I have been away a very long time. What has changed?
Empires have risen and fallen. Cities have been built and the same ones destroyed. Men make war with a thousand new devices, each more frightening than the last. And the world has burned.
What of the stars and mountains?
There is no change.
Then let the story begin again.
End of Empires - Update Eleven
New Dawn
c. Fifty years.
230 - 280 SR by the Seshweay Calendar
129 - 179 RM by the Satar Calendar
and Our Lady replied, you would deprive us of a home, for that thou shall not have a home, to which not a single word sufficed but warning, ware! thou art never safe, for our kin lie eternal, waiting ~ Words, I,V
I sing three songs of death today. One song low, for the full moon waning. Empires die, and so I mourn empires of song, empires of trade, empires of war. That song, sung for the lowland tribe, betrayed by friend and friend alike.
I sing three songs of death today. One song high, for the last sun setting. Empires die, as perhaps they should. The lord of the sea, slain in battle. Shall his people build a nation anew, or will they succumb to new worlds of fear?
I sing three songs of death today. One last song, notes cold and cruel, for an empire we had long known dead. Burned on a pyre of its shattered foes, ruining the world, yet ruined in turn. Hear me sing of its final, slow song.
These three songs of death I sing. I bid you listen, for the world turns on the final chord.
* * * * * * * * *
The south of the cradle has long been less bloody than the north, though not for lack of effort. Krato, the strongest power since its toppling of Thearak in that long bygone era, has kept the peace only by sheer strength no one can stand against them, and so there are no prolonged conflicts.
But the world is changed.
The great raid of the Silver Prince brought much ruin to the south. Kratos reply was to raise the largest army men had seen since the ancient days, and to bring the Satar to their knees. Victory had come after a long, long fight, but at what cost?...
It was a shame, really, mused Tikaf of the Eso Sogo Uggor, that the storied lands and people of the Duroc had to end up like this. A thousand years ago, they had been the loyal allies of the Uggor, and they had fought side by side for generations. Everyone knew the stories of those ancient battles, though no one took the old rivalries seriously anymore. Only a decade ago, the Liealb, Uggor, and Duroc had all fought side by side against the Satar menace, and they had triumphed together on the fields of battle. One would think that would have been enough...
But now, after the Duroc had been hardest hit by the Satar raids of half a century ago, their lands were by far the worst-off of Krato. And Krato as a whole had been sliding into what seemed like an inexorable decline, sloughing off territories in the north and west like so much dead skin. It was perhaps no surprise that the Duroc had finally come to this point, to try and throw off the yoke, however light it had been, of Krato. He could not help but feel pity for them, walking through these devastated fields, from burned town to burned town.
Thus, he could not help but offer them peaceful solutions as Yeridur, his rival, barged headlong into their other flank. But he also quickly realized he was losing the initiative, and that there was the position of War-Chief at stake here. Thus had the Council decreed. Patience failed him, and he, too, plunged into battle.
Competition among the Uggor generals was counterproductive. Each one felt reluctant to support the other at worst, they came close to actually sabotaging each others plans. But they had masses of men at their disposal, and the Duroc rebellion had never been terribly organized. The Order of the One were like shadows, and shadows cannot lead. To be fair, Krato only ever caught and killed a few of the Order itself, but the rest of the populace could be dealt with easily enough. Kill a few, march on, kill more. Eventually it got to the point where they were killing a whole slew of Iralliam followers to kill just one Oneist. But it sufficed for the task at hand.
In the end, though, Tikafs patience, however short-lived, ended up losing him the competition: he had killed fewer rebels than Yeridur. And so the man of the Swenit Jiressa Uggor became War-Chief, and Tikaf became his servant, washing his elephant.
And thus, Tikaf watched largely from the sidelines as Yeridur planned a great southern campaign. For the Great Council had decided that rather than be raided, they would raid others, and use the treasure and lands gained to prop up the struggling Kratoan government. Jipha had long been a somewhat annoying enclave in the middle of the Uggor territories. It was the perfect target. So the troops boarded their ships, and set sail for the peninsula.
Landing mostly unopposed, it quickly became apparent that they had taken the enemy by surprise. The ancient Liealb city of Piatrata was quickly taken and burnt to the ground, but by the time they moved on to besiege the fairly new city of Kea, considerable resistance had begun to flare up. The first Kratoan assault on that city was unable to take it despite heavy casualties, with the heroic efforts of the citizens there being praised in numerous songs that would later disseminate through the whole cradle.
By this time, the Jiphan War had drawn the attention of nearby nations. The news that Krato had focused their attentions on yet another of its tiny neighbors drew no small amount of concern from King Kuriguzulan of the Zyeshu. Many of his advisors clamored for war, pointing out that after Kardil, Burshan, and Jipha, Zyeshu would be inevitably next. Powerful arguments indeed, but Kuriguzulan knew that he could not contend alone against the mighty Empire of Krato.
And so the king sent a herald to his ally in Hanakahi, whom he had but recently assisted in war against the Trilui themselves. Could not the allies unite again in war, to bring down the mighty and far too aggressive nation? As descendants of Hamakua, could they really sit back and watch their brethren in exile torn to pieces? The King of Hanakahi considered these arguments, and in the end, agreed. So it was set; the fleets and armies of the nations advanced in concert against the Uggor.
By the time they arrived, their fleet over one hundred ships strong, and their armies almost three thousand, it was not a moment too soon. Kea, despite its heroic resistance, had finally fallen to the enemy and burnt to the ground; the tales of that siege would come entirely from those who had never been there. In the process, an untold cultural treasure was lost: Kea had been one of the largest and greatest of the refuges for the Hamakuans; the library there had been filled with manuscripts of ten thousand poems and songs. Now the Uggor marched on Leuce, capital of Jipha itself if they were to take that, an entire chapter of civilization itself might be demolished.
But when the Uggor armies drew themselves up into battle formation at the word of a small force of enemies marching straight towards them, they were unpleasantly surprised to find an army three times stronger than they had expected. They still outnumbered the enemy force considerably, but not by nearly as much as they had wanted to. Tikaf could sense that this would be a difficult battle for the Uggor, but he could do nothing. He prepared Yeridurs elephant battle, and Yeridur rode out confidently to smash the enemy.
And truthfully, it
was an utter rout. Of a sort.
The allied forces, might have been fractious, but the brave leadership of King Kuriguzulan united them, and the Jiphans were fighting in their homeland. They lured the Uggor onto a patch of uneven ground, and as the levies formations broke up, the allies charged headlong into the mass and set the Uggor to flight. Though some of the professionals and elephants tried to resist still, they were terribly outnumbered and in the end had to retreat as well. Even as he tried to regroup his armies, Yeridur found a knife in his chest, an unwelcome last gift from the Oneists he had fought so hard to ruin.
Tikaf took charge in his place, the last man in the camp with any authority left, but while he inflicted a minor defeat on the allies around Piatrata and prevented them from capturing Thearak or the holy city of Opios, he could not stop many of his men from returning home. For the clans needed as many soldiers as they could get...
Kratos armed forces were not quite crippled by the defeat at Leuce, but the shockwaves reverberated through the entire empire. Disputes, especially in the Great Council, had reached a fever pitch; a few clans openly began to raid one anothers territory.
More rapidly than anyone could have suspected, chaos reigned supreme. Krato had been on tenterhooks for a long time now, with internal dissent and economic problems evident since the Satar invasion a century prior. Repeated defeats, humiliating peace treaties, rebellion and assassination all conspired to destroy whatever order remained. The Chief of Chiefs in Moti tried to intervene to some degree, but it was difficult; all the clans claimed the legitimacy of the old empire.
Within a year or so, the entire empire was split by the five most powerful remaining clans: The Yensai Brosli, which consolidated around Cartugog, the Buci Sogo, which took hold of Asandar, the Cartu Coton of Goso, the Eso Sogo around Firidi and with a few men under Tikaf near Thearak, and the Swenit Jiressa north of the capital. It was enough to confuse any of the foreign ambassadors who might try to treat with the nation. The last holdout of the established order was in the city of Krato itself, but this besieged outcrop of the old order could not possibly be expected to try and bring government to the surrounding peoples.
And so the clan wars of the Krato plowed onwards. Famine set in, many peoples fled in terror for the safety of Moti or even the Dulama, and most concluded that these were the dying gasps of a empire whose time had finally come.
There were a few beneficiaries of the decay of Krato, of course, much as any corpse will benefit the vultures of the world. Jipha and Zyesh conquered some small territories, a move one part vengeance and one part greed. Isara, a land of monasteries and reclusive warriors that had been brutally annexed ages prior regained its independence. The city of Opios declared itself to be the secular power on earth that would defend the Church of Iralliam against all foes.
And as to the city of Triad... it fell to a completely new power, the grandchild of an ancient foe of the Uggor.
The burning of the Satar princes has yet to be sung of, but for the moment let it suffice to say that the Exatai was at its end. The mask of their lord was taken up by the Accan emperor... again, a song yet to come... The Satar princes knew that they had failed their god, and burned themselves. Only one survived, and he only because he was so very far from his comrades.
Hashaskor, prince of the Star, son of Atraxes, loyal to a fault even though many had tried to put him on the throne of the Exatai in place of Xetares. Would that he had succeeded, for he was not the type to burn the world; perhaps the Exatai would have survived. No matter.
His was a lonely exile, far from his people, receiving word of events many months after they happened. He learned Xetares had died long long after the blood washed into the Nakalani; he learned Magha fell long after the silver chains were taken down from the seven sided temple and melted to boost the Moti treasury. His fate was sealed long before he knew it.
Abandoned by the death of his people, far from home, Hashaskor could not hold Subal against many foes; he retired to the heart of the Kothai and burned as he went. He and his men became glorified scavengers, living off the detritus of civilization, pillaging the outlying Huut and Kratoan lands. Huut had not the money or the power to drive him away, and Krato, as we have seen, had other concerns.
The Kothari Exatai, as it came to be known, had carved out a niche for itself literally, as their fortresses were cut into the rocks of the ancient mountains themselves took Triad, and became the last holdout of the true Satar line. Its depredations were to continue, perhaps, until a greater power grew annoyed enough with it...
The pace of change is ever quickening. Maybe the call of battle is audible already. For in Palmyra, ever peaceful Palmyra, where time seems to stop at the borders, at last the great armies are marshaled into their ranks; at last they go to war.
Their target is a small and even more peaceful nation, nestled in the mountains. This latter land calls itself Doral, and they have never fought a war; only repelled small raids by merciless bandits from their mountain homes. No matter. The machinations of a king care not for the nature of the peasantry.
Inexperienced as they might have been, the armies of Doral fought gallantly to defend their homeland. The invading army, thrice their numbers and far better trained, had but one fatal weakness they had no idea of the lay of the land, and could easily be lured into traps and ambushes. This happened twice in the campaign, the second time with the loss of nearly a third of the Palmyran armies.
But of course, any resistance was to be short-lived. Doral could not possibly stand up to its foes, numerous as they were, and potential allies in the south and north were occupied with their own troubles. The tiny mountain nation was conquered, though its people would remember their freedom for many years, with possibly disastrous consequences down the road...
Of the nations of Zyesh and Hanakahi, beyond their military exploits there would seem to be little to say. Yet small, subtle changes were evident. First and most dangerous was one which every nation in the world was noticing: the collapse of the maritime trade routes was sending revenues spiraling downwards, and whole nations seemed on the brink of collapse. But there were other changes, too with the death of cultural centers to the north, many artists of all types were fleeing to the south, back to the original homeland of these traditions: Hanakahi. The Zyeshu also received some of this exodus, though not to the same extent.
The regenerated nation of Huut had been nearly destroyed by the Satar invasion. Had Xetares not left, or had he won the day on the River Sesh, Huut would likely be a mere Satrapy, a princedom, and not the most important one, at that.
But it had survived, somehow, and rebuilt as best it could. With the turmoil in the north, they were even able to grow under the successors of Shafay Fetosa, securing the city of Subal after Hashaskor left it be. There was still much to be done, of course not even a tenth of the economic damage had been repaired, and raids from the Kothari to the south were proving a nuisance. But more important than either of those was the continuing decline in the economy as the fields fell fallow and trade revenues plummeted.
The new world order has brought many opportunities for Huut, but no one knows what the end result will be...
* * * * * * * * *
Meanwhile, far, far to the east, Leun entered a new period of prosperity even as the west seemed to enter into inexorable decline. Trade increased still more as products from the north became more viable than that from their counterparts in the far west. Timber for the Leunan ships was almost entirely bought from the north now. Grain, too, started to be imported from the north. At the same time, salt, precious, and cotton were shipped in the other direction.
More importantly, concerned about their dependence on trade, the rulers of Leun began to build an economy of their own, encouraging the growth of cotton and other cash crops. The soil inland was discovered to be more favorable than expected, and local production of food soared fortunately, as sources to the west, as we will see, dried up.
Perhaps most importantly of all, a royal marriage was concluded with the ruling family of a leading Acayan city-state. Here, perhaps, it is necessary to mention the discovery of the Acayans, which became known to the western powers around this time (at least, to those who were paying attention). The Acayans are a highly urbanized civilization on the edge of the great eastern continent, rather free, with a strong legal and political tradition of republicanism Of course, a few of the cities are still monarchies, as otherwise we could not talk of the royal marriage importantly, the nearest one to Leun, Ischya, was ruled by a long line of kings.
In any case, the Acaya come from a civilizing tradition that is completely independent of the long line that was started in the Had and Sesh valleys. Maps of their lands have been jealously guarded by the Leunan kings, who refuse absolutely to allow any western ships to travel past the port of Leun itself, seizing any who attempt to make the journey.
* * * * * * * * *
A forest grew in what had been the worlds greatest city. Men had returned to Trovin after the sack and the earthquakes, and a few of the citys quarters had been repopulated mostly those on the north shore of the harbor. But in the south, trees grew, though the cobbles of the streets, poking through half-fallen roofs, reaching over the walls, bringing the land back to the wilderness it had once been claimed from.
It unsettled the emperor. To see this forest growing over what his future great capital seemed like a sort of final defeat, the death knell of his empire. In time, perhaps when he returned, Vol Jului would order the buildings pulled down, and the walls rebuilt in a smaller perimeter around the city. Even if the city had to be smaller, then it should be grand nonetheless, not lurking in what looked like half-ruin.
But there would be time for that later.
We are the last of an ancient line. We are the last true men of the Trilui Empire. Before him stood the assembled ranks of his last great army, twelve thousand strong. Then again, however great it was, it amounted to a greater risk. He pushed the thought aside.
We have been betrayed by friend and foe, left to die as the last, struggling fragment of a once glorious empire. What the Satar did you all know well, far too well. We will not glorify their name by repeating the tale of their wretched deeds.
The scum of the steppe have died even we, stabbed in the back and given no hope, have outlived them but their servants and allies live still.
Yes, there remain friends of the Satar! For the horde went unopposed on their ride to Trovin. The ancient covenant, by which we rule the waves and the Faron rule the land, by which the one shields the other for all eternity, has been broken. We were betrayed by the Maeriouhau, may Hulos curse their name, who all but pointed the Satar on to the unwary homes of their erstwhile friends.
And we remember this. We see that deeds consequences all about us. The trees and ash and ruined homes that stand behind me they would be a bustling city still if it were not for the Maeriouhau. They tried to destroy our empire, and now they think themselves secure.
But they are not. For the empire is returning. The Trilui are returning! And Helsia shall know your name, and the world shall know your name. And they shall know we are not weak.
Soldiers! You know my name, you know my lineage, you know your heritage! Fail or falter, and you betray all three! But fight for me, purge these traitors from the world, and your reward shall be limitless. The empire shall be renewed, and you shall be at its fore! Onward to victory!
And there rose a great shout, and the army of the Trilui issued forth from the gates of Trovin. And the host rode north and then west, destroying the little armies that lay in its path, crushing the companies that dared to oppose it. The Maeriouhau were caught utterly by surprise; the thought that the great Empire of the Sea might attack them by land, and them exclusively, was shocking.
They sent a great army from Dremai to do battle at a town called Surai, but it was an army outnumbered more than three to one. The Maeriouhau looked at their foes and fled to the superior fortifications of their new capital. But the Trilui had new siege engines, and as soon as they began their assault on the city, it surrendered. Thus the greatest dynasty of Faron had ended without so much as a whimper, and the Triluis quest for vengeance was ostensibly over.
But it was not done.
Rapidly, it became clear the Vol Jului did not intend merely to punish the people who had let the Satar through to destroy his family, but instead to build the base for an entirely new empire. His army returned to Trovin, refitted and resupplied, and then marched on the reforged Faron state in the south and the Surubaida o Aramaia.
Again, the Faron armies were in no state to stand up to him their allies in Huut seemed rather indifferent to their struggles, and they had not yet rebuilt from the Satar menace, having been too concerned with internal troubles. Again, the Trilui army slammed through all opposition, reducing what minimal fortifications there were in the coastal plain.
The Faerouhaiaouan Highlanders had heretofore remained clear of the mess, not engaging with the Maeriouhau, but paying lip service to the Surubaidans. Their deal with the Surubaidans had given them the grain that they could not produce themselves, but as the latter were replaced by the Trilui, there was sudden panic and famine. Von Jului was demanding their utter submission, and that they give up their ancient autonomy.
They fell back on what, a century previously, would have been the most unlikely of sources: Huut. The fall of the Triluis trade empire had hit the farms along the Had hard, and the new market for grain was welcome. Conveniently, Huut had seized Subal as Faron had fallen, and now a narrow thread of land connected the highlands to the river state. The Highlanders resisted every attempt to subjugate them, and so the last holdout of Faron remained free.
But Faron had been utterly ravaged by the attacks of Satar and now Trilui over the past half a century. They had been bled dry by repeated wars. The Highlands were free, yes, but it was a tired kind of freedom, an insular retreat from the world into mountain fastnesses.
The Beautiful Turns represented a culmination of centuries of advancements in geometrical and mathematical knowledge, but it was not the start of a new golden age. The Faerouhaiaouans were no longer the cultural capital of the world; they were a backwater.
As for the Trilui, triumphs on land were thoroughly overshadowed by losses at sea.
Everyone expected the decline of the Trilui would draw out the many opponents who they had acquired through the years. Even as the Trilui armies crashed into the Maeriouhau lands, the Nahari fought a quick war against Caon, and signed a secret treaty with the Opulensi. Within five years, they were ready.
The first blow came against Treha, as the Nahari advanced into the old lands of Stad Men. Drawing away much of the Trehan army and fleet, the Nahari Empires ploy set the trap that was sprung as the Opulensi sailed in and attacked their mutual foes from behind. While it was difficult at best to coordinate forces over such distances, the two fronts divided the meager Trehan land forces, and the allied navies combined to utterly destroy Trehas.
Treha, for its part, seemed paralyzed by a serious lack of leadership at all levels, and the Opulensi quickly secured a foothold on the island itself and reduced the city from the landward side, bypassing the famed harbor defenses entirely.
With a year, the Opulensi were thus set to launch a campaign against the Hulinlui Peninsula and the cities guarding the entrances to the Lovi Sea. Trilui ships began to oppose them here, but they were still outnumbered by the six hundred strong Opulensi fleet, which was augmented even further by captured Trehan vessels and fleeing Faron ships who did not wish to swear allegiance to their betrayers.
The land campaigns went easily enough. The Trilui tried to issue a mass levy and fight off the enemy advance, bu the levies were unmotivated and horrendously underequipped. They could not hope to face the Opulensi in battle and were a liability in siege warfare as well. Within a month, the entirety of the eastern Trilui empire fell, with most of the regular troops away destroying Faron.
As for the fleet, the Trilui tried to stand fast in the straits and give battle to the Opulensi in treacherous waters. However, these waters had been the worlds greatest trade conduit for a millennium, and expecting there would be no former merchants in the Opulensi fleet who would know them was foolish. The Opulensi instead outwitted the Trilui fleet, drew it into open combat, and defeated it in a string of engagements. Though the Opulensi lost quite a few ships as well, they still easily had the upper hand.
The allied fleets were shattered. The Opulensi had complete control of the waves, and used it to great effect, taking Soui, Linlui, and Vinui in quick succession. They declined to invade the Helsian heartland, letting the Trilui proclaim their new empire there, and allowed Hanno and Kargan to declare themselves tiny independent states. Minor losses in light of the great new truth: the Opulensi were queen of the seas.
Thus did the Helsian empires fall. An empire of philosophy, drama, and music, an empire of trade and ships; either one finally wore to nothing under the sands of time. Only two pale images remained, reflections of an ancient glory, like the moon off the still, still waters of the blood-drenched seas.
It was the beginning.
* * * * * * * * *
The southern standard bearer of Maninism, Sira concluded a new set of treaties with the dying Trilui. It scarcely mattered, for as we have seen, the Trilui were fast in retreat, but it gave them uncontested claim to the northern coast of the Lovi Sea. They intended to press on across the waves to attack the isle of Hanno, but their ships were found to be nearly unseaworthy, attributed to poor engineering by their Seshweay designers (though of course its quite plausible that the Sirans were simply incompetent sailors). Similarly, the irrigation in the Peko valley proved to be much less of a boon than they were expecting.
However, the remaining Astrii city-states converted to Maninism after the Nahari conquest of Caon frightened them into accepting Siran protection. Under the guidance of their new overlord, Nali and Tadon united into a single state, Astria. At the same time, however, the new religion of Aitahism is starting to spread through the south, and only time will tell which of the great religions reigns supreme here.
Meanwhile, the political situation in the Lovi Sea grew considerably more complicated with the fall of the Trilui. Kargan declared its independence after a brief and surprising rule by the Accans, apparently feeling few bonds of friendship to an Emperor who was a native of their city. Hanno, too, managed to secure its freedom from any of the larger nations. However, whether they will be able to check the rampant piracy that this region has become known for is another question...