This story takes place in a fantasy world where demons, humans, and faunus (humans with animal qualities) fight for survival. A world where the rifle is shunned in favour for the sword and sheild.
The Visean kingdom has recently defeated the Demon...
In the German embassy in Postella, Arthur Zimmermann had just finished putting on his black and gold uniform, he had refused the help of any servants as he did not want to become lazy or complacent. As he exited his room, his secretary, in a black uniform with a silver aguillette, shoulder boards, and a small row of medals, his mlack cap embossed with silver acsents. He handed the diplomat his bicorn hat, with a large white plume sprouting from the top.
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"Your excellency, you have been summoned to the holy court." The secretary reported. Zimmermann, sighed, the holy court was the name for the palace the Patriarch and his family lived in and conducted issues of government. Zimmermann loathed the Postellan court, so arrogant, so uptight, lacking the common touch, taking every chance to demeen the poor as if it was their god-given right. He had made multiple requests for a transfer, even if it meant a demotion. However, a phone call from Kaiser soon cemented his confidence. The Kaiser had insisted that Zimmermann was not there to make friends, the reason why he was picked for this task, was so that he could defend German interests and keep the postellans on their tones.
As Zimmermann pondered how he'd confront the Patriarch about the border skirmish, one of his elite Liebstandarte guards reported that the Postellan saint had arrived and had requested an audience. "Tell the Postellan court that I will be severly delayed." Zimmermann smiled, the secretary and guard bowed and took their leave. In the grand marble halls of the embassy, Zimmermann marched to the front door, taking pride in the fact that the German embassy was only dwarfed by the Patriarch's palace. When he reached the door, the ambassador heard the usual gentle knock of the saint. The knock was always soft, almost hesitant, belying the fact that she was the most powerful sorceress in Postella, bearer of the title Saint.
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And Zimmermann knew, her gentle knock mirrored her true nature, probably the most honest person he had met in this whole country. And he did not enjoy her presence due to her fame, but simply because of her genuine company. Zimmermann opened the door, refusing a guard's offer to do it for him. The saint, the most powerful sorceress in the country, smiled shyly as she entered. Zimmermann bowed, taking off his hat, in exaggerated courtesy, a gesture that made her smile faintly. "You really don't need to do that, Arthur." Isholde said softly, her outit glowing in the bright light eminating through the doorway, contrasting Zimmermann's uniform, but making his golden acsents and piping glisten.
