The reverberations of Daemon's technological warfare were beginning to spread across the continent, reaching beyond the immediate conflict between the German Empire and the Ottoman Sultanate. In the south, the ancient and powerful Roman Republic—a society that viewed the German Empire as an upstart rival and a crude, barbaric power—had gotten wind of the predicament and the devastating, non-magical capabilities of the M-1 explosive. The news did not just concern border skirmishes; it highlighted the fundamental fragility of the magical balance of power.
In the grand, marble-clad Senate Hall in Rome, the senators gathered for an emergency session that day. The air crackled with apprehension, not fear of the Ottomans themselves, but recognition of the tectonic shift in military balance caused by the cheap, ubiquitous M-1. The Romans, like the Germans, had always relied on the absolute superiority of their high-tier battle mages and the fundamental scarcity of power. The M-1, however, threatened to democratize destruction.
"The reports filtering in from the German border are clear," stated Senator Tullius, adjusting the folds of his crimson toga with nervous energy. "The German Empire's magical legions are being checked by commoners armed with a simple chemical explosive. This M-1 is not a complex spell; it is a cheap, mass-producible weapon that grants un-magical forces parity against the foot soldiers of a magical state. This changes everything about how we secure our own borders and project power."
The ensuing debate immediately splintered the Senate into three distinct factions, reflecting the Romans' traditional, often cynical, approaches to foreign policy and military doctrine. The conflict was so severe it threatened to derail the Republic's long-standing foreign alliances.
The Neutralists, led by the conservative and deeply cautious Senator Valerius, formed the Old Guard faction. They argued for strict neutrality in the conflict. Their belief was rooted in magical arrogance: the M-1 was a base, commoner problem that would eventually stabilize as the magical powers developed overwhelming countermeasures. "Let the Ottomans and the crude Germans exhaust themselves fighting over peasant bombs," Valerius argued, his voice carrying the authority of centuries of Roman doctrine. "We must not dirty our hands with this base chemical warfare. We wait patiently for the natural order—the magical superiority—to reassert itself. Intervention risks drawing this unpredictable, chemical conflict to our own shores."
Opposing them were The Ottoman Allies, a faction led by the opportunistic Consul Silvius. This group saw the M-1 not as a risk, but as a strategic necessity. They argued for an immediate, covert alliance with the Ottoman Sultanate to secure access to the weapon's formula and production knowledge. "If this chemical power can check the mighty German Empire, imagine the unparalleled advantage it can give to our own military operations," Silvius countered, addressing the floor with passionate pragmatism. "We must obtain the M-1 immediately and arm our non-magical auxilia! This is the future of low-cost, high-impact warfare, and we cannot afford to be behind the Turks."
Finally, the most aggressive faction was The Espionage Hawks, led by the fiery young Tribune Aemilia. She rejected relying on the untrustworthy Sultan and advocated for direct, covert action. They proposed an aggressive campaign of espionage and technological theft. "We do not beg the Sultan for scraps," Aemilia declared, her voice ringing with conviction. "We send our own deep-cover agents—our most skilled infiltrators—into the Balkans. We must steal the formula from the source. The knowledge of the M-1 and its manufacturing process must reside within the Republic, not be dependent on the whims of a foreign king."
The debate raged for hours, highlighting the severe, cascading instability Daemon had caused across Europe. The traditional political map was being violently redrawn, and the magical elite of Rome were forced to contemplate arming their own peasants with weapons capable of killing their own mages. The session was ultimately adjourned without a consensus, but the realization was stark: Daemon, a former commoner student, was, through his sheer ingenuity, fundamentally changing the nature of warfare and international politics.
While the Romans debated, Pasha Musa was undergoing the true test of his political survival, facing a power far greater than any senator. He was standing in the grand Imperial Court of the Ottoman Empire, having been summoned by the Sultan himself after the Vizier Ya'radua's glowing, yet vague, report on the M-1 and the airship.
The Court was breathtaking in its immense, oppressive majesty. The chamber was cavernous, tiled with jade and gold, and filled with the silent, watchful figures of the Sultan's most powerful viziers and guard mages. Dominating the center was Sultan Mohammed al Farouk, an imposing figure whose sheer presence made the large Pasha Musa seem like a child. The Sultan was not merely physically commanding; his entire environment was saturated with a heavy, palpable mana that seemed to leak effortlessly from him, manifesting as shimmering heat and subtle pressure that weighed on everyone in the room. This pervasive leakage of raw Aetheric power was deliberate, constantly reminding everyone of the Sultan's absolute magical dominance .
The Sultan fixed Pasha Musa with an intense gaze, yet his initial voice was warm, almost jovial. "Pasha Musa," he intoned, his voice echoing slightly in the vast chamber. "You have served the Sultanate well. This M-1 of yours—this 'chemical solution'—is a fascinating development. It has taken the ranks of our magicless imperial soldiers and transformed them from mere cannon fodder into cannon fodder that can actually kill other cannon fodder!"
The Sultan laughed, a booming, confident sound that reverberated through the chamber. He viewed the M-1 not as a technological threat that could challenge his rule, but as a supremely convenient, cheap utility tool. It armed the non-magical masses without requiring them to tap into the sacred, complex world of Aether. He was pleased to have a powerful tool that kept the power structure firmly intact.
The Sultan's demeanor then shifted abruptly. The laughter ceased, and the pervasive mana in the room thickened, pressing down on the Pasha with the weight of the massive stone walls. The Sultan's voice changed to a tone of chilling seriousness.
"However, Pasha," the Sultan stated, his eyes narrowing, penetrating Musa's facade. "I know. And you know. You do not possess the wit or the specialized knowledge to conceive of such a weapon. Our best alchemists and engineers have reviewed the canisters and the residual effects. Even the German Imperial Court, with all its resources, has struggled to find someone capable of creating such a controlled, non-Aetheric explosive. Who is the source, Pasha? And why have you kept the true nature of this power a secret from your sovereign?"
The crushing weight of the Sultan's magical presence, combined with the absolute certainty in his voice, shattered Musa's careful resolve. The Pasha, sweat beading on his brow and trembling beneath the invisible magical pressure, fell instantly to his knees, his face pressed to the opulent floor. He realized that the time for maintaining the fiction of an "ancient artifact" was over.
Under the irresistible pressure, Pasha Musa exposed everything: the precise details of the airship landing in his province, the commoner Daemon's status as a German fugitive, the initial trade of the airship for sanctuary, and the subsequent deal to establish Angel Corp for M-1 production and fuel synthesis. The Sultan now knew that the secret to the M-1—and the key to non-magical flight—was not a formula to be stolen from an archive, but a single, brilliant, and vulnerable man whom the Pasha held captive in a Romanian quarry.