You are Noel Tiberius di Hazaran, silver-eyed warrior-queen of the realm whose name you share, and at the moment you can take some satisfaction in the notion that the latest proverbial spear-thrust from the north has been turned aside. Your present enemy is the same organization, once headquartered locally on the fortress-island of Lavinia several hundred miles to the northeast, which used to control you and all your ‘sisters’ - other girls and women who, like you, have had the flesh and blood of monsters implanted into your bodies. This gave you great power, but that power came with a terrible cost and for a long time meant complete subservience to the Organization’s authority.

Now, things have changed. After being sent on a particularly obvious suicide mission meant to kill or awaken warriors who like you were considered ‘troublemakers’ by the Organization, despite your previous loyalty to their stated goals, your closest group of friends among the warriors and several other survivors parted ways with your previous masters. You settled in Hazaran, the homeland you and another of those friends shared, and took up residence in the ancestral seat of your father’s clan at Scaithness. With your blessing and your political support, the corrupt ruler who would consider himself king in your stead was run out of the nation of Hazaran, and so your duties have been twofold - to advise and support your selected regent in the capital on matters of state, and to protect your people from the monstrous yōma which you were ostensibly ‘created’ to fight.

As your faction grew more established and began running missions of its own, it drew more attention from dissatisfied warriors. Defections, until then a rarity under the Organization’s iron-fisted management, began to sap at the Organization’s strength. The whole west of your region, from the west end all the way to the central provinces, came under your faction’s protection. Several lords positioned around the borders of your nation even went so far as to become Hazari, along with their lands.

The breadbasket of inner Tarsus, the mineral wealth of Cuilan, the heady vintages and carefully-managed woodlands of the Sakian foothills, the rivers, ports, and industry of western Noroit - all these came willingly under the Hazari banner. At first slowly, then all of a sudden as their regional governors agreed to a series of deals. All these made Hazaran, already a self-sufficient and fiercely proud kingdom, into an unmatched regional power with its own standing force of half-blooded, silver-eyed warriors - one of whom wears its crown.

The Organization, quite simply, lost control over the situation. That is probably what caused the mainland to step in.
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