Since the deadline for orders has passed...
The Third Epoch: Opening
"Before the Second Exile, all Veritasan flags and banners had featured the color purple. It symbolized strength, nobility, and the Old Republic. After the disasterous defeats in Tekrehexou and the fall of Kallamas, the banners of the Exiles prominently featured blue. This reflected the return to the Sea that dominated the lives of the Valins, and humility in their defeat."
-Academian Belisarias Peolian,
Republics and Exarchates: The Exiled Valins
Part One:
The situation for the Veritasan armed forces was rapidly deteriorating in 1137 P.D. The Assemblum
Temporum, not to mention the entire population, was panicking. Crystalist forces swept across the Wardash, and their numerically superior forces began a final advance towards Kallamas. The Stratikrator had died at Hekxi, and only a few Host-Lords remained, many simply disbanding their forces and heading for the hills.
Not to mention, Veritas was lost. Beautiful, ancient Veritas, the first and greatest city to be built on Tellus. The Legioni were committed to fighting until the very end...most of them, that is. In 1137, the state of the Legioni was so miserable that detatchments began to break off and flee in all directions. What loyal commanders were left hastily carried their forces over the Kalmar, trying to safeguard the Assemblum's passage. That brings us to the tale of the Thousand.
Host-Lord Illian Vantias was a career soldier, hardened through a decade of desparate war. Even so, he was a young man, not to be put off by the impending death of his nation. Several small companies of Falchions fled north as the Crystalists closed on Kallamas. With their eyes on the ultimate prize, most of the remaining army was simply swept aside and ignored, to be dealt with later. The Host-Lord found himself alone in the northern borderlands, and rallied these wayward men to his cause. One problem though: Awful cause.
He fully realized that he was the only remaining senior commander with an effective fighting force...a death sentence if he continued to resist. But being a pragmatist, he gathered the Falchions he had, along with a few Latismen stragglers and a scattered Phoenix Archer unit, and fled. The Crystalists never knew, as they steadily consolidated control over the Province Centralium. But the most important part of this tale is the two scholars that fled with him. Dentani and Palantian, were their names, and their literacy made them useful to the commander as scribes. The elderly scholars were the original architects of the War Towers.
Host-Lord Vantias found himself in Tristaria after some heavy marching, and decided to head for Trinitra. King Solius was rather sympathetic to Veritas, he reasoned, and perhaps his men could find refuge there. Approaching the Palace, Vantias arranged a meeting with the King, where he offered the service of his men as mercenaries to safeguard the border with Gerber, and to the South. Solius agreed, and they were just negotiating the terms of payment when terrible news arrived.
Starved and exhausted from months of wandering in the wild, Vantias' troops had started a riot after being refused food at an inn, due to lack of money. As the Veritasan soldiers were in danger of starting a massive riot among the other Valins living in the city, Solius knew he had to act quickly.
In return for leaving immediately, Tristaria would provide the renegade army with food and supplies...but they had to leave, and never return. Understanding that the only other option was to answer for the crimes of his men, the Host-Lord agreed, and left. In effect, his men had gotten free food and supplies for pillaging and looting. For years to come, "You're slipperier than Vantias" would be a popular phrase in Tristarian culture.
Of course, the wary commander had to consider his options. Maps in Veritas had been very vague about what came north of Tristaria, but his scholars informed him that there were three neighboring nations. He could go to Davar, Gerber, or Nkondi. Davar might grant him refuge, but he would probably get sucked back into the conflict in Veritas, and the rumors weren't good from Veritas. Gerber he knew little about, except that they tended to kill anything that came out of Tristaria. Probably not a good vacation spot.
So to Nkondi they went, one thousand Veritasan soldiers ready for war. And a "small" bribe to a Davarian border guard guaranteed them safe passage. The only problem is, soldiers need money to eat, and money comes from two sources: Payment from wars fought, and pillaged loot from a war.
The Nkondi didn't know what to think of the weird white-skins, but they had sharp blades...probably best not to cross them. So they gave the Veritasan soldiers a small plot of land in the deserted eastern plains toward the Keran Range. Vantias and his men settled down for a while, building some huts and slaughtering the local wild Auroch population for meat. The commander planned his next move, because he didn't want to be ruler of a pathetic little fief in the middle of nowhere, at least not forever.
One day, a mob of dark-skinned peasants crossed the Kalmar and ran through the village, fleeing for their lives from some invisible menace. Grabbing one by the neck, (they were just random peasants after all) the Host-Lord demanded to know what they were running from. Falling to the ground, the tribesman let out a string of gibberish, which Palantian translated to mean something about a massive horde and a great invasion.
Vantias was intrigued. "Who are they? Who leads them?"
Trembling in fear, the unfortunate peasant let out a single word. "L...Lengelzai."
---
Pacian was praying when the summons came. He had known for a while that it would. Going from a humble monk to the living incarnation of a God, even temporarily, was a bit of a drastic change. The most difficult thing to deal with was the whispering. Everywhere he walked, people stared at him, bowed, and whispered. They knew what they were saying. He was the One. Well he wasn't the One, simply his humble servant. He almost felt like snapping at the people who followed him, well-meaning as they were.
Peace...peace. That was the only thing that could salvage this situation now. As long as the Crystalists decided not to slaughter the entire population of Veritas, he knew that Veritas would be brought to safety. Even after her armies had perished, the people of Veritas could still endure. But where, what land could hold them?
A vision suddenly stretched before his eyes. He saw Veritas, saw Tellus. It was like a map being rolled out, except the map was made of real, living land. He seemed to be as a bird floating over the world. A shining presence was in his mind...the One? He could not see Him, but his thought was directed East.
To the Sea, of course! The people of Veritas had emerged from the ocean, and it would give them refuge and safe passage. Immediately his mind shot across the crystaline waters, across trackless miles of ocean. He saw a cold land to the north, unending pine forests, great wild beasts, and frigid rivers under a steely sky.
And to the south, a more tranquil land...a coastal plain, grasses and flowers blooming by a warm sea. He could almost feel the vitality rising out of the land, a land where trees and flowers could blossom in a new city, a city of redeemers, where all Veritasans could atone for their sins.
There was something else, also. His eyes could not penetrate the shroud of darkness that seemed to swirl around the civilized world. But there was something to the East...the far east, the True East. It was on the border of his conciousness, what was it? What was it?
Pacian gasped for breath. Then he remembered the summons...the summons! He had to tell the Assemblum of his vision. Perhaps they wouldn't act on the crazy idea of Brother Pacian, the Uniarch's apprentice, but they would definitely act on the Divine Will of Pacian, the One's Incarnate. The pacifist monk smiled to himself. Perhaps being the vessel of the One had its benefits after all.
And he set out to join the Assemblum.
---
Vantias' curiosity was piqued by the tales of this great horde. Without another moment of deliberation, he gathered the men, and told them of his plan. Some of them had their doubts, but they hadn't died so far. And it was a better alternative to sitting around eating Auroch meat...the stuff smelled to high heaven. And don't even get me started about what it does to your breath.
So anyway, two months of amateur boat building later, the errant Host-Lord and his army crossed the Kalmar. The trees faded away as they reached the western bank, and before the astonished soldiers and their general lay a massive plain, stretching for what seemed an eternity into the distance. Everything seemed bigger, freer, unlike the cramped lands to the south. A man could truly make his life here...especially if there's a war to be fought.
For a few days they marched around rather aimlessly, searching for any signs of a great horde. But there was nothing. The scholars reminded their infuriated leader that it took time to find anything in such a land. The Host-Lord began to suspect that the darkskinned villagers were scared away by some random ghost or spirit that cursed them, or some other superstitious garbage. Fortunately, they didn't have much longer to wait.
Fifty men, all wearing furs, all riding four-legged, massive beasts. Clearly a smaller advance patrol for some larger army.
It was perfect.
Vantias told his men to blow their trumpets, and announce his presence. They did it, and the angry horsemen wheeled around and charged towards the army. He was a capable commander, even if he had never seen these fast creatures. Archers began a barrage that took several riders down, and Vantian stacked his flanks with Falchions, as he fortified the center with some Latises and Spearmen. He left the center thin, but not incredibly so.
The initial wave of Lengel horsemen crashed into the soldiers. They wavered, not being used to fighting men riding great beasts, but soon the less numerous horsemen were outnumbered by the press of axes coming against them. But the northmen fought ferociously, and the line began to buckle, just as their commander knew it would.
At this point he moved the flanks diagonally towards the press of horses, and then curved around, trapping them in between two lines of soldiers. Losing their mobility, they were soon cut down by the greater force. After that, his men cleared the field and looted the bodies. He didn't even need to order them...now that's good discipline. Grabbing one enemy soldier who was only wounded in the leg, he hauled him off his dead horse.
"Where is Lengelzai?"
Though he didn't speak Valin, the battered Lengel obviously understood, and pointed towards the northwest. Vantias smiled, and quickly executed the prisoner. He was a pragmatist, and it would do well to leave no prisoners or enemies alive.
---
An average day at the Lengel war camp was interrupted by the strangest thing...an army, marching brazenly into their camp! The invaders were obviously too stunned to react, but it was clear that these lightskinned warriors didn't intend to fight, at least not
now. With his scholars roughly translating for him, he found the tent of the Lengelzai himself.
Pushing back the flap of the tent, he walked inside.
The Lengelzai was a tall, well built man, fairly tan and clearly a soldier. He was clad all in furs, but a large copper spear stood next to the heavy, carved wooden chair that served as his throne. Despite the immense power that he held, Host-Lord Vantias noticed that his hut was little different from that of his men. Having lived the same way for a long time, it was clear that they already understood each other, on one level at least.
The Veritasan laid his sword at the foot of the warlord, and began his speech. It was translated by the scholars into something that could be vaguely understood by both sides.
"Lengelzai, I hail you. I am Host-Lord Illian Vantias, and I come from the South, where I fought many wars for my country. But we were defeated, my Stratikrator was killed, and our armies were disbanded. The people of the West have destroyed my nation, which was both great and beautiful. And I hate them for it. I killed some of your men, but only to prove that the same can be done to the Westrons a thousandfold, under your command."
He paused, and then continued.
"I can teach your people the secrets of forging bronze, a metal more powerful than what you use. And with me are two men, who once built great towers of wood and metal that can breach the walls of the highest city. I am no Lengel. But I want revenge. And in return for the chance to get it, my army will aid your horde in creating the greatest Empire known on the face of Tellus."
The Lengelzai looked at the Veritasan commander. And he looked at his blade, and his armor, and the two scholars cowering behind him.
And he began to laugh.
p) as well as all things Chinese 
