects were not treated quite as the serfs they are now. Some remain even-handed; fair, or at least closer to their original vision. For example, my Lady Lierril has not changed much since this warring period began, though I place that upon her Elven traditionalism. In order to survive the climate we now dwell within, however, most have taken to an exploitation that is constant and vast. They tax at exceptional rates, and horde stockpiles of food for their Halamire-Knights. They must always, they believe, be prepared for war. And they are right."
Taelian looked to the other man with a faint glint of curiosity. Then, his eyes returned at first to the hills before him, and then the clouds.
"They are right, Renfier," he said. "Daravin is surrounded by enemies - on all sides. Individual Montese are too; they worry for being swallowed by greater foes. Before long, they will begin to seek alliances with foreign nations. Perhaps it is unacceptable now, but the day will come eventually, I imagine. At some point, it will no longer become a matter of choice; the civil wars will ramp up to a point where survival precedes your isolated nationalism. When that day comes, the Empire is likely to collapse."
"Perhaps," the Valran replied. "Though you speak on something you do not well know. I am certain, Taelian, that the war of today will escalate tomorrow. But I am not so certain that Daravin's integrity, or borders, are at risk. Our neighbors are all weak, or weakened; Lorien wars with itself, the Koltoska suffer at the monsters of our creation, Dalquia bears little valor in the defense of even Brilan Ald, Auris is isolated from us and blocked by peaks . . . Cathena has no interest in warring with one of its partners in trade. We have no true external threat. They would be unwise to offer us the chance at justified conquest of their realm."
