Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

The "Alliance Assembly," held once every four years, was initially called the "Inner Sea Conference."

Following the Gold Saddle Battle, under the ardent advocacy of Ned Smith (who was not yet a marshal at the time), the representatives of the Mountain Front Territory gathered in Guidao City to "seriously discuss the current state and future of the Ducal Lands" for the first time—a historical moment later known as [the First Inner Sea Conference].

In the context of the Alliance, this first conference marked a significant turning point in time, signifying the end of the "local resistance phase of the Sovereignty War" and heralding the onset of a widespread uprising.

In contrast, the Empire's official records grouped the South's so-called "local resistance phase" together with the subsequent "rebellion against Duke Orléans's tyranny phase" under the umbrella of [the First Suppression War]—to be distinguished from [the Second Suppression War], which followed the defeat and death of Duke Orléans and was personally led by Emperor Richard IV.

In essence, the Empire recognized "Suppression Wars" as comprising two distinct campaigns, one spearheaded by Duke Orléans and the other by Emperor Richard IV, separated by a brief year's truce.

However, the Senas Alliance staunchly maintained that there was only one "Sovereignty War," contending that whether it began with peaceful petitions before the throne, tax protest movements, or escalated into bloody clashes on the battlefield, these were merely different phases of the same war.

The opposing views arose naturally from differing stakes and interests, which need not be elaborated here. Let's turn our focus back to the First Inner Sea Conference.

The conference was attended by fifty-five representatives, mainly from the autonomous cities of the Mountain Front Territory, with only six representatives hailing from hereditary noble estates or episcopal districts.

The majority of these representatives claimed their titles unilaterally, without any formal public election or official authorization from the autonomous cities they purported to represent.

Indeed, even as the conference was being held in Guidao City, four autonomous cities convened citizen assemblies on the side and promptly passed resolutions reaffirming loyalty to the Emperor while distancing themselves from what they called the "Guidao rebels," eager to avoid any implication of association.

The qualifications of the First Inner Sea Conference's delegates varied widely, with most being impassioned young Protestants driven by fervor.

A month earlier, they had learned that Guidao City's Protestants had driven out the cruel and inept Governor, Count Chatillon, and were rallying forces to stage a decisive final confrontation with him. Armed with their own makeshift weapons, they hurried to join the fight under the cover of night.

What followed was the "Gold Saddle Battle," etched in bold strokes into the Alliance's annals of history.

The militias of the autonomous cities faced off against the Royalist noble coalition army on a small hill east of Coteley City.

The Royalist coalition included four hundred fully armed heavy cavalry and nearly two thousand infantry and crossbowmen, the nobles' most formidable private force.

In contrast, their opponents—the militias arrayed on the hill—though double in number, consisted merely of lowly weavers and petty merchants, whose only likely response to the charge of heavy cavalry would be to scatter in panic.

Thus, Count Chatillon and the Royalist nobles, convinced of their impending victory, dismissed the ragtag group before them entirely. Following protocol, the Count sent in the crossbowmen to exchange volleys, followed by the infantry to engage in close combat. After a brief struggle, the rebels began to falter, their lines contracting steadily.

Seeing that the rebels' morale was wavering, Count Chatillon recalled his infantry and ordered the heavy cavalry, composed of noble scions, to charge and claim the spoils of victory.

The impatient nobles mounted their horses, barged through the retreating infantry, crossed streams and ditches, and scrambled over marshy ground to crash into the now-dense square formation of the militias.

They were utterly shattered.

The nobles failed to breach the militias' formation and quickly found themselves mired in broken terrain, surrounded on all sides by enemies.

Realizing his grievous mistake, Count Chatillon personally led the remaining cavalry in a desperate charge, aiming to break through the center and snatch victory from the jaws of defeat.

Count Chatillon's reckless assault penetrated the militias' first and only line of defense. But then… he was pinned down and slain in the marsh by a reserve force that his adversaries had shrewdly concealed until the final moment. Even in death, he could not comprehend how he had lost to a mere rabble.

With this battle's conclusion, the rebellious noble coalition was utterly defeated. The gilded saddles of their horses became prized spoils for the militias. Those nobles who could not escape met grisly deaths beneath firearms and pikes—the militias had no need for prisoners. The Mountain Front Territory's Royalist nobility was broken, their power to influence the situation thoroughly destroyed.

Leading the militias to this brilliant victory, Ned Smith now found himself the de facto leader of the militia forces—whether he wished for it or not. His name began to spread widely throughout the Mountain Front Territory.

And then came the Inner Sea Conference, marking the official end of the "local resistance phase."

…

At the First Inner Sea Conference, the fervor fueled by this shining triumph had not yet subsided. The high-spirited "representatives" dared to utter all manner of bold declarations.

If someone proposed to sweep all the cruel nobles from the Mountain Front Territory in one fell swoop, another would counter by calling for an expedition across the Sheltering Mountain Range to lay siege to the Eternal City.

Ned Smith found himself repeatedly damping their enthusiasm, tirelessly stressing the vast disparity between the Empire and the Mountain Front Territory, between the Emperor's armies and the militia forces.

Perhaps he doused their spirits so effectively that their mood swung from one extreme to another. As a result, the sole outcome of the First Inner Sea Conference was the signing of a single document by the representatives.

This document bore no title; Alliance members later referred to it as [the First Declaration], but that was a designation given only in retrospect.

Anyone literate enough to read [the First Declaration] in its entirety would find its tone ambiguous, its language humble—and its stance vague.

Nowhere in the document could words such as uprising, insurrection, revolution, independence, or freedom be found. Nor did it explicitly challenge the Emperor's authority in any way.

Instead, it restrainedly, even obsequiously, outlined the suffering and hardships faced by the people of the Mountain Front Territory: corrupt governors, unjust taxation, lawless garrisons, stifling religious oppression... all these grievances were cautiously presented in the hope that His Majesty, the supreme Emperor, might heed the plight of the Mountain Front's people and consider abolishing unjust laws and cruel governance. Rather than a declaration, it resembled a petition.

The original declaration, bearing the signatures of fifty-five representatives, was promptly sent to the Eternal City. Once this task was completed, many of the gathered representatives intended to disperse.

Yet Ned Smith managed to persuade more than half to remain in Guidao City, preserving the format of the Inner Sea Assembly as a "temporary standing body," which would temporarily replace the authority of the Mountain Front Governor and oversee the coordination of militia forces across the autonomous cities.

The Old Marshal's insistence on keeping the Inner Sea Assembly alive stemmed not from a desire to be under someone's thumb but from his grim yet clear-headed realization: once the common enemy was gone, the militia forces would inevitably fragment into chaos. Without a single entity to unify them, today's comrades-in-arms would eventually wage war on one another due to past grudges and new animosities, leading to complete disintegration.

However, his concern over a lack of common enemies was soon put to rest when Emperor Richard IV swiftly responded after receiving [the First Declaration].

The Emperor interpreted it as a direct challenge to imperial authority—even though it was merely a humble petition. In response, Richard IV unleashed his fiercest war hound.

War reignited, followed by the Second Inner Sea Conference, the Third, the Fourth…

With each passing session, the number of participants grew. In addition to representatives from the Mountain Front, emissaries from the Vineta City-States gradually appeared at the long table… along with a small handful of observers bearing poorly disguised false surnames and speaking with odd frontier accents that could be recognized at a glance.

From the Gold Saddle Battle onward, the second phase of the Sovereignty War raged for twelve years, during which the Inner Sea Assembly convened eleven sessions, nearly one per year.

Representatives and officers from the Federated Provinces, Vineta, and Paratu frequently engaged in fierce arguments within this temporary standing body. Fistfights were not unheard of.

Though everyone expressed dissatisfaction with this temporary standing body, it remained the sole institution capable of coordinating the diverse factions, regions, and systems of military forces, resources, and manpower. It was the only vessel that could encompass the Federated Provinces, Vineta, and Paratu.

By the Imperial Calendar year 531, when Richard IV withdrew his troops and the various republics achieved final victory in the Sovereignty War, the Inner Sea Assembly had effectively become the supreme governing body of the Alliance.

It merely required a new name, as with the inclusion of the Monta Republic and the Van Republic, the Alliance's territory had long since expanded beyond the "Inner Sea coastlines," with inland territories' share eclipsing that of the coastal regions.

Thus, in the same year as Richard IV's withdrawal, the Inner Sea Assembly was officially renamed the Alliance Assembly.

According to the Old Marshal's vision, the transition from the Inner Sea Assembly to the Alliance Assembly was merely a change in name; its structure, functions, and operations would remain unchanged.

As long as the Alliance continued on its established trajectory, although gaps persisted between the various republics, they would eventually become inseparable parts of one another.

As long as the Great Alliance of the republics remained unbreakable, they would never need to fear any external foe.

However, Ned Smith failed to realize that the legacy he intended to leave for posterity had already deviated from his expectations. Perhaps he never sought control over the army and country he founded, but those entities had objectively slipped from his grasp, unwilling to heed his wishes.

The Old Marshal believed that renaming was merely that—a cosmetic change—yet in reality, it marked the collapse of the Inner Sea Assembly.

The Federated Provinces, Vineta, and Paratu jointly undermined it, reducing the Alliance Assembly to "handling only Alliance-related matters"—in other words, abdicating responsibility for any substantive affairs.

The republics divided the Alliance Army among themselves, with forces from the Federated Provinces, Vineta, and Paratu returning to their respective territories and transforming into the official national armies of each republic.

Though they inherited the same tactics, systems, and regulations, they were now firmly differentiated from one another.

Raising a child is akin to this process: you may nurture and train them to be strong, wise, and adept; you may watch with pride as they grow from a toddling infant into a robust, dashing youth. But you can never predict the path they will ultimately choose.

In Imperial Calendar year 532, the Alliance Army Academy was officially founded, with Ned Smith personally serving as its inaugural principal. He chose to place his hopes in the future.

That same year, representatives from the various republics unanimously passed a new proposal at the 13th Alliance Assembly, revising its annual sessions to once every four years.

The reasoning was simple: annual meetings were too cumbersome, and the high-ranking officials and legislators of the republics had no desire to endure the hassle every year.

Thus, they either allocated representative slots to inconsequential individuals or extended the meeting interval. The representatives unanimously chose the latter—after all, the title of "Alliance Assembly member" retained some semblance of prestige.

Extending the interval salvaged the assembly's last shred of dignity.

Unexpectedly, because the title of "representative" was automatically assigned to the heads of state and legislative leaders of the various republics, the Alliance Assembly inadvertently became a rare occasion that brought the most important figures of the republics together.

Thus, the Alliance Assembly, held once every four years, naturally evolved into the primary "diplomatic stage" within the Alliance, allowing the men wielding power over the republics to look directly into one another's eyes and engage in face-to-face dialogue.

In Imperial Calendar year 560, with tensions between the Federated Provinces and Vineta at an all-time high, the 18th Alliance Assembly, hosted by the Van Republic, may well stand as the final chance for peace.