Jezebel Drusus (born: Jezebel Claes, 9732 CE) was an Albedan Human and first Imperatrix to rule over Martial Space. As heir apparent, she played an outsized role in leading the Mandate Powers against the Wholarch Powers during the War of the Ancients. The attack by the Astrean Martial States onto the Confederacy of Borealis triggered the posthumously named Jezebel's War which lasted until her death in 9767 CE. Throughout both conflicts, Jezebel Drusus championed the ideology of her own creation, Iron Feudalism, which sought to use natural selection, rather than democracy, to determine the fitness of leaders.

History

Ancestry

Once life begins to experiment with multicellularity, it is only a matter of time before a great deal of radiation. In the biological sense, radiation is an increase in taxa—the origin of new species. On many worlds this process is sudden, leaving almost no fossil evidence of any kind of transition. Many of the noble families of Aylathiya are life this, having emerged all at once but with little warning. House Claes emerged sometime around 8200 CE during the chaos of the dying Triumvirate Civilization. This Human noble family appeared in the history record with artifacts, architecture, and oral traditions.

Despite their sudden appearance in the "fossil record," House Claes had played an outsized role in politics since before historians could confirm its existence. Many sons served as generals in Gran Rubedo's magi armies. Even as Gran Rubedo was destroyed and its religion syncretized and replaced with Ibaradism, nobles within House Claes kept up the "pagan" worship of Mars—even as Mars became a widely accepted deity amongst the conventional religions.

Jezebel Drusus' father, Ithobaal Claes, was third in line to be Patriarch and his closest. To the outside world he was a duke, that of the duchy of Alba Pele. Within the family, Ithobaal had the rank of ainsminister. He was responsible for the gathering of resources for internal ritual use, a highly trusted position given that it was one of the few areas where internal and external politics met.

Early Life

Jezebel Drusus was born to Ithobaal and Vanne Claes in 9732 CE as their first and only child. She had a natural aptitude as a Paladin owing to her great willpower. This offset her meager skills in other forms of thaumaturgy. Using what limited powers were afforded to Paladins compared to other thaumaturgists, she had everyone convinced she was far more powerful than she actually was.

The War of the Ancients had been raging since before Jezebel was born. The Claes family had long since joined the side of the Mandate Powers—mostly because they had no choice. The Wholarch Powers were hell bent on universal conquest. Whether they were anarchist collectives, merchant republics, feudal empires, or social democracies, every nation joined the Mandate Powers or succumbed to the Wholarchy's endless magus armies. Multiple times, the young heiress apparent Jezebel had to escape invaders on Albedo. She was just strong enough to justify shipping every guard save for a small number of elderly women trying in vein to make the young servant boys into soldiers.

Hiding from several enemy spies would not do. Jezebel was so young after all, yet she was left to wander the deserted streets as nearly every citizen fled or was conscripted. The infinite manpower of the Wholarchy meant they would pepper every single world with the occasional interloper—they had already killed several of her favorite servants. Gamil was the most frustrating; the fool didn't even take down a single one on his way out. Really, every servant was worthless. The Patriarch himself was worthless, letting his so-called capital planet be trespassed upon. It was all so frustrating. So outrageous. She could count how many years she's been alive on her fingers and yet people who'd need twenty hands to do the same are so incompetent.

The libraries were often empty. She didn't bother scanning in. Here she would learn how to take power. From time to time, Jezebel reflected on this, "Why is everything so clear for me and not for them?" She found the answers in old tomes describing natural selection. She was simply more fit for the environment, like the pigmites she saw crawling about in the deserted streets, no war could stop her. If those bugs can zealously defend their home, why couldn't the plebians? They were less fit than her. It is true that throughout history exceptional individuals emerged, in fact, the Wholarchy's entire structure was based on the fifteen or so individuals who are so exceptional they can rule planets single-handedly. For Jezebel, who was merely preternatural but mortal, such heights were beyond her reach.

When her fingers alone were insufficient to count her age, and she had lost as many servants, she met her parents for the first time. Though, it was just the ainsminister and his third wife. They had her tested, at first with a psychologist who asked altogether too abstract questions. They asked her if she felt cold often and if she could make herself cooler. She responded by blowing rings of condensed vapor into the psychologist's face as though it were well below freezing in the room. Her mother had a hard time with her apparently, as she would often unconsciously lower her temperature in utero—truly a generational talent. This, of course, was the power of Invocative Thaumaturgy, the ability to absorb and redirect energy from the environment.

Talent and hard work, did it earn her some reward, even praise from anyone? Anyone of worth besides the servants or this annoying psychologist. Ithobaal stood in the corner, smirking. That day, a seamstress measured her. The next, she saw Ithobaal again as he presented her with a uniform. It was a bright green, gaudy, and covered in faux gold—all the real stuff was in computer chips in ship mainframes after all.

War of the Ancients

Jezebel saw no combat at first. Instead, she did errands for her father. It was a fake rank, more or less the job of a servant, but dressed up in uniforms and strict manners. From time to time he would show her off to her uncles, third cousins thrice removed, and even a few outsiders. A year of this and her role became increasingly concrete.

The Wholarchy causally tossed the populations of worlds at the Mandate Powers, like pigmite colonies waging war with enslaved legions of symbiotic ants. There weren't as many ants on Eos as there were on Albedo, but there were just as many pigmites. Jezebel often crouched over them, watching them carry amaranth-colored seeds from the pigweed that gave them their name. She was in a comfortable position in the rear, dozens of kilometers from the front, but the sounds of jet engines and artillery fire were still audible.

Jezebel was more or less left alone with a few soldiers who acted as her guards and some unrelated soldiers who handled logistics. All Human, of course, they cannot leave a future duchess with anyone else. "Why do you need me at the front?" She asked upwards of a dozen times. What use could a child, even an exceptional one, be?

She noticed the shimmer in the evening light, like heat rising from hot pavement. It moved. Jezebel was already on her feet as she heard the whining of its capacitors charging. The drachenframe, a four-legged Wurtzite model fielded by the Civese Great Cities. The Civese technological edge gave them access to the Eris Field—cloaking devices. How they managed to get this deep into the line is a mystery. Jezebel felt slightly guilty for the profanity, but it got a few of the soldiers moving. The thing wouldn't bother with its main gun in close-quarters combat, but its pilot noticed her high rank and began with a spray of antipersonnel fire.

It hurt like hell, probably more for the soldiers for whom the spray mowed down. Though, perhaps the rush of adrenaline or shock numbed it a bit; she wasn't sure. Jezebel, as talented as she was, was an amateur. She couldn't absorb most of their kinetic energy in time, and now her body temperature plummeted as she tried to force her cells to work faster. It was tough business, so she lied in wait as it was happening, though no doubt the drachenframe would be able to detect her heartbeat. Might as well slow that down too.

Several soldiers returned fire, though their small arms would take a few thousand more shots in the same spot to make a difference. They did ruin its geometrically perfect surface, so its cloak flickered as though it were a projection by an old film projector. She didn't have the mastery of her body that she needed, but the bleeding stopped. She rose to her feet while double checking with her hands. The bullets were poking out of her skin as partial cysts covered them, "Gross."

Her legs moved slowly she was so cold, so she began to heat back up. There were no magi here for kilometers in every direction. She was probably the only one who could stand up to this drachenframe unless some heavy marines showed up. She sighed, the reinforcements were more lightly-armored peons. They took up defensive positions amongst dugouts, amongst the semi-permanent tents that had been put up years ago, and on their stomachs. "Yessebel, get down!" The gaunt-faced soldier couldn't pronounce her name correctly. She bolted toward the vehicle, no doubt it wasn't alone, but she could buy time.

"Oh that's why he put me here," she managed to absorb the next few bullets that hit her. She heard a deep whirring sound as its main gun began charging, evidenced by the cloaking going down. They knew she was a magus, but that didn't matter. The Civese were inferior organisms that relied on their technology over raw strength. A kick to its hull, at once releasing all the energy she had stored up, and the drachenframe staggered on its feet. She began feeling warm, a sign of hypothermia no doubt. She was frantically absorbing all the energy in her vicinity. Another few seconds and kicked the same spot, she yelped as she realized she already had frostbite. No matter, she will heal it later.

She saw the four glassy eyes of a Civese staring at her through the new hull. She smiled, though she doubted it would understand the gesture. She ripped open the hole and climbed in, the pilot began to scream in its crunchy broken language, not unlike the sound its skull made as she crushed it. Her hands bled, Civese skulls were far sturdier than the common glass they resembled. She felt queasy, but she pushed that thought aside, she ignored the smell. She began destroying the controls in front of her, pulling wires, yelping every time they shocked her, and kicking the ones that looked like they had enough energy in them to hurt. The other pilots were shouting the whole time. One tried shooting at her, but she grabbed its worthless gun and threw it with all her might at it. She missed, but it did some damage. The rest tried running, but her guards took care of them.

"Lady Yessebel," are you alright? A guard peaked in through the hole after it was all said and done.

"I'm fine no thanks to you," her eyes stung, probably from the oils and strange Civese blood. She was focusing on expelling the bullets from her body. Her uniform was in tatters, but that was no matter.

"Where were you!?" She shouted at the heavy marine who arrived first, "Your duchess was put in grave danger!"

She shook, no doubt from rage, while telling off the man whose armor made him at least two meters tall. Decorated in the symbols of house Claes, this was supposed to be the best of the best. His face was obscured behind a metal mask crafted to look like his face, but she could tell he didn't understand. Just more low human capital, the only kind of capital that seemed to be around here. More marines emerged.

"Since you lot can't even see these things properly, follow me! There's a lot behind the line!" They stared at the child who was giving them orders, though it was impossible to read their expressions behind their metal masks. They did not understand her position, that was, until she pointed out another Wurtzite. She was getting tired after the next three, her stamina was awful. They began following her orders, not with the enthusiasm they would of the actual Duke, but close enough to only bother her a little bit.

Career

Her father had no kind words for her, but that was alright, he had a job for her instead. She was far from the youngest fighter in this conflict