"He did what?", Prince Vihay asked amazed.
"He killed our envoy and then related the words to the sultan... but changing them to make us sound like the aggressors. I have it from a reliable source at the Imperial Palace".
Prince Vihay shook his head sadly. "If only the Sultan knew of the betrayal, but how can we get to him? It does not bode well. If the Ottomans focus their full strenght on us we will be overrun. We need to get through to the Sultan somehow."
"Yes, my Prince, but I do not see how."
"Much as I abhor it, I see only one real way of doing it. We must despatch some pathfinders and see to it that this obstart advisor suffers an unfortunate accident."
"It will be difficult my lord. He is protected by guards at all times and security at the Imperial Palace is extremely high. Besides, they'll be expecting an assassination attempt."
Prince Vihay looked at his councillor with sadness in his eyes. "Aye, they will expect it, but we have to try anyway. Perhaps we could also get one pathfinder through to the Sultan bearing a personal message from me. We can't just let war engulf our lands like this. I will pen the note myself. "
"Very well, my Prince. Any news from the Maharaja of Gujarat yet?"
"None and truth be told I doubt they'll aid us. They should if they don't want to come under attack themselves in a few years, but the Maharaja might not see it that way. I hope for their aid, but I dare not count on it."
"Very good my Prince. If you'll excuse me I'll contact the captain of the pathfinders and tell them to ready their best men for this mission."
"You may go."
As the councillor left Prince Vihay alone his thoughts wandered to the task ahead. Sending in pathfinders were most likely a suicide mission, but still he had to try. It was clear to him that the Sultan had been misled and if things could get cleared up, then perhaps it was still not too late for peace. Even so, necessity called for preparations to be made. Preparations for the worst possible outcome. Reports from his commanders estimated roughly 25 Ottoman divisions in the area along with most of their fleet leaving his army seriously weakened. Further reports indicate massive recruitment done by the Ottomans which could leave them facing up to 40 enemy divisions or roughly four times their own number. The key, he knew, would be the sea. Whilst the Ottoman fleet also outnumbered his own, his sailors did have intimate knowledge of the waters here and he doubted the enemy would despatch their entire fleet as it would leave them vulnerable at home.
Pearing over the map he examined the sea between the Ottomans and Sinhala. A vast place. Looking over the map his finger hovered over Oman and then Zanzibar. Places where the enemy might be much weaker. Further north his gaze settled on Quqonid Khanate. Furrowing his brows in deep thought he looked up.
"Guard! Bring me the Quqonid emissary and be fast about it!"
Yes, things were bleak, but not black.
OOC: I feel like a mosquito trying to bring down an elephant. Any particular reason for desiring to fight me das other than the background distrust and annoyance with my nation?
