Looks like Daft and talonschild both want to take the Ethir. Looks like a fantastic venue for a civil war, honestly. I wish more players had full-throated civil wars against each other, really. And now for an interesting little story.
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The Low Trade
"I have seen more evil done under light than in darkness."
Talan the Elder,
The Talani Fragments
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Part One: A Tale of Two Accans
"The belief that a man could become a god by his own cunning and ingenuity...was very pleasing to the pagan Accani."
-Axilias-ta-Alma,
The Second Exatai
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502 RM
The old man mumbled to himself, sucking on his gums as he shoveled dirt around with a rusty trowel. “Look here, Evvico. There are two types of cucumbers in my garden. There is the smooth, glossy fruit,” to which he gestured, “and there is the dull, warty fruit.” He spat into the dirt.
“The smooth is better,” said the boy, brushing away the leaves with precise care.
“And good to the taste. We Tepecci are the smooth fruit, and the other nuccia are the warty fruit. But we plant them…” and he buried the warty-fruited plants so that they were surrounding the smooth ones, “…around us. So that when the birds come, they peck at the dull fruit. Do you see?”
“I see.”
He placed his hands on the boy's shoulders and looked him right in the eyes. The boy did not like this, as the old man’s eyes did not both look quite in the same direction. “When you are the prince, do this. Protect yourself with the other Accans, and let them suffer so that our family may prosper.”
“Other Accans?” said the boy. He had rarely seen Accans that did not belong to his nuccion, but once during a festival he saw a beautiful girl with a blue mask. Tarecci Rutarri, his older cousin whispered to him. He wanted to see her again.
“The other nuccia, boy. Varecca, Rutarri…and Atteri. That false-faced Arteras worst among them.”
“But Arteras is a Satar Prince! He is strong and brave!” The boy had recently been learning to read from an illuminated scroll depicting golden Arteras and dark Sianai, holding up the throne on which sat Talephas the Great.
Prince Ucco laughed, which turned into a cough. “He is an Atteri, just as bad as his grandmother. They will take everything from us if they can. Do you understand, boy? Never trust an Atteri.”
“Never,” said the boy, nodding vigorously and hoping he would be getting some marzipan out of this.
Far above them a kestrel soared on a thermal, looking for mice in the garden.
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It was almost ten years later that the boy, now Prince Evvico Tepecci, accompanied Prince Arteras on a hunt. Their modest party of two hundred guards and attendants followed at a discrete pace.
“White wolves, black wolves, they are all the same dead,” said the Prince of the Scroll. “But out here, the women act differently,” he said wryly, grinning behind his mask. “And the men too, if that’s your pleasure. Isn’t that right, Jahan?” he called behind him.
A skinny man in a silver-edged mask flinched, and then laughed in a forced sort of way.
Evvico had heard the rumors that Arteras and Jahan had been in the ‘Gallatene way’ together. The rest of the Exatai called it the ‘Accan way,’ but naturally the Accans didn’t use this particular turn of phrase.
The young Accan prince wiped a few beads of sweat from his forehead. It got too damned hot under these masks sometimes. Evvico had a mild dislike for nature. He preferred reading books, reviewing the expansion of the massive Tepecci financial empire, and devising ever-more extravagant presents for the Rutarri girl that continued to spurn him. But even the Prince of the Sea had to keep up Satar appearances and princely diplomacy. Especially with a prince as dangerous as Arteras.
“Nice weather, isn’t it,” Evvico said finally. He had the vague impression that Arteras had been saying something about the mating rituals of Partekai barbarians, and that he had been participating in the conversation without thinking.
“Oh yes,” his host replied. “Good and evil gods, I am so GLAD to be out of Atracta! The functionaries and the scholars and the bloody building, always the building.” Arteras stretched his shoulders. “I’m growing too old for this so-called civilization.”
Evvico said, in a sidelong sort of way, “Talephas reaps the prestige but doesn’t have to breathe in the dust smoke.”
Arteras’ light-brown eyes crinkled behind his mask in amusement. “Careful, my boy. If our world-ruler could hear you now, he would…well, probably forgive you and laugh along with us. You know, my stinking vile traitorous tarkanai ask me three times a day why I never challenged Talephas when I had the chance.” He looked thoughtful. “Honestly, the real reason is that the old lion-heart knows how to take a slight. He's not prickly in the least…and it’s just too hard to rebel against someone you actually like.”
“Not to mention, he would kill you,” said the Accan prince.
Arteras laughed just as heartily, but Evvico could tell that particular barb found a in his armor. “Yes…I suppose he would,” he mused. “But how long ago would he have died without me? Never mind. While we’re on the subject of killing, let’s flush some quails. This forest is rife with them.”
Evvico pulled out his bow, grinning. Leaving Acca was usually awful, but the killing animals part, that made it worthwhile in the end.
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The Redeemer turned to gaze up at the peaks of the High Kothai as his charger waded the headwaters of the Sesh, splashing sparkling droplets on his boots and riding leggings. The mountains were bathed in sunset crimson and flashing white. Impossibly huge even from afar, they stretched in an unbroken chain beyond the horizon, to the very end of the world.
As much as he built, as tirelessly as he marshaled the resources of men and exhorted them to exceed their forefathers, everything, anything he could do, would be dwarfed by these silent titans. He thought of the ruins of the Metraxas, and was overwhelmed with weariness for several moments.
Before the army's path stretched the harsh, blasted flatlands of the Maghan plateau, the chill winds of the oncoming night just beginning to blow.
“The vastness of the soulless earth doth trammel us in stone, reminding frail humanity our will must stand alone.”
Sianai smirked, ever at his side. “The Lay of the Grey Prince. Apt, given who we are to face.”
“I am concerned, Sianai.”
“For the coming Armageddon.”
The Redeemer lifted his head in rejection. “No. I am concerned for what will have befallen the Exatai on our return.”
Sianai laughed. “We are the Exatai’s two most dangerous men, and our greatest enemies are broken. Arteras and petty princelings are all that remain.”
“I am sure they counted on that,” said the Redeemer under his breath.
The Wind-Prince bowed his head. “I will gladly return and deal with them, at your command.”
Talephas laughed knowingly. “Yes, I am sure you would.”
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The leaders emerged from the undergrowth to block their path, as horn calls split the air, seemingly from all directions. One was Taudo, characteristically small boned, his shoulders draped in a formless, forest-green cloak, with a hunting bow in his hands and two crossed javelins slung behind his back. His mask was made of woven leaves and sticks. Next to him stood an Evyni warlord, resplendent in scale armor and a blood-red half-mask, holding a longsword.
Dozens of soldiers fanned out behind them, drawing weapons and forming ranks, as Evvico and Arteras’ bodyguards formed a protective ring around their lieges, sharpened pikes facing outward.
“Arteras-ta-Atracta of the Scroll, I name you traitor to our Redeemer Talephas, practitioner of foul vices and and secret worshiper of heathen gods,” said the Evyni.
“To listen, Artero,” said the Taudo, with a thick northern accent. “We have four thousands in the surround. There is no way for escapes. It must be to come and answer, in Vadathir court.”
Arteras drew his sword, rearing up his horse in a majestic fashion. “You DARE impede me? Letoratta, the sword of the sea? I will have you castrated and disemboweled you –“
“Then die, if you like,” said the Evyni, cutting him off. “Or be bound, and answer to justice.”
Evvico studied Arteras, his eyes glittering black gems. “Go with them, my Prince. I will send word to the Redeemer at once, demanding your release. If necessary I will raise the whole Accanon to secure your freedom.”
Arteras stared at him for several moments. Finally he said softly, “As you say.” He pointed towards his accusers, shouting loudly, “I will face your false justice. But know you this. If you spill one drop of my blood, your cities will be ASH.”
The two princes dismounted and clasped arms in brotherhood, Arteras overtopping the young, curly-haired Evvico by more than a head. “Thank you, my young cousin. We will see this through to the end.” Arteras walked towards his accusers, who led him away into the forest.
“The very end,” replied Evvico softly, with a small smile.
