**Jasmine Same Roth's Log, Supplemental**
**Shire Valley – Government District**
**May 15th, 2126**
**Four crowns weigh one invitation.**
**Power sits across the table.**
**Caution meets necessity.**
The Grand Council Hall was thick with tension. Sunlight cut through the tall arched windows in sharp golden beams, casting long shadows across the obsidian table where the four monarchs sat beneath the banners of their kingdoms. The formal invitation to the American Republic's Ratification Ceremony and the request for official recognition lay open between them like a loaded weapon.
King Aldric of Albion was the first to break the silence. His voice was steady, but there was clear steel beneath it. "I will attend the ceremony myself." The words landed heavily in the chamber. Queen Sylvara of Hylār turned her head slowly, her golden eyes narrowing with visible displeasure. "You would go in person?" she asked, her voice cool but edged with sharp disbelief. "Into the territory of strangers who can erase an entire fleet from the sky without ever setting foot on the battlefield? That is not diplomacy, Aldric. That is reckless."
King Aldric met her gaze without flinching. "The Imperia's main forces in southern Albion are breaking as we speak," he replied. "Their lines are collapsing under the pressure of the Americans and their Guardians. While we sit here debating the risks, the enemy that burned Rothvale and threatens every kingdom at this table is being driven back by weapons we do not possess. I will not insult the only force that has actually hurt the Imperia in months by sending a minor delegation. I will go."
Queen Elowen of the Gnome Kingdom in Exile sat very still, her small hands clasped tightly in front of her. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet but carried the weight of someone who had already lost everything. "If the King of Albion is willing to stand before them himself," she said, "then perhaps we should stop treating these Americans as a threat we can afford to keep at arm's length. My people have no kingdom left. Our capital is ash. If these strangers can help ensure the Imperia never returns to our mountains, I will not stand in the way of building relations with them."
Queen Sylvara's expression hardened. "And what happens when they decide our caution is an insult?" she countered, her tone sharpening. "They destroyed an Imperia fleet without warning. Now they ask us to send our monarchs into their hands. We still know almost nothing about what they truly want from us. Land? Military support? Influence over our borders? We have seen what happens when powerful outsiders offer friendship with one hand while reaching for your throat with the other."
King Brokk of Helmsland let out a low, gravelly sound. He shifted his massive frame in the heavy stone chair, the movement deliberate and heavy. "Helmsland has no love for outsiders meddling in our mountains," he rumbled. "But we also have no love for watching the Imperia flood through our southern passes while we argue about pride. These Americans have shown they can gut an enemy before it reaches our gates. Recognition is a small price if it keeps their guns pointed east instead of west."
He looked directly at King Aldric. "Still… sending your own crown into their territory is a bold move. One I would not make lightly." King Aldric's jaw tightened. "I am not making it lightly. I am making it because Albion cannot afford to appear hesitant while the Imperia's main army is being broken in the south. We have already fought beside them at Blackthorn Harbor. We have seen what their soldiers can do when the lines are collapsing. If we refuse them now, we tell them we would rather stand alone than stand with the only force that has actually turned the tide."
Queen Sylvara's voice cut back in, colder than before. "And if they use this ceremony to pressure us into commitments we are not prepared to make? Or demand we open our borders to their people? What then?" Queen Elowen spoke again, her tone firmer than before. "Then we say no. But we say it after we have looked them in the eye. My kingdom is already in ruins. I will not let pride finish what the Imperia started."
King Brokk drummed his thick fingers once against the table, the sound echoing like distant stone striking stone. "We send delegations," he said. "We watch closely. We listen to what they say when they think no one important is paying attention. If they prove reasonable, we can discuss embassies and recognition afterward. If they do not…" He gave a heavy shrug. "Then at least we will know the shape of the blade before it reaches our throats."
King Aldric looked around the table, his expression resolute. "Albion's decision is made. I will attend the Ratification Ceremony in person. The rest of you may send whoever you choose. But I suggest you choose carefully. These Americans move quickly and strike hard. We would be wise to meet them with open eyes rather than closed minds."
Queen Sylvara studied him for a long moment before giving a single, reluctant nod. "Hylār will send observers," she said. "Nothing more until we are satisfied." Queen Elowen exhaled slowly. "The Lusian people will send what little we can spare. We cannot afford to turn away from any chance at stability." King Brokk gave one final, heavy nod. "So be it."
King Aldric leaned back in his chair, the tension in his shoulders easing only slightly. "Then we are agreed. We will attend. We will observe. And we will decide the matter of formal recognition once we have seen this Republic with our own eyes." He looked at each of them in turn. "Begin your preparations. We leave within three days." The four monarchs sat in heavy silence as the weight of the decision settled over the ancient hall. Outside, the banners of the Four Kingdoms stirred in the wind — proud, but no longer certain they still stood alone.