The delegation left as quickly as they could, even going so far as to jump to hyperspace merely a few hundred miles from the asteroid belt. The populace of Arcadia now had a much higher opinion of their Queen than just a few hours ago. Even the Mobile Suit Golems and mobile Armor Golems had begun to view her with respect and trust, even though that respect and trust was still quite minimal. Asharia could not have planned and executed it any better.

Asharia’s place in Arcadia was secure; she was the de facto ruler of the nation while Arkhan stayed in his coma. This was a position that she had grown to like but knew full well would eventually end. Arkhan needed to wake up and wake up soon. If he did not, then her position would once again be threatened, and the public would once again start to view her poorly.

Such was the fickle nature of the mob, to turn on those who aided them when enough time had passed, and the actions of the past were forgotten.

Asharia sat down in the hospital room where Arkhan lay and talked to him about the events of the past few days. Yes, he could not respond, but there was evidence to support the idea that coma patients could hear the talking of those around them. She wanted him to be aware of things if/ when he woke up and trying to keep him up to date provided her with a welcome reprieve from ruling the nation.

“….and then they bolted from the system like our forces were on their heels. The people are really angry with them, and they have every right to be. I wish you could have seen the looks on their faces when they saw the whole of our military arrayed before them. The mix of shock and horror on their two-faced mugs was priceless…”

Asharia put her hand on Arkhan’s forehead and sighed.

“I really need you to wake up soon. I don’t know if I can keep my position for much longer if you don’t come back. Despite living for millions of years, this role has been quite enjoyable and a welcome reprieve from the boredom of eternal life. I don’t want this to end just yet, and I don’t want the cycle to keep on repeating. As much as it irks me to say this, I need you. Arcadia needs you. The galaxy needs you. Wake up and break the wheel.”

Asharia sat for a bit longer before getting up and turning to leave. As she walked towards the door, the sound of a weak voice came from behind her.

“Say… please…”

Asharia slowly turned around to see Arkhan’s eyes fluttering open and closed. His head was slightly tilted towards her and his face was straining to crack a smile. Asharia rushed over to him and looked at his face up close to see if he was actually waking up or if he would just lapse back into the coma. Arkhan’s eyes finally became accustomed to the light and were opened halfway. He gazed into the eyes of his wife and…

“Personal space?”

Of course he would crack a joke….

…

“Hey! Did you see the news?!”

“Yeah! You can’t go anywhere without hearing about it!”

“Just got back from the store. The place was a mad house; it was like everyone and their pets decided to rush the place… But! I got some beer! Here, take one!”

As you might guess, the generally mood inside Arcadia was one of ecstatic jubilation. Although, this mass of celebration was to be expected. After all, Arkhan Aesir Arcadia, The God-King of the Arcadian Solar Commonwealth, had risen from his coma and had returned to lead his nation to greatness once again! He was slimmer than he had been before the coma, but this was due to muscle entropy caused by inactivity, and his voice was cracked and faint due to his years of not using it. None of that mattered to the populace of Arcadia, and none of it mattered to Arkhan’s creations.

What mattered was that he was back. What mattered was that he wasn’t dead or a permanent vegetable. What mattered was that Queen Asharia had not lied; Arkhan had recovered due to the new tactics and strategy used by the military, among other things.

However, Asharia was not so naïve to assume that Arkhan had returned from his coma unscathed, nor was she willing to ignore the possibility that he would end up like all the ones who came before him. Sure, he was the first to avoid dying due to the metal degradation and soul degradation caused by a mix of his own existence and the weapons used by the Angels, but that just meant that he was making a new path. This path might lead to the end of the cyclical pattern that led to the rise of the AHU and those that came before them, or it might just start the cycle anew. Asharia could not be sure which it would be until it actually happened.

Arkhan was confined to a wheelchair for now, as his legs were too weak to support him. Of course, his two Mobile Thrones swapped the duty of ferrying him from place to place, and by now they were more than willing to slow down when moving. They did not want their creator to die due to whiplash or broken bones, and they kept their speed down to roughly 10 mph at most.

The MSGs and MAGs in particular were partying like there was no tomorrow. They would have slammed back copious amounts of alcohol and food if they could actually eat and drink, but instead made do with other ways of celebrating. Missiles and particle beams danced both in air and in space as wild revelry overtook the nation.

Arkhan was slowly going on the path to recovery, and it would take months, if not years for him to fully recover, if he even could.

As if to rain on everyone’s parade, the fourth wave of Angel warships entered the system and forced the military to stop celebrating. With anger and fury, the fifty-eight ships of the Angelus Holy Union were torn to shreds in a display gratuitously excessive overkill. With the foe bested, the military returned to its revelry and for the next few days it was almost a non-stop party in Arcadia.

…

An Angel draped in pure white cloth with numerous decorations on it stood at a pulpit and spoke into a camera.

“This makes the fourth attempt at purgation to have met it's end by a detestable sneak attack. We must not let this stain on our righteous purity and honor stand. As the Grand High-Cleric of the most sacred and noble of all races, I call for a Crusade against the primitive and wicked xenos that pollute a system that is rightfully ours! They have strayed from the path, and we shall set them back on it! They must walk the road to extinction, and we will be the shepherds to guide this flock to the fate that awaits all of the aliens and heretics that exist. I call to the faithful to mass for conflict. We will send them to Hell, and their existence shall be stricken from all records once our victory occurs. Their worlds shall be forever left barren and lifeless, a testament to our righteous and glorious might! Join me, ye faithful, for we march for a Holy War!”

The elderly Angel finished his speech and clasped his hands in prayer as the throngs of his people followed suit. When the prayer ended, the masses separated as they rushed to enlist in the upcoming crusade. A crooked smile filled the Grand High-Cleric’s face as he pictured the death and destruction that the Crusade would cause. The misery and despair of the xenos and heretics would be legendary, and he would enjoy every moment of it.

The die had been cast, now all that was needed was to see which nation would emerge as the victor.