End of Empires - N3S III

Rihnit Government: Jagarakaso (Federal Monarchy)

Basic Infomation: The Rihnit Government (Gohada) is a Federal Monarchy (Jagarakaso). As such, the Rihnit Gohada has several different tiers of command within it's three branches of government. The branches of government are made of the legislature (Akkairi), the monarch (Jadaka Grasjagaraka), and the harmonizers (Oritaar). While the Jadaka Grasjagaraka is ultimately the one who holds all the power, the Akkairi and the Oritaar are also very powerful. They both wield symbolic power because the Akkairi represent the people themselves, while the Oritaar represent the clergy.

Rihnit Government: The Akkairi (Legislature)

Basic Infomation: The duties of the Akkairi include advising the Jadaka Jagaraka about domestic issues going on and being the voice of the people. The Akkairi are like the eyes and ears of the Jagarakaso. The Akkairi are split up into three separate tiers/levels of power. The tiers of power are the family (gaor), the clan (Imalbajaa), and the province (Ibojjir). The Akkairi within the upper tiers aren't elected by the people but are instead elected by representatives. A gaor will elect a head of house (grasgaornati) who will then be a representative to the clan leader (graskoyta). The various grasgaornati within a clan will then elect a new graskoytanati (head of clan) once the old one has died or has been elected to higher position. This chain of command continues until the third and final tier, the leader of the province (Grasibojjirnati).

Details:
Spoiler :
1) The lowest level is the gaor and is comprised of one's immediate (eg: father and mother, (tagna and ngata), son and daughter, (grangana and garngana) brother and sister (grajai and garjai), ect) and extended family members (paternal and maternal uncle and aunt (rao grajai o jek tagna and rao garjai o jek tagna/aro grajai o jek ngata and aro garai o jek ngata), paternal and maternal grandmother and grandfather (Rao tagna o jak tagna/Rao ngana o jak ngana and aro tagna o jek tagna/aro ngana o jek ngana), ect). Gaorbaidra elect the head of the house every time the previous grasionati dies or is elected to a higher level of power. This is the most directly democratic part of the Akkairi, and the higher tiers become increasingly indirectly democratic.
2) The next tier of command is the grasmabiladra. Grasmabilabaidra are usually in charge of the policies and affairs occurring at the local or city level. It operates when various families living within a common area agree upon which grasmabilabaidra they feel is most qualified to be the grasmabilanati. They are in charge of creating and enforcing policies enacted by the higher tiers and the monarchy. Also the grasmabilabaidra are the messengers to the third tier if various problems or issues occur. Every time the previous grasmabilanati dies or advances to the final tier of the Akkairi a new grasmabilanati is elected.
3) The third tier of command is the Grasibojjir. This is the highest tier within the Rihnit Akkairi. The various Grasibojjirbai will vote and decide who they feel is the most qualified to become the Grasibojjirnati. They serve as the direct advisers and messengers to the Jadaka Jagaraka him or herself. The Jadaka Jagaraka has the power to override anything enacted by the Akkairi but rarely does so.


Dictionary: Basic terms used in this article. Both within their singular and plural forms.
Spoiler :


Gohada: Government
Federal Monarchy: Jagarakaso
Legislature: Akkairi
Monarch: Jadaka Grasjagaraka/ Jadaka Grasjagarakadra
King: Jadaka Grajagaraka/ Jadaka Grajagarakadri
Queen: Jadaka Garjagaraka/Jadaka Garjagarakadir
Harmonizers: Oritaar/Oritaardra
Family: Gaor/Gaordra
Clan: Koyta/Koytadra
Provincial leader: Grasibojjir/Grasibojjirdra
Head of house: Grasionati/Grasionatidra
Head of clan: Graskoytanati/Graskoytanati
Member: Bai
 
I had hoped to have more stories before the update than the two short ones posted earlier, but sadly the bar exam is keeping me very busy. Orders sent, though.
 
There was a Satar from Atracta
and a fair maid for whom he pined after.
'Twas a very hard task,
with no face but a mask.
And sadly he couldn't attract her.

There's your Faronun poetry NK. ;)

Better things will come soon I promise. >_>
 
As a heads up, this one will be a little late -- stuff has been piling up early this week. I don't anticipate this becoming a regular thing. =/
 
Will try and send orders in the next couple of days
 
End of Empires - Update Twenty-four
All Shall Tremble

Six Years
600 - 606 SR by the Seshweay Calendar
489 - 495 RM by the Satar Calendar
315 - 321 IL by the Leunan Calendar
590 - 596 SH by the Sharhi Calendar
1424 - 1430 AR by the Amure Reckoning




“And besides, it would be the best and most glorious war since the days of the Good Council, and the memory of it shall live forever among the People.” ~ An Uggor bandit-leader, in the time of the Hero Kirost

“There are no more safe places.” ~ Xephaion, High Oracle of the Satar


* * * * * * * * *​

Already, the Leunan Senate had acquired a reputation of never getting anything done. Certainly, they had managed to pass quite a few laws – mostly regarding who could carry cargo in what size ship at what time – but when it came to reacting to a crisis they had a habit of bungling the affair. The rebellion of the landed nobility in Leun scored a number of successes before the Senate could even react, pushing aside a Republican army with half the soldiers.

Of course, the Senate did eventually begin to fight back, raising new armies, organizing a masterstroke against the rebellion, and so on. But a number of problems crippled them from the start: to erase the mounting debts of the Republic, the Senate had defaulted, leaving hundreds of their most important creditors in ruins. At the same time, rising expenses were dealt with in a similarly ham-fisted way. Instead of new taxes, the Senate ordered new coinage. And when soldiers and sailors realized what was going on, some of them simply deserted.

Not that this meant the nobility won any real victories. Once it became clear that the Senate's incompetence was threatening the actual war effort, the merchant elite quickly banded together to raise private funds to keep the army afloat.

Now almost evenly matched, the two armies struggled for purchase over the cities of the Leunan mainland. The nobility struck north, crushing a Republican center in the cities of old Alar, and their advance into the country around Asardias cut off the main grain supplies to the city of Leun proper. Here, the fighting grew more fierce – an army of some twenty thousand defended the city, and the two sides clashed in a series of pitched battles, pushing back and forth until the Republicans had to finally withdraw north, making camp around the city of Ischya. Asardias itself fell to betrayal, and the bulk of the noble army turned south – toward Leun.

Here, though, the Republic made a furious stand. The city had never fallen to a foreign invader, and they had spent a huge sum of money fortifying it against threats real and imagined. Even though it was held by only a few thousand soldiers, the noble army ran headlong into the walls and was thrown back, repeated assaults lending them only bloody noses. The rebels now attempted to put the city under siege, but found it nearly impossible to stop their enemies from supplying the city with grain – the nobility had the loyalty of few captains, and Leun's harbor defenses dwarfed anything that they could throw at it.

With intervention by outsiders unlikely, and the city seemingly impregnable, the noblemen left the city under a token siege, and moved their field army north, hoping to capture the valley of the River Centa – the last major region loyal to the Republicans on the mainland.

With Leun tangled in an elaborate contortion of navel-gazing, the rest of the East found it far easier to breathe. Opulensi merchants began to break the blockade strangling the cotton trade, and smugglers found it easier than ever to evade capture. Parthecan merchants, on the other hand, were granted legal exemptions; their commercial fleet grew exponentially during this time.

All this greatly expanded Parthe's horizons. A series of expeditions to the far west charted much of the remaining Katkan coast, purchased one of the largest offshore islands to use as a trading post, and established extremely positive relations with the tribes there. Soon, Parthecan merchants sailed up the River Lelian, as the locals called it, making contact with the Ethir. A few even made it all the way to Kurchen, though the Brunnekt's participation in the War of the Ashen Throne discouraged them from staying long.

Simply put, Parthe suddenly found itself in a position of preeminence in the far northeast. Its trading links and wealth had put it there, of course, but further setting them apart from the similarly sized – and nominally far more powerful – Iolhans was the expanding and well-supported Archives. By now, the collection of tomes had swallowed a few schools as well, and the school as a whole had acquired a few philosophers and scientists of its own. The Archives' growth made them the largest haven of knowledge east of the Sephashim, certainly unrivaled in the East, and their scholars became the authorities on the native peoples of the mainland.

The new King, Wertus, happily rode the coattails of scientific inquiry, and funded a new observatory in the northern Zarcasen hills, a few dozen miles from his court at the city of Zarpe. The shift in power from Parta upset some of the conservatives in the old court, but in the end its only real effect on them was to put the southern merchants further from the oversight of the king. Meanwhile, the royal investments into Zarpe trickled into the nearby country, which the Parthecans settled at unprecedented rates. Logging, as well as the slightly more exotic industry of ice-export, became a real moneymaker – especially as the merchant marine expanded.

On the mainland, Lesa underwent a series of short-lived monarchs before an Aitahist by the name of Jessen won the throne. He inherited a somewhat troubled situation – his immediate predecessors had attempted several campaigns against the Berathi and the Katka, and though the latter had seemingly little practice in war, the Berathi proved an able foe, even after their years of defense against the many empires encroaching on their lands. In the end, the nomads came close to driving the Lesans out of the region entirely, and scored successes against the local Savirai tribes and Iolhan militias as well. The Katka fought back as well, apparently either in league with the Berathi or simply taking a few hints from them, and nearly expunged the Lesan colony in their lands before finally withdrawing the next winter.

Rihnit, meanwhile, invested heavily into cotton growth, but fate apparently had cruel thoughts in mind for the little country: the Leunan blockade flagging, Acayana cotton became considerably cheaper in the east just as Rihnit poured its wealth into new plantations. Not that they weren't profitable, but what had only a few years before looked like an incredible boon turned out to be just another cash crop. Though times were still tough for the Rihnit farmers, living on very marginal land as they did, a minor cultural flowering blossomed to life, with several poets beginning to work in Agnato Gy Kbrilma, and many of the elite bringing new ideas back from neighboring lands as a tradition of international schooling emerged amongst the wealthy.

But surely the most dramatic move in the east was by the Daharai. Having fortified Epichirisi, expanded the navy, completed the enormous Pillar of Truth in the capital, and generally convinced the common people of the bounty of their rule, the Orders turned north. With numerous offers to peacefully exchange control of the holy island of Dinyart being rebuffed by the Dual Empire, the Daharai began to feel a resurgence in confidence and revanchism.

The Republic sailed to war.

The Savirai, of course, had the vast majority of their military in the far north, engaged in the ongoing War of the Ashen Throne (or War of the Fifth Aitah). Several tens of thousands had been left to defend the southern regions, but they were relatively scattered, and certainly the Nahari fleet was not what it had once been. An all-out assault by the Daharai caught a Dual Thrones' fleet just off the holy island itself, and scattered them to the winds, driving back the naval covering force. Several tens of thousands of Daharai poured onto the island itself, landing on the flatter beaches in the south coast, and swiftly marching into the uplands of the northwest.

Halq had been rarely exposed to war, and despite the lingering presence of the Daharai, it had never really been fortified in recent memory. An old wall ringed the city from the times of the naval wars of old, but it stood barely fifteen feet in height – easily scaleable by any force with ladders, and the gates were simple wooden doors with a single cross-bar. Though the Nahari defenders were outnumbered and in a relatively hopeless position, they fought ferociously at the walls, repelling forces ten times their number before finally being thrown back and retreating in disarray, several hundred barely escaping before Opulensi ships closed off the harbor.

Immediately, the Dual Empire braced for war, alerting their allies in the Farubaida, and calling all their fleets to the ready –

– and nothing happened.

The Daharai, it appeared, really had only wanted the island of Dinyart. Now, they sat quite still, plunking down with their ten thousand men, busily fortifying Halq, securing the holy sites of the islands from any vagabonds, and sending emissaries to the Dual Thrones, proclaiming that this island and this island alone had been their objective. They would be quite willing to leave the peace lie – for all eternity, if their envoys could be believed – if the Savirai would but cede them this one island, much beloved by the pilgrims of the enlightenment, and (the Daharai noted) rather worthless to the Aitahists.

* * * * * * * * *​

By now, the Trahana had become the preeminent Empire in the west. Where once, learned men in Gaci and Caroha and Atracta had spoken only of the mighty Dulama, now whispers started to flit about, describing a massive empire in the distant southwest, one that had surpassed the old empire and taken its place.

The campaign against the Paitloma had concluded with little fanfare. The pirate king still lingered somewhere, either in the great estuaries or the Airendhe itself, but his kingdom had fallen to pieces. A few bits in the north and east had been gobbled up by the Dulama or Vithanama, but the Trahana held both away from the greater prizes, with a little fighting. Saigh had seemingly been utterly ruined, but the Trahana emperors immediately determined that it would be silly to lose such a city, and dredged the harbor and surrounding areas to reinstate it as one of the principal southern ports, though it had far from regained its original splendor.

Simultaneously, the major cities in the core of the Empire got considerable investment, as the Emperor decided to undertake a massive beautification project, creating lovely tiled sections of road, shaded avenues with trees on either side, gardens throughout the capital, and so on. Traha itself, in particular, became known as the Jewel of the South; a stunning gem nestled between the mountains. A series of voyages launched in two directions – one exploring the far west, surveying the archipelago that lay just off the peninsula's coast, and another to the east, where the old colonies of the Haina lay in shambles. With much posturing about the obligations of the empire, the Trahana conquered each of the colonies, finally bringing them back into the fold of the Airendhe.

With the war's conclusion, the Narannue slipped into relative obscurity once more. Little had been gained – though at least the little kingdom had proven that it could stand up even to the Dulama – and now the country seemed to hunker down in fear of the chaos that had broken down just to their north on the steppe. The ancient defenses of the pass were modernized, and envoys sent to the various squabbling kingdoms, trying to see who might be amenable to alliance or influence. Naturally, the answer was “anyone,” as the steppe kingdoms all felt rather evenly matched, and all wanted some sort of advantage, however fleeting, over the others. The only question for the Narannue would be whether they could accept the price.

At the same time, Naran's colonies in the far south expanded, the settlement concentrated around the new city of Lótuná. Some worried at the expansion of Trahana influence in the region, but more simply piggybacked off of the Empire's explorers and merchants, forging new trade ties. Indeed, the Narannue colony was so far away from the heartland of Naran that some goods proved easier to cart from the Trahana cities.

Noaunnaha seemed entirely content with its southern colony, and invested more deeply into the trade routes with the distant west. A rising demand among the Reokhar for the spices and tea of the Trahana and Dulama meant that Noaunnaha merchants were more welcome than ever before. A small supply of gems started to trickle the other way, as it transpired a new mine for the precious stones had been opened shortly before in the Eshai.

But far more relevant to the future of Noaunnaha would be the great dam that had been constructed in the northern mountains. Easily the largest and most impressive structure west of the Dulama, it retained an enormous amount of water through the drier seasons, and already the Noaunnahanue found it incredibly useful in expanding the lands under cultivation in the country. Though the economy still expanded somewhat slowly, the little country found itself poised for what might become a burst of activity in the near future.

* * * * * * * * *​

With the Haina gone, the south was left divided, falling between a dozen small states and tribes. Of these, of course, the Tsutongmerang reigned supreme for now, but their ascendancy slowed as they ran into numerous obstacles on every side. Their commercial primacy could not translate into successfully gaining territory, and the various independent states in the island region mostly thumbed their noses at the kingdom.

It was around this time that the other peoples of the region started to rise.

The Stato'i, a theocratic people, soon took to expansionism, launching their armies southward in hopes of exploring more of the region, and gaining some measure of dominance over the other tribes there. Though they quickly overran the nearest tribe, they ran into trouble further on, where a massive alliance of tribes barred the way to the southern mountains. Though the Stato'i won the first few skirmishes, they drew back upon realizing exactly how large their foe really was.

Far to the northwest, the Toha had risen to prominence on a north-facing coast. A people with a bizarre form of communication, mostly limited to nonverbal tics, they quickly gained an unsavory reputation among their neighbors, who were fairly convinced that the Toha were always hiding something from them. Still, they had quite a lot of staying power, able to push back at least one hostile tribe in the south; one of the northern peoples, in the meantime, had started to sow orchards in the forest, with promising results as food production climbed.

Across the channel, the Zarian had taken a roughly similar path, expanding quite quickly under a unified chiefdom into their neighbors' lands. Establishing their homeland on the very same bay that had once housed an intrepid Haina colony, Zar warriors found strange stone ruins in the jungle, thickly covered in plant matter. Yet none in the region really remembered much beyond the fact that these “Hainaha” had been mystical men from over the sea, who had many strange devices, which now lingered on only in the occasional high quality good that had remained in family hands for generations.

But everything changed when the sea peoples returned. The Trahana swept into the region where the Haina had once been, reconquering most of the old colonies, and pushing into the southern straits. Their ships offered the old plethora of trade goods, and established contact with each of the four peoples, starting up healthy trading relations. Only the men of great Tsutongmerang could pretend to dismiss the Trahana as just another trading power – for the other peoples, with few great cities among them, these new people were nothing short of incredible.

* * * * * * * * *​

Only three decades had passed since the fall of the Dulama Empire, and some still dreamed it would be restored. Cairl XX, latest Emperor of the Dulama, seemed to be among that number. For though he made peace with the sea peoples and enacted policies of religious toleration, the ink had scarcely dried on treaty and decree before his armies were on the move again. Their target, of course, was the Vithanama Empire.

But at the time, surprising as it may seem, even the resumption of the western war did not rank highest on Redeemer Xocares' mind.

For the armies of the Ayasi, under his most trusted commander Birun, had appeared on the eastern horizon. Apparently the Holy Moti Empire regarded the Vithanama as yet another potential threat, and so, with thirty thousand men and hundreds of elephants, the Moti climbed into the Dula Highlands, bearing down on the small garrison at Anraugh before anyone could react. The city fell to an assault after only a week, and the Moti resumed their march west.

Finally, a mere dozen miles from Dula itself, Birun's army met with the main Vithanama force. Outnumbered more than two to one, Birum quickly realized the battle was foolish, and fought a calculated withdrawal, falling back and punching repeatedly at the Vithanama, keeping all of their attention. The Vithanama paused in their pursuit, deciding, evidently, that Anraugh was not a worthwhile enough city to push too hard.

Or perhaps they had already gotten wind of the Dulama attack. Assassins attempted to get at the Vithanama royal family, but they pursued them too greedily and too hastily, and were easily intercepted. Meanwhile, raids resumed on the frontier of the River Thala, though the heavy fortifications there meant that they would never do more than harry the western bank of the river, not without a dedicated assault. No, it was immediately obvious that both of these things were distractions, and the main Dulama attack came from another avenue.

The remnants of the Paitloma had finally dissolved, and the great estuary at the top of the Airendhe had become just a little less chaotic, when the Dulama passed through with an army of nearly a hundred thousand. The whirlwind pasasge of such an enormous army was immediately relayed up the river, but the Vithanama had been distracted on many angles, and it required some time to rearrange its armies to focus on the Dulama.

Fortunately, it turned out that the Dulama had rather underestimated the difficulty of penetrating up the River Abrea, and Xocares had enough time to leave one force guarding against the possibility of a renewed Uggor attack (though Birun had apparently been quite content to remain at Anraugh), and assemble the remainder to plug the wound that had opened up in the belly of his empire. Atlama had already fallen, but the mere threat of the Vithanama armies stopped the Dulama from more fully investing Navan.

In response, Cairl decided to lead his army in a great push against Xocares, hoping to throw him back to Tiagho, or further. But when the two armies met in pitched battle, thigns seemed to go very wrong, very fast.

The Dulama, of course, still had not the years of experience fighting steppe forces that the Moti had, and the extremely large, mobile cavalry contingent of the Vithanama made short work of the Dulama cavalry sent to chase it off. While the Dulama legions had once easily outclassed the Vithanama spears, now the two were far more evenly matched, and with the cavalry almost immediately knocked out of the fight, the Vithanama horse could support their infantry all across the battlefield. While it was not a decisive defeat, since the Dulama easily escaped with almost their whole army in tow, it was still a defeat.

It would be back to the drawing board for the Dulama, who now seemed in a somewhat precarious position, with Vithanama-held fortresses all about them, and a great army looming nearby.

* * * * * * * * *​

With the pitiful attempt at rebellion by the Hanakar Exatai utterly crushed, Redeemer Kartis neared old age with a grim satisfaction. Though he had been forced to grant Palmyra considerable autonomy, his aristocracy still held considerable influence there, and the links that tied the province to the Exatai as a whole seemed stronger than they had since the war. Meanwhile, his extensive campaigns in the south had quieted any further talk of the breakup of the Exatai. Instead, Kartis could devote significant funds to seemingly more frivolous pursuits.

It seemed that the Redeemer had taken a liking to the tropical coasts, especially to the city of Hanakahi proper. Though it had declined over the centuries into a rather small and unimportant city, Kartis saw considerable potential here, and built a new palace complex at the southern end of the Exatai. Holding court there for years at a time, he promulgated the Iralliamite faith around the countryside, largely converting the previously stubborn Indagahori elements in the Hanakar satrapy. Another large bundle of funds went to the ports of southern Hanakar. Though long quiescent, these cities started to hum with merchants, and Hamakuan ships began to range across the northern bounds of the Nakalani again, especially with increased protections and patrols from the Kothari military.

Even with the religious troubles in the north, which we shall examine in a moment, the center of the known world lay rather quietly.

Or rather, it had laid quietly.

All that changed instantly, in a move no one could have expected. The marriage of the princess of Kilar to the prince of Jipha had been arranged years ago, only finally being carried out as the princess reached the appropriate age. And, true to form, it was to be a grand wedding, done in the style of the old Indagahori festivals of the region, borrowing heavily from the Zyeshar poets and galas, and the Hamakuan bards.

The only real snag was when the rest of Kilar's royal family was slaughtered on the road.

Immediately, of course, the question of foul play came up, and immediately too it became obvious that the Jiphan king had arranged all this. Not only did it leave the poor princess locked into a marriage she would doubtless come to hate, with all of her closest kin slaughtered, but it had been the most egregious breach of the peace of the Ayasi – ever. Perhaps the King of Jipha assumed that things would go smoothly, or perhaps he assumed that the Moti would have other things on their mind (which might even have been true).

But the simple fact of the matter is that people do not like being attacked, and many in Kilar refused to recognize this royal marriage, even if law would have it that the heir to the throne was the Prince of Jipha. Immediately, many in the country rallied behind another claimant – a distant relative to the old king, but certainly better than the man who had just killed the royal family. Jipha tried to move to secure Kilar as quickly as possible, and took the capital after heavy fighting, but the rest of the kingdom remained resistant. And, of course, there was still the question of what the Ayasi would do.

By now the standoff between the Grandpatriarch and the Sarafaiao had become common knowledge. The man at the head of the Church had been among the most conservative of the conclave in Opios, but even so, Aisen's vitriol for the unorthodox beliefs in Faron had raised many eyebrows. Tensions flared as insults perceived and real flew back and forth, but with the Ayasi preoccupied elsewhere, the Grandpatriarch found there was little he could do to the Farubaida in the temporal realm.

Still, even as the Church sponsored a grand new worship-hall in Aramaia – one that immediately rivaled the great Aitahist temple under construction in Sahalaheia, incorporating beautiful frescoes and even some of the forms of native Helsian architecture, with fountains and sunlight playing prominent roles – they began to meddle in other ways. The local Patriarch (located in Jahip) began to systematically remove the principal clergy with ties to the old guard, replacing them with Faronun who had been educated at the Seminary in Opios.

What had already been started by hostile diplomacy gathered speed now. The undisguised attacks on the ancient Faronun beliefs spurred the coalescence of the Independent Conclaves in southern Helsia. These clergy were of course immediately stripped of privileges by the Grandpatriarchy, but they unanimously ignored Aisen in return, and had the general support of the vast majority of the Faeoria. Appointees from the Seminary found the Church buildings in Faron already occupied, and while some made alternate arrangements, many were run out of town.

The situation had already become much worse than the protests of Sokar – after all, even he had never really rejected the entire upper hierarchy of the Church. Truly radical steps would have to be undertaken if any sort of compromise were to happen.

* * * * * * * * *​
 
* * * * * * * * *​

It was now a war of ashes, a war for the cinders of a throne – this did not mean it would be less hard-fought. The War of the Ashen Throne; the War of the Fifth Aitah; it had begun with a great crusade, from the depths of Stetin woods and field, plunging a knife into the heart of old Gallat. Gallasa had burned, the flames taking with them the High Ward and the last of the old line of kings, and if truth be told, it was starting to look like the old script of the Empty Throne story. The Accans would swoop in to the rescue, and the Savirai would be beaten back, and Gallatene children would die.

But even the same script will read differently if placed in the hands of new actors.

Altaro Javan was not the old Lightbearer of Gallat. He was, in fact, simply an army captain – well-respected among his peers, but hardly in a position to change the war. Until, of course, he crafted a subtle conspiracy that would root out the old order by mutiny, and force the wards and cities to accept him in their stead. Naturally, they behaved much like they had before – as frightened children, too convinced the world was ending to say their peace.

Javan and his religious counterpart, the Ward Risadri, set to their tasks with almost manic intensity. The old structure had nearly collapsed in on itself, but it couldn't be replaced in one day. The first thing they would need – to really restore the Gallasene League – would be political capital. And in the present situation, there was only one place to gain that capital from.

Immediately, Javan braced his soldiers, hoping against hope that they might be able to hold Sirasona against a presumed all-out assault. They sent for aid from every quarter, but by the time the Airani horse arrived (looking quite dramatic and ready to act the part of the Cavalry) it had become quite obvious that the enemey was not attacking. Further reinforced by Accan pikes, the army, now over a hundred thousand strong, began to make its way eastward, hoping to liberate Gallat.

The Brunnekt troops, it transpired, had already left. The Savirai always stayed near enough to threaten, but never close enough to catch. Apparently, the Aitahists had conceded the Karapeshai armies would be unbeatable in the field, and so long as the Gallasenes had their help, they would not give battle. It left the Gallasenes off-balance, to be sure, but they still took the chance while they still had it, securing their old fortifications, and trying to retake the old cities of the north. Alas, the enemy had taken a liking to the flames – almost the entirety of the infrastructure of northern Gallat was in ruins. The enemy couldn't disassemble the old blockhouses and fortified lines in time to make it a wholly wasted effort, but it was quite demoralizing to see the utter ruin of the country.

Everything from Gallasa to Gesta had been burnt to cinders. A counter-attack razed Edrim and Halen, but the damage was more than psychological. Refugees, numbering quite possibly in the tens of thousands, scattered in all directions, many seeking safe havens in southern Gallat, but they strained budgets and grain fields. Competent administration kept the situation from exploding – and even got a little labor out of the displaced population – but it still had to worry a Gallasene military that had not seen much reward for its victories.

While the Gallasenes contemplated what to do next, the other prong of the Satar attack had struck. Fulwarc III, the heir of the cuCyve dynasty and a willing partner in their attacks, led a massive Cyvekt contingent alongside the forces of Sianai. A force of some twenty thousand – minor by Satar standards, but considerable in this part of the world – landed in the old kingdom of Nech, and proclaimed its liberation by its rightful heirs – the cuCyves. Moreover, they pointed to the murders of the High Ward to rally true Maninists to their cause, and to curse the Aitahists plaguging the region.

What started as a liberation, or an invasion, depending on your point of view, devolved incredibly quickly into a complete mess. The Nechekt were hardly a unified people even before all this had happened, and the religious controversy soon broke into an all-out civil war, with neighbors attacking neighbors, farmers burning and pillaging nearby fields. Cities and towns and even little villages broke into orgies of violence almost unequaled in fury, and the Cyvekt army and nearby Brunnekt forces did not so much dance as rampage over it all.

Even that was a feint.

A third Satar army, this one the largest of all, launched from Lexevh. Landing briefly to resupply in the terrified city of Llendel, it continued along the northern coast, by a land where its only companions were the gulls and the waves. By the time it reached Kurchen, the city had gotten some alarm – riders from down the coast. But even a prepared garrison could not withstand the fury of this army, led as it was by the Redeemer Taexi itself.

Setting fire to the city of Kurchen, Taexi utterly massacred the local defenders. His hatred for Aitahists had finally found a land full of Aitahists – a worrying pairing.

The Brunnekt had time to react, of course, but what were they to do? The vast bulk of their army defended Seehlt, or the lands south of it, from Gallasene attacks. Even though they sent for the garrison at Flamstadt, the latter could not hope to arrive before Taexi's fast-moving force, which barreled down toward the city of Brunn itself.

The old capital of the northern state had been in the sole hands of Martuska, the aptly named Fowl Queen, for several decades now. But where the Queen had been a terrifying manipulator and brilliantly savvy politician, she had never honed her skills in actual war, and moreover had a force of only a few thousand to face one of thirty thousand. Taexi's attack could not be withstood; she recognized it immediately, and left the court in the dead of the night. It would be only mere hours later that the Satar burst down the doors to the throne room, finding only the ear-splitting noise of a hall given over entirely to the birds the Queen had loved so well.

It was said a dozen men died in that minute.

Taexi was not deterred. Kintyra lurked nearby – no one really doubted that. Individual villages tried to hide her, for she was much beloved by the people, who remembered her healing deeds and those of her mother. Taexi didn't even bother to discriminate, burning every village that stood in his path, regardless of whether he thought they contained the Fifth Aitah. Thousands and thousands would be purged, one by one, until finally, on the lakeside that had been the home of the first Stetin, he caught up with the Goddess.

* * * * * * * * *​

The men lay dead outside the tent, seven of them, killed in seven ways. Taexi paid them no mind. Corpses had always been this way to him – “Footnotes,” Avetas called them – supremely ignorable. No one would remember their names, as no one would remember this day to be bright and sunny, without a cloud in the sky. Karal had already ducked through the entrance, studying the woman before him, though he made room for Taexi and his attendants, living and dead.

“Taexi.”

“Girl. You speak Satar, then?”

Kintyra paid the question no heed. “Well done, Redeemer.”

The eyes beneath the mask blinked. “Oh?” His Oracle had warned him that the woman might try to play mind games with him, that it was a standard tactic of the Aitahs, but he had not worried.

“You have taken the earth. Three points to you. Well done.”

Beside him, Karal rolled his eyes. “Seriously, does everyone in this shivering wetland speak in kalis metaphors? They must play the game ten times as – ”

“I have taken more than a simple land,” Taexi said, his face annoyed under the mask. “I have the fifth – and last – Aitah.”

Kintyra smiled at this, her bound hands playing with one another behind her back. “How does victory taste?”

The Redeemer shrugged. “I have tasted victory before, girl, and I shall many times again.”

“Liar,” said Avetas.

“Liar,” said Kintyra. “We both know of your illness. Indeed, it strikes me that it is not too dissimilar to my m – ”

“Do not speak to me of that woman.”

“A death here,” the Oracle Eshat cut across both of them, “is no shameful thing. Many years of his life and mine have been given in service of Taleldil, pursuing his opponents across the quarters of the world. It would be only fitting if we should both die on campaign, extinguishing the last of your flame.”

Taexi nodded. “Today, I will have killed the Aitah.”

Kintyra appeared to consider this for a moment before replying. “At least someone recognizes me.”

“This is pointless, Redeemer. Let us get one with it.”

Kintyra laughed. “I'm surprised that even you don't see it, Eshat. Are you not a Goddess, too?”

“I am an Oracle.”

“But neither of you have seen nightfall? No vision? No dream?”

“You are the enemy we dream of, Aitah.”

“Then your dreams are wrong,” said Kintyra, flatly. “Even in my visions, the sun set in the south.”

Beside him, Karal and Avetas were silent, the former looking as though he were thinking very hard, the latter pacing agitatedly. Even as the silence stretched on for a moment, neither of them offered comment. Kintyra knelt before them all, apparently satisfied with her last statement, and she almost looked as though she were... humming. Even Taexi's brows knitted at this. He exchanged a brief glance with Eshat.

“What do you mean?” Eshat asked carefully.

“Isn't it obvious? You ran across the north, moving every piece to take the Goddess. And here you have her. Taken. But the earth is only three points, and I am a piece, not the player – and only one piece of many, at that. How's the poem go again?

“All shall tremble, peace is lost –
For the River Sesh is crossed.
”

“You know, old friend,” Karal said, conversationally. “I realize you wanted to have a good gloat at the enemy, but I think she's getting the better of you here.”

“Lying witch,” Taexi snapped, and backhanded the heathen.

“Maybe I am,” Kintyra said. “But perhaps you should return to Kurchen. I wonder, what news awaits y – ”

“Enough.” Taexi looked to the Oracle. “We have accomplished all we needed to here. The Aitah will die tomorrow in Brunn. We will make it quite public. Then we shall return to Kurchen. I am sick to death of the mist and cold.” He coughed through the last word. “You,” he pointed to a soldier nearby, “Gag her. I've enough of her words.” He strode from the tent, so that the shades and the Oracle had to hurry to follow.

“And what now, Redeemer?” asked Avetas.

“Now? It all burns.”

* * * * * * * * *​

Taexi had made it as far as Kurchen, the body of the Aitah finally being cast into the sea, when the news reached them. Many things Kintyra had been on that day, but she had not lied – the River Sesh was crossed. A thousand miles away, it transpired, First-Lerai had forded the ancient stream, marching with an army of over a hundred thousand to destroy the old Exatai.

It was almost well that Taexi died a few days later, the fever finally overtaking him.

The other news would have hit harder.

Taexi's last decree was for the ship bearing word of his death – the fastest in the fleet – to arrive in Nech as quickly as possible. There, he hoped, his old friend Sianai would hear, and return to Atracta and Sartasion before any other claimants could make their way forward. Behind this ship, the rest of the fleet would follow, slowly. Its mission in Brunn was done: Kurchen and the capital lay in glowing coals, and the Satar would withdraw before anyone could even take revenge.

But the Accans in the force had eyes and ears everywhere, and they heard of this death wish. Immediately, arrangements were made to inform the new Letoratta, Arteras, of the events that had transpired there – that he might take up the mask instead. And still more plots lurked behind those, as agents whose purpose read even more inscrutably informed the last of the great claimants – Talephas, recently masked Prince of the Shield, and youngest son of the late, great Elikas-ta-Tisatar.

Even as these three scrambled to move to claim the mask, still more bad news came from the south. Whether Kintyra had been the Fifth Aitah was a matter of some debate among the learned, but she would certainly not be the last Aitah. Another girl, whose provenance seemed rather more legitimate than Kintyra, emerged on the River Peko, preaching to the soldiers who defended these lands from renewed Airani raids (for the Nahsjad had been just as incensed by the Immolation as any other good Maninists). Though her exhortations won her many admirers, far more important were the signs attached to her birth and early life.

Here, the many priests and scholars agreed, was the true Fifth Aitah.

But the importance of the birth of another religious figure would have to wait a while, as the many cogs that turned inevitably towards a third eschaton clamored for attention.

Even as Mahid fell under siege from Airani soldiers, the city bustled with activity, as did the port of Aldina. Huge fleets from the Farubaid swarmed the coastline, looking for the Karapeshai fleets, hoping to give battle here. But the majority of the Exatai's fleets lingered far from the theater of war. Many in the upper echelons of the command urged them to take advantage of the situation, but cooler heads prevailed. No one knew exactly where the Gallasene fleet had gone (it would later transpire that Accan nuccia had purchased it wholesale), but it would not do to launch another Accan Expedition while the war's first punches hadn't yet landed.

So while a large garrison force was left at the ports, ready to fend off any Karapeshai attacks, the remainder of the fleet moved to support the Farubaida's coastal attacks. Marching up the west of the Kern Sea, alongside tens of thousands from the Holy Moti Empire, a Carohan army under Maeraedan Aramsayafa found itself almost unopposed, with a few Satar raiders at their flanks – the rest were tied up in defending against the far larger force led by First-Lerai himself even further to the west. Indeed, they would take Onesca and even reach Sacossa, making exploratory raids into Oscadia before enemy resistance even became a consideration.

As for First-Lerai, his grand assault on the Vithanama had been only a somewhat expensive ruse. With Birun back by his side, he crashed north from Magha. One force took Katdhi in a stunning stroke, and engaging the raiders in the region on a level footing – over the years, the Moti had acquired great numbers of light cavalry, and seemed almost as adept at their use as the Satar themselves. This advantage played true in First-Lerai's own campaign, aimed directly north, at Siaxis.

The holiest site of Ardavan might have been the scene of a bloodbath, but First-Lerai had proved a hundred times during his reign that he wasn't even all that unsympathetic to the Ardavani. Engaging directly with the monks at the enormous temple-complex, he informed them that he had no ill designs on the settlement, and that he only wanted to seize it to draw out Taexi to a battle-challenge. Uggor soldiers would not even set foot inside the monastery if they did not allow it, instead, he would maintain a garrison of “Tamed Satar” – or the inhabitants of Satara who he had made a prominent piece in his army and rule.

Otherwise, of course, he would raze it.

Though there were of course a thousand objections, the monastery chose to surrender. First-Lerai had already proved some exatas by virtue of his having pushed through the screening force of thousands of steppe horse and levies that protected the vast frontier. His military talents had been considerable, to organize such an expedition across these lands – even the logistical problems involved required the works of genius to surmount.

Much less peaceable, of course, was Arastephaion, which had stood as a Satar citadel for hundreds of years now. Though its fortifications were sorely tested by the Uggor, it managed to stand firm against the initial assaults by the smaller western army, and eventually the Moti force had to pull up in order to let its supply lines catch up.

Nevertheless, with Onesca and Siaxis well in hand, and Arastephaion in grave danger as well, the battle-challenge had been issued. Despite fears of a falling out between the two, the Holy Emprie and the Carohans had set aside the religious differences that had flared between the two, and had set the stage for the rematch for the War of the Three Gods.

The only question that remained was who the actors would be.

Across the Sea, the Accan troops already prepared for withdrawal. The homeland would be far more important, and though it might seem incredible that the Moti would even try to attack Acca, they had seen more incredible things in their time. The Gallasenes readied once more for battle without the Satar, but their efforts in the last few years had hardly been wasted. Captain Javan would be acclaimed by his soldiers in a strikingly Satar fashion as the Halyr, or Highest. Here was a supreme ruler – Gallat had not seen his like for centuries – who made valuable use of the intervening years. While the Aitahists burnt the land, his soldiers had drilled regularly with the Accan pikes, and received sound training despite their vast numbers. Though most of the old holdouts had been destroyed, Selessan, remained a durable redoubt, fending off Savirai raids with surprising pluck. Maninist recruits and goodwill had flocked to the state in continuing reaction to the Immolation, and even with the vast numbers arrayed against them, a faint hope remained for old Gallat.

In the far north, Fulwarc III had been left largely alone by Sianai in the latter's haste to return home, and he had made good use of it, burning his way across much of the remnants of Nech. A successor kingdom, perhaps wary of the unending razing of cities around them, coalesced around Helt, and fended off attacks from both sides. The Brunnekt monarchy barely held together under the strain, with the eastern nobility still cowed by Martuska's influence; the Fowl Queen managed to reunite with her husband in Flamstadt, but living in the former Seehltekt fortress made for a paranoid household.

Now, Taexi's death had only just reached the Ayasi, and the Satar had three claimants with astounding merits and great popularity. Sianai had the favor of the old Redeemer, but he had been put in a somewhat awkward position, and though he sailed across the Kern with haste, he arrived too late, and with too small a force, to make a real impact on the acclamation. Arteras had been the first to arrive in Atracta, where the heart of the bureaucratic apparatus of the Exatai lay, but Talephas came close behind. Both brought considerable forces to the negotiating table, and both knew the incredible urgency in selecting a leader that all could rally behind. But neither quite wanted to yield.

The decision, it seemed, was in Sianai's hands. The wily old Xieni eventually decided to throw his weight behind Talephas, thinking, perhaps, that the somewhat capricious youth might be easier to manipulate. All this didn't sit well with Arteras, but he knew better than to risk open war at this time, even if he could well have won. The decision had been made – unusually for a Satar succession – almost entirely behind closed doors, but when Talephas accepted the golden mask, he was showered with the adulation of the army nonetheless.

For Talephas was young, charismatic, and brave – an entirely fitting candidate to lead the Exatai in the Third Armageddon.

* * * * * * * * *​

The city lay between the mountains, on the low and level earth. Fires burned in the watchtowers now, for as everyone knew, Yashidim lay in the path of many a would-be conqueror. The last of the year's storms had passed by (they braced for the slow death of the dry season), and all that remained was the smell of wet earth. Indeed, the clouds themselves had been washed away, the sky wiped clean, the stars shining with barely a twinkle; diamonds in black velvet. No moon obscured the vision, nor the Veil.

It was a beautiful night.

The candles burnt still in the little home by the market. On the wall there, a sword in its sheath hung – not gold, but leather. No breeze is stirring, but the sheets on the desk are weighed down nonetheless. Many, many columns of numbers and names, an endless list. And on top of that, in the topmost layer of sediment, a letter half-finished.

I'm not one for histrionics, so I will be brief. I have been called to serve the Ayasi, and I will of course answer. As we discussed before, I am leaving Talessa in your care. She is a bright girl, a cheerful girl, and she must know that I –

Above the letter, a hand, holding a pen, the last drops of ink on its point long since dried. Slowly, as if every muscle is a conscious thought, the hand pushes the pen to one side on the desk, and stretches out. Attached to the hand, an arm, to the arm, a man, and to the man, a frown. How should he explain this to Talessa? Tell her that she was his world? Clearly untrue, if he would march to war and leave her behind. Tell her that, though she meant more to him than anything else, the call of duty could not be ignored? Perhaps, but that thought rang hollow in his own head. Tell her that he was being coerced, or that sometimes one must set aside personal desires for the sake of the Ayasi?

If his motion had been less economical, perhaps he would have gotten up and paced, but instead, Covo merely looked to the window, watching with steady eye the garrison's fires. He had been a traveler once, when his trading duties had involved more than sitting behind a desk. He remembered the route he would take tomorrow quite well: he might reach Magha in under two weeks, if he was lucky.

“Father?” came a soft voice. He looked about.

Talessa was only 12, but she had taken to wearing her mother's mask around the house. Covo understood, of course, and would never have told her how much the sight of different eyes beneath the wood and lacquer hurt him. He almost hoped she'd never understand. Now, though, she pushed the mask up over her head.

“Father,” she spoke again, “What's wrong?”

He pulled his mouth into a smile, and took the girl in his arms. She felt so frail to him, like her shoulder-blades were folded paper. “Nothing, Talessa,” he lied quietly. “Go to sleep.”

* * * * * * * * *​
 
Maps:


Cities


Economic


Religions


Political

* * * * * * * * *​

OOC:

Apologies for lateness. I hope the update makes up for it; I felt like I needed a little more time to get this one right.

I may add a “Leadership” stat to detail who exactly is leading your country, and who the likely successors are. Please be prepared to figure out that information if you haven't already.

Given the looming crisis, the next update will also probably be somewhat shortened (five or so years rather than ten). I don't know how long this will go on. Yes, nominally I should prorate stats to take into account the shortened turn lengths, but... I won't. :p
 
From: Talephas, High Prince of the Shield, Redeemer of the Satar
To: Ayasi First-Lerai, Chief-of-Chiefs of the Moti Great Family


When my friends and advisors came to me and said that the Moti had come north, I admit that I felt some confusion. The Sephashim in Atracta keeps wonderful records which you may not have the benefit of in Gaci City, but I must tell you, brother Lerai, of an old treaty which we in the North still remember.

"Ayasi Fourth-Frei believes that honor has been satisfied."

And in that treaty, even in the words of the Ayasi, who is wont to consider the whole of the world his plaything, the North of the Circle of the World was granted to the Satar. These are the words of your ancestors, Ayasi, negotiated with my predecessor Avetas. And now you have broken the treaty.

Let me ask you a single question, Ayasi Lerai.

Why?

What have we done, in the years since, to displease your divine majesty? What have we done to deserve the revocation of the right which Ayasi Fourth-Frei, in all his wisdom, granted? Have we raided the boundaries of your empire, or those of your client states? We have not. Have we made war upon your empire, or upon the empires of any of your client states? We have not. Have the Satar, in the intervening years since the end of the War of the Three Gods, done ANYTHING to offend your might and power?

I cannot in any record we possess find evidence of such a thing. The truth is, Ayasi Lerai, that in three generations of peace, we have done nothing to you.

Your troops marching on my lands and threatening the lives of my people is certainly a problem for me. But Lerai, it is a much greater problem for you. For the Moti have extended their protection over many corners of the world, and over many peoples and nations. They have offered protection to the Kothari, to the Kilari and the Jiphans, and to the Farubaida, your wayward vassals in this latest endeavor.

How are those who depend on the protection of the Moti to consider a sudden revocation, a revocation without cause, of the rights which they grant? We were not warned of our violation, nor were we given a chance to negotiate. These are not the actions of a sovereign. They are the actions of a warlord. I am a young Prince, but when a trusted lord revokes the lands of his servants, acting out of greed instead of out of justice, I know how his subjects react. First with doubt, and then fear, and finally, hostility.

This ambition of yours, Lerai, casts doubt on your legitimacy, and on the very legitimacy of the Elephant Family to rule the Great Family itself.

Though perhaps one of the Horse or Cow Families might take the burden off your shoulders, you need not step down just yet. For I believe that the Elephant Family has not yet lost all its exatas. I will give you one opportunity to withdraw from my lands, and restore that which was agreed to between Ayasi Fourth-Frei and Avetas.

Return home, I beg you, and celebrate your great victories over the hated and feared Satar. I will even grant you enough gold to give every one of your soldiers a pension for his service.

But if you seek to continue, I must tell you what awaits you. There are no great slave colonies to rise up and aid you this time. The Karapeshai stand united, each Prince defending his own homeland and his own people. This time you come not as liberators, but as conquerors. And this time, Lerai, we will not lose.

For we are the UNBOWED, and we will not be tamed.

Talephas-ta-Vaxalai
 
Peace for a generation was requested, peace for a generation was granted. The Generation of Folunlui, Fourth-Frei and Avetas has passed. The Scythe of Aitah, Lance of Opporia and Sword of Taleldil meet again.
 
Question: Have the Satar ever needed any reason for war? Answer: the Satar are animals, and are therefore incapable of reason.

*

Two voices cry out over desert sands: they have murdered our sister, we must have revenge.
 
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