rabidveggie
King
- Joined
- Apr 4, 2007
- Messages
- 697
Hmm... Still no update. Please post in the near future Sisiutill cause I think my sanity is beggining to ebb and I might do something crazy. 
Princes of the Universe, Part I
- Thread starter Sisiutil
- Start date
- Status
Sisiutil
All Leader Challenger
If you try to burn down my house, you'll have a lot of angry people after you (I live in a condo).
Update comin' up this weekend. Ditto for the ALC.
Update comin' up this weekend. Ditto for the ALC.
carl corey
Deity
Yey!
And some people saw Fight Club too many times.
And some people saw Fight Club too many times.
Sisiutil
All Leader Challenger
Chapter Twelve: The Merchant
Part 2: A Passage to Mongolia
A few weeks later, Hanno stood upon the deck of the Mercury, the lead caravel in his trade mission’s convoy. He took a deep breath, and the clean, salty air of the great western ocean—the Mare Occasus—filled his nostrils. He was quite proud of the fact that it had only taken him a couple of days to get his “sea legs”.
That was not true, unfortunately, of everyone in his party.
Hanno turned when he heard light but unsteady footfalls behind him upon the wooden deck boards. A small, delicate figure joined him at the railing, weaving unsteadily as the ship rocked in the waves.
“How did you talk me into this again?” Yukio said tiredly.
Her raven-black hair was pulled back into a severe bun to keep it out of her face. Her skin, which was normally the colour of pale gold, had taken on a greenish hue. Her dark, narrow eyes were sunken and tired, having rapidly lost their usual liveliness within the first few hours at sea.
Hanno gently placed his arm around her slender shoulders and laughed softly. “I believe it started when I asked you to marry me,” he said.
“Maybe I should have listened to my father,” his wife said grumpily. “And married a nice Japanese boy.”
“And miss all this?” Hanno said, waving at the broad expanse of empty ocean before them.
“A whole bunch of water?” Yukio remarked, glancing contemptuously at the source of her torment.
“Exactly,” Hanno countered, “that’s all it is, which is why you shouldn’t let it bother you,” he said with a chuckle and an affectionate squeeze of his wife’s shoulders.
The small, delicate Japanese woman looked up at him and smiled. Even though she’d been suffering from sea-sickness ever since they left Rome several weeks before, she still looked radiantly beautiful to Hanno—never more so than when she smiled.
“You always make me feel better,” she said, beaming at him. “Is there anything that dampens your enthusiasm?”
“Just one thing,” Hanno replied, his handsome features growing quite serious. “The thought of losing you,” he said quietly.
“That will never happen,” his wife replied, turning her face towards his.
They kissed just as the ship hit a rogue wave. They broke their kiss and both had to grasp the railing to keep on their feet. Yukio’s complexion turned a shade greener than it had been a moment before.
“Oh, Ecastor,” she muttered. “I think I’m going to…”
“Use the head?” Hanno said, not unsympathetically. “There’s one over there…” he added, pointing, but his wife was already running in that direction.
Part 2: A Passage to Mongolia
A few weeks later, Hanno stood upon the deck of the Mercury, the lead caravel in his trade mission’s convoy. He took a deep breath, and the clean, salty air of the great western ocean—the Mare Occasus—filled his nostrils. He was quite proud of the fact that it had only taken him a couple of days to get his “sea legs”.
That was not true, unfortunately, of everyone in his party.
Hanno turned when he heard light but unsteady footfalls behind him upon the wooden deck boards. A small, delicate figure joined him at the railing, weaving unsteadily as the ship rocked in the waves.
“How did you talk me into this again?” Yukio said tiredly.
Her raven-black hair was pulled back into a severe bun to keep it out of her face. Her skin, which was normally the colour of pale gold, had taken on a greenish hue. Her dark, narrow eyes were sunken and tired, having rapidly lost their usual liveliness within the first few hours at sea.
Hanno gently placed his arm around her slender shoulders and laughed softly. “I believe it started when I asked you to marry me,” he said.
“Maybe I should have listened to my father,” his wife said grumpily. “And married a nice Japanese boy.”
“And miss all this?” Hanno said, waving at the broad expanse of empty ocean before them.
“A whole bunch of water?” Yukio remarked, glancing contemptuously at the source of her torment.
“Exactly,” Hanno countered, “that’s all it is, which is why you shouldn’t let it bother you,” he said with a chuckle and an affectionate squeeze of his wife’s shoulders.
The small, delicate Japanese woman looked up at him and smiled. Even though she’d been suffering from sea-sickness ever since they left Rome several weeks before, she still looked radiantly beautiful to Hanno—never more so than when she smiled.
“You always make me feel better,” she said, beaming at him. “Is there anything that dampens your enthusiasm?”
“Just one thing,” Hanno replied, his handsome features growing quite serious. “The thought of losing you,” he said quietly.
“That will never happen,” his wife replied, turning her face towards his.
They kissed just as the ship hit a rogue wave. They broke their kiss and both had to grasp the railing to keep on their feet. Yukio’s complexion turned a shade greener than it had been a moment before.
“Oh, Ecastor,” she muttered. “I think I’m going to…”
“Use the head?” Hanno said, not unsympathetically. “There’s one over there…” he added, pointing, but his wife was already running in that direction.
Ultimate_Waffle
The soul devourer.
Nevermind >_>.
Sisiutil
All Leader Challenger
“Do you think he’ll be anything like Caesar?” Yukio asked her husband in a hushed tone.
“I suspect we’re about to find out,” her husband replied as a somewhat portly Mongolian court official in a flowing, saffron-coloured robe approached them.
They were seated in the reception hall in the palace in Karakorum, along with a few other members of their trade mission. Hanno had intended to ask for an audience with Genghis Khan, but the Mongolian leader had beaten him to the punch. On the morning after their arrival in Mycean on the Cape of Mongolia, a royal summons had arrived, couched in carefully respectful language, but making it clear that the merchant and his caravan were to report to Mongolia’s immortal leader at once. They had made the journey across the country in a few short weeks, their many fully-loaded camels escorted by a cohort of Keshiks.
“They seem a little old-fashioned, don’t they?” Yukio had remarked. “I mean, they’re not even wearing armour, not like our knights, anyway.”
“Our legionaries are a little old-fashioned too,” Hanno had responded. “But they’re still formidable, as are these horsemen, I suspect.”
The Mongolian capital was a large, bustling city—not as glorious as Rome, nor many other Roman cities such as Antium, Ostia, or Ravenna, with their many wonders, but a grand city nonetheless. Hanno and his party had little time to appreciate Karakorum, however, as they were whisked to the palace immediately upon their arrival.
“They seem to have a lot more men at arms,” Yukio had remarked at the many soldiers of horse and foot in the city. “I mean, compared to home.”
“This continent is not so fortunate as to be enjoying a Pax Romana,” Hanno had reminded her.
“But I thought Mongolia and Greece were allies?” she’d responded.
“Today they are,” Hanno had said cautiously.
And now the saffron-robed official was escorting them to meet the immortal leader of Mongolia, Genghis Khan himself. They were led into a surprisingly small room, with simple furniture, for such a formidable leader. Hanno reminded himself that Khan prided himself upon riding with his Keshiks into battle; he apparently had the simple tastes of a horse-borne warrior who was used to travelling lightly.
Khan was seated behind a simple wooden desk of dark mahogany, his attention focused on some papers before him. He wore no crown or diadem to mark his exalted station, though a bowl-like hat with a narrow pointed cone at its top and fur around its brim sat on the desk before him. He was thin and wiry, with long, drooping moustaches and jet black hair. His skin was golden and his eyes dark and narrow; Yukio could have easily mistaken him for one of her own countrymen. But there was something hard-set about his features—about the intensity of his eyes, the firm set of his mouth—that most modern Japanese did not share, though she imagined Tokugawa had possessed. She wondered, for a moment, what those two immortals would have made of one another.
<Yes?> Khan said in Mongolian, looking up from his papers as he tossed them onto the desk before him. <Who are you again?> he asked impatiently, frowning at Hanno.
<I am Hanno, of Rome, sire,> the merchant said in immaculate Mongolian. <I have come to Mongolia…>
“Yes, yes, now I remember,” Khan said, switching to Latin, which he spoke perfectly, though with a heavy accent. He waved Hanno and Yukio to a pair of chairs in front of his desk. The other members of the trade mission remained standing.
As Yukio sat down, she suddenly became aware that the Mongolian leader was studying her intently.
“You look Mongolian,” he said bluntly. He cast a challenging look at Hanno, as if to accuse him of stealing his country’s women.
“I am Japanese,” Yukio said.
Khan thought about this for a moment and then nodded. “One of the peoples conquered by Caesar,” he remarked, and every Roman in the room could hear the jealously in the man’s voice.
“That was centuries ago,” Hanno said with a conciliatory smile at his pretty wife and an affectionate pat of her hand. “We are all Roman citizens now. And we come to the great Mongolian Empire bearing the very best goods that Rome has to offer, my liege—the finest furs from the plains near Brundisium; sweet sugar cane from Barcelona, fragrant spices from the forests near Rome itself, and, of course, fine wines from Capua—the very best vintages from the very best wineries! In fact, in the interests of ensuring that Roman-Mongolian relations remain cordial, Caesar himself directed me to give you this case of Merlot from the Maximillian vineyard, vintage 1487.”
Hanno signalled over his shoulder effusively, and two men of his party brought forward the wooden case and the dozen bottles of wine it held. They set it upon the top of Khan’s mahogany desk.
“An entire case,” Khan muttered, obviously less than impressed. “How generous.”
“Oh, I assure you, it is!” Hanno assured him enthusiastically. “This vintage is renowned for its quality; it has only grown better with the passage of time and is now extremely rare. This case would cost what ten average Roman citizens earn in one year!”
Khan cocked an eyebrow, then snorted derisively. “Grog is grog,” he said, “and luxuries are for the soft.”
Hanno smiled. He was in his element, utilizing his sales skills upon a reluctant customer. “Wisely spoken,” he said, nodding sagely. “And who in this world is softer than a beautiful woman?” he said, stealing a sly glance at his wife.
“And who appreciates luxuries more? Rest assured, your highness, the men of your court could woo the most beautiful women of the land to their heart’s content!”
Khan glanced at him for a moment, then grinned and snorted a laugh. “You could probably sell stink to a skunk, couldn’t you?”
Hanno threw his head back and laughed. “Well struck! Though in truth, It’s not the first time I have heard such a remark. But let us cut to the chase: you are a busy man, and I do not want to waste any more of your valuable time than I need to. If our selection of fine Roman goods don’t interest you, then we should be on our way…”
Hanno began to push his chair back, but Khan gestured for him to stay. The Mongolian leader glanced back over his shoulder and nodded; one of his advisors—the same saffron-robed man who had ushered Hanno and his party into the office—stepped forward. The man held an abacus.
“Do you have a manifest?” Khan asked Hanno.
“Of course, your highness,” the merchant said, and produced a paper scroll from inside his robe, which he handed to the robed advisor.
The man unfurled the scroll and read its contents, his eyebrows rising higher upon his forehead with each line he read until Hanno thought the man’s brows would disappear behind his head by the end of it. He then set the scroll down and worked at his abacus for several minutes, the click-click of the wooden beads the only sound in the room. He then leaned forward and whispered into Khan’s ear, then stepped back away from his leader.
“One thousand nine hundred fifty talents of gold,” Khan said, his face and voice unreadable.
“A generous sum,” Hanno said, stunned at the offer, which was greater than he’d dared hope. Yet the readiness of the offer made him wonder, naturally, if he could do better. And, of course, he had his orders from Caesar to see if he could… “explore” Greece.
When Hanno said nothing, Khan frowned. “Not a talent more,” he said. “I dislike haggling.”
“As do I,” Hanno said, though it was a lie. “It’s just that I have very clear instructions from Caesar to ensure that I am getting the best price possible.”
Khan glowered at him; when he spoke, his tone was menacing. “If you are implying that I am trying to cheat you…”
“No, no, no!” Hanno responded emphatically, raising both hands. “Forgive me, sire, I did not explain myself adequately. I am under strict instructions to bring Rome’s wares to each of the civilizations on this continent, and sell to the highest bidder.”
Hanno had to suffer Khan’s piercing glare a moment longer. Then the Mongolian did something completely unexpected: he suddenly tossed his head back and laughed.
“You think you’ll get more gold from that posturing fool, Alexander? Or from that English whore?” he asked rhetorically, his lips curling into a contemptuous sneer as he spoke the names of each of his rivals. “Rome doesn’t even have an open borders agreement with Greece! How do you intend to get to Athens or London from here, eh?”
In response, Hanno simply held his hands palm-up and shrugged his shoulders. “What can I do, your majesty? As I said, my instructions were received directly from Caesar, and they were very specific.”
Khan’s mirth vanished and he glared at the merchant for several moments in silence. Then a thin, cruel smile appeared on his lips.
“I could simply take from you everything that I want,” he said quietly. His dark eyes then glanced at Yukio, and he gave the young woman an intense once-over that made her shift uncomfortably in her chair.
Hanno, a veteran of many heated negotiations, ignored the sickening feeling in his stomach that the threatening words and lewd glare at his wife had caused. In his experience, potential customers often reached a point where they believed that they had the merchant over a barrel—that he had no choice but to sell to the buyer at his asking price or be ruined. At that point, Hanno knew, the seller had to remind the buyer that he was not, as the saying went, the only game in town. He knew that point had arrived with this particular customer—for immortal or not, powerful or not, that is how Hanno regarded him. And Hanno also knew exactly how to put his foot down.
“I am a citizen of Rome,” he said, calmly, quietly, and without rancour.
Khan glared at him in silence for several moments. Yukio would later claim that she could hear his teeth gnashing.
With those six simple words, Hanno declared that he would not be bullied. With those six simple words, he had reminded this powerful, immortal leader of his civilization’s place in the world. Molest me, those six simple words implied, and you will be explaining yourself to a Roman legion inside of a month. Rome has conquered an entire continent. If you want us to conquer yours, make your move.
Khan knew all of this, knew it all too well. Which is why a moment later, he forced himself to smile and chuckle.
“You must excuse the Mongolian sense of humour,” he said. “I’m sure it seems strange to you. I hope my little joke did not offend?”
Hanno smiled. “Of course not, your majesty,” he said. Inwardly, however, he was fuming. You slimy, arrogant bastard, Hanno thought, that was no joke. One day, Caesar is going to put your severed head on a pike. I may not be around to see it, but I’ll give him whatever information I can to help it happen.
Khan waved at him dismissively. “Very well, go north to Greece. I wish you luck getting across the border. I’ll be seeing you again, Hanno—sooner than you think.”
“It would be my pleasure, your highness!” Hanno said obsequiously as he rose to go, something which he soon found he could not accomplish quickly enough for his satisfaction.
“I suspect we’re about to find out,” her husband replied as a somewhat portly Mongolian court official in a flowing, saffron-coloured robe approached them.
They were seated in the reception hall in the palace in Karakorum, along with a few other members of their trade mission. Hanno had intended to ask for an audience with Genghis Khan, but the Mongolian leader had beaten him to the punch. On the morning after their arrival in Mycean on the Cape of Mongolia, a royal summons had arrived, couched in carefully respectful language, but making it clear that the merchant and his caravan were to report to Mongolia’s immortal leader at once. They had made the journey across the country in a few short weeks, their many fully-loaded camels escorted by a cohort of Keshiks.
“They seem a little old-fashioned, don’t they?” Yukio had remarked. “I mean, they’re not even wearing armour, not like our knights, anyway.”
“Our legionaries are a little old-fashioned too,” Hanno had responded. “But they’re still formidable, as are these horsemen, I suspect.”
The Mongolian capital was a large, bustling city—not as glorious as Rome, nor many other Roman cities such as Antium, Ostia, or Ravenna, with their many wonders, but a grand city nonetheless. Hanno and his party had little time to appreciate Karakorum, however, as they were whisked to the palace immediately upon their arrival.
“They seem to have a lot more men at arms,” Yukio had remarked at the many soldiers of horse and foot in the city. “I mean, compared to home.”
“This continent is not so fortunate as to be enjoying a Pax Romana,” Hanno had reminded her.
“But I thought Mongolia and Greece were allies?” she’d responded.
“Today they are,” Hanno had said cautiously.
And now the saffron-robed official was escorting them to meet the immortal leader of Mongolia, Genghis Khan himself. They were led into a surprisingly small room, with simple furniture, for such a formidable leader. Hanno reminded himself that Khan prided himself upon riding with his Keshiks into battle; he apparently had the simple tastes of a horse-borne warrior who was used to travelling lightly.
Khan was seated behind a simple wooden desk of dark mahogany, his attention focused on some papers before him. He wore no crown or diadem to mark his exalted station, though a bowl-like hat with a narrow pointed cone at its top and fur around its brim sat on the desk before him. He was thin and wiry, with long, drooping moustaches and jet black hair. His skin was golden and his eyes dark and narrow; Yukio could have easily mistaken him for one of her own countrymen. But there was something hard-set about his features—about the intensity of his eyes, the firm set of his mouth—that most modern Japanese did not share, though she imagined Tokugawa had possessed. She wondered, for a moment, what those two immortals would have made of one another.
<Yes?> Khan said in Mongolian, looking up from his papers as he tossed them onto the desk before him. <Who are you again?> he asked impatiently, frowning at Hanno.
<I am Hanno, of Rome, sire,> the merchant said in immaculate Mongolian. <I have come to Mongolia…>
“Yes, yes, now I remember,” Khan said, switching to Latin, which he spoke perfectly, though with a heavy accent. He waved Hanno and Yukio to a pair of chairs in front of his desk. The other members of the trade mission remained standing.
As Yukio sat down, she suddenly became aware that the Mongolian leader was studying her intently.
“You look Mongolian,” he said bluntly. He cast a challenging look at Hanno, as if to accuse him of stealing his country’s women.
“I am Japanese,” Yukio said.
Khan thought about this for a moment and then nodded. “One of the peoples conquered by Caesar,” he remarked, and every Roman in the room could hear the jealously in the man’s voice.
“That was centuries ago,” Hanno said with a conciliatory smile at his pretty wife and an affectionate pat of her hand. “We are all Roman citizens now. And we come to the great Mongolian Empire bearing the very best goods that Rome has to offer, my liege—the finest furs from the plains near Brundisium; sweet sugar cane from Barcelona, fragrant spices from the forests near Rome itself, and, of course, fine wines from Capua—the very best vintages from the very best wineries! In fact, in the interests of ensuring that Roman-Mongolian relations remain cordial, Caesar himself directed me to give you this case of Merlot from the Maximillian vineyard, vintage 1487.”
Hanno signalled over his shoulder effusively, and two men of his party brought forward the wooden case and the dozen bottles of wine it held. They set it upon the top of Khan’s mahogany desk.
“An entire case,” Khan muttered, obviously less than impressed. “How generous.”
“Oh, I assure you, it is!” Hanno assured him enthusiastically. “This vintage is renowned for its quality; it has only grown better with the passage of time and is now extremely rare. This case would cost what ten average Roman citizens earn in one year!”
Khan cocked an eyebrow, then snorted derisively. “Grog is grog,” he said, “and luxuries are for the soft.”
Hanno smiled. He was in his element, utilizing his sales skills upon a reluctant customer. “Wisely spoken,” he said, nodding sagely. “And who in this world is softer than a beautiful woman?” he said, stealing a sly glance at his wife.
“And who appreciates luxuries more? Rest assured, your highness, the men of your court could woo the most beautiful women of the land to their heart’s content!”
Khan glanced at him for a moment, then grinned and snorted a laugh. “You could probably sell stink to a skunk, couldn’t you?”
Hanno threw his head back and laughed. “Well struck! Though in truth, It’s not the first time I have heard such a remark. But let us cut to the chase: you are a busy man, and I do not want to waste any more of your valuable time than I need to. If our selection of fine Roman goods don’t interest you, then we should be on our way…”
Hanno began to push his chair back, but Khan gestured for him to stay. The Mongolian leader glanced back over his shoulder and nodded; one of his advisors—the same saffron-robed man who had ushered Hanno and his party into the office—stepped forward. The man held an abacus.
“Do you have a manifest?” Khan asked Hanno.
“Of course, your highness,” the merchant said, and produced a paper scroll from inside his robe, which he handed to the robed advisor.
The man unfurled the scroll and read its contents, his eyebrows rising higher upon his forehead with each line he read until Hanno thought the man’s brows would disappear behind his head by the end of it. He then set the scroll down and worked at his abacus for several minutes, the click-click of the wooden beads the only sound in the room. He then leaned forward and whispered into Khan’s ear, then stepped back away from his leader.
“One thousand nine hundred fifty talents of gold,” Khan said, his face and voice unreadable.
“A generous sum,” Hanno said, stunned at the offer, which was greater than he’d dared hope. Yet the readiness of the offer made him wonder, naturally, if he could do better. And, of course, he had his orders from Caesar to see if he could… “explore” Greece.
When Hanno said nothing, Khan frowned. “Not a talent more,” he said. “I dislike haggling.”
“As do I,” Hanno said, though it was a lie. “It’s just that I have very clear instructions from Caesar to ensure that I am getting the best price possible.”
Khan glowered at him; when he spoke, his tone was menacing. “If you are implying that I am trying to cheat you…”
“No, no, no!” Hanno responded emphatically, raising both hands. “Forgive me, sire, I did not explain myself adequately. I am under strict instructions to bring Rome’s wares to each of the civilizations on this continent, and sell to the highest bidder.”
Hanno had to suffer Khan’s piercing glare a moment longer. Then the Mongolian did something completely unexpected: he suddenly tossed his head back and laughed.
“You think you’ll get more gold from that posturing fool, Alexander? Or from that English whore?” he asked rhetorically, his lips curling into a contemptuous sneer as he spoke the names of each of his rivals. “Rome doesn’t even have an open borders agreement with Greece! How do you intend to get to Athens or London from here, eh?”
In response, Hanno simply held his hands palm-up and shrugged his shoulders. “What can I do, your majesty? As I said, my instructions were received directly from Caesar, and they were very specific.”
Khan’s mirth vanished and he glared at the merchant for several moments in silence. Then a thin, cruel smile appeared on his lips.
“I could simply take from you everything that I want,” he said quietly. His dark eyes then glanced at Yukio, and he gave the young woman an intense once-over that made her shift uncomfortably in her chair.
Hanno, a veteran of many heated negotiations, ignored the sickening feeling in his stomach that the threatening words and lewd glare at his wife had caused. In his experience, potential customers often reached a point where they believed that they had the merchant over a barrel—that he had no choice but to sell to the buyer at his asking price or be ruined. At that point, Hanno knew, the seller had to remind the buyer that he was not, as the saying went, the only game in town. He knew that point had arrived with this particular customer—for immortal or not, powerful or not, that is how Hanno regarded him. And Hanno also knew exactly how to put his foot down.
“I am a citizen of Rome,” he said, calmly, quietly, and without rancour.
Khan glared at him in silence for several moments. Yukio would later claim that she could hear his teeth gnashing.
With those six simple words, Hanno declared that he would not be bullied. With those six simple words, he had reminded this powerful, immortal leader of his civilization’s place in the world. Molest me, those six simple words implied, and you will be explaining yourself to a Roman legion inside of a month. Rome has conquered an entire continent. If you want us to conquer yours, make your move.
Khan knew all of this, knew it all too well. Which is why a moment later, he forced himself to smile and chuckle.
“You must excuse the Mongolian sense of humour,” he said. “I’m sure it seems strange to you. I hope my little joke did not offend?”
Hanno smiled. “Of course not, your majesty,” he said. Inwardly, however, he was fuming. You slimy, arrogant bastard, Hanno thought, that was no joke. One day, Caesar is going to put your severed head on a pike. I may not be around to see it, but I’ll give him whatever information I can to help it happen.
Khan waved at him dismissively. “Very well, go north to Greece. I wish you luck getting across the border. I’ll be seeing you again, Hanno—sooner than you think.”
“It would be my pleasure, your highness!” Hanno said obsequiously as he rose to go, something which he soon found he could not accomplish quickly enough for his satisfaction.
kirbystarfan
Chieftain
- Joined
- Feb 15, 2007
- Messages
- 68
Yay! An update!
I can't wait until the next one! 
I can't wait until the next one!
rabidveggie
King
- Joined
- Apr 4, 2007
- Messages
- 697
I'm gonna go out on a limb and say Yukia is gonna die. Great update by the way.
Sisiutil
All Leader Challenger
What, you guys think I'm Shakespeare or something?
Sisiutil
All Leader Challenger
Hmm, right, like the old saying that if there's a gun mounted above the mantle in Act I, it has to be used by Act III. Well, you'll just have to wait and see, won't you?
Clovis
Charlemagne's Grandfather
Hanno is obviously going to die, no GM lives to trade another day.
Jack L'Eagle
Chieftain
Thank you, sisutil, you've made my day (again!)
Jack
Jack
biggamer132
King
I have a feeling that the Fourteenth just bought a ticket to Karakorum.
ConanKND
Warlord
Heck, say this and Sisiutil will obviously change the plot from 'and he died soon after in a suspicious event outside Athens' or something to 'And he lived happily ever after'.... lol
But wait, I don't think you need open borders for Great Merchants. Can someone check this?
Nice installment by the way.
Last question, so this story's gonna be updated every week or so? So I guess that it'll end around autumn. That's a long way to go, and it's just Princes of the Universe Part I.
Really last question, can you give a spoiler plot about the next story?
- Inquisitive Reader and/or Lurker
rabidveggie
King
- Joined
- Apr 4, 2007
- Messages
- 697
Why would you mention that Hanno's only fear is to lose Yukia and then have her live on? Either that or he'll throw himself in front of her and die in her stead thus it would fit the story with the loss of a merchant when you price gauge.
- Status
