LINESII- Into the Darkness- Part III

[Kal'thzar]

The King had always surronded himself with the bright sparks of the age; During the war, this had been Generals like Ithauer and The Knight. After the War it was a host of advisors; philsophers, priests, aristocrats.

These were not names that had were lauded by the common folk; Thaier for instance; reformed the Census tax, removeing corruption from the system, and making the process more streamlined. Went on to write a treatise; Wealth and Peoples; which has infulences many peoples since.

This is not a name small children hear at bedtime.

These brilliant men and women are for a different day; Today we focus on one Known as the Magi. Important for this person made a tranistion between advisor to Warrior.

The Story of the Magi is secrative; Began tutiton as a priest on the isles of Kehx, became proficient and moved up the ranks. At some point The Magi contacted the Prince, feeling that such a friend could be helpfull.

Shortly afterward A Holy Order of Knights; known as the Magi was founded, A Padaldin would be a rather simplistic translation, but it will do. One of the more Odd things about this order was that their face was always covered. Visor held down. Otherwise they served as theologians and The King tied them to his title as Defender of the faith.

Few questioned the prupose of creating a Holy Order of Knights when the war had ended, but more asked who they were.

*****​

Sileus; The Kings son, learnt tenents of warfare and other philosophies. Still a young boy, and still quite naive. The Knight was patient, but still wore his Black armour, the young boy was a serious student, but loud, questioning and argumentative.

Sileus jumped up onto the Knight. Looked through the visor, placed his hand on The Knights chest and said "You hurt....here, did you lose something? Whats wrong?". "Sometimes it is better to be silent so you may study your opponants, and yourself," The Knight replied; repeating something Ithauer had once said to him.

The Knight was still suprised by how perceptive he was.

 

[Kal'thzar]

Enough stories for today, I'll finish em' after the update.

Orders.

 

[Swissempire]

The Coalescence of the Svet​

From evil, good was wrought. From war, peace was wrought. From blood, growth was wrought. From destruction, Otaria was wrought- Inscription on the White Rider's tomb

The Island nation of Otaria was united, but its uniter was dieing. The legendary White Rider was dieing of a cancer none could cure. So, the populace set about creating a government that would protect them and their new nation. But how. Yes, the White Rider HAD created some laws and the country was peaceful, but all but the naive knew that safeguards would have to be taken.

There were too movements, the Monarchists and the Republicans. The Monarchists looked at Myocaca and at Khemri and wished to emulate that sort of Kingdom. They would give Otaria to the White Rider and his heirs. The Republicans would have none of it, they had freedom and they were wanting to keep it. They proposed copying the Valin system, which many balked at simply because it was Valin.

Tensions rose and rose and rose some more. But weeks before his death, the White Rider summoned the people, for he had found a compromise. The leader of their nation, which he called the Veliken, would be elected to a life term by the people. The candidates for the Veliken would be chosen from the Zaslužen , meaning the meritorious. The Zasluzen were a quasi-nobility group, but your family would lose status if they proved to be unmeritorious, tyrannical, or inept. Non-Zasluzen who proved their valor could be elevated.

This compromise suited the people, the White Rider died in peace, naming his new state structure a Svet. Thusly, the Svet of Otaria was created.

OOC: It was rushed, sorry. Orders soon.

 

[Wubba360]

orders coming soon

 

[Kozmos]

The Coalescence of the Svet​

From evil, good was wrought. From war, peace was wrought. From blood, growth was wrought. From destruction, Otaria was wrought- Inscription on the White Rider's tomb

The Island nation of Otaria was united, but its uniter was dieing. The legendary White Rider was dieing of a cancer none could cure. So, the populace set about creating a government that would protect them and their new nation. But how. Yes, the White Rider HAD created some laws and the country was peaceful, but all but the naive knew that safeguards would have to be taken.

There were too movements, the Monarchists and the Republicans. The Monarchists looked at Myocaca and at Khemri and wished to emulate that sort of Kingdom. They would give Otaria to the White Rider and his heirs. The Republicans would have none of it, they had freedom and they were wanting to keep it. They proposed copying the Valin system, which many balked at simply because it was Valin.

Tensions rose and rose and rose some more. But weeks before his death, the White Rider summoned the people, for he had found a compromise. The leader of their nation, which he called the Veliken, would be elected to a life term by the people. The candidates for the Veliken would be chosen from the Zaslužen , meaning the meritorious. The Zasluzen were a quasi-nobility group, but your family would lose status if they proved to be unmeritorious, tyrannical, or inept. Non-Zasluzen who proved their valor could be elevated.

This compromise suited the people, the White Rider died in peace, naming his new state structure a Svet. Thusly, the Svet of Otaria was created.

OOC: It was rushed, sorry. Orders soon.

Slavic words detected. Initiate termination of non-indigenous population.

 

[Lord_Iggy]

Are you considering my proposal, Iggy? Orders ticking in...

I posted your map with Foozicaba's in the last thread.

on a related note to my 10 eco; how does Veritas make 8? I count 5....

Stat error.

 

[Wubba360]

orders sent

 

[alex994]

OOC: Erm... should I expect the other stats to be updated with the new culture?

wubba, a response would be appreciated

IC:

To Myocaca (before they became the Cultesian Empire)
From Guangfei

His Majesty would appreciate a reply of some sorts...

 

[jeps]

Orders incoming. Very soon. for long term and short term (as a backup.)

 

[alex994]

Wait... do we need both long AND short term orders?

 

[Lord_Iggy]

No, j_eps is just going to have some schedule problems in the future.

 

[alex994]

This isn't a BT right? It's an IT right?

EDIT: And King Cheng Ji is STILL alive! He's outlived now what? 5 or 6 Han Emperors!

 

[Lord_Iggy]

I don't do BTs.

 

[LittleBoots]

From Guarela
To Gerougia

Greetings, neighbours to the north. Would you like to sign trade and an alliance? With it we can both prosper. If we can put our differences aside and work together we can be powerful and rich. If we can't, war shall come and be deadly to us both.

We also would like to work out borders, so clashes over expansion do not arise.

OOC: Actually we have a rather storied history and the two nations grow closer together all the time. Trade and philosophy has mixed for a long time and the religions are combining right now as it is, although things have moved a little faster in Gerougia than Guarela. Iggy's stats don't represent us properly, religionwise.

@Iggy - I don't want to waste your PM space with a PM. All I want is to put everything into the project.

 

[Lord_Iggy]

Yeah, your nations are already pretty close friends.

 

[The Farow]

Orders Sent

 

[LBaeldeth]

"Arteshbod?" The Elder's voice was soft in the twilit night.

"Here." The powerful man grunted out his reply, waving briefly from a secluded corner of the palace gardens he shared with the Sepahbod. Both men looked grim as they watched the woman approach.

"I have bad news," she began, without ceremony or equivocation. "The council advised against raising more troops. The money is being sent to develop the gem mines in the northern mountains owned by three of the viziers."

The Arteshbod scowled. "I have worse. Our esteemed -" he spat "- Emperor sent a full brigade of the Sparakae marching west to aid Kelios." His expression, against all possibility, darkened further. "I'll bet they're massing at the border right now. Our men will be butchered by the soldiers they think they're working with."

The Sepahbod nodded his agreement. "We still haven't heard from the Kelios ambassador. Everyone knows he ran for the border as fast as his feet could carry him."

"Then he ran back even quicker." The Elder broke in again, suppressing her smirk at bringing the unknown to light once more; privilege of one in the inner council. "The good ambassador made an appearance today - breathing a little heavily, perhaps. I suspect his words were what prompted the sending of our soldiers." An irritated look crossed her face. "The Emperor didn't even bother to confirm their promise of tribute for the use of our men, not that I'd expect them to pay it either way."

The naval commander pinched his forehead, eyes shut, as he sat perched on a Tsayan-carved boulder. The Arteshbod calmly snapped a thick limb from a nearby tree and began breaking it into precise inch-long pieces, fancifully imagining he held the Emperor's neck in his hands instead.

"This cannot stand, gentlemen." The Elder continued, her voice hardening. "We are being run by a council of greedy old merchants who pull the strings of our Kelios-worshipping puppet of a leader. Something must be done, and done soon."

The leader of Syracia's armies tossed away the last piece of wood. "My officers are loyal to me, not Yaran. They'd have followed old Jara to death and back twice over, as would I, but they see as well as any man what his whelpling of a son is doing to the throne. The soldiers they lead will follow them, I'm sure."

The Sepahbod remained silent for a moment as the implications of what his compatriot had just said sank in, then spoke himself. "I can say the same for my captains. They know the constant battles they're fighting against the pirates in this stalled campaign is because the Emperor suddenly lost interest. Bitterness is a powerful tool."

Only the Elder remained to voice her opinion on the treasonous subject being hinted at. The silence of the night extended. "The common folk won't know any of this. They don't serve in the armies or navies and see what his incompetence is accomplishing. If anything unfortunate were to happen to our glorious ruler, they would see only his corpse and not the reasons behind his death."

The Arteshbod shrugged, as if it was the easiest thing in the world to solve. "We lie. Find a scapegoat. Kelios, maybe."

The naval man shook his head, fingers steepling as he thought. "No. No, they'd want vengeance on whoever did this. If on the off-chance Kelios isn't planning to invade us, we want to avoid war. They are quite powerful." Eyes hooded, he contemplated the situation. "Divotheists."

The Elder nodded slowly. "Chancosanx is far enough away that we can excuse not retaliating - immediately, at least. And we have been treating them rather poorly of late."

"They deserve it," growled the military over-general. "Superstitious louts."

The Elder smiled thinly in the darkness. "And they'll deserve the lynchings they get once word gets out that Divotheist assassins slew our upstanding and heroic Emperor. The people love a martyr."

Both men nodded. "Let's give them one."

 

[LightFang]

Orders have been sent! Yay!

 

[LBaeldeth]

The Arteshbod stroke confidently down the corridors of the Imperial Palace, feet taking him along the way to the Emperor's apartments. At his side strode the Sarhang commanding the Palace Guard. Both wore grim faces and sharp swords. Neither spoke a word.

Two spearmen stood guard outside the door to the Emperor's sleeping chambers, their bronze armor, beautifully engraved and raised in relief, shining dully in the flickering light of the torches. They snapped to attention as their commander, and his commander, both came into view.

The Sarhang nodded to his men, speaking in a low voice. "L'hrae. Saran. In precisely five minutes you will hear fighting inside the Emperor's bedchamber. Bursting in you will see two men standing over the body of our beloved ruler. Both shall flee out the window before you can catch them, shouting that they have struck for the Sky Gods. Do you understand?"

The faces of the guards had gone flat. Both nodded after the briefest of hesitations, earning a bleak smile from the Arteshbod, who remained silent.

The Sarhang nodded in return. "Good men. Stay here. Remember, five minutes." With the two soldiers staring straight ahead, unseeing, the officers pushed open the doors and stepped inside.

All was silent. The inner doors opened as easily as the outer, locks left unlatched by quiet order. The grand expanse of the Emperor's bedchamber yawned before them, Yaran's bed, and his sleeping form inside, straight ahead.

They split, Sarhang heading around to the left side, Arteshbod taking the right. The Arteshbod was the lucky one, finding the Emperor sprawled near the right edge of the mattress. One meaty hand closing over the ruler's mouth was enough to both wake and silence him.

The military man glared into his liege's confused and increasingly frightened eyes, seeing reflected there all the soldiers dead before, and if his worst dreams were too, all the soldiers to be dead in the future, sons of Syracia struck down by folly. Anger welled within him, and he did nothing to damp it down.

"You listen to me, you worthless piece of hogshyte," he hissed. "You do dishonor to your father's memory just by existing. Because of you, the empire he forged may not survive much longer. No matter what happens, though ... it's going to outlive you."

Yaran's eyes bulged with terror, and his limbs thrashed, but the Arteshbod's grip would not be dislodged. With his free hand he held the back of his ruler's head, then jerked sharply. There was a satisfying snap and the last Emperor of Syracia went limp.

The Sarhang's gaze met the Arteshbod's. Neither man said a thing. Together they strode out of the room, closing and locking the doors behind them. The guards outside remained at attention, eyes forward, seeing nothing.

The officers were nearly out of earshot when the first shouts of murder and Divotheist assassins were raised.

 

[LBaeldeth]

The Syracian empire had only two Emperors; one good, and one bad.

The first was Jara the Uniter, the man who led the Syracian people to victory in the ashes of Tsaya. Though in his waning years his mind wandered away, before that he was a strong and capable ruler.

Second was Yaran the Foolish and Indecisive. His record, as reflected by the title appended to him, was less grand. A devout practicioner of a Kelosian philosophy he only half-understood, Yaran's rule was more the rule of his council of advisors, on whom he increasingly relied. Marked by diplomatic gaffes and military disasters, the reign of the last Syracian Emperor was brought to a violent end by the hand of his own subordinate.

For the longest time, Syracian histories said otherwise. The death of Emperor Yaran was the work of Divotheist assassins, striking in vengeance for the strictures imposed on their religion and perhaps in the pay of Chancosanx, the Divotheist confederation west of Kelios. That is what was shouted from every street corner the dawn after Yaran's death, and the outbreak of violence against the dwindling Divotheist minority was so severe as to need soldiers called out in all three cities to restore order.

The true hand behind the Emperor's demise was that of the Arteshbod of the Syracian armies, and that hand joined with those of the Sepahbod of the navy and the reigning Elder of the Council of Advisors to create the Tricameron. Responsibilities for the Empire were divided between them: The Arteshbod, security on land - including trade routes - and all things military. The Sepahbod, security at sea, again with trade, and all things naval. To the Elder fell perhaps the largest day-to-day responsibilities, those of the domestic policies of all the Empire.

Each member of the Tricameron was advised by their own council, which grew out of the support structures of the organizations from which they came. The Elder spoke with the Council of Advisors, the Arteshbod with his Sarlashkars, and the Sepahbod with the Sarvans of his fleets. In time the three councils were branched away from their original structures, and merged into one, over which the Tricaeron held court. Successors were chosen by each of the Tricameron and every advisor, always upon obtaining the position, and their identities kept sealed until death. New members of the Tricameron must come from the council; new Advisors could be, and often were, absolutely anyone. Then the new advisor, or new member of the Tricameron, would be informed of his - or occasionally, following the precedent of the first Elder of the Tricameron, her - elevation in power.

The system was less than perfect, and gave rise to bitter politicking and infighting among its members, though this was tempered by the fact that no-one knew who would succeed whom. Nevertheless, one thing was always agreed upon ... it was a great improvement over Yaran.