End of Empires - N3S III
- Thread starter North King
- Start date
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
For the historical record, I'm leaning towards calling the battle where Lerai died the Battle of Vesadevas, which is the translation for "Red Valley" in Satar. (Vesadevhas is an alternate spelling but I'll take whichever one NK likes more.)
Also, other players that are Satar (right now, only spryllino) are welcome to suggest words to be added to the Satar Lexicon, or consult with me if they want to use a Satar word I haven't yet defined.
Edit: Lucky is welcome to contribute too, since he works with Satar a lot.
Also, other players that are Satar (right now, only spryllino) are welcome to suggest words to be added to the Satar Lexicon, or consult with me if they want to use a Satar word I haven't yet defined.
Edit: Lucky is welcome to contribute too, since he works with Satar a lot.
North King
blech
- Joined
- Jan 2, 2004
- Messages
- 18,165
Yep, my bad. I'll answer it no later than tonight.
Everyone, if you have outstanding issues, please bring them to my attention -- like I've said earlier, it's been an... we'll just call it "awful" couple of weeks in RL, and I've not been able to keep track of stuff on the forum as much as I'd like.
Luckymoose
The World is Mine
40 minutes to realize this.
~~~
Crappy Random Short Story in Vithanama Alert:
He watched the stone bridge collapse into the raging river. It sent a renewed wave across the shores, splashing a mist high into the air before him. The River Thala had swollen to heights not recorded, by his understanding, for three generations. What had done the bridge in had not been the rising flow, but the debris from a thousand villages washed against her supports. Several thousand dead was his official tally, and now he scratched quill to paper to note a failed bridge among the casualties. The stench of it all burned his nose, a dozen bloated corpses floated to the shore, escaping the main current and spinning helpless in whirlpools of filth.
Another day in the life.
Udanma surveyed on the high the chaos of the flood. He stood on a box made especially for this duty. He was overseer here, in his fancy silken robes of many colors and his hat that announced his rank. Besides him his teenage assistant in training, Ttanitulla, dutifully held an inkwell above his head with absolute concentration. Udanma dipped his quill head into the ink and scratched another note in his report.
The river has swollen beyond her banks. Flood waters uncontrolled by lack of irrigation in the north is the culprit. Trahana campaigns have cut a vital component in the circle of life. Three thousand dead, minimum.
He pulled his quill to his mouth, placing the heavy feather to his lips in thought. He often did this, and it irritated his superiors. No one was here to correct him. Ttantitulla grimaced, silently, and Udanma waved him off. An audible sigh of relief came from the boy, the first sound he’d made in hours. He changed focus from the rolling waters to the enormous structures in the background. Pyramids of the old empire. A heavy fog swirled about their altars, giving an eerie impression of their ascension into heaven.
Udanma rolled his neck to relieve tension as he studied the landscape. He held his quill hand to his side, patiently waiting for his assistant to raise the inkwell once more. He continued writing.
The altars of our forefathers remain untouched by the ages. The floods have done enough to satiate the old gods, it seems, for there are no worshippers about them from my vantage. Noted, however, that of the thousands that lived here, only stragglers remain, picking through the carrion with glee for the precious treasures hidden in the sludge.
A group of vultures flew above him. They made no sound to discomfort their future meals. How many dead will be picked clean by the scavengers? Udanma turned a quarter step to his left, looking downstream. With his quill refreshed, he put it to paper and sketched the scene before him. The old shacks, broken by the flood, jutted from the soil like gnarled ribs of a thousand slain cattle. Among them, a rolling meadow of soil and waste splashed on the scattered timbers. He saw a few men, and possibly a woman, digging through the muck with their bare hands. They were stained dark from palm to elbow. He scribbled for a few moments longer before looking down, disappointed in his work.
Par for the course, he thought. It was better than some he’d seen, but he was no master.
“Ttea,” he said. The boy’s short-name.
“Advisor?” His voice was marked with a discipline that Udanma enjoyed. Too few students controlled a perfect understanding of pre-Vithanama vocal submission. Udanma scratched a note to remember this, next to his sketch.
“What caused the collapse of that bridge?” he asked his assistant.
“The debris from the flood strained the stonework, advisor. The bridge was not designed to hold, and was generations old either way. A new bridge would need to be constructed regardless of the floods.”
“I see,” said Udanma in appreciation of the answer. He noted this, too. “And if you had to estimate the construction cost, in time, coin, and labor?”
“Impossible to know for certain. Vithanama regulation states that all must go through the high council of the Redeemer before flowing down the ranks to the provincial governors. Time being the unknown factor, making the entire problem unknowable. Cost in labor and coin is easy with access to current charts for this province.”
“And if you had to guess?” asked Udanma.
“I would not, advisor. It is not my place to assume. It is my place to know.”
Udanma wrote that down, too. The boy was learning at an astounding rate. Soon, he’d outpace what Udanma could teach him. He deserved to be in the capital, mingling with the high council, not in the far provinces counting the dead from a flood. That did not, however, mean that Udanma would let such a bright pupil go. A master was only as good as his students.
He began sketching the scene once more, for posterity.
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
We encourage the Savirai to now seek peace with the Gallatenes and return to their homes. We do not see a most pressing need to send further assistance to Halyr Javan at this time, but in the event that the integrity of Gallat is ever again threatened, we will send it without fail.
In short, the Exatai will not allow the Dual Empire to recapture Tarena or any Gallatene territory, ever again.
With this in mind, knowing that further war is pointless, the Savirai must seek peace. It would risk the lives of your tribesmen and the integrity of your empire. And we do not wish to be forced to intervene.
In short, the Exatai will not allow the Dual Empire to recapture Tarena or any Gallatene territory, ever again.
With this in mind, knowing that further war is pointless, the Savirai must seek peace. It would risk the lives of your tribesmen and the integrity of your empire. And we do not wish to be forced to intervene.
What sweet nectar! What pure liquid of the divine soul!
The locals of the Adaluuna islands called it fthrif, a word alien and difficult for the Trahana tongue. The sweetness, they said, came from the blessings of their sea god, Fthr. When, in a rage of the gods, the world was flooded with salted water, and Fthr chosen to rule the waves, he took pity on the good people of the Adaluuna and gave the roots of reeds on their islands the taste of the sweetest honey, to show the gods enduring mercy on a faithful society.
They were wrong, of course, and their hogwash about an ancient flood easily dismissed. The oceans had always existed; how else could the cycle of souls continue through the stages of the world? Yet the blessing granted to their islands could not be denied, for the Adaluuna were home to a treat greater than fruit known, at least, to the Empire of Trahana or produced within its boundaries.
That would change. Jarun would ensure the Empire took an interest. The potential demand for fthrif (it really needed an easier name, in the Trahana languagesweetreed?) he could see was enormous. Better to have the protection of the Imperial navy while attempting to capture that demand. The Adaluuna islanders still gaped in awe at his merchants fleet; they would prove no challenge.
Strange, indeed, that the Haina had never come here, nor even knew beyond rumor that these islands existed. Jarun was not the first merchant to pass by or to put ashore since they were discovered. The route to the southeast was more dangerous here than along the northern coast, now politically united and cleared of piracy, but safer than the old Haina crossing, for the ability to shelter from the storms that often tore through the Airendhe. Thus, the flow of merchant ships was already swelling from a trickle to a tide. Indeed, for that reason, Jarun saw need for haste in establishing himself on the islands, in the production of sweetreed (yes, that would work), before others started to do the same, or brought it to the mainland. The Haina might never have seen a need to sail to the far southeast had they known these islands existed.
The tides of trade are ever changing.
[Rather obviously sugarcane or something like it. Odd indeed that it doesn't really exist or play a role in trade right now--sugarcane plantation agriculture dates back to at least 600 BCE in India, and we're well ahead of that at least in technological and social advancement. Up to NK whether this really takes or not. The Adaluuna are the newly discovered island chain SE of Trahana.]
The locals of the Adaluuna islands called it fthrif, a word alien and difficult for the Trahana tongue. The sweetness, they said, came from the blessings of their sea god, Fthr. When, in a rage of the gods, the world was flooded with salted water, and Fthr chosen to rule the waves, he took pity on the good people of the Adaluuna and gave the roots of reeds on their islands the taste of the sweetest honey, to show the gods enduring mercy on a faithful society.
They were wrong, of course, and their hogwash about an ancient flood easily dismissed. The oceans had always existed; how else could the cycle of souls continue through the stages of the world? Yet the blessing granted to their islands could not be denied, for the Adaluuna were home to a treat greater than fruit known, at least, to the Empire of Trahana or produced within its boundaries.
That would change. Jarun would ensure the Empire took an interest. The potential demand for fthrif (it really needed an easier name, in the Trahana languagesweetreed?) he could see was enormous. Better to have the protection of the Imperial navy while attempting to capture that demand. The Adaluuna islanders still gaped in awe at his merchants fleet; they would prove no challenge.
Strange, indeed, that the Haina had never come here, nor even knew beyond rumor that these islands existed. Jarun was not the first merchant to pass by or to put ashore since they were discovered. The route to the southeast was more dangerous here than along the northern coast, now politically united and cleared of piracy, but safer than the old Haina crossing, for the ability to shelter from the storms that often tore through the Airendhe. Thus, the flow of merchant ships was already swelling from a trickle to a tide. Indeed, for that reason, Jarun saw need for haste in establishing himself on the islands, in the production of sweetreed (yes, that would work), before others started to do the same, or brought it to the mainland. The Haina might never have seen a need to sail to the far southeast had they known these islands existed.
The tides of trade are ever changing.
[Rather obviously sugarcane or something like it. Odd indeed that it doesn't really exist or play a role in trade right now--sugarcane plantation agriculture dates back to at least 600 BCE in India, and we're well ahead of that at least in technological and social advancement. Up to NK whether this really takes or not. The Adaluuna are the newly discovered island chain SE of Trahana.]
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
It's entirely possible that somebody makes like, beet sugar or something. But you're right, sugar is a good commodity.
North King
blech
- Joined
- Jan 2, 2004
- Messages
- 18,165
Oooooh, sorry, I usually love worldbuilding, but I actually have to nix it. Sugarcane is known in this world -- though it's incredibly rare in our cradle. The only known suppliers are the Kitaluk. Sorry!
Honey, and later, sugar beets, are the typical sugar sources.
Honey, and later, sugar beets, are the typical sugar sources.
Terrance888
Discord Reigns
Parthe is sweeter than I thought!
*cues massive groan*
*cues massive groan*
I've updated the End of Empires Wiki quite a bit.
Terrance, I'd like a reply to the message I sent you soon. It's kind of important.
Important Rihnit Figures: All of these people are historically important and influential figures within Rihnit Society. Also some of these characters listed are fictional and part of Rihnit Folklore.
Arriyma: The founder of the current Rihnit Capital, Agnato Gy Kbrilma Yah (Desert in Fog City). Most Rihnit claim to be directly descended from her.
Bralukuro: He was a mid-ranking general in the Leunan Army who was betrayed and left out in the battle field to die. Curramir rescued, gained the trust of, and then later on married Bralukuro. The name Bralukuro means passionate avenger.
Barriga: First established the Rihnit as a centralized political state, along with Galakar.
Curaamir: A general whose gained recognition after several acts of courage. Most significantly he helped around 150 or so inhabitants of the town Krildoo escape before Leunan forces arrived. Without Curaamir's help, all the inhabitants of Krildoo would have burnt down with the village itself. As a result, the nickname Cuaraamir was given to him. It means hero of the winds, and it's a reference to how quickly he was able to relocate people. He's also married to Bralukuro.
Galakar: Started off Kep Trato (third epic), when he along with Barriga established a centralized Rihnit Government.
Marru: Although his failure with growing cotton has made a slight dent in his reputation, he's still highly regarded as an expert on economics.
Mayhaijuwari: A fictional evil warlord who ruled over the gluttonous and mad race of goat-people. These goat people are referred to as the Banpama.
Unakaki: A fictional nine year old girl who fought and killed the leader of an evil race of goat-people, Mayhaijuwari.
Terrance, I'd like a reply to the message I sent you soon. It's kind of important.
Important Rihnit Figures: All of these people are historically important and influential figures within Rihnit Society. Also some of these characters listed are fictional and part of Rihnit Folklore.
Arriyma: The founder of the current Rihnit Capital, Agnato Gy Kbrilma Yah (Desert in Fog City). Most Rihnit claim to be directly descended from her.
Bralukuro: He was a mid-ranking general in the Leunan Army who was betrayed and left out in the battle field to die. Curramir rescued, gained the trust of, and then later on married Bralukuro. The name Bralukuro means passionate avenger.
Barriga: First established the Rihnit as a centralized political state, along with Galakar.
Curaamir: A general whose gained recognition after several acts of courage. Most significantly he helped around 150 or so inhabitants of the town Krildoo escape before Leunan forces arrived. Without Curaamir's help, all the inhabitants of Krildoo would have burnt down with the village itself. As a result, the nickname Cuaraamir was given to him. It means hero of the winds, and it's a reference to how quickly he was able to relocate people. He's also married to Bralukuro.
Galakar: Started off Kep Trato (third epic), when he along with Barriga established a centralized Rihnit Government.
Marru: Although his failure with growing cotton has made a slight dent in his reputation, he's still highly regarded as an expert on economics.
Mayhaijuwari: A fictional evil warlord who ruled over the gluttonous and mad race of goat-people. These goat people are referred to as the Banpama.
Unakaki: A fictional nine year old girl who fought and killed the leader of an evil race of goat-people, Mayhaijuwari.
Perfectionist
Angel of Verdun
Two letters are sent, signed and sealed by the Halyrate and carried by shadows. The first arrives at the Court of the Dual Emperor and reads:
The second, or rather many copies of the second, are carried into the desert to the Moon Lords and each reads:
FROM: Gallat
TO: Farubaida o Caroha
CC: Holy Moti Empire, Karapeshai Exatai
We would note that your forces remain engaged in the territory of our dear friends and allies in the Airani Roshate. The Roshate clearly falls under the jurisdiction of the Redeemer Talephas, in his recognized capacity as Lord of the North, your intervention therein is - so far as we know - unsanctioned by the Redeemer, and so we trust you will immediately cease your hostile actions. We are sure you do not wish to jeopardize the peace so recently signed for the sake of a few miles of desert.
Spoiler :
The second, or rather many copies of the second, are carried into the desert to the Moon Lords and each reads:
Spoiler :
FROM: Gallat
TO: Farubaida o Caroha
CC: Holy Moti Empire, Karapeshai Exatai
We would note that your forces remain engaged in the territory of our dear friends and allies in the Airani Roshate. The Roshate clearly falls under the jurisdiction of the Redeemer Talephas, in his recognized capacity as Lord of the North, your intervention therein is - so far as we know - unsanctioned by the Redeemer, and so we trust you will immediately cease your hostile actions. We are sure you do not wish to jeopardize the peace so recently signed for the sake of a few miles of desert.
TheMeanestGuest
Warlord
The Dragon, Darkness
a position by Brother Sadar of Epichirisi
a position by Brother Sadar of Epichirisi
An affliction lies upon the men of Leun, and upon the men of Nahar, and upon many others. It is a great and terrible blindness, woven as a skein of man's own desires, and cast upon him as he cries out for its embrace. In this we see clearly the work of that fell Dragon, Darkness, who is our greatest foe. In his work he is aided by his brothers, Wickedness and Ignorance. Each stands opposed to our Precepts, and would see them undone, to be ruined and forgotten. By the deceitful guise of the Aitah, who we know as the foreign goddess, have these Dragons done much evil work upon this earth. And they yet strive to do more. They rob men and women of sight and sense, and set them one upon the other. It is, some say, that we should hate these men and women for their weakness. That we should scorn them and cast them out.
But we must not.
For this is the desire of our foe, this his secret need. That we should in Ignorance become Wicked, and that we should spread his Darkness ourselves, thinking it Light. That we should so reduce ourselves would content him greatly, and glut him upon the bounty of our faithlessness. We must reject this false Path. We must know that men so afflicted have no willful love of malice or of strife, that they have been led wrongly. The Aitahist is as any other, and holds the supernal potential within his spirit, and it but waits to blossom. We must know that this is our failing, and that of no other. Where were the Daharai to show the way?
And so we must forgive the Wicked man his sins, and we must let him know of the Righteous course so that he might make his choice. We must forgive the Ignorant man as he suffers in his privation, and bring to him wisdom so that he should consider his own awareness, and find in this the strength of Mindfulness. So too must we forgive ourselves our own weaknesses, for we are each of us imperfect, and we do not know Iehor. It is our eternal work that we must find it.
We must drive Darkness out, and send him to fly in fear from our country. All men might not be saved from the fate of gedden, but we shall not falter from our attempt. To persevere is the essence of Illumination.
North King
blech
- Joined
- Jan 2, 2004
- Messages
- 18,165
Make sure to send orders tonight or tomorrow morning if you haven't already!
Perfectionist
Angel of Verdun
Working on them, working on them. Sorry, diplomacy meant I couldn't get started until late.
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
I'm going to do my best to have my orders on time. There is a chance, however, that they might be in later on Saturday.
IC:
The position taken by Altaro Javan is endorsed by the Redeemer. We would gladly see the North of the World at peace, and if the Savirai refuse to agree to a white peace, Halyr Javan is our designate for its rightful enforcement.
The interference of the Farubaida in this situation will be considered a violation of the peace and the rightful division of the world as agreed upon by the Redeemer and the Ayasi.
IC:
The position taken by Altaro Javan is endorsed by the Redeemer. We would gladly see the North of the World at peace, and if the Savirai refuse to agree to a white peace, Halyr Javan is our designate for its rightful enforcement.
The interference of the Farubaida in this situation will be considered a violation of the peace and the rightful division of the world as agreed upon by the Redeemer and the Ayasi.
Oooooh, sorry, I usually love worldbuilding, but I actually have to nix it. Sugarcane is known in this world -- though it's incredibly rare in our cradle. The only known suppliers are the Kitaluk. Sorry!
Honey, and later, sugar beets, are the typical sugar sources.
Oops. I suppose I should have run this by you first. Ah, well. The Kitaluk are the people from the across the sea way over east of Parthe, right?
Terrance888
Discord Reigns
Yes. I'm trading in both sugar and honey 
Perfectionist
Angel of Verdun
By the strength of our arms, the courage of our hearts, the wisdom of our leaders and the steadfastness of our virtue we have withstood the assault of this Dalotha wearing the guise of an emperor. We have survived the Ordeal. In other times that would be enough. But this is our Great Ordeal, and survival is not enough. We must triumph. We must carry the Ordeal to the very heart of our enemy and there rip it out.
-Gabas, 1st Ihalint Sadorishi, RM 499
The deserted city of Sern, RM 501
Gabas is furious with me. “How can you deprive me of this,” he almost screams. “Have I not always fought with you, been one of this false-emperor's deadliest foes.” I nod – you can do nothing but let him run out once he gets himself worked up. “Why, then?!” he continues. “Why must I stay behind like an invalid? Why am I prevented from serving my Faith?”
I sigh a little, inwardly. We all knew he'd react like this – that's why we didn't tell him until now. And technically, of course, he should have known, for he'd have received orders otherwise. Still, Gabas is more than a little imposing when he gets into one of his righteous furies. That's what makes him valuable, of course, how he created the Fatherless out of lost boys and broken men: that all consuming drive of his. Doesn't make it any easier to deal with when it's directed at you, though.
I wait a moment, to make sure he is indeed finished. It can be hard to tell sometimes, and I can see that he's got more left in him. He restrains himself with a visible effort, though; at least he has that much respect for me. “This is no punishment or dishonour,” I begin, laying it on thick. “Rather I leave you behind because you are the only one I can trust with this most vital and dangerous of tasks. For us, we who go, if we fail it will be our end, but it will not be Gallat's end. That burden I must entrust to you, for there are no others with the strength of will to bear it. And likewise nothing we do will matter if the Shield is broken, and there is no one better suited to hold the Shield than you.” Maybe a little too thick. But it works: he's placated, at least a bit. The fury goes out of his face, his protests trail off into grumbling, and he makes the appropriate niceties and stalks away, as I knew he would. Gabas seems to never actually disobey, however much noise he makes.
“That man frightens me,” says a familiar voice behind me, and I turn to see Araldi Nuvor leaning against a wall, wearing his usual sardonic grin. “I only hope he frightens Qasaarai more. That was easier than I expected.”
“He knows it's true, Araldi. He's devoted, not stupid.” Always tell the truth, you know. Just not all of it. I am leaving him because I trust him with a crucial task. I'm also leaving him because, while he's not stupid, he's still a rigid, frightening, borderline fanatic, with many equally rigid and fanatical followers, and I know that if I bring him he will make my life difficult. And my life has been difficult enough for a long time now. “Are you sure you will be able to handle him?”
“Yes, yes. Gabas doesn't care for anything but killing Savirai, he'll be no trouble. Don't worry.” I turn down the street and start walking towards where our camp was, outside the walls, and I beckon Araldi to follow. We walk together in silent contemplation for a while, down the empty streets. Sern burned years ago, and only the empty shells of buildings remain, lining the streets, the inhabitants dead or fled long ago and either way not returned. There are squatters, of course, and refugees and we've restored some of the larger buildings for quarters, but on this morning, in this quarter, there's none of that, just the oppressive silence that only occurs in places where there was once great noise. It's a familiar noise in Gallat these days. It's a stark reminder of the stakes – as though any of us could ever forget. Still, today it seems especially gloomy, and I find myself trying to think of happier things. I wonder what Nuvor thinks of Sern. It surely doesn't affect him so much – Araldi always seemed to me slightly incorporeal, coasting through all this devastation without being too badly touched by it. It's a strange friendship we have, but no less valued for that. Eventually I break the silence. “You're leaving for Sirasona tomorrow. Shouldn't you be packing?”
Araldi chuckles, though it wasn't funny. “Men to do that for me now. The perks of position, eh, Javan? Everything handled for you, hardly a care in the world. Almost makes the whole war worth it.” He trails off, and we're silent again for a time. Then he says quietly, all the levity gone from his voice, “Do you think it will work?” I suppose Sern has been working on his mind after all.
Will it work? It's a question that's been discussed over and over for months. He knows: he's been there, as have I. But he's never asked me like this, just friend to friend. In truth, I've never really asked myself: it's too easy to hide behind the minutiae, the technical details, determining how to do each little piece, and never to confront the whole edifice. And now, here at the precipice, it all seems so much less certain. “We're taking a terrible risk. It had better work,” I reply after a moment. “And if it doesn't, at least we won't live to see the consequences.” Araldi nods somberly at that. “And besides, whether it works or not is not our concern; we only need to know that we must do it.” Do what the situation requires of you, try to do what's best for everyone and not to think of the consequences of failure, that's what I've been doing ever since Gallasa. I suppose it hasn't failed yet.
Araldi perks up a bit at that, some of his usual energy returning. “You've been spending too much time with Gabas,” he chides me. “So have I, I suppose. They poison your mind, you know, turn you into one of those Fatherless who think and speak and desire nothing but death. I swear some of them don't eat, or at least I've never seen them.”
Now it's my turn to chuckle at an unfunny jest, as we arrive at the ruined city gate. “Well,” Araldi says, and though he again sounds superficially like himself I can tell he's shaken. “This is it, I suppose.”
“This is it,” I agree. “One way or another, I'll see you on the other side.” We embrace for a long moment, and when we break away Araldi's familiar old smile is back. “Don't be so gloomy, Javan. You've come through Immolation and desolation and conspiracy and Ordeal. This is nothing. The next time I see you, you'll be immortal.” We embrace one last time, and then a soldier brings my horse, I mount, look down at my friend on last time, and canter off. In the morning light, I can see the camp is already broken, and a long column of men marching over the horizon. I rush to rejoin them, my men. There's no time to waste.
The Peregrination is on the move at last.
And so we come to the most cunning of Ordeals. These are calculated so as to fit our current circumstances so that, no matter how wise or virtuous we may be, we cannot withstand them in our current lives. These are fortunately rare, but no less terrible for that. Clearly to weather and overcome such an Ordeal it is necessary then to depart from the ordinary circle of our lives, to change our circumstances and thereby discover what is lacking: to embark upon a Peregrination.
-excerpted from Concerning Ordeals, Ward Taras, RM 482
-Gabas, 1st Ihalint Sadorishi, RM 499
*****
The deserted city of Sern, RM 501
Gabas is furious with me. “How can you deprive me of this,” he almost screams. “Have I not always fought with you, been one of this false-emperor's deadliest foes.” I nod – you can do nothing but let him run out once he gets himself worked up. “Why, then?!” he continues. “Why must I stay behind like an invalid? Why am I prevented from serving my Faith?”
I sigh a little, inwardly. We all knew he'd react like this – that's why we didn't tell him until now. And technically, of course, he should have known, for he'd have received orders otherwise. Still, Gabas is more than a little imposing when he gets into one of his righteous furies. That's what makes him valuable, of course, how he created the Fatherless out of lost boys and broken men: that all consuming drive of his. Doesn't make it any easier to deal with when it's directed at you, though.
I wait a moment, to make sure he is indeed finished. It can be hard to tell sometimes, and I can see that he's got more left in him. He restrains himself with a visible effort, though; at least he has that much respect for me. “This is no punishment or dishonour,” I begin, laying it on thick. “Rather I leave you behind because you are the only one I can trust with this most vital and dangerous of tasks. For us, we who go, if we fail it will be our end, but it will not be Gallat's end. That burden I must entrust to you, for there are no others with the strength of will to bear it. And likewise nothing we do will matter if the Shield is broken, and there is no one better suited to hold the Shield than you.” Maybe a little too thick. But it works: he's placated, at least a bit. The fury goes out of his face, his protests trail off into grumbling, and he makes the appropriate niceties and stalks away, as I knew he would. Gabas seems to never actually disobey, however much noise he makes.
“That man frightens me,” says a familiar voice behind me, and I turn to see Araldi Nuvor leaning against a wall, wearing his usual sardonic grin. “I only hope he frightens Qasaarai more. That was easier than I expected.”
“He knows it's true, Araldi. He's devoted, not stupid.” Always tell the truth, you know. Just not all of it. I am leaving him because I trust him with a crucial task. I'm also leaving him because, while he's not stupid, he's still a rigid, frightening, borderline fanatic, with many equally rigid and fanatical followers, and I know that if I bring him he will make my life difficult. And my life has been difficult enough for a long time now. “Are you sure you will be able to handle him?”
“Yes, yes. Gabas doesn't care for anything but killing Savirai, he'll be no trouble. Don't worry.” I turn down the street and start walking towards where our camp was, outside the walls, and I beckon Araldi to follow. We walk together in silent contemplation for a while, down the empty streets. Sern burned years ago, and only the empty shells of buildings remain, lining the streets, the inhabitants dead or fled long ago and either way not returned. There are squatters, of course, and refugees and we've restored some of the larger buildings for quarters, but on this morning, in this quarter, there's none of that, just the oppressive silence that only occurs in places where there was once great noise. It's a familiar noise in Gallat these days. It's a stark reminder of the stakes – as though any of us could ever forget. Still, today it seems especially gloomy, and I find myself trying to think of happier things. I wonder what Nuvor thinks of Sern. It surely doesn't affect him so much – Araldi always seemed to me slightly incorporeal, coasting through all this devastation without being too badly touched by it. It's a strange friendship we have, but no less valued for that. Eventually I break the silence. “You're leaving for Sirasona tomorrow. Shouldn't you be packing?”
Araldi chuckles, though it wasn't funny. “Men to do that for me now. The perks of position, eh, Javan? Everything handled for you, hardly a care in the world. Almost makes the whole war worth it.” He trails off, and we're silent again for a time. Then he says quietly, all the levity gone from his voice, “Do you think it will work?” I suppose Sern has been working on his mind after all.
Will it work? It's a question that's been discussed over and over for months. He knows: he's been there, as have I. But he's never asked me like this, just friend to friend. In truth, I've never really asked myself: it's too easy to hide behind the minutiae, the technical details, determining how to do each little piece, and never to confront the whole edifice. And now, here at the precipice, it all seems so much less certain. “We're taking a terrible risk. It had better work,” I reply after a moment. “And if it doesn't, at least we won't live to see the consequences.” Araldi nods somberly at that. “And besides, whether it works or not is not our concern; we only need to know that we must do it.” Do what the situation requires of you, try to do what's best for everyone and not to think of the consequences of failure, that's what I've been doing ever since Gallasa. I suppose it hasn't failed yet.
Araldi perks up a bit at that, some of his usual energy returning. “You've been spending too much time with Gabas,” he chides me. “So have I, I suppose. They poison your mind, you know, turn you into one of those Fatherless who think and speak and desire nothing but death. I swear some of them don't eat, or at least I've never seen them.”
Now it's my turn to chuckle at an unfunny jest, as we arrive at the ruined city gate. “Well,” Araldi says, and though he again sounds superficially like himself I can tell he's shaken. “This is it, I suppose.”
“This is it,” I agree. “One way or another, I'll see you on the other side.” We embrace for a long moment, and when we break away Araldi's familiar old smile is back. “Don't be so gloomy, Javan. You've come through Immolation and desolation and conspiracy and Ordeal. This is nothing. The next time I see you, you'll be immortal.” We embrace one last time, and then a soldier brings my horse, I mount, look down at my friend on last time, and canter off. In the morning light, I can see the camp is already broken, and a long column of men marching over the horizon. I rush to rejoin them, my men. There's no time to waste.
The Peregrination is on the move at last.
*****
And so we come to the most cunning of Ordeals. These are calculated so as to fit our current circumstances so that, no matter how wise or virtuous we may be, we cannot withstand them in our current lives. These are fortunately rare, but no less terrible for that. Clearly to weather and overcome such an Ordeal it is necessary then to depart from the ordinary circle of our lives, to change our circumstances and thereby discover what is lacking: to embark upon a Peregrination.
-excerpted from Concerning Ordeals, Ward Taras, RM 482
The Pentapartite Council of the Farubaida recognizes and swears to abide by the peace between the Karapeshai Exatai and the Holy Moti Empire. Our forces shall, as dictated by treaty, withdraw from the north.
To the Halyrate of Gallat, ever have we been aggrieved that fate has led us to conflict. We shall withdraw our forces from the lands of the Airani Roshate, just as we expect the Airani shall withdraw their forces away from the environs of Mahid.
To the Halyrate of Gallat, ever have we been aggrieved that fate has led us to conflict. We shall withdraw our forces from the lands of the Airani Roshate, just as we expect the Airani shall withdraw their forces away from the environs of Mahid.
We, the Redeemer Metexares, High Prince of the Star, also gladly recognise and will abide by the peace, and will withdraw the forces of the Kothari Exatai to our own country forthwith. We look forward to many years of prosperity to come, safeguarded by the maintenance both of this Treaty and of the Peace of the Had.
