by Jessica Hammer and Chris Hall

"My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est Pro patria mori."

The Power of War died in 1918, on the eleventh hour, of the eleventh day of the eleventh month. But his estate did not die with him. For some unknown reason, the Excrucians refused to erase war from reality. The Powers of creation, the Nobilis, decided that war was too powerful a concept to be handled by a single Noble, and yet it needed a master. And so they meet each year to decide who will take the Estate of War, and to decide its course for the coming year. How many will live, how many will die, and the nature and character of war itself will be decided in this meeting.

But this year, some univited guests have come to the meeting. And they have a proposal of their own...