End of Empires - N3S III

On the Founding Myth of Iolha and Other Acayan Beliefs

Iolhan patricians in ceremonial dress​

Those Acayans who stay true to the Old Gods tell of the Age of Spirits, an era before history and before mankind, when the gods and the spirits battled on the earth for dominion over the world of men. This was before the birth of the kingdoms and cities and republics of men, and men were without fire and without war and without government. This was a time of terror and strife, when men were like animals upon the land, and lived short and painful lives under the warring skies of the gods. The Acayan gods, the lotajuur, and the spirits, the cotanjuur, fought their great war for dominance over the world for many untold years before the birth of the First Shaman.

The shamans or masticjao (trickster-men) mark the birth of history, in the eyes of the Acayan faithful, for they were the first mortals to be able to divine the will of the gods and the spirits and defeat mankind's enemies. The masticjao are so called trickster-men for the God of Tricks, Lotamastic, endowed them with this power in order to avenge himself against his rivals. So man came into the world, born of this power of tricks and the power of fire and of life. This was the end of what others would call the prehistoric period, and the first cities and kingdoms were built in these times.

The masticjao were able to intervene on behalf of their fellow tribesmen in matters of the gods and the spirits, and protect their people from the wrath of the spirits, while seeking the boon and favor of the various gods. In this way the Acayans attribute the earliest civilization to the leadership of the masticjao, and trace the lineage of great cities, settlements and nations to ancient and mythical masticjao. Various oral epics were spoken of the deeds of great masticjao, who went throughout the world tricking the gods and the spirits in order to improve the lives of the common man.

Eventually the masticjao came to an end, when the gods and spirits punished Lotamastic for his hubris in granting mankind divine powers. This was the Sundering of Lotamastic, and his essence was spread out amongst the heavens (which is the domain of the gods and the spirits as the earth is). Lotamastic was irrevocably weakened and worship of Lotamastic in exclusivity ended amongst the people. There was then a multitude of gods, and sometimes even spirits, that were worshiped by the Faithful.

This is regarded as the end of the Age of Spirits, by the mythical and religious reckoning of the Old Gods' Faithful. Man, having achieved enlightenment by the help of Lotamastic, had banished the malevolent spirits to the outskirts of the physical realm of mortals. The gods, enraged that Lotamastic had seized power in the mortal world for himself, destroyed Lotamastic and scattered his essence through the heavens limiting the power of masticjaos. The world entered an equilibrium and this was the Age of Man.

From thenceforth, the great masticjao epics were no longer spoken. This is how the Faithful attribute the lack of powerful masticjao in contemporary times, as well as the weakening of the Faith before unholy and sacrilegious beliefs. Occasionally, however, Lotamastic and other gods grant their favor (small as it is) upon particular masticjaos in times of great crisis or opportunity. This is how the city of Iolha was founded, when the masticjao Iolha enlisted Lotamastic's aid in tricking the spirits that lived in the land to grant him their service. Enslaving these spirits to his will, Iolha defeated them and began the building of a great city upon the land.

Contemporary historians, particularly Leunans and other foreigners, have attributed the Iolhan founding myth to the story that the city's founder purchased the land from its natives for a handful of exotic beads. In Iolha, the founding myth and other cultural relics of the Old Gods (as well as the Old Faith itself) are still popular.

Modern masticjao are not the creatures of old. Magic has gone out of the world, or more aptly, mankind has defeated it. Authorities, primarily scholarly, on the Old Faith maintain that the lack of heroic and magical masticjao is a representation that the sought-after equilibrium between the world of masticjuur (men, the people of tricks) and the world of the lotajuur and cotanjuur has been achieved. Masticjao are now primarily healers and priests, sequestered in mountain temples where they contemplate the will of the gods and the spirits, or living ascetic lives amongst the poor in order to ease mankind's suffering.

Within the past several centuries worship of Lotamastic has declined greatly in comparison to the reverence and worship of the other deities of the “Acayan pantheon”, such as it is. Lotamastic continues to be the patron deity of Iolha, however, Lotarujar, the “God of War” is often considered a patron of soldiers and even athletes. All major settlements have their own patron deity, sometimes a “tame spirit” that was bent to the will of an ancient masticjao, which guards over the community and its citizens.

In accordance with the primarily informal nature of worship amongst the Faithful, the Faith of the Old Gods has no organized church or priestly authority. There are a number of orders of masticjaos, or “masticjaos in training” – primarily religious acolytes dedicating their lives to pursuit of wisdom and balance – that are based out of Iolha or in refuges in the mountains.

Patrician families, as well as guilds, often have their own patron deities. However, it is not unheard of for guilds to adopt syncretic doctrines towards foreign religions, co-opting elements of Indagahor and other outlander faiths. This is discouraged however, largely on the basis of a cultural awakening and revolution which has rejected outlander art, religion and language in an effort to reassert an Acayan cultural identity. This movement is led primarily by Acayan traditionalists, the old families and guilds of Iolha, as well as by religious orders.

Truly pious Acayans (and those who can afford it) have shrines to all the major Gods of the Old Faith, especially ones relevant to their daily lives. Farmers prefer Lotananjar (the God of Growth and Change), merchants and politicians often have small shrines to Lotamastic. In recent times, alongside the evolution of a xenophobia and distaste for outlander customs, piety has come back in vogue amongst the ruling class as well as amongst commoners.

NOTES
-Acayan is agglutinating
-"jao" is one of many suffixes which indicate masculinity
-"juur" indicates plurality
-Obviously all Acayan words are transcribed into English, though "h" is functionally-replaced by "j" in these transcriptions for aesthetic reasons
-Outlander is a generic term for foreigners which has come into vogue in Iolha in recent years
-Lotamastic's sundered physical form is the Milky Way-esque galactic spiral visible in the sky
-Lotamastic is informally considered the king, for all purposes of the gods, as he is the only god friendly to mankind. All other gods are only neutral to human endeavors and will only intervene for their own reasons. Most spirits are outwardly hostile.
-The gods and spirits rule over not only the physical earthly world but also the heavens, metaphorically and physically speaking -- it is sometimes thought that the gods and spirits reside on Earth but live in the heavens
 
It's not the end of the world

...but you can see it from here


It was an unremarkable day in the midst of a summer much like any other in that time – which is to say dry and empty and hot even under a sun dimmed by the smoke from Savirai fires, for we are speaking now of the years of Ordeal – when, somewhere in the waste that was Gallat, a townsman decided to die. He did not come to this decision lightly or easily; indeed he had been determined to survive at any cost. But he had been walking nearly two weeks, two weeks since everything he knew and loved vanished in an afternoon of blood and screams, and he had seen no other living thing but the crows. It had been days since he'd last seen a stream, and he was parched and hallucinating and convinced he was walking circles. One burned field and looted village looks much the same as another, after all, and the townsman didn't have much experience at traveling rough; of course he'd lose his way, and he'd begun to think he'd been stupid to ever think he could find the way through. Or maybe, it occurred to him, there was no way through; maybe the Savirai had won and burned everything for their god, and there was nothing left in the world but dust and ashes and the poor townsman.

Even the bravest man can only endure so much, when faced with so much proof that the world wants him dead, and at this last thought the townsman was at last overcome by despair. He laid down in the middle of a burned cornfield under the baking sun, and wept thinking of his lost family as he waited to die. Scarcely a minute had he lain there, however, when a shadow passed over his face, and the townsman looked up to see a horse standing over him, and upon it a warrior. Even in his extremity, the townsman was taken aback. The horse was magnificent, a great white stallion such as the great lords might ride; the warrior himself was clearly such a lord, though not from any land the townsman knew. He was tall and broad, armed and armored head to toe, but the style of his armor seemed to the townsman surpassing strange and archaic; even the most pacifistic of Gallatenes was an authority on armaments in those days. Strangest of all was his face, or rather the mask where his face should have been. This seemed to change even as the townsman watched, now shining gold and then dull steel, a red the colour of blood to a black so deep as to swallow all light; and upon the mask an expression just as mutable, consuming fury to overwhelming sorrow to regal majesty and on. So imposing a figure did the warrior cut that the townsman spared not a thought as to how he had appeared so near unnoticed.

“It has taken me long to find you, lost in this waste the Dalothim have made,” the warrior spoke, and his voice was deep and rich, but his speech strangely accented, as though he were not quite sure which sound went where. “Why do you now lie in the dust? Your journey is not finished.”

“Leave me, lord,” the townsman replied. “I lie here because I wish my journey to end. I have known too much sorrow these days, lost too much; I desire now an end, and no more to be tormented by the great and cruel.”

The warrior dismounted and stooped beside the man, and now his voice was kindly. “Sorrow, yes. You saw your village burn, your mother raped and murdered, your father struck down trying to save her. Terrible, indeed. But you would let this loss break you? You would willingly abandon what the Dalothim could not take from you? I know much of sorrow, townsman; I have seen great cities fall as the piper played a merry tune, men drowned in the blood of their sons, the wisdom of a thousand years burned just to watch the shadows dance. And from all this I have learned not despair, but grief and vengeance.”

“Vengeance,” said the townsman, choking a laugh from a dry throat. “Vengeance for what? I have nothing left; there is no one left to know, no one left to care. Maybe you and I are all that remain in the world. I have lost everything I had, everything I cared about, everything that moored me to this world. What is left but death, when all else is gone?”

The warrior straightened and said sternly, “One death is not like another. You ask what is left to you? I tell you it is this: to die well. You speak of your loss, and rightly so, but you do not understand all that it means. You are fortunate, in some ways, though it is a cruel fortune.” At this the townsman was enraged, and he tried to struggle to his feet, but the warrior raised a hand and the townsman's fury died on his lips. “You have lost your moorings, but also your entanglements. Now, townsman, I say again that you are fortunate, for your Way is clear. There is only one fork left on your Path, only one choice left to you: how would you die? Here, broken and alone, sobbing in the ashes of your country? Or with a sword in your hand and defiance on your lips, surrounded by the fallen servants of a Dalotha? GET UP, TOWNSMAN, AND FIND A BETTER END THAN THIS.”

The townsman was on his feet before he realized what had happened, the warrior's command echoing in his ears. The warrior handed him a waterskin; the townsman took it unthinkingly and began to drink, and as he did he felt strength returning to his limbs and determination to his heart. Without saying another word the warrior turned and mounted his horse, and made as to leave, when the townsman felt a sudden burning curiosity, and cried out “Lord, who are you? Why have you done this?”

The warrior replied “You will know me in time, though you do not now. Now all you must know is that I do not wish to see the Path overcome by the Dalothim; by my aid you may become a great enemy to them, so my help you shall have.” The townsman shook his head in mute incomprehension, and the warrior continued. “Remember this day, and help others of the fatherless as I have helped you now, and you will understand.” The warrior then reached up and removed his mask, and though the townsman could never after recollect the features that lay under it, he remembered always an almost blindingly bright light.

-----

It was an unremarkable day in the midst of a summer much like any other in those years of Ordeal, hard and cruel and utterly unforgiving, when a solitary wanderer emerged from the waste that was Gallat, and passed into one of those fortunate villages that had not yet felt the Savirai fires. Though unarmed, clothed only in rags and covered in dust, there was something about his bearing that made the villagers shy away. Those brave enough to approach, though not to engage, reported back that his gaze was distant and his countenance fixed in determination, and that his eyes seemed to burn with the very light of Manin itself. The wanderer came to the village square, and sat there a while, drinking a little from the well and looking about him. After a little while the villagers began to grow nervous, and they decided that someone should confront the wanderer and determine his business. None was brave enough to do so, though equally none could explain what about the ragged figure inspired such fear, until an orphan child stepped forward.

The child approached the sitting wanderer and said “Who are you, wanderer, and what is your business in this town.”

Without turning to face the child, the wanderer replied, “You need have no fear; I am only passing through, and have no business with your village, though I would greatly appreciate if you could spare a little food. It has been a long time since I ate.”

“That's all very well,” the child replied, “but it doesn't say who you are, and we would not be wise to trust the man who does not identify himself.”

Now the wanderer turned to the child, who only quailed a little to see that his gaze was indeed as bright and fierce as the earlier scouts had reported. And the wanderer said, “Then know that I am Fatherless[1], and I will not let the Way fall.”

-----

[1] Rural Gallat tends to be rather more patriarchal than the cities and so 'Fatherless' more or less means a man who doesn't belong to a family any more.
 
Rihnit Government: The Oritaar (Harmonizers)

The Oritaar serve more or less as the judicial system. It's members are made up of priests (occasionally somebody who isn't a priest will become a member of the Oritaar). The Oritaar got their name from the fact that they help resolve conflicts between the Jagaraka and the Akkairi when disagreements between the two branches arise. They also help resolve conflicts when conflict within a single branch of the government occurs.

Details
Spoiler :
On paper the Jagaraka has supreme power over all the other parts of the Rihnit Government (and the entire Rihnit Population themselves). However, in practice the Oritaar is supreme. Even though the power of the Oritaar is symbolic, they are seen as the wisest members of the Rihnit Government. Thus, when Jagaraka and the Akkairi get into a conflict, the compromise made by the Oritaar is rarely questioned.

The structure of the Oritaar is identical to the Akkairi but the priests elect their own members independently of the Akkairi. Priests are unable to vote members to the Akkairi. But likewise the common family or individual has no vote in deciding who gets to become a member of the Oritaar.


Rihnit Government: The Jagaraka (Supreme King/Queen)

The Jagaraka is the supreme ruler of the Rihnit. Unlike the other two branches of government, the Jagaraka actually has more than just symbolic power. A Jagaraka is able to create and enforce laws at his or her own will. That being said, the Jagaraka's power isn't unlimited. In fact, the Jagaraka can be voted out of office. Nor can the Jagaraka remove anybody from office in the Oritaar or the Akkariri.

The line of succession is determined via the Jagaraka picking another member of Royal Family. By tradition, the Jagaraka seeks out the advice of the Oritaar and Akkariri about who they think would be most suited to become the next Jagaraka.

Various members of the Royal Family are also sent out to be the governors of various provinces. They are bound by the same restrictions and duties as the Jagaraka him or herself is.

Details
Spoiler :
The Jagaraka is seen as sacred by the Rihnit People. They feel that part of their life purpose is to serve his or her will. Likewise, the Jagaraka is expected to put the good will of the people, over his or her own self-interest. The relationship between the Jagaraka and the Rihnit people is seen as a contract of sorts.

The line of succession is chosen by the Jagaraka and then is approved by the Oritaar and Akkairi. Also, the Jagaraka isn't limited to picking somebody directly within his or her own bloodline. Nor is gender or sexual orientation really a factor in deciding who becomes the next Jagaraka. The only factors involved in picking a Jagaraka is merit and age. Ideally, the Jagaraka likes to pick somebody whose middle aged (or going to be). The reason is that an abnormally young Jagaraka might be too inexperienced while an excessively old Jagaraka will probably not live a whole lot longer.

The governors of various provinces follow more or less the same rules that the Jagaraka does. The governor and provinces as a whole do experience some level of autonomy. That is as long as the province isn't doing anything which counteracts a law made by the Jagaraka. The older and more experienced members of the Royal Family are in charge of managing the more important regions while the youngest and least experienced are sent to manage the least important regions.

Both the governors and the Jagaraka can be voted out due to incompetence due to illness or incompetence due to corruption. The process of voting out a governor or Jagaraka requires three key criterion which all must be met.

1) All the members of the supreme Akkairi and Oritaar would have to all vote unanimously for the removal of the Jagaraka
2) All members of the Akkairi and Oritaar pick somebody within the Royal Family to replace the previous Jagaraka.
3) There needs to be overwhelming evidence that the Jagaraka should be removed because of incompetence due to age or illness or incompetence due to corruption. The former being potentially temporary and not criminal, while being charged with the later will result in enslavement for life.
 
What follows are excerpts from the twenty-third century historical text, A History of Trahana and Its Neighbors.​

In discussion of the death of the first Emperor of the Empire of Trahana, Alamman, it is best now to turn to a general discussion of the cultural practices surrounding funerals in ancient Trahana.

The early imperial period, beginning of course in the first years of Alamman’s reign, were marked by substantial changes in many practices among the Trahana, not most insignificantly a dramatic increase in interest in the Machaian religion. Although Machaianism had ensconced itself in Trahana earlier than surviving written records indicate, the religion remained highly disorganized until the very late royal period, when a monastic movement springing in part from royal patronage launched renewed interest in the traditional practices of the ancient faith.

Funerals, and the general ritualization of death, had been a key aspect of Machaianism for its entire early history. Indeed, funereal practices were of key importance in all of the western basin religions. The ancient religion of the Dulama involving ritual sacrifice of the elderly before their time had come, a practice rejected and abhorred by the early Machaianists but which reflected the importance both religions placed on death.

Although they did not sacrifice the elderly, the Machaianists saw the death of the elderly in a positive light, in two ways. First, death was a temporary release from the confines of the world. Although one would inevitably be reborn in a new body, death meant an opportunity to merge with the Machai, or World Soul, from which the religion derived its name. Though the wisdom and bliss attained in that period could not be carried forth into the next life, it still represented the pinnacle of achievement for any good soul. Second, and perhaps more importantly, death was necessary for the creation of new life, since souls were endlessly recycled through the World Soul, and hence death, and the decision to die, was itself a sacrifice for the greater good of humanity.

The consequences of this positive and soul-driven approach to the experience of death played out in funereal practice across the Machaian world, including Trahana. The monastic movement revived interest in the ritualization of funerals, which often involved little ceremony among other Machaianists, save among the deeply religious Sechm people. Yet the ceremony only built from the essential elements of a Machaian funeral.

First, cremation was a necessity. Cremation released the soul; in an uncremated body, the soul would be trapped in the decay, unable to escape and join the World Soul. Some theologians believed that those souls who died without cremation would be lost forever to humanity, unable to join the greater whole. This position proved unpopular with political leaders, however, mainly because soldiers often went with cremation upon their deaths in the field of battle—and the aristocracy defined its power by its ability to wage war. Instead, the dominant belief held that souls in decaying bodies would be trapped until the flesh had entirely rotted away. A less than pleasant experience, to be sure, but less extreme than the total loss posited by more radical thinkers.

Second, the ashes were typically not confined to a specific place, as in some other cultures practicing cremation, such as the Dula highlands. Instead, especially in Trahana and Sechm with their mountainous heartlands, standard practice was to spread ashes from atop a high cliff. High above the city of Traha, the cliff from which ancient royal and, later, imperial ashes were scattered may still be found, accompanied by ritual inscriptions calling for the return of their wisdom and strength to the world. Elsewhere in the Machaian world, distribution at sea was more common, and the Thala, known by many names, took its name of River of Ashes from the ashes poured into it by the many thousands of Amure, Tollanaugh and Dulama river burials performed on its banks.

Finally, ritual incantation were typically declared at the close of a funeral. As the carvings at the Traha funereal site indicate, at least for prominent society members these typically involved pleas for the return of the positive qualities of the deceased to the world. It is less clear what such incantations involved for the common people, though they may have been similar. No records exist for the distribution of ashes of unpopular leaders or individuals of lesser status that might indicate whether posterity always had a positive view of the deceased.

…

The succession laws of Trahana remained largely unchanged in the transition from the royal period to the imperial period. Although records indicate that some members of the new imperial court felt the advent of empire to be a time for reform, presumably that would establish a more completely certain succession, the power of tradition proved strong. The lack of a crisis involving the succession for many centuries of time contributed to that feeling.

Under traditional rules, the leader of the city of Traha, later the monarch of all Trahana and later still the Emperor of the Empire of Trahana, was selected by the aristocracy of Traha from among the heirs of the deceased ruler. However, from the earliest days for which records survive, around the beginnings of the royal period, the announced choice of the deceased ruler prevailed in all subsequent elections. In fact, male primogeniture appears to have been followed almost exclusively, despite its lack of formal adoption. The sole exception was a lone queen regnant in the early royal period, Illinio, who appears to have succeeded despite the presence of a younger brother, though there are some indications (perhaps from political intrigue of the time) that the younger brother possessed serious mental deficiencies.

The succession on the death of the first Emperor, Alamman, offered the first hiccup in succession for many generations, though in the end any records of serious dissent do not survive to the modern day. The initial successor was clear enough. Despite the Emperor’s advanced age on his passing, his eldest son, Arjanunn, remained alive on his death. Arjanunn shared many of the ambitions of his father in the position of Emperor as paternal and maternal figure for the entire empire, but had a reputation for softness as well. His death less than a week following that of his father thus may have been a blessing in disguise for the nascent empire. Arjanunn himself never took the throne, but would be memorialized in later texts as Emperor Arjannun II (referring in number to an early-period monarch of the same name). Arjannun’s son, Jeshemon, a young and hale general, would instead be elected to the throne, taking the regnal name of Arjannun III in honor of his father and beginning the long tradition of regnal names that would follow.

Despite the immediate death of the presumed heir, the empire remained stable and highly expansionary under Arjannun III; if there was dissent, perhaps from a younger brother of Arjannun II, no record survives. But, as the later portions of this history will tell, the glories of the Empire of Trahana had only just begun.
 
Hey everyone!

Please note that orders are due in the morning this time, Saturday after tomorrow. :)
 
I thought they were due on the 24th, or was this the fancy way of saying Saturday next week? :p
 
Forging the Shield

The messenger was led into a small chamber underground, where a lady waited. A guttering torch hung on a wall sconce, casting the eye sockets of the pair of guards into pits of shadow. The naked half of the quem’s face could have been a mask of stone. She betrayed no emotion, except for fingering a silver ring with a sapphire stone that she wore. Her robes were pools of deep crimson.

After a long silence, she finally said, “What would you have me do?”

The man facing her was nondescript in every sense. He had wavy brown hair, brown eyes, skin neither particularly light nor particularly dark. His clothes were neither rich nor ragged. His command of Avaimi was perfect, however, spoken with only a trace of a Faronun accent.

“Delay your soldiers’ march to Talephas. When he is defeated, and our armies come north, throw yourself on the mercy of the Ayasi and the Sarafaiao.”

“And in return?”

“You may choose a new Lawgiver from amongst yourselves, and be free from Satar bondage once more.”

“Betray the Redeemer while he is weak and untested, and let strength follow strength, is that it?”

“Yes, my quem.” The man’s dull eyes betrayed only a hint of eagerness.

She pursed her lips for a moment. “I am afraid you are mistaken.”

“My quem?”

“We have already chosen a Lawgiver from amongst ourselves. His name is Talephas, whose grandmother was Eraiyn the Fair, and his Law is the Balance.” Her eyes flashed. “We will die for him.”

“I am but a messenger, and I will take my leave and carry your message.”

She paused for a moment, considering this. “Leave Cellena now and you will keep your life. Do not return.”

---

The prisoner in question was bound, gagged, and lying on his side. The door rattled and creaked on ancient hinges before heavy footsteps entered.

Arms reached roughly under the prisoner’s shoulders, and dragged him to a sitting position on a wooden stool. The prisoner could now see two guards on either side, and a tall, thin man, long black hair just beginning to go grey at the temples, standing between them. He wore a silver mask. When he saw this third man, the prisoner began to scream, though his gag muffled most of it.

“Shhh, no crying now,” said Sianai, patting the prisoner softly on the cheek. “Only once more with the hot iron, and this is all behind you.”

The whimpering intensified, and the prisoner started to thrash.

“Do you really want it to be twice more?” the prince said kindly, and the prisoner’s thrashings stopped as quickly as they had started.

“Good. The names you gave us were useful, though some, I suspect, were simple lies. He tilted the prisoner’s chin upwards, examining some scars along the collarbone with detached interest. “That is the problem with torture, I’m afraid.”

The prisoner made a muffled noise. “It’s true, I don’t need anything more from you,” Sianai said conversationally. “But this will be instructive. Consider it a punishment for lying.”

He nodded to one of his men. “I’m tired, Tenjik. You finish up with this one.”

“It will be a pleasure,” the torturer said.

As the prince turned to leave, another guard entered. “Shav has returned, my prince. He is in the main chamber.”

His eyes lit up. “My far wanderer? Very good. Let us see what he can tell us.”

He glanced at Tenjik before leaving. “Don’t cripple him. I know you love your work, but we need this one to walk later.”

The screams that followed him down the corridor did not trouble Sianai. Pain, after all, was simply a thing like any other. He had learned that well as a boy when the Vischa raiders came.

---

The roof of the vaulted chamber was lost in darkness. Radial doorways each led to a hallway of dungeon cells, very efficiently laid out.

“This is nice,” said Shav. “Very big.”

Sianai smiled. “Courtesy of the Letoratta. These Accans really know how to build with style.” He steepled his fingers. “How did your…experiments…proceed?”

“None of the high Avaimi lords appear to be disloyal.”

“Not even the Lady of Cellena? There were rumors...”

“Naeren herself is loyal, though there is a functionary in her palace who can be bribed.”

“Are you certain she was convinced?”

“I do not think she doubted that I was truly Faronun.”

“Your time in the south was useful, then.”

“Yes, lord.” He smiled faintly, eyes still dull. Sianai employed a lot of men with questionable pasts, though he did not particularly fear any of them. But Shav left him feeling vaguely unsettled. It was just something about his eyes.

“Well, I must go meet our great hope.” He smiled sardonically. “Enjoy yourself in Acca.”

“I will,” Shav said, again with that faint smile. Sianai raised an eyebrow, but didn’t pursue it further. What his men did in their leisure time was not really his business.

---

The Redeemer swung himself effortlessly into his saddle as Loech struggled to find his seat on the horse next to him.

“You make it look so simple, but the damned beast wants to throw me half the time.”

“He can feel you are uneasy,” said Talephas kindly. “Just relax.”

His advisor’s horse shied, and he jerked on the reins. “Even after…so many years – ach – I will still never ride like one of you people.”

Talephas reached over and rapped on Loech's mask twice with his knuckles. “You are one of us people, you fool. You should get used to it.”

They both laughed, but the Redeemer’s expression soon grew serious. “The council, then.”

“Yes, they are waiting for us.”

---

Loech hissed in disgust, casting his staff of office at the feet of Sianai and his coterie. A few scattered insults from the Xieni lords were hurled back in his direction.

“You DARED to send spies to the Rhon? That is the Redeemer’s own princedom, not some Xieni pasture.”

“It was for the Redeemer’s protection.”

“The Avaimi are the Redeemer’s own blood! They would NEVER betray him!”

Sianai smirked. “Betrayal can come from any corner.” He turned towards Talephas. “Redeemer, restrain your shepherd, or I will be forced to teach him obedience.”

“Peace, Loech.” The man glared at Sianai but said nothing more.

“Sianai,” said Talephas. “I would rather have my people follow me out of love than out of fear. Doubting their loyalty will only breed disloyalty.”

“We love our god,” said Sianai, “but we also fear him. So should it be with you.”

“Perhaps that was Taexi’s way, but it is not mine.”

The Redeemer and the Wind Prince stared at each other for a fraught second.

Arteras broke the silence. “If the southrons could see us now, I doubt they would consider us such a threat.” He chuckled warmly, obviously trying to ease the tension, and his Satar and Accans laughed with him.

“Sianai, you have insulted the Redeemer,” he said finally. “Imagine if I were to interfere in your princedom without permission. You would be calling for my head. It would merit you to apologize.”

Sianai knelt before Talephas, as if expecting this. “I did what I thought necessary,” he said. “But I overstepped my bounds.”

Talephas said, “Rise. You have simply tried to serve me. You have my forgiveness and my trust.”

Talephas cast his voice to the rear of the assembled tarkanai and princes. “Our Exatai is a union of many peoples, and old wars and hatreds lie between us all. I cannot demand your homage, nor can I force your obedience. But if you choose to follow me, you must cast the past aside. The strongest shield is made of many metals, and our shield must not break.”

“Will you let it break?”

“NAY!”

“Then let the false gods hear your defiance!”

---

Then the warriors gave up a great shout, and it was said by those present that not since the days of Avetas and Elikas had there been such worthy princes. So had the gods made it necessary, for their foes would be more great and terrible than those at Karhat and Kargan combined…

-Niccai-ta-Atracta, Regnal Chronicles of the Sephashim
 
Letter to the Emperor of the Holy Motti Empire read in public, in front of a crowd of people of Jipha and Kilar.

I consider my son, Kalimethar III, the legitimate heir of Kilar and Jipha, and there is no law of man or foreign gods that can deny that. However, the more I know that any rumors about murder or treason is false, I do not wish war to my people. Henceforth, I want to find out if there is any possibility of peace, to the free people of the South do not bleed due to the greed of a few. Because I tell you, the kilari rebel leader that arises now is nothing more than an imposter, desiring nothing but chaos. However, if the Emperor is among those who believe the false rumors, to me there is nothing left, but to to abdicate my son, if it means peace. Because I assure you, the men of Kilar will prefer to bow to its rightful king, than suffer at the hands of foreign armies from the north of Kotari, with no purpose but to loot our cities, ruin our castles and enslave our people. For I know the evils of war, and the last thing I want is to leave a legacy of ruin and destruction for my son. Because I'm not on the throne to serve to my will, but to the will of my people, and to protect them I'll do anything, even if it means fighting until my last breath. And I'm sure that everyone who wants nothing more than to protect his people, his nation and his family will follow me in this fight!
 
My orders may come in a bit late, depending on some factors.
 
Ditto. I'll be in Singapore.
 
Well, I can give no guarantees as to how much I'll be able to use late orders. Being back at work makes for a bit of a time crunch.
 
North King said:
Well, I can give no guarantees as to how much I'll be able to use late orders. Being back at work makes for a bit of a time crunch.
Click to expand...

Speaking as someone who's orders are already in, I'm sure people are patient enough to endure a longer update to enable you to appropriately incorporate the slackers order. Particularly when it comes to matters of significance.
 
N3S > Holiday.
 
While previously detained today, I am writing orders right now and have no intention of missing the deadline so help me zombie Jesus.
 
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