North King
blech
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- Jan 2, 2004
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End of Empires - Update Nine
Many Ends
c. Fifty years.
150 - 202 SR by the Seshweay Calendar
49 - 101 RM by the Satar Calendar
Many Ends
c. Fifty years.
150 - 202 SR by the Seshweay Calendar
49 - 101 RM by the Satar Calendar
His name was Haiao. He came from the river valley to the south, a slave in the fields there; he had labored many long years under the broiling sun. But that was his other life, long ago, a distant time that he would really rather not think about. Haiao was now fully Faron, and his face was all the merrier for his long years of torment and toil; the sun was shining through the crags and lines of long work. For he was finally free, free to go as he pleased and do as he willed. Free to toil under the sun and keep the fruits of his labor, or to buy something for himself. His life was his, his very own, and the other life was only a distant nightmare that returned sometimes to haunt his dreams.
But his dreams were haunted still, even now, years after he had stolen away in the night towards that rumored Faron army, years after he had first heard the words, “We flee into the night like thieves; the stars watch in silent urging; we follow the river of stars north, and we will be free.” Years after he had silently repeated the words, “Though slavers are dogs, their noses aren’t half so keen,” to comfort himself as the sounds of his pursuers drew near. Years after his old life ended.
And so it was that when Haiao, son of the River of Stars, like so many others who had followed it north, heard the king’s men coming through Subal to ask for volunteers to fight against the Hu’ut, he went. He bade farewell to his new wife and their children, and began his third life, so that the first might not give him nightmares anymore. Thus did he return to his place of birth, though as he looked on the river this time, it was as a free man, and in the masses of an army.
He had been one of the many who had handed Hu’ut their defeat at Tynet, watching pitilessly as the nobles fled the wrath of the slave into the river and drowned there, their chariots no more serving as ships than their bodies served as rafts. He had struck the chains off of a hundred men himself, and told them the way to freedom: follow the roads northward, away from the sun by day, and under the River by night. They would become its children too.
And now his army melded into another and another and another, and the entire Faron war engine was focused at the delta. More men than could be counted littered the riverside, guarding, working, and above all building. For Hiuttu was on an island, behind high walls, and they could not assault it with ships – they had to build new engines of war. So they did, with the Seshweay, newly fled out of the west, giving them direction and lending them a hand.
And they crossed the river on ships in the night, under the River and the stars and planets, sailing on the Faron war fleet, bearing engines of malice. In the morning they had attacked, and the walls had held, but still they attacked through the evening and into the night. And thus it was that Haiao, son of two Rivers, crouched under the walls in the night and prayed that no man might spy him.
But his comrades attacked with a great shout, and flaming arrows blazed from the towers as strange engines hurled massive stones into the city, and the Hu’ut were distracted. So he began to hammer, as quietly as he could, and then helped the others in his team. Then they brought the sapping tunnel itself, and now it was impossible to be missed; the archers from the wall could not possibly ignore the massive white thing that moved through the night. They fired volley after volley: he felt the thrum of arrows as they punched into the top of the tunnel. It held fast, and the fires guttered out, for they had stretched the hides of fresh cattle over it, and they laid it against the wall and took up their picks.
Into the dawn they worked, tunneling under the wall as the assault continued. The enemy dropped stones and hurled darts at their tunnel, but none could puncture the roof, and slowly they ate at the ground and began to make an earthen tunnel to match the hide. They were surprised by the rays of the sun as it began to set, casting a last glance at their work as another day dimmed, but they continued grimly, and somewhere near the middle night, they heard a strange noise: the sound of the wall slowly giving way.
Though nervousness almost paralyzed them, they worked at the foundations of the wall, and suddenly it began to give way, with the fill pouring out, and they barely got out in time as the casing collapsed after it; they ran from the breach even as the enemy roared with anger to join their fellows in the main siege line. Haiao grabbed his own spear and then was off again, into the night to bring death to the city of slavers.
And the city fell into flames as the army struck off the chains of the human mass that lingered there, and the Emperor Ulabulan, grandchild of the Gepo that had started these wars, was pushed into the sea and drowned. And Hu’ut was free, as Haiao had gone free, and though much shrunken and shorn of its valuable territories, whatever nation the Faron might set up there would now have no slavers or enslaved.
Haiao, child of two Rivers and the War, finally returned home to his family. His children had grown much in the years he had left them for, but they said they had often dreamed of him, fighting in that far-off land, and wondered when he would return home. He embraced them, and told them he had finally done it, the land of the south was free; they did not understand, but he hadn’t expected them to.
The land of the Faron was not what they had expected it to be, though. There were many freedmen and little demand for their work; the nation had been the destination for refugees from every corner of the world. So perhaps it was inevitable that Haiao joined the outgoing tide, the ships that left, bearing former slaves and Seshweay and Hamakuans to the east, to settle new lands under the gaze of the sunrise.
So began Haiao’s fourth life...
The blow that had been dealt to the Seshweay seemed irreparable. Their land had fallen, their navy was lying in pieces, and their gold supply was cut off. Only a general in a hostile land still had forces of any note, facing far larger armies. But it was not completely hopeless. If strong actions had been taken, perhaps the nation would have been able to resurface.
But Aya’se was a general, not a statesman. Matah was an inspirational figure, but no monarch. Neither of them could provide the drive or charisma to hold the shattered Union together, and lesser men did not step up to the challenge. The forces of the Seshweay meandered, leaderless. Many of the soldiers in the armies began to desert, realizing that not only was the pay dwindling, but so were the supply lines of food.
Aya’se saw the cause was hopeless, and fled into the east. He was not alone: Matah, too, disappeared, slipping through the ineffectual Trilui blockade and perhaps ending up in Faron, carrying with them the Last Scion of the Ancestors, a holy child that had to be hidden far from war and strife that had befallen the west, to nurse the hopes of millions of ancestor worshipers everywhere...
Yet this was not the end of the Union’s story. Many garrisons remained, and the campaign to end them was long and grueling. Cyre was first to fall, of course, to an amphibious operation by the superior Trilui fleets. Jania was the obvious next target, but then the Parda Hills slowed the advance considerably. It was in this atmosphere that the Neruss were able to regain their independence as a minor city-state again, in exchange for handing over the gold mines to the Trilui without much of a fight. They also saw the loss of Gyza, which became an independent state in the chaos.
Meanwhile, in the north, the Union of Aya’se faced yet more attacks. Gallat launched a major seaborne invasion, and though it encountered several storms and had a few other mishaps along the way, it was able to secure the nearby Seshweay colony easily, and in a much more daring move, took and burned down the capital of the Union, slaughtering what remained of the Senators and the elite.
Leaderless and flailing, the Union was no match for a force of Accans that came storming out of the northwest, who quickly integrated the region into their own growing empire; they castrated the surviving bureaucrats and formed a significant eunuch administration force.
The last of the Seshweay were now either under the control of the Satar or fleeing. Some made their way north; some even made their way far, far to the east, into Nahar, which had graciously provided ships for just such an occasion. But by far the majority fled into Faron, which had always been the great refuge of scholars, musicians, and artists alike.
And so at last what had been perhaps the greatest civilization of the ancient era was finally ended by the wrath of a northern warlord.
They were a people who had ranged far and wide across the cradle. Driven by paranoia and hatred, they had stood utterly opposed to every other nation in the world for their early centuries. Even as they fought the Arkage to a vicious standstill, they were stabbed in the back by a massive horde of Satarai from the steppe. And yet, despite a complete lack of allies and a host of enemies, the Seshweay had prospered, finally uniting their river valley under their dominance and creating the greatest empire the world had seen under the conqueror Te’esh.
But all things decay and die, and so the Empire grew old. The realm hadn’t lacked for soldiers or money; instead it perished because no one bothered to hold it together. The empire of the conqueror fell into ruins, and splintered. The Arkage resurfaced, and it took much time before the Seshweay finally reconquered the river valley and made a new Republic. A new golden era began, and the Seshweay improbably embraced the sea, and became the primary traders of the north. These were their halcyon years.
The time of prosperity was brief before the Satar came from the steppe, finally striking the blow that would destroy the civilization; defeated at sea by the Trilui and on land by the horsemen, only minor remnants and rump states lingered on in the periphery. The Union of Aya’se, dwelling place of the ancestors, was finally subdued.
And as the smoke and fire settled, and the legendary empire passed into memory, men wondered at the world that had once been, and found themselves troubled at the world that might come.
The Ancient Times of this world were nearly over.
For as the Seshweay trade network finally collapsed, other nations inevitably rose to keep the commercial network going. The Trilui were the natural link in many broken chains, of course, but the Gallatenes were also well placed. Their new period of growth continued, barely hindered by rising tensions with Ferman. The salt trade boomed around Sirasona as faraway Neruss was marginalized in the new southern economy; their own native products, too, saw a boost due to the inward turn of Ferman, though a slight economic recession across the region dented their profits.
But not all was truly going Gallat’s way in this world. For the Fermani nation had finally become self-sufficient for the most part, able to completely ignore the trade which Gallat now dominated. An increasing sense of paranoia and a siege mentality meant that Ferman was able to build closer ties than ever with their sister state Abirae, and more importantly their native culture saw a revival. The native religion, Alta, became the majority religion as well, and many men began to follow it with deep conviction in response to increasing Maninist influences.
Long has the northern world seemed on the edge of conflict. But now it is even more so. For even as peace falls over some lands and tranquility seems to resurface, another war is declared. Now the time finally comes that the two greatest powers of the north, Gallat and Ferman, seem destined for a final, destructive collision course; the only result can be utter ruin for one side or the other. A dark night was coming...
Sunrise comes slow over the Evyni coast. The mists at shore retreat slowly, the curtain of fog being drawn back just as the first rays peek over the horizons. A rainbow forms as a mere hint at the edge of vision, ethereal, almost implausible in a way; through the arch sails the grey ship of Gallat out of the east.
Men unload wares at the dock, and gold flows freely into the purse of the Gallatene trader. He is eyed warily by the guards in the port. Maninism, they know, is not so far down the totem pole of evil as the religions they actively persecute – as far as they can tell, the Faith from across the Kern Sea is without idolatry, and so they tolerate its merchants at the quays... but no further.
Evyn itself concluded the war with Ritti fairly easily, sweeping away land-based resistance and watching patiently as their enemies tore themselves apart and a coup overthrew the monarchy and established a new thalassocracy; the merchants quickly made peace with the Evyni. However, the momentum for the island nation had been lost; the window for trade expansion was gone, and their alignment with the Seshweay had cost them heavily. In the end, Ritti became a backwater, a minor among Northern nations.
Their new conquests becoming somewhat unmanageable, the Evyni managed to establish a network of regional administration that took their bureaucracy and made it the most efficient in the world. They even got a slight boost from the exodus of the Seshweay, some of whom made their way even to this northern land, drawn by tales of good prospects and bountiful harvests, undeterred even by the need to convert to the strange Ytauzi faith.
Meanwhile, the far northern Ederru were finally united by the Kedoy tribe, which managed to politically dominate the newly formed state. Though it showed quite some vibrance in its early years, the Ederru nation found itself under attack rapidly. Raiders out of the east, named the Stettin by those who understood their tongue, had crossed the channel and were even attempting to settle on Ederrot itself.
The Launians, ever a minnow among sharks, finally became noticed by the larger powers, as religious and diplomatic overtures from Gallat met a friendly response there. Many of their people converted to the Faith outright, similar as it was to their own ideals of the world, and the new trading links made both Taudo and Seadol much more prosperous as a whole, though dark rumors of a persecuting land to the southwest are becoming sharper and sharper...
In the valley to the west, however, the Evyni have seemingly not yet become a threat, taking no actions against the duchies lying there. Instead, those nations have prospered.
Liang, for its part, found itself under the rule of a dark figure, Tiarjia, who launched a ruthless campaign of expansion to the southwest. Dramatic as it was, it quickly stretched the resources of their small military, and more and more Ichenga had to be called up. In the end, the tension between the ruler and the clans under him couldn’t be contained; the new Zairainate, named after the ruling clan, was established as the real power behind the throne.
On the other hand, Liang’s aggressive moves have made their neighbors greatly anxious; Shu in particular seems to be building fortifications in preparation for either an imagined or predicted assault...
Only time will tell how these developments play out...
In the far east, the Kbrilma Sea, usually a bastion of meditation and serenity in this world of madness, has now, too, been engulfed in flames. The Nahari Empire, usually focused on the lands in the west, finally turned its gaze eastward, which fell on Cheidia. The smaller nation rebuffed an offer to join the Nahari peacefully, and much to their surprise, this was used as a casus belli that triggered a war. Sailing with all rapidity, the Nahari crushed the Cheidians on both sea and land, though not without some heavy casualties.
The ferocity of this attack prompted much anxiety among the remaining eastern states, who formed a pact of friendship with each other to avoid getting picked off one by one.
The Opulensi and Trehans both saw a period of massive economic expansion; trade with the far east was continuing to blossom into full form. The new capital allowed the Opulensi to form new colonies in several places, though the war scare with Nahar’s expansion sharply reduced willing migrants. It was perhaps inevitable that piracy rose considerably with the new trade. On the other hand, perhaps remembering their rough treatment at the hands of Trehan Marines, these pirates seemed to raid mostly the southern regions, severely damaging Opulensi trade by those routes.
Far away to the west, Krato’s own period of expansion seemed unbounded. A flurry of activity in their own eastern lands confused many outsiders; Isara seemed to willingly fall to the Kratoan Empire piece by piece; nobles left to join the larger empire. Rumors of kingly gifts were whispered, but the Kratoans brushed aside such concerns and gladly accepted the new territory. Soon, rumors surfaced that the Piatratans would do likewise, but the small southern city was conquered by its other neighbor, Jipha, and so it seemed Krato had to look for other targets.
It found them in the tiny nations of Burshan and Kardil. Each were minor border states between Krato and Zyeshu; each fell to a quick amphibious strike by the Kratoan war-chief himself. These new areas were somewhat more resistant than they seemed at first sight, however; the warriors found themselves fighting barbarian tribesmen for a short period before being able to return home. It was in this conflict that the Church of Iralliam found itself serving as healers for the first, but certainly not the last time. They would certainly be surprised by what they found when they got back...
Tensions rose on the new Kratoan-Zyeshu border as the King of Zyeshu hosted a series of bards and poets who openly mocked the faith of Iralliam. The posturing and rituals of the large faith were laughed away by the minor nation, shocking the pious occupation force, and nearly sparking war before a much more impressive conflagration rose in the west...
Gaci, meanwhile, became the center of the world. Or, as the Moti might correct that sentence, the world was corrected so that it became apparent Gaci was in fact the center; the old measurements were quite obviously wrong. The great epic of the Moti, probably written at Gaci itself, brought the city some fame, and architects from around the world came to build the palaces there. Admittedly, they were only the second-best of those around the world; all the first-rate men were lured to yet another construction site...
On the other hand, religious life in Moti saw considerable revival. The Bisrian territories were ripe for Iralliam’s expansion, and the faith, once planted, quickly flourished. Bisrians converted to a more pure form of Iralliam than was known elsewhere in Moti, and the common administrative language that became known across the Kotthorns proved an effective means of communication; finally the language barrier had been breached and the faith straddled the spine of the world.
But there were other faiths as well. The Oneist faith of the Duroc saw a revival in this period as the Order constructed new temples of their own, and both medicine and astronomy were greatly advanced in the hills near Hala... for a time.
For the Kratoans launched an expedition with the Twe to the far west, a long ways up the River Yensai. The Order went with them, looking for potential converts to the Oneist faith. What they found was that Ndeos was not the primitive tribes that they had expected, but a full-fledged empire of the jungle. Nonetheless, the Oneists were determined to overthrow this pagan monarchy, and the king of Ndeos himself was murdered, and chaos ensued, still unresolved. The Kratoan force quietly withdrew, determined not to become associated with this Order mission.
At the same time, near Hala, the Kratoans and a force of Iralliam fanatics descended on the Oneist temples, burned them to the ground, and marched on the hills themselves. Hala itself was burned out; the brief strides in science were thrown on great fires and lost forever. Some of the Order escaped into the hills, where they would surely have finally been hunted down and destroyed forever if other events had not intervened...
An eagle flew high over the world, thinking himself lordly. For river and plain passed away beneath him, faster than the driven rain. Where others groveled on the ground, he floated in the air; he was king of the sky. The wars of the Sesh and the Satar were of no concern, for no one challenged him in his domain. It was impregnable.
But even he could not help but notice the mountain being moved. Men were ever doing this: shifting stones about from place to place as though there was some power in them, as though men wanted them near while they slept, but the eagle could never see rhyme or reason in it. But this mountain drew his eye, as indeed it drew every eye, and he could not help but glide slowly down to get a better look.
The men of Magha, Silver City, Sapphire City, were building the greatest mountain that any eagle had ever seen, in this part of the world. A great palace, a house of lords, grew every day with more layers of stone. They had not yet begun to place the beams for the great dome that would eventually roof it over, laced with gold between a stunning array of blue-glazed tiles, a shimmering swell of navy that would rise over the hills of the surrounding desert, seen for miles as one approached the city. Nor had they done more than begin to lay the truly massive foundations of the walls of a new citadel, nor raised the towers of the palace or finished repairing the walls.
The eagle lost interest. It would be decades before all that was complete. But the palace was already a marvel of the Empire, a sign that perhaps these Satar had not just come to destroy. It drew pilgrims from across the region, and many people, sensing the new times, settled in Magha permanently; it quickly became the greatest city in their entire (extensive) dominion.
Meanwhile, considerable cultural changes began to take place. The Satar found themselves confronted by an entirely alien and somewhat alluring culture. Common steppe warriors would never compromise their ideals, but the great mass of camp followers were only too eager to settle in the cities along the River Sesh. At the same time, the countryside was split into great noble estates to reward the old steppe families; massive noble compounds were founded on the banks far from the cities, and a considerable noble cavalry force was raised. At the same time, however, the land grants to this new aristocracy considerably decreased crown incomes.
Atraxes was thus not content with the gains he had already made; his money supply was running far too low, and there were powers of great strength on every side. He decided to act. Word quickly came that the Redeemer marched from the Sapphire City, and the crowds lined the streets to say farewell to both the old steppe warriors, off to fight another great battle, and also now the great nobility that marched off to strange places...
And soon the word came to the northern borders of Krato: war was coming.