End of Empires - N3S III

Spoiler The World :

End of Empires - Update Twenty-nine
Age of Prophets; Age of Truths

Two Hundred and Seventy-Three Years
637 - 910 SR by the Seshweay Calendar
526 - 799 RM by the Satar Calendar
1461 - 1734 AR by the Amure Reckoning
519 - 792 CA by the Charitan Assumption

Spoiler The World As it Stood, 637 SR :

Physical


Cities


Economic


Religious


Political


"Did not the gods (for, as we have proven and will prove, the world was made by no single god) create the world in their image? Therefore, we can only assume that the world beyond is identical to the world before us. The heavens are at war." ~ Carnax-ta-Atracta

“God grows in gardens and on graves.” ~ Zyeshu children's rhyme


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* * * * * * * * *​

The place had the dead smell of old books. Savaen had always hated libraries: libraries made him think of the elderly, elderly made him think of being old, and being old made him think of being dead. He'd tried to make this excursion as short as possible, but even with the grease of gold, he'd been waiting in the antechamber for well over an hour. He breathed impatiently, tapping his leg underneath the desk (he'd never been able to get over the habit of tapping his fingers, but he'd learned to hide it). It was not uncomfortable, but he was starting to grow hungry.

The room was lavish, handsomely furnished with exotic woods from the Kitaluk lands that he had no name for. Dark red and brown, with gold leaf inlays – it was enough, for a moment, to make him forget that the Parthecans were robbing him blind.

A long while later still, the doors opened with a puff of dust. An old man emerged, and his voice was rickety as he asked, “Master Sav-van?”

Savaen nodded.

“Come with me.” Savaen pushed his chair back and followed, the doors sighing shut behind him. Row upon row upon row of tomes rose to each side like towers, guarding some unknown secrets. They turned, then turned again, and Savaen soon was completely lost; he wondered idly how the building he'd entered could hold so many hallways – perhaps it was larger on the inside than it looked, or he had somehow ended up underground.

They came to a stop before a pair of thick oak doors. The bookshelves extended in either direction, and a single bench sat between them. The old man stopped.

“This is the hall of maps.”

Without any further explanation, he turned to walk away. Savaen ignored the slight and turned to open the doors. They didn't move.

“It's locked,” he said.

The old man neither halted nor replied, and was already out of sight, his footsteps muffled by the bound leather. Savaen stood dumbly. He looked left, looked right. Nothing. No one. He waited for a minute, maybe more, and finally, after tapping his hand against his leg for a bit, he lifted it and knocked.

Instantly, a slotted window appeared in the door, and another old face looked through. The Parthecan smiled at him. “How can I help you?”

“They told me this is the Hall of Maps.”

“It is.” The old man continued smiling – neither impatient nor expectant. It was undreadable.

“And... might I enter?”

“Oh! Oh no. No, no – the Hall if for the Parthecans only. Very secret, this place – very important secrets here. Not for outsiders.” The man reached up, making to close the slot, and Savaen almost stuck his fingers in the way to stop him.

“Wait!” The man paused. “I am an old friend of the Kingdom. I have made thousands of... contributions to its endeavors, and... will again.” It wasn't the smoothest of bribery attempts, but the prospect of the map flashed in his mind again and again. Tentatively, he slid two weighty gold coins through the slot.

A long pause.

“Ah yes, Master Savvan. How could I have forgotten such a stalwart ally of my kingdom?” The bolt clacked, and the door swung open, revealing a long, high hallway. A series of windows on the right side let a little bit of light in, but they were only slanted sunbeams; they barely diffused to the far side of the room, where the maps lay.

“I am not offended.” The man closed the door behind him, and sat behind a desk, apparently ignoring Savaen.

“Er... would you be willing to help me a little more?”

The Parthecan looked up. “Yes?”

“I am looking for a very specific map.”

“Oh! And which would that be?”

“It is said that in the Archives you have a certain... chart... gifted to you very long ago by a Kitaluk navigator who married into your people.”

“We do. Turn left at the end of the hallway. There is a room on the right.”

Savaen thanked him and went the way indicated. This passage was even darker than the Hall of Maps had been to begin with. True to the man's word, after a while, he found a door on the right. With a somewhat foolish hope, Savaen tried it. It was, of course, locked.

He knocked. This time, there was no response.

He looked back down the hallway, but there didn't appear to be anyone in sight. Should he go back to the man at the front of the Hall?

After a moment, the decision was made for him. A third old Parthecan wandered by, and stopped when he saw Savaen. “Hello.”

“Are you one of the caretakers of this Archive?”

“I am.”

Savaen tried to come up with something intelligent-sounding, but the pang in his stomach was really starting to bother him, and what came out of his mouth was terser than he'd intended. “They told me I'd have access to the Hall of Maps, but this door seems to be locked. Could you possibly help?”

The Parthecan bobbled his head. “Such a thing is far above my position, sir. I would be risking much, were I to do so without going through the proper channels.”

This time, Savaen did not dither. He pushed a fistful of coins into the man's palm. It was likely more gold than he'd seen in his life. The Parthecan bobbled again, and dug in his pockets for the key to the chamber. With a click, the door opened.

“Please,” the old man said, holding the door open for him. The smell of must assaulted his nostrils.

Savaen slipped into the room and looked around. Here there were no shelves, just a table, dimly lit by a rim of windows about the top of the chamber. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, and he approached the table cautiously.

A howl of fury.

The 'map' was nothing more than a network of tied sticks and stones.

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After the War
Caroha, the Empire, and the Exatai (637 - 651 SR)​

The war was over, and Caroha stood unbroken.

It was the greatest city in the world, and the architect of its would-be destruction had been forced to withdraw to the north like an outrushing tide. The largest army ever assembled had been aimed at it, but the combined forces of the south had turned the Satar horde of the Karapeshai Exatai at the last moment. It had been the last in a series of many alliances of the Farubaida and the Moti; the Satar had come south time and again to try and bring ruin to the cradle of civilization, but once more, it hadn't worked.

Civilization was safe.

Thus it seemed. Then again, the victory hadn't been completed quite yet – the great city of Mahid lay in the hands of the Exatai's allies, the Airani. All agreed that this was a most egregious affront, and the Carohans quickly assembled an expedition to drive back the invaders before word came from the northeast – a peace had been signed by the Rosh, and the borders would return to precisely where they were before the war. It was a great relief for the Farubaida, who had grown tired of the constant fighting already, and a bitter disappointment for the Airani, who had hoped to secure the city as a major trading port of their own.

But it transpired that the peace hadn't completely settled things. The Accans of the Karapeshai Exatai, who had begun the war in the first place, had no intention of letting the Carohans retake Mahid. The city, one of the four key ports of the Farubaida on the Kern Sea, would assuredly prove a vital asset to the Satar if they could keep it – an easy way to keep the Carohans from returning to business as usual in the great sea. The Accans doubled down, leaving a large garrison in the city, and maintaining their fleet of nearly three hundred ships there to defend it.

But, as things had a habit of doing, it all fell apart too quickly.

The Accan fleet was really four fleets coupled together, and their Cyvekt allies' commander, one Lord Lukas, hearing of the Satar defeat in the south, decided that enough was enough. The Exatai was clearly about to be plunged into chaos, and he had little intention of being a pawn in the Accan game that was being played here. He left in the night, and the Accan fleet suddenly found itself facing a fleet almost double its size.

A battle had already been fought in the Mahid harbor at the beginning of the war, and the hulks of the ruined ships were still visibly strewn about the harbor. Noting their diminished numbers, and the apparent determination of the Farubaidans, the Accans decided to throw themselves into combat, but only to buy enough time for the garrison to evacuate. There would be little sense in fighting an obvious losing battle.

In the end, the Carohans retook the city with little bloodshed, but discovered unpleasantly that the city had been sacked by the Airani on their way out – just before the peace treaty had been signed. The riches of the city had been carried back to dress their own capital at Almadi – but technically there was very little that the Carohans could do about it. They somewhat bitterly named the incident the Rape of Mahid, and it would sour relations between the two countries for the decades to come, but ultimately the city would rebound quickly enough.

The Carohans went on to demand a recanting of the accusations the Satar had leveled at them at the start of the war – that they had been involved in the murder of the the great Satar Redeemer Talephas, or that they had instigated the war at all. The Satar, who as we shall see were pressed on their other flank, reluctantly agreed, and a grudging apology was delivered.

As quickly as that, the Farubaida was back at peace.

For the Karapeshai, things went rather differently. Arteras, Prince of the Scroll, had launched the war to establish a maritime empire spanning the Kern Sea, but his defeat had stripped him of respect in the eyes of the other Princes of the Exatai. Immediately after his defeat, they had begun to filter back to their homelands, gearing up for a civil war to claim the golden mask of the Redeemer, and practically nothing would be able to halt the ruin of the Exatai. Arteras immediately pledged support to Elikas, Prince of the Shield, who was immediately opposed by the Prince of the Wind, Ien.

Despite what seemed like overwhelming numbers on his side, Elikas could secure his victory neither quickly nor easily. The lesser princes flitted back and forth from one side to the other depending on who had the upper hand, and the Wind Princedom, being both vast and startlingly empty, was impossible to conquer conventionally. Dozens of Wind-affiliated cities had to be subjugated one by one, and the army of Ien managed to elude Elikas' much larger field army, instead inflicting defeats on his many subordinates. It was only after seven years that the new Redeemer could truly claim to rule from one end of the Exatai to the other, and even then, rebellious sentiments simmered.

Far away, to the south, the other great ally in the war, the Holy Moti Empire, stumbled out of the war barely intact. The Emprie had been on its last legs for decades now, and even though the alliance had pushed back the blow that might have toppled it, things still looked bleak.

In particular, the failure of Arteras to capture Caroha didn't change the fact that the Upper Sesh remained occupied by a large force of Satar under the command of Erphelion, styled the Prince-Chief of Magha. Not only was the region an immense and fertile land that in normal times might have paid a third of the Empire's taxes, it sat barely on the other side of a mountain pass from the heartland of the Moti Empire. The Satar presence there was deemed unacceptable.

No one had more interest in keeping the status quo intact than the Kothari Exatai, who had benefited for centuries from the long peace ushered in by the dominion of the Moti's Ayasi over the south. Annoyed at the rise of the Prince-Chief, they continued their march into the Upper Sesh, taking forty thousand of their best troops with the stated intention of returning the land to the Moti. It was a tremendous army, and it easily outclassed anything the local Satar could put in the field, but much like their kin to the north, Erphelion's men had no intention of staying put.

Leading their enemies on a merry chase through the whole of Satara, they were not even deterred when the Kothari set up siege around the city of Magha and reduced it over the course of a bloody year. The resistance continued well past this, a huge drain on the resources of the easterners, but still the Kothari persisted – the old world was too important to give up on so easily.

By 651 SR, the Satara army had been bruised and battered, and it seemed like the Kothari finally had them cornered – with the promise of ending the war in reach. But things changed in an instant once again...

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The War for the Abrea
The Trahana, Dulama, Naran, and Noaunnaha (635 - 655 SR)​

It was already evident that the Trahana invasion of the Vithanama had failed. Much treasure and manpower had been sunk into the war, and things seemed rather indecisive on the battlefield, to be sure, but Satores' return to the west and his successful defense of Tiagho meant the key to the Trahana strategy had unreeled. With little inclination to continue the war on either side, the peace was signed without too much fanfare, as the Vithanama worked to repair the damage and the Trahana turned their attentions elsewhere.

In this case, elsewhere meant Naran.

Angered by what they viewed as a backstabbing, the Trahana left some soldiers to defend against possible Vithanama reprisals, and then took a huge field army to cast the Narannue out of the north. Against the full fury of their southern neighbors, Naran found it difficult to defend. Aeda fell without much of a struggle, and soon they were cast entirely out of the Abrea valley, only holding the fortresses in the northern foothills of the Kossai – and the Thuaitl valley.

With the Trahana seemed determined to exact thorough revenge on Naran, the security of the whole northern kingdom was at stake. The Onnaran finally managed to secure a deal with the Nevathi khagan, hiring a number of his men as mercenaries, and marching them south in full force to repel what they regarded as the greatest threat they'd ever faced.

The fighting that followed would be confusing, at best. The introduction of Nevathi mercenaries equalized the combatants, more or less, and the Trahana were fighting at the very end of their capabilities – supplies had to be brought in from hundreds of miles away, and with the Grand Canal in shambles, this made fighting in the Thuaitl valley no mean feat. They would be supplemented by supplies brought in from Noaunnahanue smugglers, who had a great deal of interest in seeing their old enemies falter. But even as the Trahana made gains on this front, they had trouble with Nevathi raiders in the north, who quickly came to threaten Aeda again.

The turning point came when a new general entered the scene – one Salassai, who had previously met with some success against the Vithanama – who took the army at Hachtli and conducted a whirlwind campaign that tossed the Narannue out of the Thuaitl valley entirely. Leaving some garrisons here, he turned about and managed to inflict a surprising defeat against the Nevathi, catching them off-guard in the west bank of Luchas and setting their camp afire.

Salassai advanced further – to the very frontiers of the old Dulama Empire, but he had neither the inclination nor the wherewithal to continue into the heartland of Naran.

But the damage had been done. Reeling from the loss, and his prestige having lost quite a lot of its luster, the reigning Onnaran, Aérean Ón Nuín, faced rebellion in his own ranks – all of which was rather exacerbated when he was in fact killed by a rogue element of the Nevathi mercenaries. His son Rógan Dea immediately rose to the throne, but his situation was perilous indeed. Many had hoped that the Nevathi, having won riches both from the fighting, from their pay, and then by turning on their masters, would simply return home.

But a large part of their number looked at the turmoil that wracked the Khaganate across the mountains, and decided it wasn't worth the effort – they simply took up residence around Dael.

What became known as the Gurgheli Chiefdoms after their most prominent leader proved to be one of the biggest mistakes the Narannue had made in hundreds of years. Raiding all of their neighbors more or less equally, they were subject to a number of campaigns to push them out of the hills, without much success. Luchas (whom the Trahana had given leave to govern the northern Thala valley), soon lost control of the gold mines that made the area valuable in the first place; the Thuaitl cities declined, and the Grand Canal finally fell into irreparable ruin. In Ther, though the loyalist faction had finally won the civil war, the Gurgheli brought continued carnage, and many fled the peninsula to resettle in Femiran or Noaunnaha.

And, of course, the Narannue lost Dael, though they managed to defend Limach against nomadic incursions, and shut out a few bands who tried to take the pass to join their increasingly prosperous southern brothers. It was meager consolation, but it was something.

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The War of Tin Tan Tar
The Northwest (639 - 684 SR)​

The coast leaned into the wind, and the sky swept a thick fog over rock and redwood. A gentle mist enveloped the harbor, and a boat entering it could be forgiven for being disappointed. This was Tin Tan Tar, the city of man's desire. And nothing of it could be seen.

But then, as the ship drew closer, the spires appeared from the fog like leviathans surfacing from the clouds. And in the cascade of morning sunlight, the colored cloth banners that stretched across the streets of the city turned the mist to a dozen different hues – red and blue, gold and green, until one was so enthralled by the whole display that they forgot they were in a city at all, but rather some variegated heaven, foreign to all comers. For this was Tin Tan Tar, the object of man's desire.

As the clouds cleared and the cityscape rolled back, one could see the undulated heights behind it – first the Seamount, overlooking everything, then behind it, the hills rising again and again, topped by a citadel, then a fortress, then watchtowers on into the distance as the river curled about the southern forest until you got to the farmland far inland, just before the long and level rise to the steppe.

Far away, a thousand miles or maybe more, a man titled khagan or quem had been bowed low. His people, the Sharhi, had traveled many paths to avoid the ravages of the growing Satar Exatai, and he had finally led them to safety in the depths of the northern woods. And when they rode into the sunset, they found the Tacha, the first great river they had seen since the Einan, and the first place to bear great towns since the Exatai they fled from. Here were cities ripe for plunder – or, if they were cleverer, cities willing to pay tribute to avoid a sack.

They were cleverer. The arrangement continued so long that men eventually forgot its origins – almost – and the cities became a part of the Sharhi Empire, growing ever further and faster, until the lines of communication were taut as a bowstring, fully drawn.

The lines snapped. A man named Etain gathered with a half dozen of his peers, and decided they were better off being their own people. They elected him their khagan, and he led them in battle to crush the Sharhi who tried to bring them back into the fold, burning Eirat to the ground and leaving them broken. It had been a quick victory, and decisive, but he would spend dozens of years simply consolidating his power; it was no easy task to build an empire.

And now they stood on the edge of a continent, and they had washed their boots in the Sunset Ocean, but still they were not content. A name still rang clear in the air – Tin Tan Tar, the city of man's desire – and the steppe host prepared to march.

Far away again, a different host gathered under a different banner. This was Merat, the trading-post-turned-city-turned-capital of the Khatri, and the Vashalai had called his vassals to his side. Why, no one quite knew. It had been years since Batu Khartal had been acclaimed, and his taking of the mask had been followed by years of peace and prosperity. The Chamshi lingered on the frontier, to be sure, but everyone knew they had to worry about their own southern border – the Reokhar could easily dispatch them with a concerted campaign.

On the other side, there was nothing. The Khatri stood almost alone at the edge of the world. Everyone knew that their dominion ended at the Sunset, and that all that lay beyond the horizon's edge was an endless sea, full of strange beasts and incredible storms. Surely nothing could come from that direction, either.

But a rumor fluttered beneath the mystery. They had assembled for a single purpose, it said – Tin Tan Tar.

The city that lay between was not ignorant of their neighbors' intentions. Tin Tan Tar had many informants, and they had built a new set of fortifications for just this purpose. Indeed, an army had been dispatched to the southern riverland, where they could set up a series of frontier fortresses, ready to stymie the advance of the Kyumai before they even got to the city. Messengers had reached out to the Khatri, with the intention of signing an alliance, turning one steppe power against another. Redwoods fell by the dozen, and new ships were assembled in the Sunset Ocean. They made sail for Houbai, the far northern town, and secured it without too much trouble, quickly turning it into a base to infiltrate behind the Kyumai lines.

But such subtlety was not limited to the city itself. The Kyumai sent messengers to the Khatri as well, requesting they join in the war against the city-state, noting that they could share the undoubtedly rich spoils of war. It wouldn't be until the decisive moment of the conflict that they would find out which side Batu intended to support.

Between the Kyumai and the city stood a line of fortresses in the far south of the river valley, and it was here that the city-dwellers intended to hold the Kyumai to a stalemate before their allies could arrive, and bleed them dry. Of course, Etain knew quite well that subduing the fortresses in the wooded and broken hills would be a brutal slog – his soldiers had little experience with siegecraft, and their inaccessibility would make assault all but impossible. Instead, a small detachment raided the lands around the fortresses, while the greater part of his army wheeled about them to strike directly at the city itself.

Another detachment broke off to harry the Tin Tan Tar forces that might come back to their capital's aid, and utterly decimated their attempt to break through in the Battle of the Cut Flowers, while the larger part of the host bore down on the city and settled in for the siege. No one was really sure how to proceed from here, but the army dug a line of earthworks around the city itself, and hired Nevathi engineers prepared engines of war to hurl stones above the walls and into the streets themselves.

But this was all they could do without significantly more preparations – the siege towers would slowly be raised, but without the tools and only relying on the expertise of a few men, the campaign would have to stall here. Meanwhile, the city's ships darted from the harbor and continually set fire to the encampments in the black of the night, frustrating Etain immensely.

At long last, the khagan decided to take action, and raised a tower on the edge of the harbor itself of stone. Filling it with great catapults, his men bore down on the city ships that dared to come near, and sank several with the sheer weight of the rocks they threw. With the raids now directing their fury against the stone tower, his siege engines could continue their construction unobstructed. Their work had added urgency as they moved forward – the Khatri soldiers that approached had questionable loyalties, and certainly they could not rely on starving the city out; such was its naval might.

But everything came down to who the Khatri soldiers would join, and how quickly they could join the fight. Both sides eyed their advance warily, and consequently neither really wanted to oppose them – for fear of provoking them – or aid them in crossing the river.

Eventually, a fleet of Tin Tan Tar ships sailed up the river and met with Batu. After a long meeting with the Vashalai, the commander evidently decided that he could trust him (what exactly had been said would never be revealed), and the Tin Tan Tar worked feverishly to lash a bridge of tree trunks crossed with planks. Crossing immediately, the Khatri arrived directly in the rear of the siege lines.

The Battle of Tin Tan Tar decided the war almost instantly. Though the Kyumai outnumbered their foes individually, the unexpected alliance of Khatri with the city meant they were caught between hammer and anvil. Etain abandoned the siege immediately, and tried his best to withdraw the entire force to the east, but had a great deal of difficulty extracting himself. In the end, he barely escaped with his life, and a much diminished army – thousands had died, or even deserted to their erstwhile foes.

Tin Tan Tar had been saved, but it was unclear how much independence it would retain. One steppe army had been traded for another, and the Khatri now sat outside their walls.

Fortunately, Batu seemed bizarrely unconcerned with expanding his own empire into the city. Instead, he simply declared that his army would protect the region going forward, and he politely hinted that a gift in return might be nice – something Tin Tan Tar was only too happy to provide.

Within a couple of years, the city became much like any other city, providing a reasonable but still substantial sum to the Eshai. At the same time, Tin Tan Tar could exert a much greater force over its neighbors than any of the rest of the Khatri cities, and it launched military campaigns independent of the Vashalai, attempting to secure the Tacha, and hoping to defeat the khagan of the Kyumai entirely. Neither side could really gain the upper hand, and it wasn't until Batu himself joined the war that they decisively captured the valley.
 
The city's status as entrepot of the north would be threatened, however, by the increasing urbanization of the Khatri. Batu and his eponymous successor, determined to make their Eshai a proper empire in the eastern style, completed a series of urban beautification projects, all culminating in the construction of a massive canal between the Eskana and the Tekhra, and a planned capital at Shehirkartal along the canal. Though this period would be marked by a sustained war in the far south of the steppe, trade picked up considerably over the rivers anyway, and barges plied all the way to the core cities of the Nevathi and back. Tin Tan Tar, lying far from this trade route, might have been entirely marginalized.

They were saved by their shipbuilding industry – second to none on the northern Sunset coast – and a series of economic developments. Exploratory voyages probed further to the west, charting the route to the Reokhar without any major problems, and a series of similar voyages went east, navigating past Houbai and into the heartland of the continent. Tin Tan Tar lay at the crossroads, and its superb harbor made it the center of oceanic trade; meanwhile, new goods from the far south made them a center of production for glass, dyes, and lacquerware, in addition to their unfailing monopoly on the silk trade (the Khatri simply could not find a way to steal the secret in this period).

Simultaneously, a series of innovations slowly made their way to the region from the far east – as varied as the waterwheel and the moldboard plow, allowing for a vast new regino to be brought under cultivation. Tin Tan Tar's merchants began to open a number of smaller depots that grew into towns and cities all along the coast, while the Khatri continued their urbanizing project; all in all, they continued to grow quite unhindered by the remnants of the Kyumai in the south – though the threat of division between the city and the Eshai loomed larger as the years wore on.

* * * * * * * * *

The Western War
The Karapeshai, Moti, Kothari, and Vithanama (651 - 655 SR)

The wounds of the last conflict hadn't even healed before they were opened anew.

Elikas, Prince of the Shield and now Redeemer of the Karapeshai, had reunited his country only after a bloody war against the Princes of Wind and their allies. No sooner had the Satar Exatai been rebuilt than it started to turn its eyes outward once more. Not only would a war bring much needed treasure and probably unite them behind a common foe, but the traditional foes of the Exatai were quite weak as it stood, and the decline of the Holy Moti Empire left an opening that would be hard to pass up – the possibility of finally ending the rivalry that had defined the world for four centuries.

Sending an envoy to Satores of the Vithanama, Elikas profusely apologized for the way the last war had played out, and suggested a spectacular plan to gain vengeance for both of them. After much cajoling by his wife Aresha, Satores agreed, and the lines were drawn once more. Dispatching a great army to the south, the Karapeshai met with the Vithanama around Karamha, and advanced on the Empire from the west.

Making significant progress early on, the allies retook Krato, and prepared to advance northward, though some disagreement arose as to whether they should focus on taking Gaci and obliterating the last remnants of the Empire, or advance into Satara and prop up the Prince-Chief's regime there. After some discussion, the two agreed to advance on Gaci and attempt to topple the Ayasi's already tottering regime; it was this decision which would bring them into direct confrontation with the Kothari.

As Elikas had avoided antagonizing (or even really threatening) the Farubaida, the Carohans had only sent a token force this time. With the combined armies of both the Exatai and the Vithanama, he was able to inflict a serious reverse against the Kothari in the passes near Gaci, driving them back into Bysria and taking the capital of the old Empire once more, sacking it again. It would be a blow from which the Moti would never recover.

But in the end, the war concluded quite abruptly.

Satisfied with his gains in the south, Satores decided to pull back to Krato and hold onto the city this time – though his immediate successor would lose it later to a large rebellion – and Elikas, having essentially brought down the Empire already, saw little sense in continuing.

More to the point, the Wind Prince, Ien, refused to send him reinforcements. Though the war had already petered out, the slight was not one Elikas could ignore: the memory of the war through which he had gained his mask was all too new. He marched north, passing through the Rath Tephas and eventually the Kotir, where he disappeared under mysterious circumstances, plunging the Exatai back into a civil war – this one even larger than that which it had just exited...

* * * * * * * * *

Elephant Graveyard
Holy Moti Empire (655 - 725 SR)


The bells rang across the valley of Gaci, and few were there to hear. The decline of empire is a slow and steady thing, but it had become evident to everyone that the days of the Moti were ending; the Western War had only hastened that ending. But somehow, the Ayasi had struggled on, propped up by the Kothari in a a sequence of expensive wars. The Prince-Chiefs of Magha had been subdued after a long siege of the city, and Satara nominally fell under their control again, but the region was rife with conflicts between the various minorities. The south was more an independent chiefdom than a colony, and even Krato seemed to be drifting apart from the Empire.

But not everyone was content with this way of doing things. The Ayasi Seventh-Frei, an idealistic man who had succeeded to the mantle of Chief-of-Chiefs despite or perhaps because of his lack of affinity for politics, decided that it had fallen him to try and resuscitate the dying Empire. Passing a series of reforms through his Council-of-Chiefs, he essentially tried to reign in the wayward elements of the Empire, with the intention of reforging its bonds by launching an all-out war against the Vithanama.

It was not to be. Seventh-Frei's actions had been done mostly by bullying the Council-of-Chiefs in spectacularly unsubtle fashion – the councilors who sat on it were mostly lesser sons of the aristocracy at this point – and and it managed to alienate almost all the disparate factions of the Empire. A new Prince-Chief of Magha, one Ephkas, declared himself in open rebellion and immediately won the support of a disgruntled Sataran population, even among many of the non-Satar, while a half-Uggor, half-Satar Chief in Yashidim, Saranas, proclaimed the founding of a Kingdom of the Pass. Varous chiefs around the Galas declared their own independent chiefdoms, eventually to coalesce around Krato in a so-called “Yensai Republic”, and more rebels rose in practically every part of the Empire.

Even with the vast resources of the Exatai, the Kothari Redeemer Belobarxes had little interest in what would amount to conquering the entire Holy Moti Empire. He decided to take a rather more direct path – simply annexing the remainder of the Had River all the way to its headwaters above Het, and letting the rest of the Empire dissolve into its constituent factions.

The rise of a new Satar Princedom, even one so small as the one in Satara, raised a very urgent alarm in the Farubaida – or at least, the Seshweay parts. Determined to create a barrier against its predation, they encouraged the settlement of the displaced Oscadians already in their borders along the middle Sesh. Eager to take up a new life, and certainly among the most fanatical of the populations that might oppose a Satar Princedom, these peoples founded an Oscadian Kingdom of the Sesh and rapidly constructed a new life: the new city of Tevel (not particularly interested in subtlety themselves, the Oscadians simply named their capital “Hope”) sat on the junction of the Jaffa and the Sesh, while a series of border fortresses guarded the passage to the kingdom from every direction.

Despite the Farubaidan paranoia, however, the Princedom of Satara seemed far more interested in destroying its southern hybrid neighbors and building enough to claim a new Exatai than invading their Aitahist enemies. The wars that followed would wrack the land for fifty years – though caravan trading would continue without much pause between the two states.

Indeed, a new normal had seemed to be settling in – strife between the four or so successors to the empire before a vicious drought in the year 700 SR threw them into a much deeper conflict. Starvation spurred population movement on a vast scale, particularly out of the interior and toward the coasts. Not only were the new refugees unwelcome, they could not be supported here, either. To try and sustain itself, the Yensai Chiefdom launched a ferocious northern raid (a reversal of the norms of the last millennium) and brought down the Kingdom of the Pass in one swift blow.

The resulting chaos left a power vacuum that would not be filled until a peculiar religious development that had passed without much comment a half century before suddenly vastly altered the political dynamic as well (see below).

* * * * * * * * *​

The Exatai Fractures
The Karapeshai (548 - 650 RM)​

Compared to the Empire they had ruined, the Karapeshai must have seemed to be in a much stronger position at the end of the Western War. Certainly, Ien's rebellion against the rule of Elikas did not bode well, but at the very least, the Exatai didn't have quite the same number of predators on its fringes that the Empire did – a civil war wouldn't necessarily lead to the outright destruction of the Exatai. If the War of Lies hadn't destroyed it, then why would this?

This perception, so commonplace at the time, was horribly wrong.

Elikas' disappearance had the immediate effect of leaving the succession unsettled, but far more importantly, it broke the alliance of Shield and Scroll. Prince Arteras had promised to support Elikas in all things, but his successor was an unknown. Worse still, while the Accans had been able to leverage debt forgiveness to gain the support of the lesser Princes in the War of Lies, it left their financial institutions dangerously strained – and the tension snapped the bonds of the Exatai altogether after the Western War led to a series of defaults by major debtholders. Trying to piece together their own financial system, the Accans were in no mood to help the Shield Tribe rebuild their empire.

This was only the start of things. Three High Princes declared themselves at once – Ien, in the Wind Princedom, and opponents in both Alusille and Atracta – and they were plunged into a brutal war that wracked the region for several years. By itself, the War of the Broken Shield would have been bad enough: the Xieni repeatedly attempted to unite the Einan under their rule, with the Shield Princes directly opposing them and trying to extend their own rule south. But however much blood was spilled in these campaigns (an awful lot), it paled in comparison to the events that flared up at the end of the war.

Perhaps due to its besieged nature by the other faiths, Ardavan had remained unified for most of its existence. But the birth of the priest Zalkephis changed all that. Convinced that he was the reincarnation of the High Oracle who had been sacrificed in Arteras' war in the south, he spread a dangerous and hellish vision to his followers. Not only was the War in Heaven – the ongoing, deadly conflict that involved all the gods – still ongoing, and not only was it paralleled by the War on Earth: the souls of those involved were bounced back from world to world, dying on earth only to be born in heaven, and then dying there to be reborn back on the earth. The nightmarish cycle of reincarnation would last until the War in Heaven was won, and Taleldil reigned victorious over the world beyond, and this would only happen after the War in Earth – a final apocalypse which would require a pure Satar state to fight with Taleldil reborn.

The Zalkephic prophecies described the world as it was – a world of constant war, of depleted villages constantly burning by the hand of one side or another. But they also gave hope – a far distant hope, admittedly, for the future of the Satar. Moreover, the Zalkephic oracles promised to cast down the corrupt Princes, to reunite the Satar in battle for one final battle, and to create a world free from the awful turmoil that had wracked the Exatai for so long. And most of all, they worked to make the world an appreciably better place; they truly cared for the common people.

They were also fearless. Based in Sartasion, the old City of Princes (soon redubbed the City of prayers), they waged war against unbelievers and the various proclaimed High Princes alike. With numerous recruits from a population who saw their first glimpse of a possible salvation here, the Zalkephai fought a ferocious First War of Prophecy; so numerous were they that even the eventual victor of the War of the Broken Shield – one Laenas-ta-Nintai, the High Prince of the Xieni – could not subdue them despite a furious northward strike that reached the very gates of the City of Prayers before ending on the battlefield in disaster.

With the Redeemer losing much of his prestige after the reversal, the Accans refused to recognize his rule any longer. The land was already so exhausted from the war that very little could be done by either side to the other; it was the first real split in the Exatai, and it would be permanent.

The Tephran Exatai, as the western, Xieni half began to call itself, never could fully subdue the Zalkephai, though numerous attempts were made. Instead, the Satar were split along religious as well as political lines, with the violently evangelical Zalkephai spreading across the whole of the north. Contemporaneous wars with the rump Karapeshai Exatai went more or less nowhere for either side, as both states fought on two fronts: the Karapeshai had become embroiled in a local powers truggle in Gallat that had brought the Farubaidans into the conflict as well.

More seriously, the Tephrans faced one of the first existential threats since the War of the Broken Shield – a massive incursion of steppe nomads into the valley of the Einan. The Einan Raid, perpetrated by the Nevathi in response to Tephran support for the Telhans (however minor), aimed to take as much loot as possible, and wreck havoc while they were there. For a land already exhausted by constant war, it was almost the final straw. A Tephran Redeemer by the name of Shavas managed to push them back after a decisive series of battles just outside of Henan, and reconquer the lands of the Sharhi, but found himself in a minor border conflict with the expanding Kyumai raiders before all was said and done.

The stalemate between the three Satar powers lasted for decades before the acclamation of Marev-ta-Asihkar, the greatest of the Tephran Redeemers. Despite having very little exatas to his name when he began (he was only masked by the High Oracle in a deliberate slight against a rival), he quickly united the Exatai behind him, and led one of the most spectacular campaigns in the period, the Second War of Prophecy. Aiming for the utter destruction of the Zalkephai, he obliterated their forces in pitched battle and burnt Sartasion to the ground before driving the survivors into the far north. Indeed, the heresy only survived due to a massive groundswell of support among the common people, and the founding of dozens of exile monasteries around the Sea of Chamar.

By the end of the period, the Karapeshai entered a minor revival, attempting to bring Cyve back into the fold, and even launching a few expeditions against the Farubaida. But these were all doomed to failure; the state had become increasingly marginalized. Though it would linger on for a while, the Exatai was effectively over already – they only awaited a dying blow.

* * * * * * * * *

Cyve, Freed
(689 - 730 SR)

It had only been about a century since the Cyvekt, one of the smaller kingdoms of the north, had brought a huge swathe of territory under the rule of warlike Fulwarc II and his successors, but to the Cyvekt themselves that episode must have seemed like ancient history. A dozen rulers had come and gone, each of them falling gradually further into incompetence, each mere toadies of the Karapeshai and their Accan enforcers. Not only had the island been robbed of independence, and not only had the religion venerating its most beloved daughter been brought under brutal persecution – but the whole island stunk of a singular malaise. The once proud Princes of Bone seemed left with nothing more than a proverbial set of carpals.

But all empires end.

The defeat of the Satar in the War of Lies marked the beginning of the end of the Karapeshai. Though Elikas had managed to hold the Exatai together for another twenty-two years, his death broke the whole thing into pieces. Prolonged civil wars wracked the mainland, and as we have already seen, the Exatai was drained of life and vigor from one end to the other. Even the Accans themselves could not keep above the fray, and were pulled into chaotic battle after battle.

Though Fulwarc III scored a late success with his campaign to take part of the Gallatene remnant under his wing, the Satar puppet largely died a failure, and his successors fell into increasing disdain. Perhaps the only thing saving them – especially after the lifeline of Accan gold started to dwindle – was their fortified main base at Lexevh, the greatest citadel on the island.

The Lord of Lemdeh, one particularly ambitious Ayvar, took advantage of the Satar distraction with the Zalkephai to raise the banners of rebellion. In a sweeping campaign, he took up the cause of Aelona, gathered thousands of fanatics and fed-up nobility to his side, and effortlessly smacked aside the royal army outside of Lexevh. The siege that followed (possibly aided by engineers from the far-off Farubaida) reduced the fortress after quite some time, and Ayvar declared the island free of the Satar yoke for the first time in a century, throwing the Accan courtiers out of Lexevh, and razing the black temple of Ardavan to the ground.

It would have been an infuriating move for the Karapeshai, but the dying Exatai soon found itself entirely caught up by the expanding conflagration of the Second War of Prophecy and the expansion of their neighbors.

With persecution finally relaxed, the wildly popular Aelonist movement reasserted itself across the island, and converted all but a few stubborn pockets, primarily non-Cyvekt in the southern cities. A short campaign to eradicate a few pro-Satar partisans on the mainland of Athis met with success, and the Princes of Bone now stood independent again.

Briefly, that is.

For the monarchy had no sooner asserted its independence than it found its own religious backers to be effectively uncontrollable. Large segments of the Aelonist clergy started to gain power, and though Ayvar and his successors were never directly opposed, more and more privileges started to be asserted by the religious hierarchy. A powerful High Ward was elected in Lemdeh, and the country fell under theocratic rule; by the end of the 600s, the Princes of Bone were entirely secondary figures in their own court.

Naturally, the Satar eventually refocused on the island. The Accans mounted a new expedition in 716, and landed a considerable army – almost twenty thousand strong – not too far from Lexevh. However, the Cyvekt had spent the intervening years investing heavily in new fortifications, and the invaders found the going quite slow and difficult, eventually running into serious trouble when their fleet was smashed off the coast of Lexevh three years into the war. Stranded in a foreign country, the Accans launched an all out attack on the capital, but were repulsed with heavy casualties, and eventually surrendered, returning home over the next few years.

The last hurdle to independence surmounted, Aelonist Cyve flourished. In response to a vibrant Maninist revival to the south, Aelonists began to codify their religion, with Aelona's Book of Whispers collected and official versions printed in Lemdeh, and a system of Wards propagating through the north. Preaching took on a distinct style quite unlike anything anyone else had seen – where the Maninists were more intellectual and the Ardavani more brutal, the Aelonists appealed to the emotion of everyday people, giving heartfelt and spectacular performances of theater and music.

At the same time, with the Farubaida reaching north and the Cyvekt themselves reaching east, the country started to become an entrepot for all sorts of northern goods – not merely their native honey and timber, but also amber, gold, wool, and exotic goods from far off Parthe, like indigo and sugarcane. Lexevh, Detayu, and Udel grew rapidly in size, and the introduction of the moldboard plow allowed huge new areas to come under cultivation on both the island and the nearby mainland. Settlement of the far north, heretofore only nominally part of the kingdom, proceeded at a rapid new pace, and populations skyrocketed.

As Gallat plunged into more and more petty squabbles, and the Karapeshai tore itself apart into utter ruin, the Cyvekt found themselves in an unfamiliar position – possibly the richest country, person for person – in the region. It was this newfound wealth, perhaps, which pushed them to move still further afield in the years that followed.

* * * * * * * * *

Meeting of the Ships
Tsutongmerang, the Zarian, and Gaarim (635 - 750 SR)


Life in the south continued much as it had for the last few centuries, but with a slightly increased pace. Gaarim's expansion had begun to be noticed by its neighbors, and coincided with a flurry of campaigns from the various Zarian chieftains; the low-level border war between them, however, would not really flare to life for over a century more. The expansion of both, however, paled in comparison to the grandeur that would arise to the southeast.

Tsutongmerang, already the crown jewel of the region, had made great use of its position on the straits. It had cultivated friendly relations with the Kothari, Farubaida, and the Trahana alike. Investment from all three powers had gone into the repair and expansion of the harbor to accommodate hundreds of vessels. A long time of peace on either side – at least, in Caroha and the Trahana – corresponded with a massive spike in demand for exotic trade goods going either way. Tea would pass from west to east; tapestries, glass, and gold from east to west, and spices of all kinds would flow both ways.

No matter what they carried, though, all vessels would stop at Tsutongmerang on their trips. The port was simply too convenient to avoid, and though it would charge duties ranging from the negligible to the enormous at various points, this seemed to make little difference in the overall traffic.

Fortunately for the other peoples of the south, the Triad usually had little inclination to subjugate other peoples, mostly content with the territories they already had. The principal exception to this, of course, would be the expansion under a series of Talent triumvars, whose campaigns to secure the land around the island of Suran, and turn the straits into a Tsutongmerang lake, brought them into direct conflict with the Stato'i and even Atsan. A vicious series of wars around 700 SR, highlighted by the hiring of numerous Gaarimic and Zarian mercenaries, saw the conquest of both these kingdoms, and the rise of a veritable empire of the south.

Its power would only be challenged decades later, as the rising powers near to the west could finally be ignored no longer.

* * * * * * * * *

The Steppe War
The Nevathi and Telha (523 - 618 RM)

The war had already begun, though no one realized it quite yet. Often at odds, the Telha and the Nevathi hadn't come to open blows since the dissolution of the Vischa. Nevertheless, the Nevathi khagan Barukh had made clear to his people an intention of uniting the old Vischa tribes under his rule, and the Telha Redeemer had already begun his war against the Hai Vischa. A move into the Hai Vischa lands would obviously bring the two into open conflict, but he could hardly roll over.

In any case, the choice would have been made for him. Annoyed at the heathen practices of his neighbors – or at least, that was his stated reason for the invasion – the Telha Redeemer Apharian had prepared a massive invasion in the name of Taleldil, intending to utterly conquer the Nevathi.

If only it were that easy.

What followed was one of the longest and most draining wars the world had experienced up to that point. Telha soldiers gained the upper hand fairly early in the conflict, but with their Karapeshai allies distracted by a growing civil war, they did not have the manpower to launch a concerted assault on any of the cities, and had to resort to starving them out. While the Nevathi managed to elicit some support from the Hai Vischa, they could not mount a sustained counteroffensive, only holding the Nevathi back from the capital region. Every battle that seemed as though it might be decisive ended with one side or the other withdrawing, and nothing was accomplished.

Eventually, it seemed as though the Telha might be able to break the stalemate, as the acclamation of Elikas to the Satar mask opened the way for their ally to support them more directly – a small Satar expedition would be dispatched under the Vithana Prince of the Moon, and significant gains accumulated behind the allied army. But then, as soon as it had begun, Elikas engaged in a different, much larger war, and the Vithana troops were drawn down to a token force; the two sides were back where they started.

By the year 575 RM, the Telha determined that in their current state, the Nevathi would be able to sustain a war indefinitely, and so they planned a sweeping raid deep into enemy territory. Some ten thousand soldiers would avoid the capital altogether, and instead lay waste to the cotton and grain fields that were the lifeblood of the Eskana valley. Ravaging these areas for the better part of a year, they then turned south to break the trade routes that had sustained the Vischa for so long.

Like that, the Telha plunged into Naran, sacked Leon and Naran in quick succession, and then withdrew to the northeast.

It was a brutal blow, and the Nevathi infantry – one of their key advantages in the war between the steppe states – could no longer be fully supported. In return, the khaganate had the choice of waiting to see their cities reduced one by one, or roll the dice and take a much larger risk.

It took well over five years to put together the pieces for this latest plan, and already, the situation was most dire. But the Nevathi gathered almost twenty thousand troops, including a few from the scattered remnants of the Kyumai and the Adanai. Trekking across the north, past the nameless hills and through dark forests, they emerged on the other side in the valley of the Einan, pillaging a great deal of the Wind Princedom before they were finally pushed back by the Satar troops that remained there. The Karapeshai, for their part, were already falling apart – the raid here only exacerbated conditions – and it looked like a great deal of wasted effort for the Nevathi.

Indeed it had been. With their homeland open to invasion, the Telha began to take the cities of the Eskana one by one, driving the Nevathi garrisons before them. By the time the khagan's soldiers returned from the Einan raid, things were already too late – the Nevathi remnant fought on from the fringes of the northern steppe for a few years, but would eventually be brought to heel.

The war had extended far beyond what any of the participants had envisioned. Indeed, there had been periods of almost peace in between the wars, with both the Nevathi and Telha constructing beautiful cities on the steppe, half-finished monuments to the power of their lords. The Nevathi city, named Kendinden, fell in the late 580s as the Nevathi advance accelerated; all that remained were the foundations of the great buildings as vast chunks of marble were carted away for work on the Telha pearl – Arhat.

Unsurprisingly, the sheer length of the war had thoroughly drained the reserves of manpower from both sides, and though the Telha took possession of the Eskana valley, they could hardly hold it, let alone move much past it. The population of the region would remain depressed for decades afterward, and many of the most hardy Nevathi warriors simply skipped town and fled into the periphery, joining with various Adanai tribes. It was not the most illustrious of endings for the khaganate, but it was survival.
 
The Failure of the Onnaran
Naran, Noaunnaha, and the Dulama Periphery (655 - 750 SR)

Naran's defeat by the Trahana had come as no great shock to anyone, and the Kingdom had not lost much of its territory, but the affair had radically shifted the balance of power in the west. Naran's defeat meant the end of the civil war in Ther, and a rising volume of trade carried by Noaunnaha in lieu of the Narannue. It also, as we have seen, brought about the rise of the Gurgheli, and their depredations stalled the recovery of the kingdom for some time.

Nevertheless, the foundations of the kingdom were strong (for it had a far larger agricultural base than any of its direct rivals), and during the reign of Rógan Dea, the Narannue even managed a short revival, launching an invasion of Ther after signing what would be short-lived alliance with the Gurgheli, and triggering what would become known to distant chroniclers as the Sunset War.

For Noaunnaha did not appreciate the invasion of Ther, especially as they had devoted so much in the way of resources to defending it, and they stood their ground. What had been just a minor conflict spiraled out of control as ships attacked each other across the whole ocean, Narannue raiders and privateers reaching as far as Hariha in their eagerness to destroy the other power's trade. Noaunnahas executed reprisals, pillaging Naran's southern colony, and it soon seemed that nowhere in the Sunset Ocean was really safe.

But the worst of the war would be focused on Ther, particularly the regions around the city itself. For it was here that the largest Narannue push was directed – thirty thousand men, along with well over a thousand Gurgheli – a force able to easily swipe aside anything that got in the way, and laying siege.

Noaunnaha saw the loss of the city as unacceptable, and sortied repeatedly with its fleet to drive back the invaders – to no avail. The Narannue and their allies were simply too strong to be repelled by such measures, and while they couldn't rely on starving the city out, they could sap its strength and wear it down for a final assault, which came after half a year of siege – and a long outbreak of the plague that claimed the lives of thousands (in the aftermath of the war it would claim more across the Sunset Ocean). Noaunnaha pulled back, conceding the mainland to Naran.

Still, the war lingered on a while.

The fighting dwindled to a flurry of raids back and forth between Femiran and Ther, neither side gaining purchase in their opponent's lair. A small strike force of Gurgheli ranged across the desert to strike Noaunnaha from the northeast, but they would be bought off by the smaller state before they could do any real damage. In time, that would apply to the Gurgheli as a whole, who turned on the Narannue and started to fight both sides at once – though given their location, that would inevitably impact Naran more.

The eastern kingdom had clearly won the war – most of Ther had been brought under their direct control – but they hadn't gained much in the larger picture. The continual raids on their hinterlands made it difficult to control Ther directly; instead they had to rely on a series of proxy rulers, and indeed spent far more on it than they would ever earn back. Perhaps the only real positive piece to come out of the war had been preventing the Noaunnahanue from making significant gains across the Morana Sea past Femiran.

Either way, the Onnarans after Rógan Dea gradually lost the pieces of their little empire. It was not so much a collapse as a steady decline. Each of the Narannue cities began to look out for its own interests, as the ones in the pass concerned themselves largely with the fall of the Nevathi, and the ones in the south with the depredations of the Gurgheli; meanwhile the cities of the coast focused on trying to scrabble for the last remaining scraps of the lucrative western trade routes. The Kingdom, pulled in a dozen directions, also found itself stuck with an increasingly fractious – and increasingly powerful noble community. Rógan Dea was the last of the Onnarans to inherit his seat. From then on, they would be elected.

Despite the political disunity it precipitated, the end of the war (or rather, the change of the conflict from an external to an internal one) was an untempered blessing for the vast majority of the common people. War had been bad for business: it hadn't stopped trading entirely, but it had made it a great deal harder. The piracy and privateers had seen to Noaunnaha's monopoly on trade with the Reokhar; even though the cities of the west were better positioned for it, the naval war had leveraged an opening for the Narannue. Merchants from old Unnaha and Limach were only too happy to take up some of the slack.

More to the point, without the draining war against Noaunnaha, the cities of Limach and Dael could focus on fighting the Gurgheli, and though they were unable to drive out the raiders entirely, they did suppress them for some time, leading to a brief decade of peace on the southern coast.

* * * * * * * * *​

The temple stood in a fern-covered gully, shaded by a stand of cedars. Water flowed around the marble steps, and through the dozen footpaths leading from the edges of the grove to this center, little bridges of stone frozen mid-hop over quiet rivulets. Their susurrus somehow only made the place more peaceful, the little noises pushing away any urge that a pilgrim might have to make a larger one. Even the noisiest of children would calm when brought to the gully, they said. Even the most cloven of families would find good here. Even the most broken of men.

The streams kept away the mosquitoes, too. Running water was no place to lay eggs, and it only pooled briefly at the springs just up the ravine side before flowing around the temple, streams splitting and rejoining in a great hexagon. Some of the water would end up in the Nakalani. Some would feed the cedars.

A teenager cupped his hands and drew forth a single mouthful of the water. He wasn't sure if it was sanctioned, but all good deeds ran in the Light, or so he'd been taught – and his thirst had felt deadly.

He'd come to the temple from the mines; the waters were perhaps the only thing that could drive the sounds of the place from his head. The steady slap of metal on a metal gear from the bucket chain – the strange innovation that had let the mine reopen in the first place. The much louder but less frequent strike of hammers on piles, and the occasional crumble of rock. And – when he was alone, and his candle nearly out – the beating of his heart in his own ears as he stumbled toward the nearest light.

It was not hard to see why a miner would be an Aitahist.

* * * * * * * * *

On the Merits of Secession
The Farubaida (644 - 710 SR)

As the aptly named War of Lies faded to memory, the Farubaida found itself almost alone at the pinnacle of the world. The Kothari had risen along with them, and nominally the Holy Moti Empire would complete a triad of equals, but in truth neither power could compete – economically, at least – with the rapid growth of the Carohan power. The city by itself was richer than some countries, the largest in the world, and its engine drove a massive economic web ranging from the Peko River to the Sesh Delta to southern Helsia. Grain to feed the city came from a dozen different corners of the Farubaida, and the luxuries the city demanded poured in from as far as Trahana and Parthe.

Much of this was managed by Carohans themselves. Production of raw materials and finished goods soared throughout the region – a burgeoning tapestry industry in Cyre and Caroha, glass-blowing in Gyza and Neruss, the ancient centers of gold mining in Banh, a revival in copper and iron mining in central Helsia – the list went on and on. Carohans, too, manned many of the vessels that went further and further afield for the distant luxuries: some of them sailed as far as Marheshi, Bashima, and Mara; a few more rounded the north of Athis and docked at Kurchen, Narba, and Tarwa. Few tried to penetrate the Opulensi region too deeply; the webs had many connections but few entanglements, but a surprising number visited Acca and Atracta, frequently under false flags. Try as the two governments might to enforce hostility, merchants rarely passed up the opportunity of profit.

But almost as important as the natives was the openness of the Farubaida to outsiders. The multicultural aspects of the country (especially its core regions around the Lovi Seas) meant it was among the most welcoming places in the cradle of civilization for the numerous refugees that had been created by the ongoing wars – Oscadians and Moti, obviously, but also the Aitahists from the Airani and Aghrali Roshates when the Maninists gained the upper hand there. Even at the height of the War of the Broken Shield and the Wars of Prophecy, the Satar generally avoided fleeing to Caroha, but otherwise the immigration continued.

In part, the new growth was fueled by an expanding technological palette. The cleverer bits of Satar engineering and science – like their mills and metallurgy – were copied outright, but Caroha never passed up the chance to make something wholly their own. New ways to extract the water from mines reopened the Helsian interior to extraction in the first place, and an ingenious mechanical crane soon studded the waterfront of the capital.

It was a good time to be Carohan. Dozens of new thinkers arose in Sakhelakheia, the center of the Helsian Uplands, and the center of Doru o Ierai. The “search for truth” had already been a prominent cultural movement in the first half of the seventh century SR, but the latter half of the century saw its widespread acceptance across Helsia, with many of the most prominent families sponsoring thinkers or artists. The ideology flowered alongside Conclave Iralliam and Aitahism alike, though it would be regarded with suspicion by the Grandpatriarch of Orthodox Iralliam (as we shall see), and it became one of the greatest cultural exports of the country, with Ieraitans spreading the hunt to people in lands as far away as Tsutongmerang and Cyve.

A revival of the Holaia Haiaoua, an abstract and “high concept” sort of theater, marched in lockstep with these developments, while in the capital, a new school of music blended aspects taken from the contrapuntal developments in the Kothari with the expressive freedom of Cyve.

The only real threat to the Farubaida now came from within. The Seshweay and Faronun halves of Caroha had remained somewhat distinct from one another, and though the tension between them was counterweighted by the introduction of new federates, they still pulled in two very different directions. The Seshweay called for the incorporation of the whole of the River Sesh – up to and including Satara, which Helsia saw as a wasteful expense, especially with the decline of the Satar threat. Helsia's desire to sponsor extravagances like exploratory voyages to the far south would prompt groans from the western federates. In the absence of external foes, it seemed like the whole edifice might simply fall apart.

But somehow it held together – for a little while at least.

The Airani, soon Aghrali, Roshate, had plunged into a series of religious wars to the north; meanwhile, the Kothari Exatai continued to expand to the south, and their involvement in the Moti raised concerns in the Sesh that perhaps the Farubaida's longterm ally might be turning into a threat once more. Coupled with the fact that this was the greatest period of sustained growth and development in the history of any of the federates, and no one really wanted to be the first to end things. Sehorsehockye Oscadia was invited to join the Farubaida as a buffer and an ally against the Maghan Satar (and, though the thought remained unspoken, the Kothari), and the now heptapartite federation continued on.

So it transpired that perhaps the greatest loss of Carohan life in the period would be from an entirely unexpected source.

Felt as far as the cities of Trovin and Dremai, a great tremor shook the earth just off the coast of the island of Vinui, felling buildings and trees for hundreds of miles in every direction. Far more devastating would be the aftermath, only understood much later when historians would pore through the accounts of the events – the dislodging of earth in some tenebrous part of the ocean, sending a wall of water racing across the Lovi Sea.

Terrified denizens of Dremai would later recount the rising waters, ricocheting around the harbor and sweeping boats and buildings with them, like a neverending tide that had decided to cease obeying the laws of nature, rising and rising and rising until all was demolished before it. Tens of thousands would die here, and in Breia, even in distant Neruss and Nasri. Caroha was spared, as was Trovin, by the shape of the coast, but hundreds of thousands more were swept to sea in rural areas. The catastrophe was such that it would take a generation for these regions to recover – and it would scar the culture of these lands for centuries to come.

* * * * * * * * *

The Wards' Reach
Northern Athis (550 - 631 RM)

After the sack of Mahid, the Rosh Aghrala withdrew into the depths of the Jadhai, scarcely emerging again until his death. The Rosh hadn't really accomplished his only war goal – though he had taken Mahid, he hadn't held it – but this would scarcely color his reign, which became known in the long run as a time of relative peace and plenty. Though the succession of the Rosh might have been a messy affair, with a dearth of heirs in the family, he appointed a young lord in whom he had taken some interest, Nahri om Jiarabala his heir, and the peace continued with scarcely any hint of dissent.

Thus it was that while their northern and eastern neighbors began to fall into a sort of organized chaos, the newly named Aghrali Roshate sidled along in quiet development, slowly repairing the damaged relations with the Farubaida while trying to maintain ties with the High Ward in Gallat. Some argued that with the problems that state had started to encounter, perhaps the Aghrali should attempt some sort of sweeping conquest, but this was never seriously entertained.

Instead, the break in the obscurity would come after decades and several Roshes more of calm.

Overseeing the Roshate in what would only later be noted as a critical time, Nahrala II and Ibarala were unlikely figures for a pivot in world history. Neither of them harbored particular ambitions, having apparently fulfilled their lives' goals by reaching the Opal Palace, and both of them in turn more or less restricted themselves to moving over to make room for developments outside their control. But it was Nahrala's decree that allowed the proselytizing of Aitahism – mostly a political move to better relations with the Farubaida – that opened the floodgates.

Though the Faith of Maninism hadn't diminished at all, the alternative still found some backers in the Roshate. In particular, a small group of the Jabralah nobility who had grown frustrated with the intrusion of certain Wards (who looked to make the northern Roshate resemble more closely the Gallatene region), and converted all at once. This did not make for happy times; though neither Nahrala or Ibarala opposed the Aitahists directly, plenty of men under their rule did. Fighting broke out in the most divided of the regions, most predictably in the Peko valley.

Doubtless under pressure from the High Ward in Gallat, and with a large amount of aid coming from that direction, the new Rosh Ighala launched a campaign of repression and attempted to eject the Aitahists from power. But the Jabralah put up a surprisingly good fight – possibly due to secret aid from the Farubaida, though this was never proven. The fighting raged for a long time, with a larger and larger part of the aristocracy joining the Aitahist movement, before a final climactic battle at Imalyat, outside Lumeyat.

Here, the Aitahists finally inflicted a serious defeat on the Rosh's army, taking many of his best commanders prisoner, and forcing him to the negotiating table. The subsequent Proclamation of Lumeyat (631 RM) would not only ensure religious tolerance, it established the Pearl Chamber – an advisory council of Jabralahs who would eventually become one of the critical pieces of the Aghrali Roshate.

Doubtless such events would have met with some sort of reprisal from a united Gallat, but the country to the north had problems of its own.

Though decades had passed since the disappearance of Javan Altaro, the Halyrate had never really recovered from the blow. Javan's shadow was so long, and his successor so blandly unremarkable, that from a purely psychological point of view he could never replace his predecessor. The effects of this would trickle down to all sectors of governance: Nuvor could not command the respect of the whole of Gallat, much less put a stopper into the machinations that went on behind the scenes. A hundred little factions scrabbled for purchase, hoping to take control of the Halyrate after his death.

Naturally, in the end none of them could.

Nuvor's death opened the floodgates. With dozens of people trying to seize power at once, the fighting flared across the country, with almost every city turned into a battleground. Happy enough to maintain their independence, the Church declined to name a successor or give their blessing to any of the rising elements, who instead continued their struggle to the bitter end. No one managed to get more than a toehold on one part of the Halyrate or another; the greatest cities could not mobilize armies to defeat their neighbor. Likely there was some external prodding in this matter, for something might have coalesced eventually around one person or another, but that never materialized.

Instead, there was a proliferation of independent mayors and minor nobles – and all of them overshadowed by the growth of the Faith. Operating independently from the political strife, various Orders of the Faith had a huge host of willing recruits eager to escape, and it was perhaps the only group whose territorial integrity would be respected in this time More and more applied for recognition from the High Ward, who was only too happy to see the growth of his Faith, but by far the most important would be the Sadorishi and Eskarites: a militant group and a daring collection of far-ranging missionaries, respectively.

Their numbers and relentlessness fueled an expansion of the Faith across northern Athis, one of the most impressive religious movements in centuries. Though it had to compete with Aelonism across the north (and indeed, the two faiths battled fiercely in the Stettin lands and beyond), proselytizers carried Maninism far to the west, reclaiming much of the Savirai land from the Cult of the Goddess and nearly reverting the whole thing to its older, Maninist roots. While Her Tear and its surrounding lands would remain stubbornly Aitahist (the defeat of a Gallatene expedition at Vana in 622 marked a high-water mark, for the moment at least), the north converted all the way to the foothills of the Corocya.

This opened the way for economic growth and increasingly longer trade routes, especially overland, as Gallatenes or at least those affiliated directly with the Faith took control of large swathes of territory and waystations between them, even if they weren't a coherent political whole. Still, the principal route around Athis would soon be routed through the north, from Cyve to Parthe.

At the same time, the fragmentation of Gallat pressed one of their oldest allies into action – action probably unwanted by the Gallatenes. The Accans launched a series of expeditionary forces – none too large, as the wars in the Exatai had started to reach a fever pitch – trying to support one claimant or another to try and reunite the Halyrate. Obviously, none succeeded in their goal; what happened instead was a steady integration of the two sides of the Kern Sea, many Accans settling permanently in Gallat, and the creation of a patchwork of loose Accan allies in the south of the region.

By the same token, some of the Accans exported Maninism back home. The Faith thus hurtled in two directions, gaining converts in the Accan cities and the old settlements of Ritti, though their main base on Ephis would of course remain the Taudo Princedom.

To the north of Gallat, the Faith ran into rather more trouble. The Brunnekt had been put to flight, to be sure, but Cyve's resurgence toward the end of the seventh century SR meant that Aelonism was not dead. There were significant doctrinal similarities between Aelonism and Maninism – so much so that a significant branch of the faith, the Order of Alon, could be seen as Aelonist worshipers in Maninist clothing. But the establishment of a parallel High Wardship meant that the two were placed at odds once more, and the wounds of the Immolation were reopened.

Nowhere was this more apparent than in Ereithaler. The country had been plunged into a period of uncertainty after the assassination of the bride of their newly crowned king, and was soon more or less completely subsumed into a period of court intrigue and politicking which left the kings utterly powerless. While the old Ereithaler monarchs had been ardent supporters of the High Ward and one of the greatest allies of Gallat in the north, the decentralization of power took on a religious tone soon enough, with various local nobility claiming allegiance to the Aelonist Wards and others to the Maninist Wards.

With that, what had been a relatively peaceful period became one of religious violence, not helped by the steady introduction of Zalkephic missionaries from the Satar. This would spill over to the other Stettin states, particularly Seehlt, where a Maninist king tried to convert his Aelonist populace and ended up being subject to yet another coup, and the troubled country losing half its land to the growing realm of Anhalter.

On the other side of the region, the Brunnekt had little luck putting their shattered state back together again, losing the southern core to a series of rebellions and being almost entirely limited to a coastal state around Kurchen. On the other hand, this port became steadily wealthier with the growing importance of the northern trade route around Athis, and it allowed them to thrive; meanwhile, the chaos in Ereithaler essentially erased their worries of being conquered.

At least, from that direction.

On the other side, Lesa entered what seemed to be a period of terminal decline – but luckily enough for the tribal state, the Acajuren fell almost entirely into a period of infighting that occupied all of their attentions. The last real player in the north, then: Parthe.

Parthe did not adapt to this situation of relative power quickly; instead, it seemed almost content to sit on the gains it had already made, with a series of conservative monarchs pushing them further into isolation. Despite this, the merchants and guilds of Tarwa pushed expansion into the Farlands outside of that which was officially sanctioned by the monarchy. Naikitsa came under more and more heavy-handed Parthecan dominance, until eventually the kingdom was all but a puppet state for a group of merchants. This would be challenged by the Ethir, but the invasion of that country ended badly when the Ethir found themselves unable to challenge the Parthecans by sea at all – instead they were pushed back by a series of raids.

The wins gave Parthe some breathing space. Men from the Archives ranged throughout the north, and a significant Parthecan quarter took up residence in Kurchen as well. Exploration poked north and east, reaching the lands of the Nlul, though the Kitaluk Sea remained far too wide to cross all at once, at least for Parthecan ships, and thus the far lands of the Kitaluk would only be accessible through their vessels. Seeking to expand their knowledge north instead, various adventurers discovered that the land beyond Tanat simply continued on and on for hundreds of miles, leading many to speculate that what they had found was not merely another island – but rather an entirely new continent. Much later, rumors would reach the Archives of a distant empire of ice and a valley of thunder, but the lack of appreciable new resources to exploit here meant that the discovery fever evaporated.

Very close to the end of the period, the accession of the reactionary Rycal to the throne would have a rather massive unintended consequence – exiling his rivals the Ruturwens and the remaining Dascawens, he forced them to rebuild their lives. This, they happily did in the kingdom of Lesa, where they soon took advantage of a relatively weak monarchy to seize the throne for themselves, raising a Parthecan dynasty in place of the old one, and creating an entirely new kingdom. Visionaries proclaimed the beginning of a new era – one where, perhaps, Parthe would be able to put all of northern Athis under its own banners.

What was concealed by the religious and political turmoil was the simple fact that this marked the ascension of northern Athis as a real power center. New lands were cleared every day, and new technologies allowed the people here to better exploit the rich, if difficult, soils, and the constant rainfall. With vast areas being brought under cultivation, populations exploded, spurring a new round of urbanization, particularly in northern Gallat and Cyve – these lands did more than recover from the depredations of the previous century; they exceeded their old heights.

As for the Stettin, their history was really just beginning.

* * * * * * * * *

The Long Peace
Southern Athis (637 - 713 SR)

In contrast to the great changes wrought in northern Athis, the southern half of the continent lived in a long and nearly uninterrupted period of peace. The Daharai had intervened in the war between the Carohans and their foes to the north and west, but this was a faraway thing, and the withdrawal of the latter from the conflict freed them of their only real military engagement. An ongoing conflict on the isle of the Ilfolk would simmer for a while longer, eventually ending in the final subjugation of the last few tribes on the island, but it did not take much in the way of resources or attention.

Instead, the Daharai focused inward for about a century. Funds were diverted from the prospering city of Epichirisi to the far southeast of Spitos, which had lingered in relative poverty despite the growth of the Republic. The Spicers' Order in particular bought up a huge swathe of lands, planting new stands of pepper, and in the interior, flax. The Exarch Kalle saw to it that western Spitos was not neglected, building a network of paved and well-maintained roads to ensure communication overland would match that which already took place by sea.

The most important aspect of the period would undoubtedly be the unbridled economic growth that closely paralleled that occurring in the Farubaida at the same time. Though the two countries differed religiously, they generally left one another alone on the subject, and especially with the rise of the scholar-Exarch Taesa, the Opulensi took an interest in Doru o Ierai. Despite the movement's roots in the Iralliamite and Aitahist ideas in Helsia, it had a certain appeal for the well-educated elite on Spitos and in Treha, and both places nurtured many adherents of the philosophy.

None were more influential than Taesa herself, who, prior to being raised to the Exarchy, had spent many years studying the birds on various islands of the Daharai. Here, she made a series of connections that would form one of the greatest catalogs of biology yet created – a general nomenclature of almost all the observable species on the islands, and one that would contribute to a brief craze of classification in the Farubaida as well, which had more or less abandoned biology as too “messy” of an art to be bothered with among the Ieraitans.

Undoubtedly inspired by her Ieraitan correspondents, and perhaps by rumors from even further afield of the Archives and the Sephashim, Taesa commissioned a great library adjacent to the Daharai Academy in Epichirisi, housing volumes on diverse topics from almost every country. The Opulensi had fewer real enemies than the Farubaidans or the Accans, and took pains to acquire them from everywhere they could.
 
At the same time, the Republic experienced perhaps the first flowering of an organized sport – oene. Fast-paced, rough, and brilliantly entertaining, it captured the hearts of the urban elite, who sponsored a dizzying array of courts for the sport. Indeed, the popularity was such that it probably contributed to the inauguration of the Epicharitan Games, an event featuring hundreds of athletes in a dozen sports, eventually growing to invite participants from other countries as well.

The quiet ended with the death of Taesa, as she had died long before expected, and left no appointed successor. After rounds and rounds of contentious voting, the first of the “Blue” Exarchs, one Constans Thoronoi, would take up the mantle.

The Thoronoi did not reverse any of the policies of their predecessors immediately, but the political uncertainty extended to the international stage, where threatening movements by Leun put the whole country on alert. While the crisis was ultimately avoided, a second one with Nahar was not. Renewed war by the northern empire against the Halarai Satrapies saw them threatening to take a whole sweep of territory on the northern Kbrilma, an eventuality that was deemed unacceptable. Enlisting the aid of the Javani Roshate, the Daharai smashed the Nahari in a lightning campaign, bringing the Empire down; the capital of Nahar would be annexed into the Javani Roshate, who seemed mostly content to maintain peace with their new southern neighbors.

Rihnit followed an almost identical track through this time, experiencing a time of peace and plenty, even beginning to push outwards and founding distant colonies. For the most part, these “colonies” would be only quarters of already established cities – still under the sovereign control of their home country but housing large numbers of Rihniti – but a few grew beyond that. Ranging as far as Tanat in the far north, it was a time of unprecedented adventurism in Rihnit which ended with their participation in the war against Nahar – and eventual acquisition of a strand of coastal territory in what had once been the Halarai Satrapies.

Either way, the good times ended with the eruption of a great volcano in Rihnit, the Ova Avovuvua, which brought ash to the skies and ushered in a time of famine and internecine strife. No matter what, it appeared that the long peace was over.

* * * * * * * * *

Campaigns of Conversion
The Southern Religions (637 - 730 SR)

Reeling from reversals in the north, the Grandpatriarchate of Iralliam had certainly lost much of its allure over the past few decades. The young and somewhat brazen church leader Aisen had undertaken an effort to curb a growing doctrinal gap in the Farubaida o Caroha, where the Iralliamites seemed not only content to live alongside their Aitahist neighbors, but also to embrace certain parts of their tenets – as well as certain pieces of a folk religion that had permeated Faron for millennia. No one had ever made a fuss about this peculiarity of a far off corner of the religion's world before, and while the differences might have been rather minor, they were compounded by a series of demands the spiritual leader placed on the ruling Sarafaio in the country – essentially objecting to the idea that the government could sponsor both of its major religions at the same time.

The backlash was immediate and severe. Not only did the Carohan government get increasingly miffed with the southerner, a small but growing movement of skeptics in the Farubaida (probably owing some of their basic mistrust to the idea of Doru o Ierai) began an outright heresy – denying the infallibility of the Grandpatriarch and believing that their god Opporia had put the truth in the hands of the many rather than a single spiritual leader.

What began as a rather minor doctrinal dispute flared into a full religious split. The Faronun swore to a new doctrine, and either convinced their clergy or ran them out of town. The Grandpatriarch attempted to fight this conflagration with a simple carrot and stick – training more orthodox priests, giving forgiveness for those who might come back into the fold, and quietly appointing more orthodox members when the priests of the Independent Conclaves died – but these proved ineffectual. The Conclave Iralliamites simply refused to recognize new orthodox priests, and claimed the churches for their own faction, barring the way to those who arrived from elsewhere. A few pockets, like the city of Trovin, remained loyal to the Grandpatriarch, but they were a shrinking minority in an increasingly hostile land. Coupled with this, a new growth of the Aitahist faith had taken root in the heart of the Holy Moti Empire, one of the traditional centers of the Church.

Perhaps in response to this, the Church began to fight back.

A renewed emphasis on evangelicalism targeted the Indagahori minorities in Zyeshar and Jipha, attempting to bring these regions more fully into the flock and by and large succeeding – though the Zyeshu had a long aversion to Iralliam, many finally accepted the light, and in Jipha even more success was had. The Grandpatriarch Trivein followed up on these successes by launching a huge effort to try and bring more Trilui into the Church, reasoning that they would be more likely to convert while their kin in Trovin held true to the old faith.

Here, they fought a number of competing movements. Aitahism had been under siege in recent centuries, but the conversion of parts of the Airani brought renewed vigor to the faith, which worked its way down the Hulinlui. At the same time, Maninists redoubled their efforts, and the spread of Doru o Ierai continued even more quickly here than it had anywhere else. It would be a hard fought religious war, no less fierce for the fact that it was fought with words rather than swords.

In the end, there would be no clear victor, as the Iralliamites made significant gains, but many of their adherents professed their liking for the Carohan hunt for truth. Converts had been gained, but they were seen as fickle ones by the Grandpatriarchs – as likely to follow the Conclaves as they were to follow him.

Much more successful were the Iralliamite efforts in the far west and south.

For some time now, the Vithanama had been struggling to maintain their hold on their new home. A small population among a much larger one, they had tried various efforts at assimilation, but the main stumbling block – religion – proved to be one step too far. Introducing Ardavan across the Empire would have proved impractical, and eventually they found a recourse not dissimilar to what the Kothari had attempted many years prior. Noting that many of the locals practiced Iralliam anyway, and seeing that as a much more tasteful conversion, the descendants of the Vithana chose the Church, and brought with them much of the Dulama Highlands – a huge new population of converts even if it didn't spread to the rest of the Empire.

Far to the south, meanwhile, efforts at mission work finally extended deep into the jungles of Dziltocampal, and the southern coast as well. The Gaarimites remained stubbornly adherent to their own religion – perhaps because they held closer ties with the Trahana – but the Zarian and their neighbors quickly became avid practitioners of the new faith. Quite suddenly, the Church had gained a new theological opponent on a wide front a thousand miles north to south.

But things didn't go quite so well on the home front.

The Aitahists had gained but a small foothold within the Holy Moti Empire, mostly on the backs of the Godlike families, who resented the increasing orthodoxy of the Iralliamite priests in their region, and the tightening controls the Church placed over them. The spread of the new religion continued largely in secret, but things came to a head when an assassination attempt was made on the life of the so called “Lord Fish”, a Godlike who claimed to speak with the voice of the Aitah. Lord Fish's compatriots immediately decried the Church's scheming, and in a startling escalation, wrested power from the local authorities altogether.

An Aitahist state had been created in the center of what had been the Holy Moti Empire – though the Empire was long only a legal fiction at this point. Calling upon all his considerable resources, the Grandpatriarch Riayki II solicited aid from the Kothari Exatai, which embarked on yet another costly western war, but failed to eradicate the growing state. After some time, the Kothari simply gave up, their troubles at home mounting anyway, and a pleasant republic had been established in the arc between Yashidim and Gaci.

Of that land, we shall examine it another time – more pressing to the Grandpatriarch was that this defeat might topple the dominoes. Farubaidan agents had been noted to be active throughout the Kothari Exatai, attempting to convert congregations both large and small to Conclave Iralliam, and still more of them had trickled in attempting to preach Doru o Ierai – which had already become connected with the former idea in his mind. The fracturing of the Exatai along religious lines – and the breakup of his most important temporal ally – could well be imminent.

In the end, the two sides made a deal – the Kothari clamped down on the growing heresy, and in return, the Grandpatriarch unofficially sanctioned a war between the Exatai and the Kilari kingdom, greatly expanding the run of the Kothari, and not coincidentally allowing the Church to secure a small state of its own in the Kiyaj valley.

Official disapproval, of course, made Conclave Iralliam even more enticing than it might otherwise have been, but its appeal remained mostly limited to a literate few until quite some time later.

* * * * * * * * *

Empire Sacrificed
The Vithanama (c. 650 - 750 SR)


All kings must fight to escape the shadow of their fathers, and so empires must as well. The litany of names that the west had known was remembered even in the present day: Amure, Tollanaugh, Dulama, and now Vithanama. Each of them had been greater than the one before in turn, each growing in size and wealth, until the last. The Vithanama had come from across the steppe to rule the west, and they had done a hatchet job of it, conquering only half an empire. It would have been hard to live up to the centuries-long legacy of the Dulama no matter what, but a lackluster war did not help matters.

Still, unlike their brethren in the Karapeshai and Moti lands, the Vithanama had no great defeat to their name, just a stalemate. Nor had their military power declined in any real way, despite the casualties suffered in the war against the Trahana. Indeed, as we have seen, they inflicted a serious defeat against the Moti in the Western War, taking Krato and holding the city for several years before finally withdrawing in the face of a major rebellion and an enormous Kothari army.

But all of these merely delayed the inevitable. Many in the Vithanama stubbornly refused to adopt the customs of the conquered, and though more still did, these were soon caught up in court intrigue and local politics. The exact same problems that had plagued the Dulama Empire in its latter days now paralyzed the Vithanama as competing interests tore at the Empire from every direction.

This came to a head in 673 SR, when a massive rebellion of the nobility in the Dulama Highlands came close to pushing the Vithanama entirely out of the region. Only a protracted campaign from Tiagho that ended with the sack of Dula repressed the rebellion fully, and the resentment would linger for decades afterward. The Vithanama eagerly met these problems with a policy of brutal repression: both inflated tax rates and tens of thousands in occupying troops on the ground – stunting the local economy and straining the imperial budget simultaneously.

History seemed to have come full circle with the accession of a young Redeemer, Karashas, who decreed that his people were to convert to the Church of Iralliam. Though it had long since passed from living memory, many cynics in the literati pointed out the eerie parallel with the Dulama, their conversion to Machaianism... and their eventual fall.

Yet little in history “repeats itself” except that phrase.

Karashas turned out to be one of the most active and vigorous Redeemers in the Vithanama lineage. Silencing cries that he was diluting their heritage with the ill-advised conversion, he raised new levies by the thousands and stunned his neighbors with two lightning campaigns. In one, he cast the Trahana back from their northernmost possessions, conquering Luchas and Aeda over a single year, and signed a treaty that left the Trahana confined to the Airendhe coast and the Thuaitl valley, almost reuniting the entirety of the old Dulama Empire. Immediately after, he took his soldiers and marched the length of the Empire before inflicting a serious defeat on the Yensai Chiefdom, exacting a massive tribute from the Moti successors.

Nor was he merely a conqueror, nor a flash in the pan in an otherwise unmitigated declension. Karashas rebuilt roadways and canals, flood levees and pyramids, and sponsored the creation of a dozen new churches across the West, eventually seeing the Grandpatriarch create the Patriarchies of Dula and Tiagho. Renewing the overland trade with the Moti until the fall of the Kingdom of the Pass, and that with the Karapeshai successors to the north, he revitalized the Vithanama economy in a time when it desperately needed doing.

His successors held the renewed Empire together for thirty years after his death, with very little sign preceding its ultimate collapse. The fatal blow was ironically struck by conservatives among the northern Vithanama, steppe nomads who had seen their own welfare decline with the rise of the Empire, and were increasingly marginalized. Allying with aristocrats in the south and marching on Tiagho, they cast down the last of the Vithanama emperors and sacked the city in an orgy of violence that foreshadowed that which erupted across the Empire in little time.

With neither central authority nor one dominant power, the whole thing fell to pieces almost instantly. A patchwork of a dozen different city-states and satrapies rose, each of them acclaiming one “Prince” or another; to their north, the steppe nomads experienced a brief period of flowering before the rise of the Ashelai only a few decades later subsumed them all.

The chronology here becomes as indecipherable to the historian as it did to the people of the era; the collapse of the Empire left nothing intact, and peace would not be restored for quite some time.

Spoiler The Warring Princes Period :


* * * * * * * * *

The Lions of Noaunnaha
(748 - 815 SR)

As the rise of Naran had left its neighbors overshadowed by the growing empire, its fall gave Noaunnaha an opening it hadn't had for its entire history. The two had been intertwined for centuries: it had been the conquest of old Unnaha by the first Narannue kingdom that had flung the Noaunnahanue into exile to begin with. But the rivalry had lain dormant until the Sunset War in the late 600s SR. Now it rekindled, even after Naran's Empire – and its conquest of Ther – fell apart.

Opportunists as they were, the kings of Noaunnaha really only nibbled at the edges of the dying empire. Concerted efforts to seize parts of the Narannue core were met with a rapid alliance between the city states and defeat; most of the time the Noaunnahanue settled for colonial ventures.

Everything changed with the ascension of the Lions.

The first of this legendary dynasty, known mostly by his epithet “the Roar”, would go down as perhaps the greatest Noaunnahanue King. Few in Naran or the Dulama principalities noticed his rise to power, as it was largely confined to domestic affairs: he met with over a dozen Theranue families to cement his influence there, and quickly brought the peninsula back into their sphere of influence. This he followed by playing the most prominent ship-families off one another until he could restrict their most egregious privileges one by one. All this, coupled with the careful building done by his predecessors, put him in a very good position indeed.

In the latter part of the year 753, he took advantage of a Telhan raid into the Narannue pass to make his first aggressive move – a full invasion of Ther, bulldozing the recalcitrant few Naran loyalists, and following this with a lightning campaign that seized much of the coastline from the declining Mesannue kingdom. By this point, the Narannue, too distracted and weakened by their northern war, had let Dael and Limach fall almost entirely out of their orbit. Another campaign saw both cities fall into the hands of the Roar, pushing the boundaries of Noaunnaha to their greatest extent yet.

After the Roar's death, his policies were seamlessly taken up by his successor, who styled himself “the Tooth”. Building an even larger army and recruiting numerous auxiliaries from the Seogue and Mesannue, he undertook the conquest of the Narannue sea coast, and in a shocking move, his son (a great general, appropriately but perhaps unsurprisingly named “the Claw”) managed to retake old Unnaha. Their old rival limited to a single mountain pass, Noaunnaha had essentially run out of opponents to fight; a half-hearted expedition marched into the Kossai and pummeled the Gurgheli chiefdoms, but an oft-discussed raid on the Reokhar was put on the backburner until the Tooth's death simply put it out of question.

Despite the severe overstretch the Kingdom suffered during this time, one of the Lion family – “the Mane” – managed to hold the whole thing together through creative use of secret police and informants, coupled with relatively good governance. The brothers had to stifle repeated rebellions from across the Morana Sea, smashing them one after another and assassinating leaders where actual combat would be seen as too costly. Perhaps inevitably, the whole thing began to decline after the death of the brothers.

Exacerbated by the fact that neither Claw nor Mane had the patience to sire a legitimate son, the whole Empire fragmented very shortly after their death. A small core in the heartland remained under the rule of the Claw's daughter Asukab, but the bayside territories in Limach fell under the rule of a mercenary company, the Nivarberrie, who might have been able to build a coherent kingdom if they hadn't squabbled with one another and constantly hired out their swords to the highest bidder – usually an old Dulama principality. Several of the far western colonies simply sloughed off without so much as a declaration of independence, and the Sunset Ocean would soon be ringed by a dizzying array of Noaunnahanue successors.

Under the Lions, Noaunnaha had obviously become the premier political power this side of the Trahana. But their rule went deeper than that.

Eager to overshadow their most illustrious ancestors, the Lions sponsored dozens of artists at their court. Already, the trading fleet had been famous for its colorful and beautifully carved prows, but it was under the Lions that everything else started to catch up. A new style of sculpture, influenced at first by the Trahana, but later branching into its own motifs and forms, exploded into a beautiful array of buildings carved with all sorts of fantastic figures, smooth flowing lines making the stone of the buildings seem more life than rock. Music, too, saw a tremendous revival, with a court composer who took the (possibly jocular) nickname of “the Tuft” writing a rulebook for composition that would be used throughout the western world for centuries after.

In more esoteric spheres, the Lions patronized an increasingly bizarre sequence of cult figures from the Seogue minority. Though the majority of the population had converted to Machaianism and remained loyal to it, the Roar and Tooth in particular were quite taken with the idea of fire worship, and especially the Seogue's tendency to venerate their leaders. A massive temple to the cult was built in Noaunnaha itself, carved in the shape of a single, enormous flame and plated in brass. Though very few Noaunnahanue ever actually converted, the cult members held a powerful position in court, and made a number of inquiries into alchemy. While their search for a substance of eternal flame eluded them in the end, a fierce burning naptha soon became one of the weapons of choice for the Nivarberrie and other Noaunnahanue successor armies.

Perhaps the most lasting impact of the Lions was to revitalize what had been a withering trade network. The Narannue cities had turned ever more inward, and with their mainland in ruins, the Noaunnahanue had scarcely the energy to maintain what they already had. With the peace on the seas enforced by a vigorous monarchy, merchants could go further and further abroad; the colonies near the Reokhar exploded in population, and Noaunnaha largely kept Trahana merchants from getting much further than the edges of the Morana.

With the Mesannue pushed back into the highlands of the south, the southern coastal cities underwent an enormous revival, only somewhat stunted by the collapse of the Empire. Limach and Ulpana in particular became centers of art and poetry, rivaling Noaunnaha itself by the end of the period.

Spoiler The Lions' Empire at its Height :


* * * * * * * * *

Southern Wars
Zar, Gaarim, and the Moti (c. 730 - 842 SR)

In 751 SR, the chieftain Harmo II, already styled “the Great,” passed away from what the priests could only term a “bad fever” and “a swollen chest”. The greatest of the Zarian leaders in quite some time, he had been instrumental in raising them to their new position that they enjoyed – one of the three premier military powers in the south. Harmo had marshaled the Zarian military forces once more, instructed and drilled them over the course of several years, and led a series of spectacular raids in each of the cardinal directions. To the south, north, and east, of course, they had met little resistance, easily sweeping away the smaller tribes in the region.

It was to the west that he met what by now was their oldest foe: Gaarim.

The border war had already been simmering for some time, but in the first half of the eighth century SR, it flared to life, fueled by numerous mercenaries who returned home from distinguished service in the empire-building of Tsutongmerang, all of whom were only too happy to apply their skills much closer to home. The result was a back and forth conflict, with large swathes of territory burned and pillaged by either side, a stalemate that wouldn't be broken until Harmo's reign.

Harmo's new military broke through the lines of the Gaarim warriors in three separate battles, and carried him to the gates of the enemy capital. A long siege seemed to be in store, but the fortifications of Gaarim had been recently redesigned along Trahana lines, and despite Harmo's work to the contrary, the Zarian army did not have the patience for a long siege. They attempted to set fire to the city using flaming projectiles, but when this failed they retreated, instead turning north to burn several of the newer Gaarim towns that had arisen there.

What Gaarim saw as a time of horrors eventually wound down as Harmo returned to his homeland, settling his warriors with their new wives and plunder all along the northern coast.

Harmo's death pushed Zar into a time of uncertainty – the old dynasty of Zarian chieftains would begin to dwindle, and his successors, though not incompetent, never really lived up to his sterling reputation. Gaarim, at the same time, began the long and slow process of rebuilding their shattered northern province, and assembling a new army.

The stalemate returned, until it was broken a generation later.

The Ilgaar Daf'Shanaal, newly crowned ruler of Gaarim, decided that this process had continued quite long enough. Raising a downright impressive force of cavalry from the highlands, and an even larger complement of infantry, he set out intent on the utter obliteration of the Zarian people.

Arriving on the frontline, his army easily dispatched half a dozen Zarian raiding parties before pushing far deeper into the Zarian homeland. Here, he finally encountered the organized resistance he had wanted to fight in the first place – nearly ten thousand strong, the cream of Zar's army, led by the chieftain Harmo III. With Daf'Shanaal at their head, Gaarim's army immediately caught the enemy on their pikes before the cavalry wheeled about and struck them in the rear. Encirclement was followed by utter disaster, and the Zarian army was utterly broken.

Unlike their enemies, Gaarim had the patience for a long siege. They took the capital after some time, Daf'Shanaal renaming the city Shanaal in his own honor, and pursued the enemy into the jungles.

By now, the Zarian realized they could not stand toe-to-toe with Daf'Shanaal in open battle and elected to flee from any engagement. The remnants of the people remained on the northern coast, while their ancestral homeland – and a good chunk of population – fell under occupation by Gaarim. The region was incorporated into the growing empire without too much difficulty, as Daf'Shanaal determined that persecution of the Iralliamite majority in the region would be far more trouble than it could ever be worth.

The emperor followed this up with a northward campaign against the rapidly stagnating people of Dziltocampal and scored a similar success here. Gaarim now stood far more mighty than ever before.

All things considered, it might have been easiest for the Zarian to flee into the east, attempting to force their way into Atsan or Parna. But such plans would be stymied by two major developments in the region.

The collapse of the Holy Moti Empire had left the cradle of civilization in chaos, but after a while it began to affect the former empire's periphery as well. The Clan of Kogur had been tasked with keeping the peace south of the Galas Sea, and while they had maintained their rule even in the face of the disintegration of imperial authority, the sudden cessation of funding and supplies hit them far harder. The final killing blow would come from a people who claimed to be only an ally.

The Kothari Exatai, as we shall soon see, had been profiting greatly from the end of the Ayasi as the central figure in global politics. With the death of the Empire as an institution, they could overtly claim to be restoring order and civilization wherever they might venture, and given their longstanding interests in the south, the Kogur were only a logical place to start.

An expedition was assembled; some twenty thousand strong, with a hundred ships as a complement. Sailing into the harbor at Anzai, they swept aside all resistance from the Clan, and marched down the coast, crushing whatever armies stood in their way. Finally, they arrived in Parna, already effectively a client kingdom of the Exatai, and retaliated against the first few raids of the Zarian, pushing back the exploratory parties who might have begun settling in the area.

Perhaps this was exactly the destabilization that the region needed.

Perhaps not.

Either way, the warlord Shuhas of Ultai rose to fame in exactly this climate. The conquest of Banur would barely be noticed by his contemporaries – neither city was particularly large, and both of them were expected to fall to the Kothari in quite little time. But what he lacked in numbers, Shuhas made up for with a certain canniness, recruiting many of the lesser cities in the west of Parna, particularly Irnat and its former allies from the civil wars, still resentful after nearly a century. Gathering the coalition, ostensibly for freedom from the Kothari yoke, but uniting it through his own face to ensure its loyalty, he had created a force that might equal even the Exatai in the south.

It surpassed even those expectations. Meeting the Kothari after some hemming and hawing from both sides, the southern coalition inflicted a serious reversal on the enemy at Ashi, and pursued their enemies to the end of the land, even burning their ships on the beach at Shentha through a surprise attack. It would take several more years of fighting to fully push the Kothari out of the region – and the Exatai would not admit defeat for some time, sending expeditions periodically to push back at the enemy, but all for naught.

Shuhas would eventually have the Patriarch of Parna crown him Emperor of the southern lands, a mostly empty title that would have little immediate effect besides sparking another round of controversy between the Church and Exatai, but would eventually solidify the dynasty under Shuhas into a bona fide empire.

* * * * * * * * *​
 
Of Monks and Merchants
The Trahana (c. 700 - 850 SR)

Compared to the dynamism and verve of the Lions' Empire in the west, or even the jostling incoherence of the Dulama ruins to the north, the Trahana seemed like a stagnating polity, its reach fading along with its dreams of reunifying the western cradle. But while the political history of the region would inspire few poets in ages hence, that didn't mean things stood still.

Under the patronage of a line of emperors that would go unbroken for well over a century, the Emprie of the Trahana flourished economically and demographically. Populations soared in the core cities of the Airendhe, including a revival in the former Haina kingdom. The Kahna, or eastern coast, saw nascent colonies spring up along its whole length – particularly the newly founded city of Adhor, which attracted so many prominent noble families to build second homes that it became known as the “Traha of the east.” Ranging even further afield, many settled on the southern edge of the straits – near the great Toha volcano.

The wars between Gaarim and Zar barely troubled the Trahana, as the eventual triumph and expansion of Daf'Shanaal's empire never threatened to spill over to the Kahna; they only strengthened trading connections across the mountains. The supply of finished products to the Gaarim – steel and ships, mostly – accelerated, and with the consolidation of the eastern empire (and the eventual rise of the Shuhar Empire a little further along the coast) inflated demand for the many luxury goods grown across the peninsula. Though Tsutongmerang handled almost all the direct interaction with the Shuhar, and certainly that with the Kothari and Farubaida, the Trahana merchant fleet expanded every month, and the Airendhe became a virtual Trahana lake.

At the same time, the surging profits greatly strengthened the merchant class, mostly at the expense of the monastic orders. While there had never been much of a rivalry between the two before, the patronage of monasteries began to decline under subsequent emperors, who were far more interested in siphoning off the top of their budget to send explorers south and east, and embassies to the far east. The monks eventually found new support among sympathetic merchant families, who sponsored their growth across the sea, establishing new operations in the Kahna and Gaarim, and eventually the far southeastern islands.

Nor did the religion remain an unchanging monolith. Monastics in Naran, far removed from the heartland of Machaianism, had begun to take a more personal view of the Machai, viewing the “world force” as a repository for or perhaps amalgamation of the chai (or “spirit”) of ancestors and the presently living alike. The Chaiuran movement, named for the great teacher of the faith, began to spread to the south through the ships of the merchants, providing an alternative view to the orthodoxy. It became highly popular in some monasteries, who saw it as a way to restore a certain spiritualism that had begun to drain from the faith as it had become popularized.

The Empire's growing wealth led to a flurry of construction, with new, beautifully flowing architectural forms dominating the skylines of the greatest cities, the simple designs and austerity of the old temples and palaces giving way to a baroque proliferation of decoration and luxury. This found its greatest expression in the Kahna, and specifically in the city of Adhor, where the new buildings were essentially every building, and the nobility could build as large as they dared. The architectural movement was mirrored by new advances in prints, where a realistic style became popularized by the imperial court, and in music, where the rules of the Noaunnahan “Tuft” were elaborated on a dozen times over.

Everyone knew the peace could not last forever – but while it did, the Empire continued to ascend.

* * * * * * * * *

The Exatai's Apex
the Kothari, the Farubaida, and the Uggor (710 - 866 SR)

With the dawn of the new century, even the memory of the Ayasi had mostly faded. Left to govern what was left of the world, the victors – the Kothari Exatai and the Farubaida o Caroha – had the cradle of civilization largely to themselves. The Farubaida, of course, had to deal with the aftermath of the earthquake and subsequent tsunami that had rocked their country in 710 SR, and with their neighbors almost entirely distracted by this and other affairs, the Kothari quietly arranged the completion of one of their longest-standing goals – the annexation of Palamyr.

The state had stood separate from the Hiut for generations, especially after the slave revolt that nearly sundered it from the Exatai altogether. This, to the Redeemer a nonsensical state of affairs, he eventually brought to an end with the consent of the Palamyran “government”, whose members had largely been bribed with land or gold in the end.

The annexation began a string of political victories for the Exatai, which spread its influence across the southern cradle. Though gradual at first, these gained speed as the Kothari took advantage of the distractions of the rest of their neighbors to conquer Kilar in a massive southern campaign, appeasing the Grandpatriarch by sanctioning the foundation of a Church state in the Kiyaj valley, and eventually incorporating Jipha into the Exatai as well. By the year 800 SR, the Kothari Exatai had begun to overshadow its erstwhile allies, and become the greatest power the cradle of civilization had seen since the fall of the Holy Moti Empire.

This coincided with a period of great unrest for their great ally and rival, the Farubaida. Though the disaster of 710 had brought the country together somewhat, it could not reverse the inexorable disintegration of the state. The fall of the Karapeshai, and the apparent Kothari focus southward, had left the Farubaida as an alliance without a real foe to fight. At first, this disagreement manifested itself mostly as a mere series of dispute between the federates in the councils at Caroha itself, but tensions began to escalate on the Helsian peninsula between the Empire and the Faerouhaiaouans and the Dremaites.

Things finally came to a head in 803 SR, when the Aramsayafas of Aramaia raised an army without informing the council at Caroha, and set it to march on Dremai. The border war became a general conflict across the peninsula, one that brought in allies on either side, but with the Seshweay elements of the Farubaida studiously ignoring what went on to the south. The war grew and grew, until finally attacks had been made on practically every city but Sakhelakheia, which remained inviolate to the Ieraites who made up the majority of either side.

Seeing an opening, the Kothari decided to intervene, here using the pretext that the Aramsayafas had begun an ill-advised power-grab, and that none would be safe from their reach if they were left unchecked. Of course, few believed that the Exatai really just wanted to help, and this was enough to finally motivate the rest of the federates into intervention – the Seshweay sent an army (albeit a fairly small one) – along with the Pekorovans and Nerussians.

But help did not merely come from within the Farubaida.

Alarmed at the expansion of the Kothari, and especially at the prospect of losing an invaluable ally, the Republic of the Daharai, by now under the rule of the influential and aggressive Ammal Thoronoi, assembled one of the larger expeditions in their history. With his help, an allied army turned the tables at the village of Balahaia, just south of Subal. The Kothari were sent reeling back into the Had River valley, and still worse, they had earned the enmity of the assembled peoples to the north once more.

On the other hand, the damage to the Farubaida seemed to be permanent. Likely unfairly accusing the Dremaitse of collaboration with the Kothari, the Aramsayafas subdued the northern state, and finally united the peninsula under their rule. A short time later, they effectively cut ties with much of the federation, and left only a quartet of peoples under their banner, though they would still occasionally come to the aid of the now-Seshweay dominated assemblage. The Helsians took possession of the Hulinui without any real trouble, but did not contest the city of Caroha, which remained in the hands of the truncated Farubaida – though with a large presence of Helsians in the city, siphoning off much of the wealth of the city to the east.

The Farubaida, for its part, would have its attention drawn north, particularly after the rise of a new power there...

The Kothari Exatai dealt with the loss of prestige much as they always had: by doubling down and retrenching the long-empowered Star Dynasty. But by the end of this period, there were signs that perhaps the status quo was about to change.

Though social mobility had increased among the downtrodden lower classes of the Exatai – those usually termed “slaves,” though their actual status of freedom fluctuated from decade to decade – there were still fairly few opportunities for advancement. Now, perhaps at the bidding of the Farubaida or the Daharai, large scale social unrest began to break out once more, this time localized less to the agricultural workers and more among the urban and merchantile elite, especially as both groups had been brought into extensive contact with the free and quite powerful bureaucrats in Bysria.

Finally, under the Redeemer Danelles, a series of reforms were enacted, mostly to save the Exatai from the pain of further strife. The bureaucratic apparatuses of the upper Had and the rest of the Exatai were merged under one, massively unwieldy organization; the net effect being to make it so ubiquitous that it was delocalized, and thus no one individual could gain any real power. At the same time, however, the military began to reassert their power, and pushed through a decree that gave them symbolic and some real power over the final decision of Redeemer. To top it all off, social reforms shuffled much of the population into the status of “free.”

While many hoped that this would stop the problems entirely, it did not. The growth of the underclass had given them a political clout they had never experienced before, but their new status as “slightly freer” had such ambiguity that it created zones of conflict in the countryside, particularly in the south, where Satar aristocrats attempted to tighten their authority on the local population.

A cabal of merchants conspired to capitalize upon these problems, paying the local labor force significantly to come and work on other estates, and while they did not have the infrastructure at first, they quickly eroded the power base of the nobility. Local disputes, often only brought to moderation by the firm hand of the Church, broke out into genuine conflict more than once, and an increasingly overburdened central authority in Jahip had trouble bringing them to heel.

This would be coupled with a general migration of people across the south to urban centers. The trend of urbanization redoubled demands for luxury products from the far east and far west, but with the alienation of the Kothari from their more powerful seafaring neighbors, these became harder to satiate – particularly when they lost their grip on the south to the Shuhar as well. This helped the development of an alternate route, through the Yensai Chiefdoms and the rising Ashelai Exatai. Though it was not as fast or efficient as the seaborne route, it did help to alleviate some of the pressure.

The wars kept populations somewhat depressed – or at least remaining steady – in the Farubaida and the Uggor lands. Instead, more growth was seen in the Hulinui cities, which engaged in a bustling trade with their close allies in the Daharai, and along the northern coast of the Lovi, where tightening relations between the Farubaida and the Aghrali Roshate had made the region extremely friendly.

By now, the rising influence of the Pearl Chamber had ushered in a new era of Aghrali politics. A long line of Roshes with less and less power bent to the will of the nobility, who had begun to defect to the Aelonist faith, which swept the country into alignment with the Aitahist Carohan Federation. This would have vital consequences a scant decade later.

Under the official aegis of the Aramsayafa family now, Doru o Ierai absolutely blossomed. Though most still professed to be Aitahist or Iralliamite, almost all the members of these faiths hewed close to the ideals of the Search for Truth. Exported the world over, Doru o Ierai made Caroha, Dremai, Trovin, and most of all Sakhelakheia repositories of knowledge. A new complex of libraries and schools in the holy city in the middle of Faerouhaiaou educated a new generation of scholars who explored not merely the physical world but the essential nature of things as well. New ideas like the Truth of Falling, taken from the writings of Aghaeou olgh Eralaoula – which showed that all objects would fall at the same speed when released – or the Truth of Divisibility – which showed that a substance will retain its properties even when reduced to an infinitesimal fraction of its former mass – were illuminating the broad sweep of the cosmos.

Southern expeditions, like those of the Daharai Kalle Nire, or the Faronun mystic Taefe, showed the fauna and flora of the southern islands did not merely look but also functioned differently from those of the north, and the different charts of the stars from the Parthecans and Tsutongmerang seemed to prove the spherical nature of the world.

But by far the most important figure of the era was Fieron, who worked in Sakhelakheia itself. A polymath, he invented trigonometry essentially from scratch, and worked out a limited system of algebraic notation, advancing mathematics the furthest it had gone in several centuries. He studied music, becoming famed for the beauty of his voice and his compositions alike, raising the artform of Kothari-style counterpoint to a level that had never been seen before, perhaps drawing on the inspiration of his mathematics to create polyrythms and magnificently symmetric melodies and harmonies that delighted his counterparts. But his greatest influence was on Doru o Ierai itself, as he traveled extensively to collect the knowledge of the world into one source, and pushed to educate the whole world: he believed that if everyone were in pursuit of the Hunt for Truth together, divisions and war would evaporate entirely.

Obviously, he would be ultimately unsuccessful in this last aim, but the scientific adventurism that resulted had a profound cultural impact. A new type of theater sought to expose the masses to the essential Truths of reality, though it did not take off immediately; Fieron's compositions also played rather well in the Kothari, where many were reworked into hymns.

Against this rising Ieraitan tide, the Church began to move. Determined to protect their turf from what they saw as an existential threat, the call for a Crusade into Helsia, first raised by Talkephion, might have added religious overtones to the rivalry between the two states. This did not amuse the Redeemers, who saw it as an unnecessary intrusion of religion into politics, and certainly seemed unwelcome after the peace that ended the war between them. Continued pressure from the Patriarchs spurred the final breach – the Redeemer Eretrexas declared himself in alignment with the Independent Conclaves in 866 SR.

It was only the beginning.

* * * * * * * * *

The Sea of Sunrise
the Daharai, Leun, and Parthe (726 - 850 SR)

Peaceful succession had been the rule in the Republic of the Daharai; indeed, almost no one had even disputed the succession to the mantle of Exarch in the entire history of the enterprise. It had been a remarkable run of stability, but naturally there was no way it could last. The Blue Period was the first sign of trouble – one group in the Republic had held the Exarchy for so long that it seemed doubtful that they would ever give it up, and certainly not without a fight. But it was only a prelude to the oncoming storm, which the Daharai simply termed “the Strife.”

The last of the Blue Exarchs, one Thann Phodros, was so ineffectual that he had been ousted by a vote of no confidence, an event unprecedented in the annals of the Republic. What followed was a hotly contested succession that triggered a fistfight in the Red Chamber and a riot outside that quickly spilled inside as well. The hasty application of arms ended things there, but the accession of Raegas Nire was given only perfunctory recognition by the opposing Spicers, and the dispute boiled over into domestic affairs, with half the Republic effectively ignoring the other.

The situation got worse as Raegas died suspiciously, and his former opponent, Castas Etreinon, sneaked into the Red Chamber and had himself acclaimed without the knowledge of the rest of the Orders. Both Blues and Reds now stood in open defiance of the Spicers, and soon the battle lines were drawn, culminating in the battle of Haise with the rout of Castas' Spicers by assembled Order spearmen.

A new order was instituted, but the weakened Republic was easily knocked about by internal elements now. Unrest in Epichirisi and other cities forced the Exarchs to pass a set of urban reforms, allowing many of their greatest cities a large amount of autonomy, and gutting the operating budgest of several of the most prominent Orders. Moving almost listlessly now, the Republic seemed to be on the verge of a spiral that might put its thoughts of empire entirely to rest.

Everything changed with the accession of Ammal Thoronoi.

A brilliant young schemer from the ranks of the merchant fleet, Ammal had no sooner arrived on the Epicharitan political scene than he had made himself a crucial link in it, rising from captain to prelate to Exarch in a surprisingly swift movement. Those who had supported him, hoping to find him weak and pliable, found that his supporters were so numerous that no one could really control him. The result was the first competent and powerful Exarch in decades, one who would brook neither domestic nor foreign debate – and one who rapidly restored the fame and success of the Republic.

Ruling for well over 70 years, Ammal solidified the alliance with the Empire of Helsia, sending an expeditionary force in aid against the Kothari, and even sending aid to Caroha during the War of the Second Feast. But he would be much more notable for his strongarm tactics in the more local neighborhood, securing the renewal of a lease on Cynta, and bowling over the Fareans when they objected. Greatest of all would be the last of the Eastern Wars.

Taking issue with the effective annexation of Cynta and the bullying of Farea, Leun amassed a minor coalition to slow down Ammal's empire-building. Invading him from several sides, the coalition gained some ground, but it quickly was put on its back foot by the Daharai fleet, which smashed the Leunans at Sarne. Victory soon built on victory, snowballing until the Daharai laid siege to the old city of Leun itself, and in a spectacular display of violence, sacked the city.

The city would not recover for quite some time, if ever. The Republic followed suit, plunged into chaos by the beheading, with the northern cities falling prey to Acajuren armies, and the northern Auonan lands quickly fracturing into independent republics, many of whom sought Daharai protection from the others until the whole mess was dominated by the Opulensi as it had been of old.

By the time Ammal died, he had left the southern half of Athis more or less in the grip of the Daharai Republic, with no state daring to challenge them. Their only rivals would lie to the west – as we have already seen – and to the north.

Here, as it turned out, the visionaries had been right.

The introduction of a Parthecan dynasty in Lesa had opened the gates to Northern Athis. In short order, expeditions had installed similar dynasties in Nakitsa and among the Utali, while Parthecan merchant interests had a great deal of clout in both the Ethir and Brunnekt kingdoms. All this drove the rapidly expanding kingdom into war with many of its smaller neighbors – they would annex the Nakitsa outright, and invade the Berathi in a war that would last almost thirty years before a negotiated peace recognized the establishment of a Berathi kingdom to the south. An expedition to the south, in conjunction with that of the Exarch Ammal, secured the city of Asardias, giving them an unprecedented reach around the continent.

All of this did nothing to discourage Parthecan adventurism, and the Emperor Remjur (the Heartless) led an expedition into the far north, trying to conquer the chiefdom of the Othan and make Parthe a transcontinental empire. What ensued was an even bloodier and more vicious war than that which had embroiled them and the Berathi, and the northern province became a horrible drain on manpower, and cost dear the imperial armies.

Things came to a head in 842 SR, when a group of merchants and idealists on the mainland of Athis raised the banner of revolution, declaring the formation of a republic in the model of the Daharai. Gaining support among the elite and the common people alike, the republican armies swept across the colonies of the Empire in very little time, and landed an expedition in Zarcasca, marching south and defeating the armies of Talop (soon to be termed “the Headless”) in pitched battle just outside of Zarpe. The overthrow complete, Parthe had quite suddenly reversed course.

Or so it seemed.

Though the Republic instituted a number of reforms of their own, reshuffling the bureaucracy, limiting the privileges of nobles, and relaxing many of the worst trade restrictions of the last few emperors, it had few qualms with the colonial ambitions of the emperors. Lesa was directly incorporated into the Republic, and though they pulled out of the Otanca province, they immediately followed this with a long intervention in the civil wars that had begun to wrack the Acajuren.

For Acajura had followed close behind Parthecan expansionism, exerting their influence deeper into the heart of Athis, following their initial successes against the Qasraists remnants with strikes through the Face of the Moon. Even as the Parthecans fought with the Berathi on one side, the Acajuren attacked the other, with rather greater success, burning the new Berathi capital and nearly conquering the people outright before a few reversals put them right back where they had started. The campaigns not only overstretched Acajura – they had made them new enemies.

For Gallat's religious orders had viewed the Acajuren expansion with distaste, especially as it began to trod on the toes of the monasteries and Maninists in the region. Eventually, the Sadorishi and the Eskarite orders cofunded and led a roundabout filibuster that swept into the foothills of the Corocya, and defeated several Acajuren armies sent to dislodge it. In time, they founded a small Maninist state on the fringes of the desert, and with further evangelism and some espionage, set out to destabilize the Republic at its heart.

What had begun as a religious war exposed some of the deeper tensions underlying Acajuren society, and the resulting conflict engulfed the Republic for several dozen years before it finally managed to restore order in the end – though it had lost many of its more peripheral cities.

Culturally through the age, three great influences had acted on the whole of Athis. Many states had managed to carve out their own distinctive cultures – the Rihniti and Acajura came to mind, obviously – but they, too, largely danced to a tune written by others. On one end of the great axis running east to west, the Parthecans served as the greatest repository of scientific curiosity, and exported a bevy of cultural curiosities, like the first historical fiction, and a style of open building with carved columns and warren-like interiors, probably modeled on the Archives or the palaces of the Emperors. On the other end, the Daharai formulated an architectural style later termed “Epicharitan brusque”, a moderately unattractive but practical brick building idea that spread both due to cheapness and unthinking imitation. A rather less depressing influence came from Niro of Cyre, the most famous painter of an age, whose realistic style spawned half a hundred inferior imitators, but who would nonetheless codify a style of painting that would go unsurpassed for centuries.

A third front came from the northwest, where the Gallatene and Savirai Maninists began to intrude all along the shores of the Nakalani. While this would include many cultural elements – particularly a love of fine red wines, olives, and a penchant for statuary – the obvious and most lasting impact would come in the form of Faith. Unopposed by an Aitahist power, Maninism became the faith of the vast majority of the heart of the continent, and its tendrils began to be felt in the Acajuren cities, who had only narrowly fended off the Cult of the Goddess to begin with. Backed by wealth and the occasional military expedition, the Faith made a powerful impression, and prompted an Indagahori revival in response. Parthe, unsurprisingly, committed to none of the faiths, though a rather troubling development came with the arrival of Zalkephic evangelists, who had the peculiar foreign habit of beheading other religious leaders.

* * * * * * * * *

The Vedai Satar
the North (650 - 724 RM)

Where the exatai of the south had lingered, the exatai of the north had dwindled. The three major states of the Vedai Satar, as they called themselves, stood at odds, with the Zalkephai mostly broken, the Karapeshai dying, and the Tephrans at what was perhaps the peak of their power. The arrangement was not stable – the two greater states tussling over Allusille (and by extension, the Einan valley) – and the Rashai trying to regain its footing. But soon, even this uneasy balance would be thrown into question.

In the far south, the Maghan Satar had tried their best to assert their independence, but the Vithana raids had made that quite difficult. Eventually, one of the cleverer segments of the population hit on a key notion – they offered an alliance to one group of Vithana in the hopes that the steppe nomads would protect the civilized states from their former compatriots.

They were immediately successful, and the Vithana happily accepted the gifts of gold, and later luxuries, from their new employers. What began as a business arrangement soon became institutionalized, and without much fanfare, the Ashelai Exatai was founded.

Based on a peculiar model of rotating succession, taken from the classical Satarai states of near-mythic antiquity, the Ashelai practiced enlightened policies of tolerance and minimal restrictions. They emerged from the chaos of the region as one of the principal states quite early, and began a long period of expansion in almost every direction, securing all of Satara, campaigning against Sehorsehockye Oscadia, and conquering most of what had been the Kingdom of the Pass. But they also expanded westward with astonishing rapidity, bowling over the Vithana tribes there and absorbing their members, as well as taking Katdhi and many of the best routes through the Kothai.

By now, one might have expected them to have attracted the attention of their neighbors, and indeed they did. But they ruled mainly on the fringe of Kothari power projection anyway, and as we have already seen, the Kothari and Faronun were far too focused on each other anyway. The Seshweay of Caroha might have been more inclined to deal with the Ashelai, but by themselves they were too weak to stop the Satar rise to power. And the states to the west need hardly be mentioned – the Vithanama successors were too divided to do anything.

By now, the Ashelai had swelled to a considerable size, and they certainly attracted the notice of the High Oracle and the Tephran High Princes. But this relationship was a fairly benign one, at least for now – both sides felt that they had much to gain through peace and trade, and neither one wanted to upset the delicate balance.

For their part, the Tephrai began to make a concerted effort to eliminate the Enguntithi Sharhi that resided on their northwestern frontier. Though they didn't have the religious fanaticism that their Zalkephai enemies did, they regarded the Sharhi as a vestige of a more ancient time – a steppe khaganate with enough power to launch large-scale raids into the Einan – something that was unacceptable by now. Sharhi power had already been broken by the revolt of the Kyumai, so long ago now that the khagans had lingered on more because of their lineage than any particular stranglehold on the region. A great campaign by the Tephrans destroyed the last great Sharhi army on the shores of the Yebsun, and the khaganate was annexed.
 
With a prime position as the linchpin of the steppe, especially after the events of 754 RM (see below), the Tephrai had no trouble building their wealth and power. Long distance trade routes grew up between the Exatai and far off Tin Tan Tar, some routed through the old river roads that had been pioneered by the Enguntithi, while an overland route over the Nelhai Mountains avoided the predations of the Zalkephai or the locals.

As time went on, the Tephrai would be dragged into one of the greatest wars of the era, the War of the Burning Pines. Lasting almost fifty years, it pitted the Tephrai against the Princes of the Shield in Allusille, who had decided that switching allegiance between the Tephrai and the Karapeshai no longer suited them. Repeated campaigns into the region accomplished little more than slaughtering thousands on both sides, and burned the Einan several times over again. Indeed, perhaps its greatest effect was laying the groundwork for yet another Zalkephic revival.

Compared to these states, the Karapeshai's terminal decline must have seemed to be of little interest. Merely a stage for various Accan power-plays, it lacked the ability to exert itself on anyone – the Cyvekt expedition in 605 RM had been its last real gasp. It was powerless to stop the independence of Alusille, and similarly powerless to stop the Tephrai.

The great change finally came with the acclamation of Taracis the Cruel, a remarkable Prince who claimed the mantle of the Karapeshai, and attempted to get the High Oracle to declare him Redeemer of the Satar. This never happened, so he simply broke with the High Oracle – not officially, of course, for that would have been disastrous in the face of the Zalkephai heresy – and rebranded the Karapeshai as the Vellari. Intensely intelligent, a brilliant strategist and tactician, he also had a vain streak: he inaugurated his reign with one of the greatest wars the Exatai had seen since the War of Lies two centuries prior – as we shall soon see.

The Taudo would continue their independence quietly, driving off several Zalkephai and Cyvekt assaults into their lands alike. More than once, they would receive support from the Gallatenes across the sea, though in time it became quietly acknowledged that the Princes of Shadow were in fact the most powerful of the polities that adhered to the Faith of Maninism.

Meanwhile, a new incarnation of Zalkephis was said to have been born near the end of the period; after the War of the Burning Pines, his timing could not have been better.

The long period of relative peace to begin the period had been a positive one for the various Exatais. Certainly, the Tephrai and Karapeshai had fought over the ownership of Allusille, but otherwise it was a time of rebuilding after the First and Second Wars of Prophecy. The cities of the southern Einan in particular flourished under the rule of the Tephrai, and with the opening of trade with Tin Tan Tar they entered a minor golden age. Comparatively, the Accan cities had been in decline for some time, but they managed to arrest this, especially with the acclamation of Taracis.

Perhaps the most obvious change of the time came with the invention of a clever device – the vertical windmill. A primitive horizontal windmill had been known since antiquity, but its utility had been truly limited. With their knowledge of fine machining, the Accans determined an ingenious method for crafting a mill that would be driven by the wind as it did a sail, and the mills soon sprouted up all across Acca, and into the Einan valley as well. Brightly painted and with beautiful craftsmanship, they would become a fixture of the northern Exatais for years to come.

At the same time, the Sephashim experimented further in various fields – most notably metallurgy, though a few scholars assembled an intriguing, if useless, pneumatic folly. Far more impactful, if less obvious at the time, was the Prime Treatise, a work that set out the very first precepts of empirical thought.

* * * * * * * * *

War of the Second Feast
the Vellari and the Farubaida (724 - 731 RM)

Perhaps Taracis had read of his ancestors' exploits, and he wished to surpass them. Perhaps he had read the work of Yrnaeas-ta-Alusille, who argued that the Accan dream of creating a trans-continental Empire had been one of their better ideas. Perhaps he simply knew exactly how much the sea was worth to his people. In any case, the Redeemer of the Vellari assembled his forces in the latter half of the year 723 RM – an army of some fifty thousand, all told, and a fleet of hundreds of ships. Ostensibly, their goal was an invasion of the Cyvekt, in reprisal for the kingdom's attack on the Princedom of Shadows a scant few years earlier.

But in truth, the army had a far different purpose. Taking the opportunity of the breach between the Kothari and the Farubaida – though Taracis missed the window of actually attacking in concert by a few years – Taracis sailed in full force against Caroha. The intention was to blockade the straits and take the city by siege, building the Accan Empire that had been long dreamed of.

Among the more charming aspects of the war was the declaration – delivered by Taracis to the Carohan envoys while dining on the heart of another.

Thus began the War of the Second Feast.

Horrified by the Prince's actions, the Carohans immediately called to the south for aid. The Helsians were sympathetic, of course – even though they had little inclination to fight a long war with the Satar again, the provocation had been enough to anger them deeply – but after the exhaustion of their war with the Kothari they had little left to fight with. A Helsian fleet was promised, several hundred ships in size, but without an army to go along with it, they could do little to throw back the Satar army that besieged Caroha in full force, double walls of circumvallation around the city.

The Seshweay now only began to assemble their army, with tens of thousands raised from the Sesh Delta and Sehorsehockye Oscadia, but even as they assembled at Cyre, it was evident that they would be outclassed by Taracis' army.

A stalemate lasted like this for well over a year and a half, the Seshweay raising still more soldiers, and Taracis' army, too, growing as he reinforced it by sea. With the passage of time, things grew increasingly desperate in the city of Caroha itself – starvation and plague had set in, and it seemed quite likely that it must fall to the northern warlord. They would need a miracle to survive.

Nevertheless, the army of the Seshweay marched north, bravely facing what must have seemed like certain doom against a far superior force, and drawing up to face Taracis just south of the greatest city on the planet.

Had it been a story – and indeed, in later songs it would run this way – the miracle should have happened just as it seemed like the Carohans were at their last breath. But the miracle preceded the battle, as the warhorns sounded from behind Taracis' army. The Accans wheeled, and were stunned to find that they had been outflanked by a force from the Aghrali Roshate. The Aghrali, shipped over by the Helsian vessels with the Accans none the wiser, presented an enormous second force, and together the Aitahist alliance would have been enough to break the Accan army entirely.

Annoyed, but ever the pragmatist, Taracis pulled his armies back. His fleet had secured Aldina already; the war hadn't been a total failure. And indeed, it would continue for some time, though the Seshweay and their allies wouldn't score any major successes.

But three centuries later, the age had ended much as it had begun – with the rescue of Caroha.

* * * * * * * * *

The Third War of Prophecy
the Zalkephai and Cyve (737-773 RM)

Broken and burnt, the lands of the Einan had already seen too much of war in the last century and a half. Though the Karapeshai had never really been at peace for too long, the far northern regions had felt little of war; the turmoil that had come with the death of Elikas had been felt most keenly here. The hundred years that had followed had seen Tephrai and Karapeshai -- now Vellari -- fighting back and forth, and the independence of the Shield Princes had not helped things, with the two-sided conflict becoming three-, and much more deadly.

Into this time, Zalkephas was born again, and the avatar of the warrior prophet revealed himself even as the Vellari went to war with the Carohans, and as the War of the Burning Pines raged between the Tephrai and Alusille. The Princes immediately took notice -- even if they had other concerns, the revival of the Zalkephai was no small matter -- but none were in a position to suppress the new prophet, and in any case Zalkephas could not be tracked down.

Thus, the Third War of Prophecy began quietly, as the cities of the far north aligned themselves with the movement, one after another. In short order, over a dozen had been pledged to his cause, and attempts by the Tephrai to break the rising tide were thwarted both by the slipperiness of the Zalkephic armies, and by the ongoing war with the Shield-Princes.

What ensued was a protracted struggle between the three, with no side gaining the upper hand. Under most circumstances, a draw might have been considered a fair result, but the resurgence of the Zalkephai made this outcome intolerable to the Princes, who fought on long after the war should have been done with. A final Zalkephic victory at the gates of Sartasion sent the southerners reeling, and marked the de facto recognition of the Rashai as a major power in the north once more.

But Zalkephis was not done yet. His army massing, he launched a hundred ships in a concerted effort to bring down the Aelonist state of Cyve, the largest such invasion in hundreds of years, and a critical threat to the High Ward.

Aelonism had not only become the faith of the vast majority of the inhabitants of Cyve, it had rooted deeply in their hearts as well. Opposite the intense fanaticism of the Zalkephai, the conflict took on an awful, total character, with the armies sparing few, and the Zalkephai finding themselves forced to massacre whole villages at once. Even with a numerical advantage, the Zalkephai found it challenging to overcome these odds, fighting as they were in a foreign country.

Nor were the Cyvekt entirely alone.

Organized, ironically enough, by one of the more sympathetic religious orders in Gallat, an expedition of Maninists and Aelonists from Athis was assembled in Gesta, drawing heavily from both the Ereithaler and Gallatene armies, with a few thousand mercenaries funded by Gallatene donors as well. These reinforcements landed hastily in the southeast corner of the island, and though the Zalkephai tried to block their joining with the main Aelonist host, they were unable to.

As quickly as that, the tide flipped. The Zalkephic host was set back on its heels, and though they refused to withdraw at first, it soon became evident that their defeat would be inevitable. A final battle at the Hardmoor, some thirty miles north of Lexevh ended things decisively, and the invasion was over.

* * * * * * * * *

The New Steppe
the Telha and the Tephra (618 - 799 RM)

With victory over the Nevathi long since secured, the Telha Exatai had essentially become the sole power on the steppe. Obviously the Tephran Exatai could lay a claim to a similar title, but their position on the periphery left them on the outside looking in – the Telha had by far the better position in terms of long-range trading contacts.

With the Nevathi broken, then, the stage was set for a long, long period of almost unbridled prosperity. Arhat, soon to be called the Pearl of the Steppe, grew into one of the greatest cities the center of the continent had ever seen – almost a hundred thousand people at its peak, and a cosmopolitan center of trade and industry that drew travelers from far and wide. It would be rivaled by a whole string of similarly lovely cities in an arc along the trade routes here – a necklace of flowering urban centers, policed by the Telha.

The economic and demographic boom provided the coin and manpower for an artistic revolution, but the wellspring of inspiration came from the south. Chaiuran Machaianism, a branch of the faith originating among the Narannue and keenly focused on the rebirth of individuals and unity with both ancestors and descendants, had gained almost univerals acceptance in its homeland before it was exported north by a band of wandering monastics. Their powerful vision won numerous adherents on the local level, especially among the rather downtrodden Vischa minority in the Eskana valley, but it was when the Redeemer of the Telha himself noticed their ideas that things really began to take off.

Though the Telha were and would remain ardent Ardavani, more than a few of their Redeemers noted the merits in sponsoring another faith. More than a few rulers had already undertaken a policy of general tolerance, and even co-patronage; with Telha monies, a whole series of monasteries grew up along the northern foothills of the Kossai, and even as far as the Nelhai. Of particular note was the city of Kendinden, the half-finished, mostly-abandoned project of the last Nevathi khagans. Though its more beautiful buildings had long since fallen into ruin, their materials, owing to the inaccessibility of the region, had never been stripped. The result was a retooling of the old palaces and temples into a monastic city, quiet colonnaded gardens and serene waterfalls, commingling with footpaths and groves.

Eventually, of course, the prosperity could not be maintained any longer.

In this case, the Telha fell victim to several succession crises, besieging their state from several angles at once. Though the common people could hardly care less, the aristocracy could not name a Redeemer, and what they had expected to be a mere squabbling over the golden mask turned into a full-blown civil war.

Things escalated quickly. The civil war became a total war, and thousands died for the right of one Prince or another to name themselves Redeemer. By the end, the only thing that could restore the peace was outside intervention.

In this case, the Telha and Tephrai had been joined at the hip since the inception of the latter. Naturally, the former turned to the latter for aid, and once a suitable candidate had been found to support – and the War of the Burning Pines had finally ended – the Tephrai troops marched in to restore order. Laying low the various illegitimate claimants, they reestablished order. Possibly unexpected to those who were not familiar with the traditions of the Exatai, the Tephrai did not take the opportunity to establish themselves as the rulers of the west, instead ensuring a peaceful transition before departing.

Reinvigorated, the Telha restyled themselves the Vischa Exatai, and reformed their government to directly incorporate the Vischa provinces in the west. They constructed a government focused on coalitions, and a council of Princes that would acclaim the ruler rather than even the ceremonial battles that had dominated them before... but it would not last long before being cast down by the Redeemer Talaxes, who massacred the council and replaced his satraps with men loyal solely to him.

Despite this rather turbulent beginning, the dynasty that had been founded by Talaxes would restore the prosperity to which the Telha had once been accustomed, marked most notably by the incredible architectural feat of the Pillar of Artaphesar: a magnificent column that rose directly out of the waters of Lake Eshka in full view of the city of Arhat.

* * * * * * * * *

The Sunset Empires
the Far West (684 - 882 SR)

After the repulsing of the Kyumai, Tin Tan Tar and the Khatri were left to rule over the Fogbound Coast more or less uncontested, except, of course, by one another. But this subtle contest became the most critical of the age, for though the Kyumai still existed, they were relegated to the status of a fringe group, clustering in roving bands on the southern frontier of the growing empires, and remained essentially disunited; by the end of the period they would disappear as a functional entity entirely.

But despite this apparent triumph, none in the city of Tin Tan Tar were overly eager to celebrate. The Khatri Eshai had declared the city a protectorate of their growing polity, but no one was really sure what this meant, especially as the declaration had been entirely unilateral. In the end, the two coexisted for some time in an uneasy peace, with Tin Tan Tar expanding and dominating towards the east, building an empire of commerce and urban centers stretching from their capital to Houbai, while the Khatri focused on the west, and crafting an inland empire.

Things might have continued like this indefinitely, but it was becoming apparent to the Khatri that they, too, would be marginalized in the current arrangement, even if it would take some time. Tin Tan Tar simply owned the wealthier parts of the north, and the more valuable trade routes.

Taking an unconventional approach, the Vashalai of the Khatri made a secret offer to some of the more disenchanted elements in Tin Tan Tar society – the less content of the merchants and artisans. But he had not banked on the fact that Tin Tan Tar had something of an edge when it came to plots and secrecy, and he found himself outfoxed. Instead, the city's aristocracy turned the idea right back around, and organized an overthrow of the Vashalai, instead harnessing the apparatus of the steppe to act as their own vanguard for an expanding empire.

It was a coup that utterly shifted the balance of power in the northwest. Though the old urban centers of the Khatri were left intact, their bureaucratic and economic structures would be subsumed into the greater part of Tin Tan Tar, and they simply became one of a number of subject peoples in the growing empire.

Tin Tan Tar thus entered a rapid phase of expansion, overrunning Wetan, obliterating the armies of the Chamshi in a concerted southern campaign, and extending deep into the Steppe, ultimately forging one of the largest empires in the entire world, though it would be mostly empty.

At the same time, the Empire made great strides in the peacetime spheres. The university at Merat was complemented by a new university in Tin Tan Tar itself, and a healthy competition between the two encouraged an impressive outpouring of scientific and philosophical talent – unprecedented in the far northwest before now. Of particular note would be Kieng Huae Kieng, later to be known as the father of mathematics in the far west. He would quite simply write the books on combinatorics, probability, and cryptography, and his investigations into geometry and physics would not be surpassed for centuries.

Of course, this time could not last, either. A rebellion centered around the old Khatri heartland – by now a cluster of cities that harbored little love for the dominance of Tin Tan Tar – erupted to life. Rallying behind a new Vashalai, Tjimhir, they put the imperial army to flight, and brought the capital of the empire crashing down after a quick siege in 803 SR. Of course, the neo-Khatri could hardly rule without the consent of this keystone of the empire, and the Vashalai instituted a broadly oligarchic form of government, institutionalizing the acclamatory process that had made the old Eshai work.

The new state would barely get on its feet before a tremendous volcanic eruption at the very northern end of the western mountains literally shook it to its foundations, and threw enough ash into the atmosphere that the peasantry starved in a year without a summer. The unrest that followed meant the whole edifice could not be put back together until rather later on, finally regaining its balance in the late 870s SR – just in time for a new series of calamities to befall it.

The Breaking gave no warning.

It was a quiet morning in 882 SR when the ground gave way. In seconds, the very bedrock shook furiously, sundering stone from stone, toppling ten thousand buildings, and killing hundreds of thousands in minutes. The disaster wracked the entirety of the northwest, as ice dams broke by mountain lakes, triggering flooding to go along with half a hundred mudslides and avalanches, with the holiest of buildings toppling onto the ground, and finally collapsing into a pile of rubble and dust.

By the time things had settled again, Merat was in ruins; the University was particularly badly stricken.

No sooner had the rebuilding finished before yet another catastrophe struck – apparently the gods had not completely wrung their amusement from the poor northwest, as a massive eruption a hundred miles east of Tarakuy in the Reokhar Eshai split an entire mountain in two fiery halves. The detonation could be heard from hundreds of miles away, and the cloud of ash blotted out the sky for months afterward, spreading over the entirety of the known world, vastly depressing crop yields and causing famine as far away as Parthe.

But its most obvious effect – if not its most profound – was the final collapse of the Reokhar Eshai. The state had ruled over the central Sunset Coast for nearly four hundred years now, and its collapse left only confusion in its wake, as no one warlord had the power to unite the whole.

Life had gotten interesting.

* * * * * * * * *

The Three Norths
Central and Northern Athis (c. 800 - 910 SR)

Despite frequent outside intrusions – by the Zalkephic and Vellari states, most notably – Cyve and Gallat had the north of Athis almost to themselves for much of the era. Initially, both of them had enough trouble on their own that they scarcely interacted except for the occasional mutual support, and a great deal of trade, but the stabilization of the numerous orders of Gallat, and the High Wardship that would come to dominate the governance of Cyve, gave the two both the time and resources to contemplate their relative positions in the north.

Maninism had undergone considerable reform even before this period, expanding its definitions to include what were essentially Aelonists (though they tended to call her Alon instead), and bringing Taleldil (Talad) under their roof as well. More importantly, the Faith's approval of diverse and barely-regulated Orders had given it a strong evangelical impulse, and the diversity to win toeholds even in the most niche of markets.

This clashed strongly with what we have already seen of the Aelonists – a new and powerfully personal vision of Faith, one that appealed directly and frequently to the emotions of the common people, generating epiphanic visions and fanatical belief.

As a result, though neither Faith sanctioned war on the other – for they were in that curiously happy middle where the faiths were neither too close nor too far apart to engender hatred – a silent, shadow war began in the hearts of the whole north of the continent. Priests and missionaries ranged into the furthest reaches of the continent, seeking to enlighten the few flocks who had not yet heard the word of either strain (engendering an unintended side effect where isolated regions that might have barely seen civilization received many of the latest pieces of knowledge and technology). Meanwhile, the places that already had won most of their converts became battlegrounds as well, with all-out religious rioting setting more than one city afire.

In some states, like, as we shall see, Ereithaler, the solution would be religious tolerance. In others, a harder line was pursued.

But the greatest prizes of all would be won in the far east, where Parthe and Acajura stood out as states that had not converted to any of the world religions. Maninists poured into the Acajuren Republic in a number of expeditions, but they would ultimately antagonize the state. Many stubbornly remained in the camp of the traditional polytheistic faith, but with the traditional antagonism towards Aitahism fading with the disappearance of the Cult states on their frontier, some had begun to convert to Aelonism – an altogether friendlier faith than the Cult of the Goddess had ever been anyway.

Parthe, on the other hand, seemed to take little active interest in the faiths of those they bordered, especially as they had been more accustomed to exporting faith than anything else. But the Republican Revolution had done more than overthrow a government, as the flow of armies from the colonies into the mainland had brought with them the colonies' religious affiliations, which overwhelmingly tended to be Aelonist. The Maninists, comparatively, could bring little pressure to bear on the island.

Seemingly in danger of losing the east of the island entirely, the Maninists still scored a great success with the foundation of Berathca, a new bulwark of the Faith under a friendly monarchy between the two sides.

Across the center of the continent, the silent war barely touched the common people. The Cult of the Goddess declined in membership and prominence, and the Savirai had converted almost entirely back to the Maninist camp. More than just a religious conversion, it created a network of economic power in a web across an entire continent, allowing long distance trade, but more importantly financial stability and accessibility. The growth manifested itself in half a dozen different ways: the first real urban boom in the northeast, on the fringes of the Face of the Moon, the rebuilding of the old Nahari and Javani cities to the south, and the birth of hundreds of monasteries producing dozens of high-quality goods across the north of the desert.

And despite their differences, the High Wards of the two sides collaborated to turn back the disturbing influence of the Zalkephai, and trading links strengthened between the two people, as merchants rarely checked the religious affiliations of their cargo.

But by now, there was a third power in the north.

The rule of the court had passed in Ereithaler some time earlier, giving way to what would be termed, somewhat confusingly, the “commonarchy”. Local gatherings of peasantry (termed “teltalers”) had decentralized power further, taking it from the monarchs and even the nobility, but they had been suppressed eventually by these nobles, who had gathered and installed new regimes in their lands. New taxes and fees, coupled with regulations that straitjacketed the pseudo-corporations that had been rising, forced them back into line, and propped up the aristocratic regime. The end result had proved incredibly unstable, and it would only solidify with the arrival on the scene of one Lobard, a remarkable Maninsit priest who acquired a great deal of popular support before leading a palace coup in the mid-700s that would supplant the monarchy and replace it with what amounted to a cross between a republic and a technocracy.

The new commonarchs of Ereithaler would follow the precedent of their inaugural leader, Lobard himself, whose philosophy had formed over years of witnessing the religious riots across northern Ereitaler, as they promised to support the equal rights and respect of Maninists and Aelonists. All this served to defuse the religious tensions which had been brewing in the country. He also built on the notions of his predecessor Sabard, by establishing rule by the literate, funding several schools, mostly open to the wealthy, but allowing commoners to attend if they could somehow scrape up the cash, and all in all creating a state with elective procedures at all levels.

The increasing social mobility that resulted from this more democratic state might have infuriated the old nobility, and indeed they had more than a few things to say about it. The net result was that Lobard and his successors promised – sometimes explicitly – that they would be given new lands on the fringes of the state. This began a tradition of expansionism, one that had begun with the invasion and subjugation of what remained of Brunn, but that continued with campaigns against Seehlt and even Anhalter, leading to one of the largest states, and the closest thing to pan-Stettin unity that had ever been achieved.

Not surprisingly, Gallatene eyes turned quickly toward this new threat, and the tensions sparked several border wars in the early 800s SR, ending in near disaster for the Ereithaler when a particularly ambitious force of Sadorishi nearly captured the capital in 807 SR. Only some hasty diplomacy saved the growing empire, with several tax exemptions granted for the Maninist religious orders – and soon after, the Aelonists as well. But what might have triggered a slide towards decentralization and the declawing of secular powers like in Gallat was arrested by the teltalers, which overwhelmingly acted to keep most lands in the public, and therefore taxable sphere. The lack of a powerful nobility – and the rivalry between Aelonist and Maninist religious orders – ensured that the situation would be different than that in the Halyrate to the south.
 
Nevertheless, the reversal had swatted Ereithaler on its collective nose, and more importantly slowed its growth considerably. The Ethir kingdom to the east had collapsed somewhere in the meantime, but it reorganized while the larger state recovered, and a de facto alliance between the smaller kingdoms in the region prevented Ereithaler's eventual triumph – and the intrusion of the Maninist elements from the south.

The commonarchs instead focused on Ereithaler's economy, which absolutely boomed. As a relatively neutral party between the Aelonists and the Maninists – and even the Satar – their ports lay open to almost everyone who might stop by. Though Kurchen became almost a Parthecan enclave, the others would stay firmly under the control of the commonarchs, profiting immensely from wares as diverse as indigo, amber, and honey. Meanwhile, agricultural production soared, as the clearing of land across the north accelerated, and the export of furs and even some minor tin and lead mining became revenue-generators for the state as well.

By the end of the era, then, Ereithaler could hold its own quite effectively, even as the north became a rather more crowded place, between Parthe, the Halyrate, Cyve, and the Zalkephic revival.

* * * * * * * * *

The Western Cradle
Noaunnaha, Naran, the Trahana, and the Dulama (815 - 910 SR)

The successors of the Lions' Empire had splintered in a dozen different directions, but by the end of the age a few had scrabbled their way to the top of the pile.

The Nivarbarrie mercenaries, never too keen on pledging allegiance to one king or the other, had finally begun to carve out a state of their own. Based where Ther and Limach had once ruled, they followed principles, however garbled, of Exatas as they understood it. The greatest among their company would be the warlord leader of the growing Eshai, and his successor would be chosen by acclamation, sometimes preceded by ritual combat to weed out the weaker among them, though the Nivarbarrie valued a strategic mind rather more.

Casting the Gurgheli south of the mountains, the Eshai of the Nivarbarrie grew until it ran into the borders of old Naran, which had begun to revitalize itself under the rule of an innovative line of Onnarans. These, elected by the Míotáer, a council that proved to be a somewhat distorted mirror image of their southern neighbors, led the Narannue in battle against the Nivarbarrie more than a dozen times over the last few decades of the era, casting them back each time the southern armies tried to break into the Kingdom of the Pass.

Rather less militarily potent, but a growing presence nevertheless, the city of Hariha had begun an expansionist phase of its own, especially after the fall of the Reokhar in the early 900s SR. Though they lacked the manpower to put a major army in the field and reunite the Eshai, they had enough coin to hire a considerable one still, and they built a surprisingly large trade empire across the tip of the Sunset Coast, taking up the mantle of the old Noaunnahan explorers as they pressed as far north as Tin Tan Tar itself.

Though the general disunion of the Dulama lands continued long after the fall of the Vithanama, the mess certainly couldn't be described as stagnant. With dozens of little polities competing for positions of power, many warlords rose and fell within a single decade, or even a single year. Even those with the greatest tax bases – Aeda and Tiagho – never managed to harness these to recreate the old empire. Through the general chaos, though, a single trend became limpid.

Fleeing what had been the destruction of their homeland, or more properly the reworking of their homeland into something that was nigh-unrecognizable, several thousand Vischa mercenaries hired themselves out to the southern kingdoms in the hope of landing a cushier gig than they could back home. Most prominent among them was the clan of the Khoskai, obscured for decades under Telha rule, but still counting many among its rolls. Their arrival in the south would be the harbinger of a new era.

The Gurgheli chiefs had, by this point, been relegated to the extreme south of the Noaunnaha successors. Pushed around by the Nivarbarrie army until they had to scrape together a living on the fringes of the Thuaitl and the Thala, they immediately pledged themselves to the newly arrived Khoskai chiefs, the greatest of whom, Orhan, had ambitions far beyond simple mercenary service. Some had said that Orhan had tried to overthrow the Telha Exatai in the north before being driven out; one way or another, he was a military genius. His Khoskai performed admirably if unfaithfully for a number of the western states, but by the end of it he had decided to strike his own path, and laid siege to the city of Aeda himself, taking it and establishing a new empire.

Riding to and fro and battering his enemies into submission, Orhan was able to found a nascent empire that stretched from the Kossai to the Sunset Ocean by his death, and seemed the closest to dominating the old Dulama lands since the fall of the Vithanama. All that said, though, they obviously had quite a ways to go.

Their quiet prosperity contrasting strongly with the troubled obscurity of their neighbors, the Trahana seemed to have little inclination to change things. And why would they? The disgruntlement of the landed aristocracy and monastics aside, almost everyone in Trahana had found their lives improving in the last century.

But even as wealth reigned supreme, it did not remain entirely in the hands of the old rulers.

A curious new phenomenon among the merchants that had started out as a mere historical footnote, but rapidly threatened the income of the state itself, the idea of the Golden Ships was quite simple, in theory. The old nobility had been almost entirely shut out of the merchant sector and its attendant bounties, but they did not lack for capital in the absolute. Banding together by family, dozens of landowners pooled their wealth and purchased merchant marines, hiring lesser and ambitious captains to lead them, and suddenly became major players in the economic sector.

With their combined wealth allowing them to take tremendous risks, and absorb the hits from down times rather better than even their established peers, the Golden Ships quickly became a powerful element in the maritime sphere. But the confusing nature of their communal finances, and their penchant for shuffling funds around to the places in the Empire with the least stringent tax laws (as the nobility had dozens of locations to fall back on) made it difficult for the state to harness their revenues. A large scale reform movement, initiated by one of the latter Emperors of the age tried to reign in the worst excesses, but barely managed to stop it from becoming a runaway disaster.

All this left the Trahana too focused on their own affairs to intervene in or even influence the north, which continued at its own pace, essentially ignoring the great power of the west.

It also left them vulnerable.

Barely a decade after the enormous eruption near the Reokhar Eshai that had paralyzed the north, the great volcano of Toha spewed forth ash with a fury unequaled. The shockwave alone was said to have sunk ships a dozen miles away, and the column of smoke that rose into the atmosphere would make things rather difficult, and not merely for Toha, nor Tsutongmerang, nor the Trahana. The winds of the equatorial current pulled at the ash cloud and carried it around the world, spreading across its surface and blotting the sun from the sky.

These would be difficult times.

* * * * * * * * *

The State of the World
(910 SR; 799 RM)

I have been away a very long time, and the world has changed.

Where once stood a dozen empires proud, the Sunset Coast sees only one deserving of the title: Tin Tan Tar. But this is not the Tin Tan Tar of old; it is one ruled by many men, an oligarchy in fact, if not in name. Its ties to the old steppe nobility resonate to the present day, and the divide between coast and interior is one that runs deep. To its south, the Reokhar Eshai has fractured; the largest powers in the region are the Noaunnaha successors in Hariha and Noaunnaha itself, and the rather new and strange mountain state of Bo-tui-van.

The Vischa Exatai is absolutely immense, as are the Trahana, but the sheer size and internal divisions of the two prevent them from being the superpowers that they might have been in some other age. The land between them is split between a dozen different states, each more aggressive than the last; all hope to reclaim the mantle of the Dulama or the Vithanama, but very few have any real chance at doing so. Such is the hopeless folly of ambition.

In the far south, Gaarim and Tsutongmerang have been challenged by a third power, the rising empire of Shuhar. But Shuhar made many enemies in his conquests, not least of which were the Kothari – and while the Exatai has problems of its own, they may yet return someday. Nevertheless, the fulcrum of the south no longer runs solely through the island state – it has competitors.

The Satar have returned to power in Magha, and the great Ashelai Exatai has almost restored the glory of the old southern Redeemers. But it has numerous rivals – not least of which are the other Satar in the Tephran and Vellari Exatai, each of which have the strength to hold either of the other to a standstill. On the fringes of the Satar lurk their old enemies – the Carohans lost the Faronun but gained a vital ally in the Aghrali Roshate. This turned from friendship into union with the accession of a Mahidi Rosh – one who eventually led his country into a compact with the Carohans.

To their south, the Empire of Helsia might be one of the smaller of the great powers, but it punches far above its expected weight economically and even militarily. It is more than enough to fend off the Kothari if they come knocking, though lately the Kothari are so tied up in their own issues that they scarcely care about anyone outside their borders. The division between the Conclaves and the Grandpatriarch has reached a rather heated point, as the Exatai is split rather evenly between partisans of the two – obviously the Redeemer supports the former, but his writ does not run particularly deep anymore.

Athis is split between several great powers: the Carohans on the one end, the Parthecans on the other, and the Daharai, Halyrate, Ereithaler, and Cyve in between. Much more than a national contest, this is a land where the religious divisions are far more influential, and the religious leaders far more respected than their secular counterparts. Parthe and the Daharai have remained above the fray, perhaps, because of their relatively isolated position and strange native faiths, but many suspect that their time will come as well. And though the Third War of Prophecy failed, the Zalkephai do not appear to have given up on their dreams of a north united under their vision of Ardavan.

It is a new world we step into now; it is a world variegated and splendid. An age of prophets. An age of truths.

* * * * * * * * *​

The lapis waters shivered at the piles of the dock, sweeping from blue to gold as he looked to the horizon. The leaves had fallen from the trees, leaving only the proudest of the pines clothed, like the guard hairs of a coat that had just been shed. A bird called in the distance, and he recognized the sound as something from his childhood… but it was hard to place, exactly.

The cold wrapped Pharas head to foot, and he could barely feel his feet. The boat was supposed to have arrived by now, but the waters of the harbor lay almost completely still, just the barest ripple playing across their surface. It was enough to distort the sights around him -- for the reflection to give the impression of the opposite shore, yet not the image.

His knees wanted to buckle. It wasn’t the temperature; he’d grown up in Tantchi and Ventai, and even the other Oracles joked that his blood ran thick with ice. He’d stood here for hours, now, and the boat still hadn’t come, dodging around the sandbar at the mouth of the harbor as it had before.

Perhaps he should run.

But something stopped him. Maybe it was the urgency of his news -- the feeling that he had to let them know what was coming. Or maybe it was the utter lack of urgency in this place, the sacred feeling of stillness that pervaded the harbor at this time of year.

It was hard to imagine something bad happening here.

Time slipped by. He wanted to pace, but he forced himself into an inner calm. Instead, he lowered himself to the dock, sitting cross-legged. The sword on his back poked at the ground uncomfortably, so he unbuckled it and laid it out before him. The harbor lay open to him, now, empty and lovely, and as he peered across it he could make out the faintest sight of an otter diving almost without a splash into the water. He remembered the first time he’d seen one. It had been almost thirty years ago now.

More time.

After a long while, his hair raised all over. It was probably just the cold, but he could not help but look behind him. Nothing.

It was heading towards evening when he heard it -- the sound of boots on the dock. He turned at once, to see a pair of Oracles approaching behind him, their robes of white fluttering soft behind them, stirred only by their own walking.

“I had hoped to never find you here, Pharas,” the taller one said. “I did not want to believe it true.”

Pharas simply nodded.

“You know what must happen now,” the shorter one said.

“You know what you have done, and so do we.”

“There is only one reason a person would be waiting here, in this secret place.”

“To keep something secret.”

They looked to him for a reaction, but he gave none. So, the taller one continued after a pause:

“The Accans are not the only ones with spies.”

The sound of blades, slithering free from scabbards.

The flash of steel in the evening sun.

The cry of three men as they whirled about one another on the dock, their blades dancing faster than a thunderclap.

Silence.

The drip of blood, winding its way down the grain of the weathered wood, collecting into a fat crimson droplet before it fell.

The lapis waters shivered at the piles of the dock, sweeping from blue to gold as he looked to the horizon. The leaves had fallen from the trees, leaving only the proudest of the pines, and somewhere overhead, the last of the geese flitted away for winter.

The sunset looked especially beautiful.

It was getting colder.

* * * * * * * * *​

Maps:

Spoiler The World As it Stands, 901 SR :
Coming Soon!
Physical


Cities


Economic


Religious




Political


* * * * * * * * *​

OOC:

Well, that was quite a lot of stuff.

My intention with this update was to provide an accessible “new start” of sorts, so that new players can get acquainted with the world and go from there. Unfortunately, the length of the update (well over fifty pages in my word processor) might make it a little scary. Let me know if you have questions, or if you find any part confusing, or, most especially, if you'd like to join. There are quite a number of NPCs with outstanding potential. There will be a Glossary and Cast of Characters when I have a little more time, probably tomorrow -- that's also when you can expect the economic map.

No city map quite yet; I have to do a lot of work on that, and I'm going to solicit input from various parties.

There will be some significant rules changes soon; look for the elaboration in a later post.

Please note that updates, moving forward, will be much shorter (~35% as long, or less) and much more frequent (back to the once a month schedule).
 
Great update!

Gaaru's might is proved, and we shall wear the skins of our foes forevermore!
 
Reclaiming the Acajuren Republic which I so shamefully abandoned over the course of the ET, if that's alright with NK.
 
I'm speechless. The Seshweay didn't get enslaved during a BT!
 
:goodjob: wow that was an amazing Update read all of it and even those the Zairian loss the war was still epic.
 
An interesting update of the usual excellent quality.

-

EDIT: For the time being count me as the Grandpatriarchate, but I'm seriously contemplating playing as a temporal power and will likely switch to one once outstanding issues are in a sense resolved, that is if I don't ultimately decide to jump ship this turn.
 
What a work of art. Seriously, NK, I spent well over an hour reading it, and I can tell that you put many more into creating it. This is a magnificent update, and an excellent point from which we may continue the Thaeraen Saga!
 
We bid the fondest farewell to industrious Neruss, loyal Seshweay, bold Oscadia and stalwart Pekorova. Until truth should see us united again at the light of history's end, Hailsia shall strike its own path.

-Aedalari Aramsava
 
Great update NK!!! Though I do have a couple of pressing questions; does this mean I'm homeless now, and if so can I take Helsia?
 
That's a great update. The Kothari Exatai is purturbed by the fact that it seems to have made enemies of basically everyone, including half of its own population. Questions to NK and proposals of treaties to others coming in due course.

cicero: I got the impression that Iggy's post meant he was taking Helsia, and leaving the North to make its own way.
 
Yes, that's the impression I got. And while I want to run the o'Aya'se ta Caroha I'm more than willing to come to the same sort of arrangement with you m.t.cicero that I had with Iggy.

It is a fact of life that sisters will eventually have to depart from the house of their forebears and move out into the world. But it is also a fact that this parting is not a finality and that in due course, Goddess willing, all may follow the true path back to that place.
 
"This is yet a Daharai Republic, haoen, and I would not have you forget it."

"Of course, and I remember my lessons well, hadori. Let the Daharai bear the precepts, and let the Iendeosai cherish their good freedoms. But let them not forget that I am rich as a king, and my reach twice as long."

-Hierarch Seda Noliot and Arasos Anthon-Solien on his accession to the mantle, 792 CA
 
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