"The Short Victorious War"
Footsteps pounded down the carpeted hallways of the great palace of Karakorum. Servants, maids, and other staff turned curiously to regard the impatient boy hurrying past them, only to smile and perhaps cover a laugh behind a raised hand as they recognized the small figure. The boy passed dozens of people in his hasty flight down the halls; past haughty courtiers in brightly decorated costumes who feigned not to notice his presence, past scores of cooks and their servants preparing the daily meal in the vast kitchens of the basement, past guards who stood unblinkingly on guard in their resplendent gold uniforms with rifles clutched at the ready. All noticed the boy and immediately took no notice of him, for the sight of Mordecai was a familiar one in the halls of the palace.
Small of stature and possessed of a nonchalant (or what some would unkindly call meek) demeanor, Mordecai was not one to stand out in any crowd. Although nearing manhood as reckoned by calender years, Mordecai still had yet to fill out and grow, and thus usually gave the impression of being a gawky boy - as was the case now as he charged down through the passageways of the palace. As he galloped up another staircase taking the steps two at a time, he reflected back on the unusual circumstances that had brought him to the nerve center of one of the most powerful empires in the world.
"I'm sure you can find some sort of use for him, sir," said Magdalai as he addressed the khan. They were in Temujin's personal study, and the sight of the legendary older man behind his imposing desk had left Mordecai in a state of stunned awe. The young boy was standing half-behind the veteran general, trying unsuccessfully to hide his fear.
"Oh really?" asked the khan in his deep voice. "Tell me, boy, what talents do you have? What is it that you do? And," he said, turning to look at Magdalai, "this had better be worth my time."
Mordecai realized that Temujin was staring directly at him and gulped nervously. His eyes were twin daggers that seemed to pin Mordecai to the wall, boring into him and forcing him to reveal all the most secret intentions hidden in his heart. "Speak now Mordecai!" hissed Magdalai into his ear without turning. "I got you this audience, now the rest is up to you."
"I... I have no talents, great khan," he mumbled softly. "That's why I came here, to Karakorum. There was nothing for me at home..." he trailed off uncertainly.
Temujin shot Magdalai a black look, asking without words why his general was wasting his time. Magdalai could only shrug and reply sheepishly, "He said he had to talk to you, that it's important he be here. But the boy doesn't know why any more than you or I do; he just feels that it's important in some way. I don't know either," he ended weakly.
"That's it?" said Temujin increduously. "You just FEEL it's important to be here? Magdalai, arrange for this boy to be sent back to his home."
"NO!" shouted Mordecai, forgetting where he was and who he was addressing. As that realization slowly hit him and the two men turned to look at him, the face of the boy drained of color. "Please don't send me home; I... I left my family behind. I can't go back now. Please... you don't understand what it's like being the weakest and the smallest..." A tear leaked unnoticed from his cheek to drip down to the soft golden carpet.
"More than you'll ever know..." said Temujin softly, too softly for anyone but Mordecai to hear. He focused that impossibly intense gaze on Mordecai again. "All right, boy, I may be able to find some use for you after all. I need someone to run messages for me and do other odd tasks, someone completely apart from the infernal politics of this court. You seem like the sort of person I could use for that..."
And so Mordecai had come to be the personal messenger of Temujin, his comings and goings unquestioned by anyone in the palace and his person unassailable by even the toughest and strongest of bullies. Because Temujin had quickly grasped the truth of something that Mordecai had not even known about himself: he DID have a special talent, an ability to see and hear at a far superior level compared to the average person. Unbeknownst to everyone in the palace who ignored his presence, Mordecai was able to see what they were doing and hear their whispered conversations - and then report it all back to Temujin when "delivering" a message. His endless running of letters from Magdalai to Temujin and back again had no purpose other than to spy on what others in the palace were doing, a plan that was concealed from all but the three of them. Even the khan's sons thought of Mordecai as only the errand boy he appeared to be.
But today was different, which was why he was now racing through the halls at breakneck speed. Today had come word that war was brewing, the first war that Mongolia had faced in ages, and the first chance for a whole new generation of soldiers to be ground up into the remorseless machinery of battle. Mordecai burst into the simple office that Magdalai used when he was stationed in Karakorum, startling his friend and protector.
"Come quickly! The khan says that we're at war!" blurted out Mordecai eagerly.
"What? Take me there!" replied Magdalai, leaping to his feet. Within seconds the two were racing together back through the maze of passages in the palace.
* * * * *
The War Room was a large, stark room almost devoid of all furnishings hidden deep within the subterranean bowels of the palace. A long table which could seat several dozen if need be ran down its center; it, like the walls of the chamber, was made from cold and unyielding steel. Today the room was almost empty of visitors, as the khan planned to meet only with his most senior advisors to discuss the planning of the upcoming war with Scandinavia, leaving fully three quarters of the table free of guests to be covered with maps and charts of all kinds.
When Magdalai entered the room, he saw that the other members of the War Council were already present. Temujin sat as usual at the head of the table, his intense gaze focused on a large map of the Scandinavian border and the concentration of forces in that region. To his left, also focusing on the same map, was the grizzled General Sabotai, no doubt planning the best route of advance through the plains of southern Scandinavia. Chagatai was seated at the khan's right hand, trying without much luck to seem interested in the strategic planning of the older two men. War had never held much interest for Chagatai; he had always been more of a builder and diplomat at heart. Further down the table next to Chagatai was Naadam, who lounged contentedly in his chair, seemingly unconcerned with the whole business. Temujin looked up at Magdalai's entrance and motioned him to the empty seat next to Sabotai so that he could begin the day's business. There were no others present; Jochi was somewhere deep in Viking territory sowing chaos and dischord while Mordecai could not be admitted to this meeting without blowing his cover as a simple messenger. It was a very small group considering how much power was at their disposal.
"As you all should know by now," Temujin began, "I annouced to the Scandinavian ambassador this morning that we were entering into a state of war with their nation effective immediately. I imagine that was a bit of a surprise for him to swallow with his breakfast," he went on, prompting light chuckles from the others.
"Should we have him killed as a message?" asked Sabotai to the khan.
"No, there's no need," Temujin replied. "I've already put him on the first train out of Karakorum. By the time he can get to a telegraph to pass on the word to Trondheim, our cavalry will have already crossed the border." His mouth opened wide into an unpleasant grin. "The Vikings have been at war with Korea for ages now; their military is almost completely spent. It's time for us to step in and reap the fruits of battle for ourselves!"
Temujin's face hardened and he seemed to be looking inward for a moment. "And to pay them back for the last time we fought them, such a long time ago." Magdalai realized the khan was talking about the Battle of Hovd, a struggle so long in the past it had been even before the Mongols possessed iron. Had Temujin really been there? It had been ancient history even when Magdalai was young.
Snapping out of his contemplative mood, Magdalai realized that Temujin was issuing orders. "...advance along the coast as far as possible, taking the high ground where necessary. Don't try to attack any large cities without artillery support, got that?" Sabotai nodded. "Magdalai, you're in charge of coordinating the cavalry. Stick with the infantry for the most part and guard our supply lines, but if the chance comes to make a lightning strike deep into enemy territory, you do it. Understood?"
"Yes sir!" he replied. He would have free reign in the campaign, just like at the Battle of Salamanca. The thought brought a smile to Magdalai's face.
Temujin had already moved on to the others. "Chagatai, you're in charge of coordinating industrial production for the war. We need more of everything, but artillery most of all. Make sure that the rails follow our army's path; I don't care how many workers die in the process, just get the rails built! Mobility is everything. And if at all possible get me some of those new planes up in the air."
He turned to look at Naadam. "As for you, get in the papers and start twisting the facts. Make it look like we were attacked, that shouldn't be too hard. I want to see news stories, posters, and billboards all villifying the Vikings before the week is out. If our ethnic Scandinavians on the northeast border revolt over this war, I swear I'll sack your ass right back where you came from!" He looked around the table. "Has everyone got that?"
"Yes sir!" came the response in unison. For all that it was called the War Council, Temujin still called all the shots.
* * * * *
Erikk sighed despondently and covered his face in his hands. His military uniform was soiled and tattered; his usually neatly-trimmed beard a frayed mess. A hastily bandaged wound in his shoulder still pained him with every move; Erikk thought the piece of shrapnel was probably still inside his body. It was hard to believe that it all could have come to this, such a miserable end for his nation and his people.
It was the Mongols, of course. It was always the Mongols that haunted him, the Mongols that stole into his dreams in the night and woke him up sobbing hysterically. The Koreans were the ancient foe, and they had done much of the damage themselves, but it was the Mongols that had destroyed Scandinavia. Attacking out of the blue, their lightning campaign had conquered more cities in weeks than the Koreans had in years. Their artillery pounded his cities to rubble, their cavalry was everywhere to mop up the survivors, and those damned railroads followed their armies everywhere, forming a lifeline back to the Mongol heartland.
Yes, it was the Mongols, the infernal Mongols who were responsible for turning Scandinavia into a lifeless wasteland. And he, Erikk, had held the life of Temujin in the palm of his hand once! The memory made him clench his bloodied hands in anger. Hovd... it had been so long ago, a different world back then, when the Mongols were the weakest of nations and the Vikings one of the strongest. If only he had disobeyed Ragnar's orders to make peace!
But Ragnar was dead now, having committed suicide in his underground bunker rather than be captured by the victorious Mongol armies. Of all the Viking commanders, Erikk was the only one still alive, holed up in the shattered remnants of his command post in Stavanger. It was an icy wasteland, an appropriate place of exile for a general who had publically criticized the king and been demoted as a result, but now it was the de facto capital of the country. Or what was left of it.
Shapes moved out in the haze of smoke; men on horseback who must be Mongolian. Erikk prepared to give the order to fire when a voice called out, "You! In the bunker! Surrender to us now and we will let you live. There is no reason for you to die purposely!"
The handful of men gathered there turned to look at Erikk. Officially, it was his duty as an officer to never surrender to the enemy. Even the thought of doing so was considered treasonous in Scandinavia. But treason to what, exactly? His country no longer existed and it was pointless to pretend otherwise. His life was surely forfeit, but most of his men were still young, too young to throw their lives away in a token act of defiance. Erikk called back, "Your offer is more than generous. I will accept on the condition that you swear to guarantee the lives of my men."
"I swear it," answered the voice. "Now please come out of there."
There was nothing to do other than trust the speaker; the Mongols could simply wait for their artillery to arrive and blast the bunker into oblivion, so Erikk painfully walked out of the reinforced doorway to meet the unidentified voice. He was met by a squadron of Mongol cavalry; their leader smoothly dismounted and removed his helmet. The man was of average height but possessed of a supremely ugly face, and looked to have seen more than a fair share of fights at some time in the past. "My name is Magdalai," the man said. "And you would be..."
With a shock Erikk recognized the four small silver swords on the shoulders of the other man's uniform - the rank the Mongols used to identify a general. What was a general doing on the battlefield? "My name is Lieutenant Erikk, General Magdalai," he replied. "I believe that I may be the acting senior officer of the nation of Scandinavia."
"And would you be willing to sign a treaty of unconditional surrender to Mongolia?" pressed Magdalai.
Erikk sighed. "I do not wish to, but I see no other choice given the situation," he answered. "My nation is dead; all I can do now is look after my people who have survived."
"I think that is wise, Lieutenant," said Magdalai. "I will have some formal documents drawn up to make this official, but we can seal this off the record right now." He extended his hand, which Erikk accepted and shook. Magdalai regarded Erikk reflectively. "You seem to have good judgement and a willingness to accept the reality of the situation; I may be able to persuade the khan to put you in charge of the rebuilding of Scandinavia. That is, speaking strictly confidentially; I can't guarantee you anything. Would that be acceptable to you?"
"Yes, actually it would," said Erikk gratefully. Perhaps his life might not be entirely over after all.
this may be changing in the Conquests expansion, but for now it does not apply to hills tiles. And the bonus only applies to movement, it does not affect attack/defense values in any way. A spear on a mountain still defends with a value of (2 + 2*100% = 4). 
Hehe, 1 more solo game to read and I'm finished with your Epics reports (as for now), I could then read your SGs...
I fully intent to finish Temujin's story and play the game out to conclusion. Look for the next turns in a couple of days. 
![[party]](/images/smilies/partytime.gif "Party [party]")
Time to create an army with it, obviously, so we can build the Heroic Epic and Military Academy. An infantry army sounds pretty good to me... Aarhus is razed and Hutag founded to occupy the same location. We're movin' on up again in the ranking of world powers! 
To be honest, this game is too much fun to stop playing, and I really do want to finish the story. It took about 4 hours to play those 10 turns so no time for a story installment tonight; look for another one in the next few days. Here's the current map:
Thanks for jogging my memory Bam-Bam. I must be losing it!
My favorite was telling an SG member to mine the Flood Plains.
