das
Regeneration In Process
Heh, I was just wondering when characters clearly affected by the actions of the existent characters would begin to appear. 
SteamNES
- Thread starter Lord_Iggy
- Start date
KrimzonStriker
Master of the Dawn
- Joined
- Oct 3, 2005
- Messages
- 1,933
I thought I'd be original by not being original 
Still, I consider it a tribute to the awesome world our little Iggy has created
Still, I consider it a tribute to the awesome world our little Iggy has created
Welcome Krimzon!Name/Player: Nathanial "Nate" Allendore
Color: Amber
Nationality: Angilan/Currently resides in Vestlund
Bio: A refugee from the turmoil of the Angilan power struggles, Nate had always been told to hide his special abilities since he was 11 years old, instead learning secretly under private tutors and books that his middle-class family could provide. While certainly bright he grew up as a normal and happy child, until the war had suddenly taken his family and forced him along with other refugees across the border into the Vestlund holding in the north of the island. The trauma he has endured hardened him to the realities of the world, and have made him determined to use his gifts to prevent the tragedy of his life from ever occurring again. At sixteen he has made himself a resident of Vestlund's proper for about six-months now, and has taken an interest in Vestlund's late Doctor Isaac Hayden's work on Aniotic Physics, seeking to exploit it for practical purposes. He holds extreme admiration for Ryan Amedeus and Katherine Marie Aylor, as individuals who defy and work to overcome the injustice that has plagued their homeland and seeks to gain contact with them, but lacking confidence in his ability to contribute to the fight until he manages to make some headway in his new research.
Technology:Generic
Forces: 1 Automaton Service Drone
Hope you don't mind I inserted myself in here Iggy, this looks like fun so I thought I'd try it out
Don't give me too much credit- This is a world created by the players. All I am is the background.I thought I'd be original by not being original
Still, I consider it a tribute to the awesome world our little Iggy has created
That's too modest.
germanicus12
First Citizen of Rome
Story to come tonight. Hopefully it will be one of my better stories.
Crezth
i knew you were a real man of the left
I thought I'd be original by not being original
Still, I consider it a tribute to the awesome world our little Iggy has created
And a swell world it is! Truly, a community project for the ages.
Story this 'eve. For serious.
germanicus12
First Citizen of Rome
Octavian's day, part 1:
King Germaniski was a busy man, his numerous projects has put a strain on the national economy, his advisors have warned him that if the projects are to continue he would either have to raise taxes or put some projects on hold. And he hadn't even started rebuilding his army yet. King Germaniski sighed, he motioned for his secretary to continue.
At 12:00 you have a meeting with your military advisor.
At 3:00 you have a meeting with your treasurer.
At 4:00 you have a fitting with your tailor.
At 4:30 you have a meeting with your state advisor.
At 6:00 you have a Royal Ball to attend.
At 9:00 you have meeting with a Lord from an Eastern Province.
At 9:30 you have a meeting with a Lord from an southern Province.
At 10:00 the Royal Ball ends.
Octavian sighed, "Very well, you may go now." The secretary saluted and left.
He grabbed a paper and started writing down some stuff, stop expanding the military; do not start construction of the railroad this year. Hopefully this will leave him enough money to fund his building of the robots for Rossovy and his own military, if not Octavian was willing to donate some of his own money for the cause. The clock chimed, Octavian looked at the clock and saw that it was now 12:00. He put his papers away and stood up to see if the advisor had arrived, the door knocked and his secretary said, "Sir, the military advisor is here."
Octavian asked him to come in and offered him a seat. The advisor did not want a drink and got right down to business.
"Sir, I think it is ridiculous that you cut our military in half. We are now undermanned and some parts of the nation are undefended."
"Relax, my personal soldiers can hold the line if we are attacked, do not worry. Besides I have ordered the construction of several new regiments."
"Well I still think it was a stupid plan."
"Who do you think you are talking to! Do not call my plans stupid again!"
The advisor cowered and apologized meekly.
"Now if there is nothing else, I have business to attend to."
"No, sir I apologize for taking up your valuable time with this nonesense. It will not happen again."
"See to that. Good day."
The advisor saluted and rushed out of the office.
Octavian muttered, "That insolent fool, he thinks he can come in here and tell me what to do." He grabbed a paper and began writing. Once he finished he grabbed a map and began to study it for army placements and industrial might. The big clock chimed once signling that it was now 1:00. A serveant brought in food and wine and left again. Octavian ate his food and went back to his map, he began to mark the counties that had high Industrial capacities for his workers to build his robots. Once that was done, he looked for iron mines that were the closest to his industrial counties and drew lines from the mines to the factories. The big clock chimed twice. Another serveant came in and refilled his wine glass, Octavian now eliminated the inustrial counties that were too far for his wagons to carry the iron and after all that was done he saw that he had 3 industrial counties that could carry out his orders. He grabbed a paper and began writing his orders.
The clock chimed 3 times. A knock came at the door and Octavian shouted, "Enter!" His treasurer entered the office and Octavian smiled, he motioned for the treasurer to sit and offered a drink, the treasurer accepted and Octavians serveant handed him a wine glass.
"Now, let us get to business. I want these 3 counties to begin production of my army. There are iron mines near these industries, these iron must be secured for our use and our use only. I am halting production of the railroad and have ordered the end of military expansion to give us the cash we need for this. Will this be sufficent?"
The treasurer took his big book out of his pouch and opened it, he did the calculations and assumed that it will be enough.
"Excellent, here are the orders for the industries listed, I expect to have 100 legionairres ready by the month's end. Once the 100 are done, send them to me so I can dispatch them."
"Yes sir, I will begin right away." The men stood and shook hands.
Octavian looked at the clock and saw that it was now 3:30. He stood up and headed out of his office where his secretary stood and followed him. He walked down the long halls making turns here and there which still boasted long halls. Finally at 3:50 Octavian arrived at the Tailors office and entered.
Upon completion of his fitting and promises that the tailor will his uniform ready by the ball, King Germaniski headed back to his office. At the office his state advisor was ready for the meeting, he motioned for him to follow him into the office.
"I hope you have some good news to tell me today."
"Yes, sir, it seems as if the dissent against your rule has ceased, the people are returning to their jobs. Factories are in full production as disbanded soldiers go to work. The morale of the nation is climbing, with the arrival of the new railroad that is planning on being built will no doubt make the people more happier as they can now ride the train to work instead of riding their horses or carriages."
"I have put the railroad on hold, we do not have the funds for them right now."
"But sir, everyone is expecting you to start construction this month. The people will not be happy to see that you have failed to meet one of your promises."
"I have not failed! I am simply putting it on hold, get your facts straight!"
The advisor cowered, and meekly said, "Yes, sir, I am sorry for saying you failed. So where is this money being diverted to?"
"The building of the robotic military."
"Excellent strategy sir." The advisor was simply sucking up to the king now.
OOC: To read part two please continue down the page. Thank you.
King Germaniski was a busy man, his numerous projects has put a strain on the national economy, his advisors have warned him that if the projects are to continue he would either have to raise taxes or put some projects on hold. And he hadn't even started rebuilding his army yet. King Germaniski sighed, he motioned for his secretary to continue.
At 12:00 you have a meeting with your military advisor.
At 3:00 you have a meeting with your treasurer.
At 4:00 you have a fitting with your tailor.
At 4:30 you have a meeting with your state advisor.
At 6:00 you have a Royal Ball to attend.
At 9:00 you have meeting with a Lord from an Eastern Province.
At 9:30 you have a meeting with a Lord from an southern Province.
At 10:00 the Royal Ball ends.
Octavian sighed, "Very well, you may go now." The secretary saluted and left.
He grabbed a paper and started writing down some stuff, stop expanding the military; do not start construction of the railroad this year. Hopefully this will leave him enough money to fund his building of the robots for Rossovy and his own military, if not Octavian was willing to donate some of his own money for the cause. The clock chimed, Octavian looked at the clock and saw that it was now 12:00. He put his papers away and stood up to see if the advisor had arrived, the door knocked and his secretary said, "Sir, the military advisor is here."
Octavian asked him to come in and offered him a seat. The advisor did not want a drink and got right down to business.
"Sir, I think it is ridiculous that you cut our military in half. We are now undermanned and some parts of the nation are undefended."
"Relax, my personal soldiers can hold the line if we are attacked, do not worry. Besides I have ordered the construction of several new regiments."
"Well I still think it was a stupid plan."
"Who do you think you are talking to! Do not call my plans stupid again!"
The advisor cowered and apologized meekly.
"Now if there is nothing else, I have business to attend to."
"No, sir I apologize for taking up your valuable time with this nonesense. It will not happen again."
"See to that. Good day."
The advisor saluted and rushed out of the office.
Octavian muttered, "That insolent fool, he thinks he can come in here and tell me what to do." He grabbed a paper and began writing. Once he finished he grabbed a map and began to study it for army placements and industrial might. The big clock chimed once signling that it was now 1:00. A serveant brought in food and wine and left again. Octavian ate his food and went back to his map, he began to mark the counties that had high Industrial capacities for his workers to build his robots. Once that was done, he looked for iron mines that were the closest to his industrial counties and drew lines from the mines to the factories. The big clock chimed twice. Another serveant came in and refilled his wine glass, Octavian now eliminated the inustrial counties that were too far for his wagons to carry the iron and after all that was done he saw that he had 3 industrial counties that could carry out his orders. He grabbed a paper and began writing his orders.
The clock chimed 3 times. A knock came at the door and Octavian shouted, "Enter!" His treasurer entered the office and Octavian smiled, he motioned for the treasurer to sit and offered a drink, the treasurer accepted and Octavians serveant handed him a wine glass.
"Now, let us get to business. I want these 3 counties to begin production of my army. There are iron mines near these industries, these iron must be secured for our use and our use only. I am halting production of the railroad and have ordered the end of military expansion to give us the cash we need for this. Will this be sufficent?"
The treasurer took his big book out of his pouch and opened it, he did the calculations and assumed that it will be enough.
"Excellent, here are the orders for the industries listed, I expect to have 100 legionairres ready by the month's end. Once the 100 are done, send them to me so I can dispatch them."
"Yes sir, I will begin right away." The men stood and shook hands.
Octavian looked at the clock and saw that it was now 3:30. He stood up and headed out of his office where his secretary stood and followed him. He walked down the long halls making turns here and there which still boasted long halls. Finally at 3:50 Octavian arrived at the Tailors office and entered.
Upon completion of his fitting and promises that the tailor will his uniform ready by the ball, King Germaniski headed back to his office. At the office his state advisor was ready for the meeting, he motioned for him to follow him into the office.
"I hope you have some good news to tell me today."
"Yes, sir, it seems as if the dissent against your rule has ceased, the people are returning to their jobs. Factories are in full production as disbanded soldiers go to work. The morale of the nation is climbing, with the arrival of the new railroad that is planning on being built will no doubt make the people more happier as they can now ride the train to work instead of riding their horses or carriages."
"I have put the railroad on hold, we do not have the funds for them right now."
"But sir, everyone is expecting you to start construction this month. The people will not be happy to see that you have failed to meet one of your promises."
"I have not failed! I am simply putting it on hold, get your facts straight!"
The advisor cowered, and meekly said, "Yes, sir, I am sorry for saying you failed. So where is this money being diverted to?"
"The building of the robotic military."
"Excellent strategy sir." The advisor was simply sucking up to the king now.
OOC: To read part two please continue down the page. Thank you.
germanicus12
First Citizen of Rome
Octavian's day: Part 2:
After the state advisor had left Octavian sat there conteplating his achievements during the day, he forced the military advisor to accept the cutbacks in Military strength, he successfully managed to get money from the national treasury to fund his army without using a single cent of his own money and he brought his nation back together and riots are ending as people go back to work and hopefully increase the cash flow of the nation so he can finally build his railroad.
The clock rang 5 times to herald the coming of 5 pm. Octavian sighed, the door knocked again and the secretary opened it to say, "Sir, the tailor is here to give you your uniform." Octavian smiled, he could not wait to see his uniform.
The tailor entered followed by 2 assistants all carrying a piece of cloth or two.
The tailor started to help Octavian into his uniform, once he was completed, he clapped his hands and another assistant came in with a box, Octavian was intrgued as to what was inside the box, but first he wanted to see himself in the mirror, so he walked over to the full length length mirror an assistant brought and looked;
He was wearing the uniform of a king, blood red pants, with a pinkish shirt and red vest, his overcoat was dark red with white outline in fur. He also wore several gold and diamond necklaces and several rings. He was indeed a man of power and any man would feel intimidated to be in his presence. Finally the tailor opened the box and took out a crown, Octavian would not wear the ugly crown that the previous king wore, so the tailor made a new one, this crown had red cloth under with white lining and 4 gold braces around that went from the brim to the top, on the top where the 4 braces met was a huge red Ruby stone. Adorned along the brim and braces were a variety of diamonds and gems. A crown for the ages indeed. The tailor gently placed it on top of the kings head and stepped back, when Octavian turned around all the men in the room fell silent and gasped, all clad in red, there was no doubt this man was indeed powerfull. Octavian smiled, he loved the color red, he could not wait until the party began. He started for the Grand Hall where the party would be held and sat on his throne to greet the guests.
"Good evening, my lord, I am Lord Armandek and this is my wife. We are pleased to serve under you and we hope you are kind to us."
"Good evening my lord, I am Lord Kazimir and this is my wife and daughter. We congratulate you on such a fine ball."
"Good evening my lord, I am Lord Augustyn and this is my daughter. My wife is at home tending to our newborn baby son. But she wanted to come and meet our glorious liberator."
Finally the guests stopped arriving and Octavian started to speak with several of the higher ranking nobles. He was stopped by his aide who told him he had a meeting with Lord Kazimir. The King left and headed for his office to meet the lord.
"Good evening my lord, I applaud you on such a fine ball again."
"What do you want Lord Kazimir?"
"I just wanted to offer my daughters hand in marriage to you my lord. She is from a noble family, her grandfathers ruled Pjolaka under the old Magnetian regime before the previous king rebelled against him and took the throne."
"I thank you for the offer Lord Kazimir, I shall consider the offer and give you my answer tomorrow, but in the meantime, you and your family are welcome to stay in the Palace until my answer is given."
"Thank you my lord, your kindness will not be forgotten."
Lord Kazimir bowed and left. Lord Krzysztof entered and bowed.
"My lord, I come from the south and I request some cash to help fund the establishment of a school in one of our cities. 100,000 Zloty's should be enough do you agree?"
"Very well,..." Octavian heads for his desk where he writes out the number, "take this to my treasurer and he shall give you the money."
"Thank you sir, I shall pay back this money twice over. I will never forget your kindness." Lord Krzysztof bowed and left.
Octavian headed back to the party where he met Lord Kazimir and his family, Octavian was expecting a completely different girl than what was standing in front of him, this girl was beautiful beyond doubt, Octavian struggled to to speak, "Pleased to meet you beautiful ladies, if I may, I would like to speak with Lord Kazimir for a second. Thank you."
"I believe I shall give you my answer now as the party is winding up and I just found out that I will be busy tomorrow. I gladly accept your offer for your daughters hand in marriage. May your family have good fortune."
"Thank you my lord. I shall make the arrangements."
King Octavian Germaniski bowed his head as Lord Kamizir left. It seems as if the King would finally get a wife, and one of noble class too. The future is looking bright for king and nation.
After the state advisor had left Octavian sat there conteplating his achievements during the day, he forced the military advisor to accept the cutbacks in Military strength, he successfully managed to get money from the national treasury to fund his army without using a single cent of his own money and he brought his nation back together and riots are ending as people go back to work and hopefully increase the cash flow of the nation so he can finally build his railroad.
The clock rang 5 times to herald the coming of 5 pm. Octavian sighed, the door knocked again and the secretary opened it to say, "Sir, the tailor is here to give you your uniform." Octavian smiled, he could not wait to see his uniform.
The tailor entered followed by 2 assistants all carrying a piece of cloth or two.
The tailor started to help Octavian into his uniform, once he was completed, he clapped his hands and another assistant came in with a box, Octavian was intrgued as to what was inside the box, but first he wanted to see himself in the mirror, so he walked over to the full length length mirror an assistant brought and looked;
He was wearing the uniform of a king, blood red pants, with a pinkish shirt and red vest, his overcoat was dark red with white outline in fur. He also wore several gold and diamond necklaces and several rings. He was indeed a man of power and any man would feel intimidated to be in his presence. Finally the tailor opened the box and took out a crown, Octavian would not wear the ugly crown that the previous king wore, so the tailor made a new one, this crown had red cloth under with white lining and 4 gold braces around that went from the brim to the top, on the top where the 4 braces met was a huge red Ruby stone. Adorned along the brim and braces were a variety of diamonds and gems. A crown for the ages indeed. The tailor gently placed it on top of the kings head and stepped back, when Octavian turned around all the men in the room fell silent and gasped, all clad in red, there was no doubt this man was indeed powerfull. Octavian smiled, he loved the color red, he could not wait until the party began. He started for the Grand Hall where the party would be held and sat on his throne to greet the guests.
"Good evening, my lord, I am Lord Armandek and this is my wife. We are pleased to serve under you and we hope you are kind to us."
"Good evening my lord, I am Lord Kazimir and this is my wife and daughter. We congratulate you on such a fine ball."
"Good evening my lord, I am Lord Augustyn and this is my daughter. My wife is at home tending to our newborn baby son. But she wanted to come and meet our glorious liberator."
Finally the guests stopped arriving and Octavian started to speak with several of the higher ranking nobles. He was stopped by his aide who told him he had a meeting with Lord Kazimir. The King left and headed for his office to meet the lord.
"Good evening my lord, I applaud you on such a fine ball again."
"What do you want Lord Kazimir?"
"I just wanted to offer my daughters hand in marriage to you my lord. She is from a noble family, her grandfathers ruled Pjolaka under the old Magnetian regime before the previous king rebelled against him and took the throne."
"I thank you for the offer Lord Kazimir, I shall consider the offer and give you my answer tomorrow, but in the meantime, you and your family are welcome to stay in the Palace until my answer is given."
"Thank you my lord, your kindness will not be forgotten."
Lord Kazimir bowed and left. Lord Krzysztof entered and bowed.
"My lord, I come from the south and I request some cash to help fund the establishment of a school in one of our cities. 100,000 Zloty's should be enough do you agree?"
"Very well,..." Octavian heads for his desk where he writes out the number, "take this to my treasurer and he shall give you the money."
"Thank you sir, I shall pay back this money twice over. I will never forget your kindness." Lord Krzysztof bowed and left.
Octavian headed back to the party where he met Lord Kazimir and his family, Octavian was expecting a completely different girl than what was standing in front of him, this girl was beautiful beyond doubt, Octavian struggled to to speak, "Pleased to meet you beautiful ladies, if I may, I would like to speak with Lord Kazimir for a second. Thank you."
"I believe I shall give you my answer now as the party is winding up and I just found out that I will be busy tomorrow. I gladly accept your offer for your daughters hand in marriage. May your family have good fortune."
"Thank you my lord. I shall make the arrangements."
King Octavian Germaniski bowed his head as Lord Kamizir left. It seems as if the King would finally get a wife, and one of noble class too. The future is looking bright for king and nation.
tuxedohamm
Disguised as crow.
In a city where everyone wore red, Kate and Rachel wore black. They still held onto their red armbands, but otherwise they were only seen in black. Johnathan had piloted the twin ship to the Spirit of Ashleigh. During the battle, an errant (or lucky? They didnt know) shot from the horrific steam-powered guns impacted Johnathans ship. His quick thinking made the impact less severe, but the burns he received from the boiler failure were too much. He didnt die immediately, but spent a month or more unconscious. Rachel and Kate spent most of their time watching over him. Airship lessons were left to the airmen that survived, and the one larger ship that remained. The Spirit of Ashleigh was Kates and none of the airmen would mess with it. Johnathan eventually passed and Rachel and Kate were seen even less. Eventually, when they were seen again, they wore all black and their single red armbands.
Kate absorbed herself in work. Rachel became more assertive; she had obtained a surviving Williams, some trucks and carriages, and with the assistance of a few men, soon had a short line of track running through the town and just outside to where a large part of the battle had taken place. Kate then traveled up and down the line with Marcus and some of the men and started scrapping the ruined beasts of war.
Soon Kate was busy with new projects. Her specialty was scrapping the old and reusing the parts in something new. She was making use of what she could, what Rachel pulled in with the train.
Other than a few commands to those assisting, neither woman were seen talking in public. What conversations may have occurred in private were not known.
Kate absorbed herself in work. Rachel became more assertive; she had obtained a surviving Williams, some trucks and carriages, and with the assistance of a few men, soon had a short line of track running through the town and just outside to where a large part of the battle had taken place. Kate then traveled up and down the line with Marcus and some of the men and started scrapping the ruined beasts of war.
Soon Kate was busy with new projects. Her specialty was scrapping the old and reusing the parts in something new. She was making use of what she could, what Rachel pulled in with the train.
Other than a few commands to those assisting, neither woman were seen talking in public. What conversations may have occurred in private were not known.
flyingchicken
Deity
- Joined
- Feb 3, 2007
- Messages
- 3,783
Updated again (for the last time)! <- Still an anchor! Click if you have been following.
Love and Coincidence
A short story of love, coincidence, and treachery
Let us take our eyes away from the Nihojonese and the unabashed aggrandizement of its prime asset, Dr. Akira Light, just for a moment to momentarily look into what is happening in Singuo. Well, not the whole of Singuo, for that will take a great deal of time to describe even in the slightest of appreciable detail. No, we will go straight to the top of the massive state and see what has the great Son of Heaven, the Emperor of the Civilized World himself, has been up to since that terrible attack on his palace a few weeks back.
Unlikely as it may be, you might be thinking, 'The Singuonese Emperor is alive and well? But how?' Well, at the first sign of fighting within the Imperial Palace itself, the ministers and guards of the Magnificent Son had enacted one of the least-expected contingencies they had ever developed. With one hurried mark of the Imperial Seal—for these Singuonese were ardent followers of legal procedure—the Emperor of Singuo was rushed off to he countryside even before the first assailant had landed on Palace soil. Of course, that meant abandoning the Palace to be burnt to the ground, but the safety of the Emperor was, beyond all reasonable doubt to the Singuonese officials, imperative and needed to be addressed immediately.
Now, the Emperor of Singuo lies within the confines of a large manor in a farm estate owned by a Northerner court official. This brings some attention to the status of Northerners in the Singuonese government. It was known that Northerners had the privilege of taking positions in the government of Singuo by merit of their noble descent, while Southerners had to take Imperial Examinations which proved their abilities as ministers and magistrates. This might seem strange and highly discriminating to the astute and modern reader, but to the Singuonese back then it made perfect sense: The Emperor of the World, the Son of Heaven whose authority in the world was boundless, had proclaimed it so, and none in Singuo dared even to think of questioning the will of who they believed to be the Emperor (not everyone did share the same beliefs as to who was the rightful Emperor, but the few who contradicted the majority often themselves ostracized and executed for treason).
Back to the subject of the Singuonese Emperor's whereabouts. The estate wherein he resided was peaceful and attractive, with vast stretches of lush farmland bounded by a beautiful forest and a well-kept road. Anyone could have forgotten the news of war ravaging the northern provinces inside the place. From the outside, everything looked like nothing of importance was kept within its confines—the farmhands had been instructed to go on about their duties as normal, and, despite the difficulty of doing so in the overwhelming presence of the one and only Emperor of the World, they did so. However, within the walls of the great manor house which overlooked all the lesser buildings, there was literally a whole royal court of nobles, bureaucrats, and generals trying to figure exactly what happened to Singuo and how to deal with it.
Seated on a great, makeshift throne within the main hall of the house was the Emperor himself, addressed by all as none other than "Your Imperial Majesty," was the Emperor of all Singuo. He looked down—at least, as much as he could with the little elevation (quickly constructed with several planks of wood) that part of the manor had to afford—upon a small army of ministers, magistrates, scribes, soldiers, servants, nobles, and slaves. Many of them, specifically the servants and slaves, moved about constantly in the cramped (with respect to the Imperial Palace) area, like bees in a beehive always tending to one thing or another. Some few, like the generals planning for the war before them and the scribes, magistrates, and ministers accounting for various things from the accounts of losses in the Palace to the record-keeping of the Imperial taxes, were stationary, usually around large tables or brought-together desks upon which stacks of paper and bottles of ink were placed somewhat haphazardly.
Next to the great emperor (but still lower due to the elevation provided by the throne itself) were his higher ministers, namely the secretive genius Yeng Le, the foolish-but-powerful noble Kang Xi, and the ambitious Hin Shang, as well as his favorite wife (who bore little importance to this court beyond mere decoration).
There was much tension among the four men and one woman up there in the area around the throne. It was Yeng Le's idea to bring the Emperor to Kang Xi's estate in the west, something which the proud Son of Heaven vehemently spoke against, and was only forced to seal his own retreat from his Palace because of, according to the magnificent Emperor himself, "a momentary lapse of judgment never to be repeated again!"
Kang Xi only did what Yeng Le told him to; he was usually more interested in women, drinking, and his own wealth than the affairs of the state: this, in turn, explains why he was such in a bad mood, for not only is one of bigger houses occupied by far more people than was intended, he was also kept from his usual spendthrift carousing.
Hin Shang, meanwhile, followed the Emperor because pressure from the Imperial Guard forced him to; if he was left behind, he probably would have raised his own banner and proclaimed himself the new Son of Heaven in an instant—his ambition was an open secret, but his administrative acumen and the danger he otherwise posed (both alive and dead, for he had quite a loyal personal following) proved so central to the stability of the Empire that Yeng Le used his connections with the Guard and influence over the Emperor to keep watch of him.
It was Hin Shang to speak first. Addressing the Emperor, he said, "Oh Great and Magnificent Emperor, Your Imperial Majesty, Your most august presence humbles this servant of the Yours. May You be so kind as to grant leave to this subject, placed above the others yet so far below one such as You, the Son of Heaven? Your humble servant finds it easier to think for the glory of the Emperor and His Empire when there is fresh air and much breathing space."
The Son of Heaven did not even hesitate, saying, "No, Hin Shang, We do not find it helpful if you leave. We will that you stay, and you will stay." He did not even look at the minister.
"Yes, my Emperor," said Hin Shang, bowing deeply. Inside, of course, he was disappointed, thinking, "Bah, my meetings can wait until later, after dark. This Emperor is too keen on me, and this Yeng Le has too much power within the Court. Yeng Le will be removed as soon as possible, and if my sources are correct, then that will be very soon indeed!"
Kang Xi took that as a cue to speak. Not the brightest of men, he also asked that the Emperor grant him leave. He was promptly refused. This was not out of any great danger he posed to the Emperor and the stability of the Empire, but it was, without doubt, a great danger to the secrecy of the Imperial Court's whereabouts.
"Perhaps Your Imperial Majesty would like to reconsider your position in procuring Western aid?" asked Yeng Le with quite an amount of false sincerity. It was well-known that Yeng-Le, whose office in the government had the Western equivalent of 'Prime Minister,' was nearly entirely responsible for the "Self-Strengthening Movement" of Singuo.
"The Celestial Kingdom and the the Son of Heaven need no aid from barbarians," said the Emperor, as though by rote. He was a prideful man, and that pride seeped out into political matters. Yeng Le's position only made it stronger.
Yeng Le smiled inside at the answer. It was a test of loyalty; he had his way in the government, and it was good. However, the answer was not supposed to be directed at the Emperor; he, not unlike his peers, had a meeting later, and asked the question out of nothing else to say. Much of the matters of importance have been discussed earlier, when much of the sun was still up, and the busyness of the makeshift Court was the busyness of a meeting coming to a close.
After a closing ceremony—the Singuonese's ardent adherence to legal procedure was closely tied to their ardent adherence of ceremony and tradition, after all—cut short by its regularity and the importance of after-day matters, the Imperial Court was empty save for the servants and slaves cleaning up after everyone.
Now let us turn our eyes to the secretive Yeng Le, an aging man in his late thirties working day and night for the smooth running of his state. Let us give him the attention he deserves, for his actions, more than even the great and awe-inspiring Emperor himself, had, have, and will greatly affect the course of Singuo and its destiny as a nation.
As earlier stated, he worked day and night for the smooth running of the state. Let me tell you that this is an exaggeration; he does far more than that in reality. It was known that he was the head of the Imperial Guard, a position making him just one step below the Emperor in terms of authority over the extremely loyal and dangerous warriors. It was known that he was the prime minister of Singuo, giving his word much sway in the affairs of the state. It was known that he was a leading businessman, commanding an army of managers and laborers in the largest cities of Singuo though his commitment to the state and the sudden war had caused him to lose touch with that recently. There was so much known about Yeng Le the Guard, Yeng Le the Politician, and Yeng Le the Businessman that there was very little known about Yeng Le the Person—this is a price paid dearly by the greatest men of history, and this Singuonese minister was no exception.
He was a Southerner, which meant he had to take the Imperial Examinations to get a position in government. In fact, he had started off as a local governor, honing his managerial and political skills in his home province of Sichuan and then the provinces of Hubei and Anhui before moving in the capital province of Shandong; he did not even start his job there as Prime Minister, opting to become a lowly city minister before beginning to move up the ranks. This can be attributed to his setting up of a web of influence and connections to secure his position of power within the government. I digress, however—that is not of much interest to us right now. What is of interest is how being a Southerner affected him as a person.
All the Southerners had a certain fastidiousness about them, especially in matters of organization and management like business and government. Yeng Le was not only particular and critical in all matters of business and government, he was, as some would say, an insecure nitpicker. He always made sure he was on the right, and he always made sure his position was always secure. He would review every little detail before executing a plan, personal or job-related, and would hesitate for a long time before execution. Even after that, he would keep on make sure of the effectiveness of his plans, watching out for chances of failure. This was a strength, but at most times it was more of a weakness. He was an excellent administrator and irreproachable person, yet he also seemed to lack initiative in his obsession of keeping safe.
At one time, he had a servant check a flight of stairs for dangerous puddles of water after a particularly powerful storm hit the capital. When he accidentally slipped at one step even after being forewarned, he had the servant executed and several people silenced about the matter using his long reach in the government and military. Up until his death, no-one knew of the literal slip-up. In more regular matters, he would always prepare his own food from his well-protected personal garden, always fearing poison or another such threat, but then a man of such means really did need to be wary of such attempts on his life.
As a Southerner, he was also a big believer in harmonious relationships. Although this way of thinking was prevalent in the East, the Southern Singuonese were the the most steadfast of its observers being the originators of that certain cultural attribute. He would always make sure there was little conflict between him and his connections (of which there was a lot), at least at a superficial level. There was not one friend of Yeng Le's who disagreed with his ideas, or, at least, they were too afraid to voice out their opinions.
Ah, but what does this prattling on about how Yeng Le behaved have anything to do with the story? Well, right after the session of decision-making in the Imperial Court, he immediately rode a carriage to a secret meeting between him and a woman he fancied.
Yes, indeed, Yeng Le was not a man without love. In fact, he was a married man, though the marriage was a lot less about love and more of his family's business relations. He was the son of a wealthy merchant from which he had inherited a lot, and he was married early in his life to the daughter of a dying aristocrat who had no male heirs whom to give the family coffers to. The girl, who was now a woman, of course, had resigned herself to household matters in the Singuonese tradition while her husband did what he pleased with his time.
The relationship was not an unhappy one, yet it was far too normal for Yeng Le's tastes. Knowing that his life could end at any moment, and that he only had less than his natural life to live, he had acquired a taste for adventure in personal matters. A man of power and age such as himself was expected by society to have several mistresses under his belt (a practice not exactly condoned, but not exactly condemned either), but he had none but one: An acquired taste for adventure did not mean he would overturn his own excessive need for security of course, or so it would seem.
Why do I say "or so it would seem?" Here lies the final catch: The woman was not just some pretty young lady from the nobility or the wealthy merchant families, nor was she a pretty peasant girl or an alluring prostitute; she was not even Singuonese. The excessively careful Yeng Le was madly in love with a young Nihojonese woman, who was, by recent decree, an enemy of the state by circumstance. It seemed that Yeng Le did, in fact, have a taste for the dangerous beyond his countenance. Not just danger to himself, mind you, but danger to his entire country—he was unsure of the woman (even whether she loved him back was unclear to him) after all—and that can only be called insanity. That sort of insanity, in turn, can only be attributed to a man so profoundly maddened by love.
Yeng Le's carriage had stopped in front of a small, nearly-forgotten garden walled on all four sides by tall hedges. It was just one of the many of its kind that dotted the town just beyond the estate of Kang Xi, ensuring secrecy for our daring prime minister. Secrecy was something he needed badly: If anyone, especially those among the nobility of the Imperial Court, ever caught wind of these amorous rendezvouses, the name he had built for himself would be destroyed. In his own mind, he would be no better than dead if that ever happened.
He made his way through a small hedge maze before reaching a group of gazebos in the middle of the garden. The place was dimly lit by only a few paper lanterns around one of the gazebos. He was sure that it was the doing of the Nihojonese woman, because, in his long experience, he knew that almost few visited these gardens and even fewer did so in the night.
"Are you there, my precious?" He was using a language spoken only by poets and young lovers, a clear sign of how deep the madness had crept upon him. He waited for a response, yet none came.
It would have been alright if this was a normal secret relationship. However, she was Nihojonese: If she was captured or found or even just recognized, then her head and possibly his were on the line. He could not allow that, out of his love for her and out of his love for himself.
"Darling, are you there?" he called out again, this time walking towards the dimly lit gazebo. He hurried, fearing for the worst.
As he took his first few steps, he heard a slight shuffling and a loud thunk. Something metallic had fallen. "Was it a lamp?" he thought. "Oh no! The place might burn down! My love! My life! My reputation! This garden!" He was thinking in fear frantically until he reached a distance where he could see the inside of the gazebo properly.
There was a desk-like structure stemming from the column which was the center of the structure. On it was a strange metal box which seemed to be smoking or steaming. On the floor was a spanner, probably pushed away by Akane Toyota when she was just waking up.
"Hi," she said weakly, yawning. She had such a nice face. It was squarish, yet there was a balance and symmetry to it that can only be described as beautiful. She had nice, full lips, a small nose, and eyes that made her look as though she was always day-dreaming.
"Hi," Yeng Le replied. It was noticeable that he was the senior by quite a margin. Akane was twenty-one years of age, while he was in his late thirties, as we have said earlier.
"How was your meeting?" asked the girl in her Nihojonese-accented Singuonese, picking up the dropped spanner. Yeng Le looked stupidly before shaking his head and replying.
"Terrible. The Emperor will have my head if the..."
"We."
"Yes, you. If you, the Nihojonese, are not pushed back from Singuonese land," he said. It was awkward talking of these things with someone who was supposed to be an enemy.
"Well, let them fight, it will not matter."
"What do you mean?" he asked. He was always perplexed as to why the girl was always lax with matters of national interest; this affected her as much as it did him, despite their vastly different occupations.
"Well, whoever the emperor is," she said. "Or whoever runs the place is, it is not much different. They do not care much about the people beyond taxes."
"They" meant the governments of Singuo and Nihojon.
"That is dangerous talk," said the government minister. "You might be considered a communist."
"Oh really?"
"The revolution in Europe... In Anglia... It had caused much trouble within Singuo as of late."
"I thought Singuo did not care about the rest of the world?"
"Well, not so much, but the non-aristocratic intelligentsia have been vocal lately. Well, a few of them also took up arms at some point."
"And so?"
"There have been many executions in the past few weeks," he said with a degree of distaste. He felt his neck, knowing that his head will also roll if he is not careful. "Some of them have escaped, causing dissent among the populace."
Akane yawned. Yeng Le knew that talk of politics bored her.
"This does not scare you?"
"Not at all."
"It does not scare you to think that I may die at any moment?"
The girl looked dreamily into her odd little metal box which, upon closer inspection, was a machine of sorts. She then answered, saying, "Yes."
"You love me?"
"Yes."
"You really do?"
"Yes."
"Truly, honestly, you swear?"
"Yes!" she shouted, sounding exasperated.
"You make me the happiest man alive."
"There are many others who have said that before you, you know. You can't all be the happiest men alive."
"You speak so harshly."
"Most of them are young lovers, too."
"I am old."
"Yet I love you all the same," she said smilingly as she moved her hand to hold his.
"You make me feel young."
"But you're not!" she said playfully.
"Should I laugh?"
"Why laugh at the truth, Mr. Yeng Le?"
"Do not call me mister!"
"Then what I shall call you?"
"Darling?"
"Hah! Only you talk like that, Mr. Yeng Le."
"Ouch."
It became evident that their talk had veered away from the troubles within the kingdom and into idle talk. They spoke of love at length, not caring about the Boxers or the White Lotus cultists who skirmished regularly with the cities' militias. They did not care about their countries in that short moment of time, the countries who were at war by the imperialistic aggression of the other. They did not care about the small group of Singuonese Socialists, who had set up camp near where the Son of Heaven hid. No, they did not care about those dreadful things at that time, thinking only of each other while wallowing away the time in idle lovers' chatter.
"Ah, I will call you Mr. Lover!" she suddenly blurted out after nearly half an hour of talking.
"That is silly."
"You are silly, Mr. Lover," she said before putting an arm around Yeng Le. She looked sleepy to the minister, but it did not do anything to pale her beauty. If anything, it made her look more beautiful.
"Ah, what do you want to do in the future?"
"I want to be as great an inventor as Doctor Akira Light," she said.
"He is the cause of much grief to Singuo, and to me," Yeng Le said, painfully.
"He is a great inventor."
"He is too meddlesome in the affairs of the state."
"He taught me how to make this," she said, pointing at the machine she was presumably working on before Yeng Le had arrived. "It is beautiful. Anyone capable of creating beautiful things cannot be evil, Mr. Lover."
She then proceeded to activating the machine. It sounded off like a kettle with boiling water, but in moments it had caused what looked like piston to move up and down very rapidly. Akane then took a bag from the bottom of the desk-like structure—something the minister had not noticed earlier—and took out a bundle of what looked to be cotton from it.
"Watch," she said, placing the cotton somewhere at the back of the machine. Yeng Le was not quite sure what happened.
"Is it necessary?"
"Just watch." A few seconds had passed.
"It is taking long!"
"You are impatient for a government minister!"
After a few minutes of waiting, the machine was spewing out a steady stream of cotton cloth. When it was long enough to hold, Yeng Le touched it and examined its quality. It was soft to the touch, yet firm. He thought it would make fine clothing... for peasants, that is.
"This would make fine clothing."
"You like it?"
"... For peasants, that is."
"I was a peasant."
"And now you're not."
"I suppose you're right. But it is for the peasantry! That's what makes it so beautiful. Imagine if every poor family had one of these at home! They could have some luxury to lighten their daily load of toil."
"You are a communist," he said half-jokingly.
"I am not. I don't care much for politics."
"Yet you are there, acting like some communist. You will fit in Oxford better than here!"
"Oxford?"
"Nevermind," said Yeng Le. He was what some called a hypocrite, while others would call him an enigma—he wanted Singuo to keep out of Western affairs and vice versa, yet he knew better than most about the occurrences in the West.
They talked for quite a while more, until it became obvious that they were both very tired.
"I think I'll have to go now," said the girl. She smiled at Yeng Le, touching his cheek as she talked.
Yeng Le knew it was time to go, too. He then said, "When will I see you again?"
"I'll tell you."
"Through another letter?"
She smiled. "Yes, through another letter."
"What if it is intercepted?" Yeng Le knew there were quite a few people who were interested in his mail, but mainly for political purposes. This was a different matter, but dangerous to let out nonetheless.
"It will be in this cipher," she said, placing in his palm a small scrap of rolled-up paper. "Don't lose that."
He paused for a moment, before he said, "Okay."
"Well, goodbye," she said, before giving him a long, passionate kiss. He was stunned for a few moments until she detached herself from their cuddling.
"How do you get around?"
"If I tell you, it might compromise my security."
"Alright," he said, defeated, after another short pause. Although it was part of his job to know everything, his love for the girl superseded some of his duties to an alarming degree.
Soon enough, the girl was gone. He went out of the garden and found no-one but his driver and his carriage there. He asked his driver whether or not he saw a girl coming out of the garden, to which the driver's reply was that he was sleeping until he was awoken by his master's footsteps.
"She is sneaky," he thought as he got up his carriage.
After almost an hour of travel, he had reached his house. His heart leaped when he saw Imperial Guards at his door.
"Did they find out about the girl?" he thought frantically. However, his fears subsided when the leader saluted him. Traitors were treated like dirt, and consorting with a Nihojonese woman can only be considered high treason.
"Captain, what is the meaning of this?" he asked the incoming Guard who was marked a captain by his uniform.
"Sir, you are too late," the Guard said grimly. "You were not here to sign a very important paper."
"What paper?"
"A warrant of arrest for Hin Shang."
"What happened?"
"Our spies have seen him consorting with Nihojonese officials," started the Guard Captain. Yeng Le thought for a moment whether Akane had cheated on him so quickly, but he told himself that Akane looked too sincere to cheat on him and that she was not a Nihojonese official. Such strange thoughts for a married man. "He is a traitor, and we have moved to arrest him. However, with you missing and with the Emperor asleep, we did not get approval for arrest and there was nothing for us to do but watch."
"Then what?"
"He escaped. We followed, and the spies should be reporting in soon."
"He escaped where?"
"The north, presumably to join with the Nihojonese there. He was promised a high position in government after the invasion, apparently."
"This is terrible news," thought Yeng Le. Hin Shang had a few loyal generals under his wing, as well as a sizable network of spies—not enough to beat his own, apparently, but threatening enough. This on top of the rising discontent among the peasantry. The only thing left was for the rest of the army to lose faith in the Emperor; If the previous things would not cause collapse on their own, then the latter would trigger it. Heaven forbid that, but it was a distinct and very real possibility.
"Captain," said Yeng Le in a commanding tone fit for his rank. "I authorize the killing or the capture of Hin Shang. Gather as many Guards as you can ride in force. We must find him and capture him, or otherwise kill him. We cannot die trying—we would have failed in our duties if that ever happens."
_______________
*Epilogue: Hin Shang was captured thanks to the quick acting of Yeng Le. He was publicly executed, denounced as a traitor of the highest kind days after.
*Question: Was that too god-moddy? There was a bit in the update saying there were some divided loyalties within Singuo, so this is just detailing that a bit.
Love and Coincidence
A short story of love, coincidence, and treachery
Let us take our eyes away from the Nihojonese and the unabashed aggrandizement of its prime asset, Dr. Akira Light, just for a moment to momentarily look into what is happening in Singuo. Well, not the whole of Singuo, for that will take a great deal of time to describe even in the slightest of appreciable detail. No, we will go straight to the top of the massive state and see what has the great Son of Heaven, the Emperor of the Civilized World himself, has been up to since that terrible attack on his palace a few weeks back.
Unlikely as it may be, you might be thinking, 'The Singuonese Emperor is alive and well? But how?' Well, at the first sign of fighting within the Imperial Palace itself, the ministers and guards of the Magnificent Son had enacted one of the least-expected contingencies they had ever developed. With one hurried mark of the Imperial Seal—for these Singuonese were ardent followers of legal procedure—the Emperor of Singuo was rushed off to he countryside even before the first assailant had landed on Palace soil. Of course, that meant abandoning the Palace to be burnt to the ground, but the safety of the Emperor was, beyond all reasonable doubt to the Singuonese officials, imperative and needed to be addressed immediately.
Now, the Emperor of Singuo lies within the confines of a large manor in a farm estate owned by a Northerner court official. This brings some attention to the status of Northerners in the Singuonese government. It was known that Northerners had the privilege of taking positions in the government of Singuo by merit of their noble descent, while Southerners had to take Imperial Examinations which proved their abilities as ministers and magistrates. This might seem strange and highly discriminating to the astute and modern reader, but to the Singuonese back then it made perfect sense: The Emperor of the World, the Son of Heaven whose authority in the world was boundless, had proclaimed it so, and none in Singuo dared even to think of questioning the will of who they believed to be the Emperor (not everyone did share the same beliefs as to who was the rightful Emperor, but the few who contradicted the majority often themselves ostracized and executed for treason).
Back to the subject of the Singuonese Emperor's whereabouts. The estate wherein he resided was peaceful and attractive, with vast stretches of lush farmland bounded by a beautiful forest and a well-kept road. Anyone could have forgotten the news of war ravaging the northern provinces inside the place. From the outside, everything looked like nothing of importance was kept within its confines—the farmhands had been instructed to go on about their duties as normal, and, despite the difficulty of doing so in the overwhelming presence of the one and only Emperor of the World, they did so. However, within the walls of the great manor house which overlooked all the lesser buildings, there was literally a whole royal court of nobles, bureaucrats, and generals trying to figure exactly what happened to Singuo and how to deal with it.
Seated on a great, makeshift throne within the main hall of the house was the Emperor himself, addressed by all as none other than "Your Imperial Majesty," was the Emperor of all Singuo. He looked down—at least, as much as he could with the little elevation (quickly constructed with several planks of wood) that part of the manor had to afford—upon a small army of ministers, magistrates, scribes, soldiers, servants, nobles, and slaves. Many of them, specifically the servants and slaves, moved about constantly in the cramped (with respect to the Imperial Palace) area, like bees in a beehive always tending to one thing or another. Some few, like the generals planning for the war before them and the scribes, magistrates, and ministers accounting for various things from the accounts of losses in the Palace to the record-keeping of the Imperial taxes, were stationary, usually around large tables or brought-together desks upon which stacks of paper and bottles of ink were placed somewhat haphazardly.
Next to the great emperor (but still lower due to the elevation provided by the throne itself) were his higher ministers, namely the secretive genius Yeng Le, the foolish-but-powerful noble Kang Xi, and the ambitious Hin Shang, as well as his favorite wife (who bore little importance to this court beyond mere decoration).
There was much tension among the four men and one woman up there in the area around the throne. It was Yeng Le's idea to bring the Emperor to Kang Xi's estate in the west, something which the proud Son of Heaven vehemently spoke against, and was only forced to seal his own retreat from his Palace because of, according to the magnificent Emperor himself, "a momentary lapse of judgment never to be repeated again!"
Kang Xi only did what Yeng Le told him to; he was usually more interested in women, drinking, and his own wealth than the affairs of the state: this, in turn, explains why he was such in a bad mood, for not only is one of bigger houses occupied by far more people than was intended, he was also kept from his usual spendthrift carousing.
Hin Shang, meanwhile, followed the Emperor because pressure from the Imperial Guard forced him to; if he was left behind, he probably would have raised his own banner and proclaimed himself the new Son of Heaven in an instant—his ambition was an open secret, but his administrative acumen and the danger he otherwise posed (both alive and dead, for he had quite a loyal personal following) proved so central to the stability of the Empire that Yeng Le used his connections with the Guard and influence over the Emperor to keep watch of him.
It was Hin Shang to speak first. Addressing the Emperor, he said, "Oh Great and Magnificent Emperor, Your Imperial Majesty, Your most august presence humbles this servant of the Yours. May You be so kind as to grant leave to this subject, placed above the others yet so far below one such as You, the Son of Heaven? Your humble servant finds it easier to think for the glory of the Emperor and His Empire when there is fresh air and much breathing space."
The Son of Heaven did not even hesitate, saying, "No, Hin Shang, We do not find it helpful if you leave. We will that you stay, and you will stay." He did not even look at the minister.
"Yes, my Emperor," said Hin Shang, bowing deeply. Inside, of course, he was disappointed, thinking, "Bah, my meetings can wait until later, after dark. This Emperor is too keen on me, and this Yeng Le has too much power within the Court. Yeng Le will be removed as soon as possible, and if my sources are correct, then that will be very soon indeed!"
Kang Xi took that as a cue to speak. Not the brightest of men, he also asked that the Emperor grant him leave. He was promptly refused. This was not out of any great danger he posed to the Emperor and the stability of the Empire, but it was, without doubt, a great danger to the secrecy of the Imperial Court's whereabouts.
"Perhaps Your Imperial Majesty would like to reconsider your position in procuring Western aid?" asked Yeng Le with quite an amount of false sincerity. It was well-known that Yeng-Le, whose office in the government had the Western equivalent of 'Prime Minister,' was nearly entirely responsible for the "Self-Strengthening Movement" of Singuo.
"The Celestial Kingdom and the the Son of Heaven need no aid from barbarians," said the Emperor, as though by rote. He was a prideful man, and that pride seeped out into political matters. Yeng Le's position only made it stronger.
Yeng Le smiled inside at the answer. It was a test of loyalty; he had his way in the government, and it was good. However, the answer was not supposed to be directed at the Emperor; he, not unlike his peers, had a meeting later, and asked the question out of nothing else to say. Much of the matters of importance have been discussed earlier, when much of the sun was still up, and the busyness of the makeshift Court was the busyness of a meeting coming to a close.
After a closing ceremony—the Singuonese's ardent adherence to legal procedure was closely tied to their ardent adherence of ceremony and tradition, after all—cut short by its regularity and the importance of after-day matters, the Imperial Court was empty save for the servants and slaves cleaning up after everyone.
Now let us turn our eyes to the secretive Yeng Le, an aging man in his late thirties working day and night for the smooth running of his state. Let us give him the attention he deserves, for his actions, more than even the great and awe-inspiring Emperor himself, had, have, and will greatly affect the course of Singuo and its destiny as a nation.
As earlier stated, he worked day and night for the smooth running of the state. Let me tell you that this is an exaggeration; he does far more than that in reality. It was known that he was the head of the Imperial Guard, a position making him just one step below the Emperor in terms of authority over the extremely loyal and dangerous warriors. It was known that he was the prime minister of Singuo, giving his word much sway in the affairs of the state. It was known that he was a leading businessman, commanding an army of managers and laborers in the largest cities of Singuo though his commitment to the state and the sudden war had caused him to lose touch with that recently. There was so much known about Yeng Le the Guard, Yeng Le the Politician, and Yeng Le the Businessman that there was very little known about Yeng Le the Person—this is a price paid dearly by the greatest men of history, and this Singuonese minister was no exception.
He was a Southerner, which meant he had to take the Imperial Examinations to get a position in government. In fact, he had started off as a local governor, honing his managerial and political skills in his home province of Sichuan and then the provinces of Hubei and Anhui before moving in the capital province of Shandong; he did not even start his job there as Prime Minister, opting to become a lowly city minister before beginning to move up the ranks. This can be attributed to his setting up of a web of influence and connections to secure his position of power within the government. I digress, however—that is not of much interest to us right now. What is of interest is how being a Southerner affected him as a person.
All the Southerners had a certain fastidiousness about them, especially in matters of organization and management like business and government. Yeng Le was not only particular and critical in all matters of business and government, he was, as some would say, an insecure nitpicker. He always made sure he was on the right, and he always made sure his position was always secure. He would review every little detail before executing a plan, personal or job-related, and would hesitate for a long time before execution. Even after that, he would keep on make sure of the effectiveness of his plans, watching out for chances of failure. This was a strength, but at most times it was more of a weakness. He was an excellent administrator and irreproachable person, yet he also seemed to lack initiative in his obsession of keeping safe.
At one time, he had a servant check a flight of stairs for dangerous puddles of water after a particularly powerful storm hit the capital. When he accidentally slipped at one step even after being forewarned, he had the servant executed and several people silenced about the matter using his long reach in the government and military. Up until his death, no-one knew of the literal slip-up. In more regular matters, he would always prepare his own food from his well-protected personal garden, always fearing poison or another such threat, but then a man of such means really did need to be wary of such attempts on his life.
As a Southerner, he was also a big believer in harmonious relationships. Although this way of thinking was prevalent in the East, the Southern Singuonese were the the most steadfast of its observers being the originators of that certain cultural attribute. He would always make sure there was little conflict between him and his connections (of which there was a lot), at least at a superficial level. There was not one friend of Yeng Le's who disagreed with his ideas, or, at least, they were too afraid to voice out their opinions.
Ah, but what does this prattling on about how Yeng Le behaved have anything to do with the story? Well, right after the session of decision-making in the Imperial Court, he immediately rode a carriage to a secret meeting between him and a woman he fancied.
Yes, indeed, Yeng Le was not a man without love. In fact, he was a married man, though the marriage was a lot less about love and more of his family's business relations. He was the son of a wealthy merchant from which he had inherited a lot, and he was married early in his life to the daughter of a dying aristocrat who had no male heirs whom to give the family coffers to. The girl, who was now a woman, of course, had resigned herself to household matters in the Singuonese tradition while her husband did what he pleased with his time.
The relationship was not an unhappy one, yet it was far too normal for Yeng Le's tastes. Knowing that his life could end at any moment, and that he only had less than his natural life to live, he had acquired a taste for adventure in personal matters. A man of power and age such as himself was expected by society to have several mistresses under his belt (a practice not exactly condoned, but not exactly condemned either), but he had none but one: An acquired taste for adventure did not mean he would overturn his own excessive need for security of course, or so it would seem.
Why do I say "or so it would seem?" Here lies the final catch: The woman was not just some pretty young lady from the nobility or the wealthy merchant families, nor was she a pretty peasant girl or an alluring prostitute; she was not even Singuonese. The excessively careful Yeng Le was madly in love with a young Nihojonese woman, who was, by recent decree, an enemy of the state by circumstance. It seemed that Yeng Le did, in fact, have a taste for the dangerous beyond his countenance. Not just danger to himself, mind you, but danger to his entire country—he was unsure of the woman (even whether she loved him back was unclear to him) after all—and that can only be called insanity. That sort of insanity, in turn, can only be attributed to a man so profoundly maddened by love.
Yeng Le's carriage had stopped in front of a small, nearly-forgotten garden walled on all four sides by tall hedges. It was just one of the many of its kind that dotted the town just beyond the estate of Kang Xi, ensuring secrecy for our daring prime minister. Secrecy was something he needed badly: If anyone, especially those among the nobility of the Imperial Court, ever caught wind of these amorous rendezvouses, the name he had built for himself would be destroyed. In his own mind, he would be no better than dead if that ever happened.
He made his way through a small hedge maze before reaching a group of gazebos in the middle of the garden. The place was dimly lit by only a few paper lanterns around one of the gazebos. He was sure that it was the doing of the Nihojonese woman, because, in his long experience, he knew that almost few visited these gardens and even fewer did so in the night.
"Are you there, my precious?" He was using a language spoken only by poets and young lovers, a clear sign of how deep the madness had crept upon him. He waited for a response, yet none came.
It would have been alright if this was a normal secret relationship. However, she was Nihojonese: If she was captured or found or even just recognized, then her head and possibly his were on the line. He could not allow that, out of his love for her and out of his love for himself.
"Darling, are you there?" he called out again, this time walking towards the dimly lit gazebo. He hurried, fearing for the worst.
As he took his first few steps, he heard a slight shuffling and a loud thunk. Something metallic had fallen. "Was it a lamp?" he thought. "Oh no! The place might burn down! My love! My life! My reputation! This garden!" He was thinking in fear frantically until he reached a distance where he could see the inside of the gazebo properly.
There was a desk-like structure stemming from the column which was the center of the structure. On it was a strange metal box which seemed to be smoking or steaming. On the floor was a spanner, probably pushed away by Akane Toyota when she was just waking up.
"Hi," she said weakly, yawning. She had such a nice face. It was squarish, yet there was a balance and symmetry to it that can only be described as beautiful. She had nice, full lips, a small nose, and eyes that made her look as though she was always day-dreaming.
"Hi," Yeng Le replied. It was noticeable that he was the senior by quite a margin. Akane was twenty-one years of age, while he was in his late thirties, as we have said earlier.
"How was your meeting?" asked the girl in her Nihojonese-accented Singuonese, picking up the dropped spanner. Yeng Le looked stupidly before shaking his head and replying.
"Terrible. The Emperor will have my head if the..."
"We."
"Yes, you. If you, the Nihojonese, are not pushed back from Singuonese land," he said. It was awkward talking of these things with someone who was supposed to be an enemy.
"Well, let them fight, it will not matter."
"What do you mean?" he asked. He was always perplexed as to why the girl was always lax with matters of national interest; this affected her as much as it did him, despite their vastly different occupations.
"Well, whoever the emperor is," she said. "Or whoever runs the place is, it is not much different. They do not care much about the people beyond taxes."
"They" meant the governments of Singuo and Nihojon.
"That is dangerous talk," said the government minister. "You might be considered a communist."
"Oh really?"
"The revolution in Europe... In Anglia... It had caused much trouble within Singuo as of late."
"I thought Singuo did not care about the rest of the world?"
"Well, not so much, but the non-aristocratic intelligentsia have been vocal lately. Well, a few of them also took up arms at some point."
"And so?"
"There have been many executions in the past few weeks," he said with a degree of distaste. He felt his neck, knowing that his head will also roll if he is not careful. "Some of them have escaped, causing dissent among the populace."
Akane yawned. Yeng Le knew that talk of politics bored her.
"This does not scare you?"
"Not at all."
"It does not scare you to think that I may die at any moment?"
The girl looked dreamily into her odd little metal box which, upon closer inspection, was a machine of sorts. She then answered, saying, "Yes."
"You love me?"
"Yes."
"You really do?"
"Yes."
"Truly, honestly, you swear?"
"Yes!" she shouted, sounding exasperated.
"You make me the happiest man alive."
"There are many others who have said that before you, you know. You can't all be the happiest men alive."
"You speak so harshly."
"Most of them are young lovers, too."
"I am old."
"Yet I love you all the same," she said smilingly as she moved her hand to hold his.
"You make me feel young."
"But you're not!" she said playfully.
"Should I laugh?"
"Why laugh at the truth, Mr. Yeng Le?"
"Do not call me mister!"
"Then what I shall call you?"
"Darling?"
"Hah! Only you talk like that, Mr. Yeng Le."
"Ouch."
It became evident that their talk had veered away from the troubles within the kingdom and into idle talk. They spoke of love at length, not caring about the Boxers or the White Lotus cultists who skirmished regularly with the cities' militias. They did not care about their countries in that short moment of time, the countries who were at war by the imperialistic aggression of the other. They did not care about the small group of Singuonese Socialists, who had set up camp near where the Son of Heaven hid. No, they did not care about those dreadful things at that time, thinking only of each other while wallowing away the time in idle lovers' chatter.
"Ah, I will call you Mr. Lover!" she suddenly blurted out after nearly half an hour of talking.
"That is silly."
"You are silly, Mr. Lover," she said before putting an arm around Yeng Le. She looked sleepy to the minister, but it did not do anything to pale her beauty. If anything, it made her look more beautiful.
"Ah, what do you want to do in the future?"
"I want to be as great an inventor as Doctor Akira Light," she said.
"He is the cause of much grief to Singuo, and to me," Yeng Le said, painfully.
"He is a great inventor."
"He is too meddlesome in the affairs of the state."
"He taught me how to make this," she said, pointing at the machine she was presumably working on before Yeng Le had arrived. "It is beautiful. Anyone capable of creating beautiful things cannot be evil, Mr. Lover."
She then proceeded to activating the machine. It sounded off like a kettle with boiling water, but in moments it had caused what looked like piston to move up and down very rapidly. Akane then took a bag from the bottom of the desk-like structure—something the minister had not noticed earlier—and took out a bundle of what looked to be cotton from it.
"Watch," she said, placing the cotton somewhere at the back of the machine. Yeng Le was not quite sure what happened.
"Is it necessary?"
"Just watch." A few seconds had passed.
"It is taking long!"
"You are impatient for a government minister!"
After a few minutes of waiting, the machine was spewing out a steady stream of cotton cloth. When it was long enough to hold, Yeng Le touched it and examined its quality. It was soft to the touch, yet firm. He thought it would make fine clothing... for peasants, that is.
"This would make fine clothing."
"You like it?"
"... For peasants, that is."
"I was a peasant."
"And now you're not."
"I suppose you're right. But it is for the peasantry! That's what makes it so beautiful. Imagine if every poor family had one of these at home! They could have some luxury to lighten their daily load of toil."
"You are a communist," he said half-jokingly.
"I am not. I don't care much for politics."
"Yet you are there, acting like some communist. You will fit in Oxford better than here!"
"Oxford?"
"Nevermind," said Yeng Le. He was what some called a hypocrite, while others would call him an enigma—he wanted Singuo to keep out of Western affairs and vice versa, yet he knew better than most about the occurrences in the West.
They talked for quite a while more, until it became obvious that they were both very tired.
"I think I'll have to go now," said the girl. She smiled at Yeng Le, touching his cheek as she talked.
Yeng Le knew it was time to go, too. He then said, "When will I see you again?"
"I'll tell you."
"Through another letter?"
She smiled. "Yes, through another letter."
"What if it is intercepted?" Yeng Le knew there were quite a few people who were interested in his mail, but mainly for political purposes. This was a different matter, but dangerous to let out nonetheless.
"It will be in this cipher," she said, placing in his palm a small scrap of rolled-up paper. "Don't lose that."
He paused for a moment, before he said, "Okay."
"Well, goodbye," she said, before giving him a long, passionate kiss. He was stunned for a few moments until she detached herself from their cuddling.
"How do you get around?"
"If I tell you, it might compromise my security."
"Alright," he said, defeated, after another short pause. Although it was part of his job to know everything, his love for the girl superseded some of his duties to an alarming degree.
Soon enough, the girl was gone. He went out of the garden and found no-one but his driver and his carriage there. He asked his driver whether or not he saw a girl coming out of the garden, to which the driver's reply was that he was sleeping until he was awoken by his master's footsteps.
"She is sneaky," he thought as he got up his carriage.
After almost an hour of travel, he had reached his house. His heart leaped when he saw Imperial Guards at his door.
"Did they find out about the girl?" he thought frantically. However, his fears subsided when the leader saluted him. Traitors were treated like dirt, and consorting with a Nihojonese woman can only be considered high treason.
"Captain, what is the meaning of this?" he asked the incoming Guard who was marked a captain by his uniform.
"Sir, you are too late," the Guard said grimly. "You were not here to sign a very important paper."
"What paper?"
"A warrant of arrest for Hin Shang."
"What happened?"
"Our spies have seen him consorting with Nihojonese officials," started the Guard Captain. Yeng Le thought for a moment whether Akane had cheated on him so quickly, but he told himself that Akane looked too sincere to cheat on him and that she was not a Nihojonese official. Such strange thoughts for a married man. "He is a traitor, and we have moved to arrest him. However, with you missing and with the Emperor asleep, we did not get approval for arrest and there was nothing for us to do but watch."
"Then what?"
"He escaped. We followed, and the spies should be reporting in soon."
"He escaped where?"
"The north, presumably to join with the Nihojonese there. He was promised a high position in government after the invasion, apparently."
"This is terrible news," thought Yeng Le. Hin Shang had a few loyal generals under his wing, as well as a sizable network of spies—not enough to beat his own, apparently, but threatening enough. This on top of the rising discontent among the peasantry. The only thing left was for the rest of the army to lose faith in the Emperor; If the previous things would not cause collapse on their own, then the latter would trigger it. Heaven forbid that, but it was a distinct and very real possibility.
"Captain," said Yeng Le in a commanding tone fit for his rank. "I authorize the killing or the capture of Hin Shang. Gather as many Guards as you can ride in force. We must find him and capture him, or otherwise kill him. We cannot die trying—we would have failed in our duties if that ever happens."
_______________
*Epilogue: Hin Shang was captured thanks to the quick acting of Yeng Le. He was publicly executed, denounced as a traitor of the highest kind days after.
*Question: Was that too god-moddy? There was a bit in the update saying there were some divided loyalties within Singuo, so this is just detailing that a bit.
Terrance888
Discord Reigns
John the Wanderer/Charles Li
Colour: White or Green
Nationality: Half "Slav' and half 'Itallian
Bio: he had not known his mother or father. He wanders around until he got on the good side of a kind Spark, who is now dead.
Technology: 'Generic',
Forces: 1 Traveler protection Rover (like a dog, with a spark gun)1
Colour: White or Green
Nationality: Half "Slav' and half 'Itallian
Bio: he had not known his mother or father. He wanders around until he got on the good side of a kind Spark, who is now dead.
Technology: 'Generic',
Forces: 1 Traveler protection Rover (like a dog, with a spark gun)1
Um, could you rewrite that legibly? And the fact that you called someone Italian shows that you haven't read the front page. Please do so.
@flyingchicken- I'm afraid I am going to have to bring down the iron hand of the mod. I'll let that story stand, but please, in the future, keep to writing about Doctor Light and those immediately affiliated with him. I try to keep non-spark events that I must write about in updates down to a minimum.
It's not that I don't like the story or don't find it valuable, but the capacity for godmodding is far too great.
@flyingchicken- I'm afraid I am going to have to bring down the iron hand of the mod. I'll let that story stand, but please, in the future, keep to writing about Doctor Light and those immediately affiliated with him. I try to keep non-spark events that I must write about in updates down to a minimum.
It's not that I don't like the story or don't find it valuable, but the capacity for godmodding is far too great.
Terrance888
Discord Reigns
half Magnatae/Sitalaian and half Native Rossovian. Or so it seems. Religion points to a flexable Reformed Church and his Angilian Language is very good.
Terrance888
Discord Reigns
Ok, His mom and dad left him when he was a kid. he was found and cared for by an old 'learned' person. After the he begun wandering with the man, mostly in Angilia and naming himself John. The old man died years ago and John traveled to Rossovy. There he heard about 'sparks' that built inteleegnet machines with brains and tools. So a couple of years later he build a body guard and joined this nes.
Terrance888
Discord Reigns
"There, There." John said to a small mechanical ... dog?
The mecanical thingy was treembling. A good steal... would it?
The theif moved closer to a middle aged man.
"So!" exclaimed John ,"A theif sneaking on us?"
The thingy Barked, the theif realized and tried to steal out of the cave.
Zappp!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Another Theif!" I cried. My Automated Protection Rover Barked,
"The collection office will give this one a monoir punishment. Come on!"
Then I went with my new creation to submit the theif.
"So he tried to kidnapp you?"
"Yup., same story. Wandering in the Tundra when he showwed up."
"Well" said the man "he is truely sorry. "
"Just let him go." I said ,"those who get caught will never do it again!"
"just thanks for clearing out the bad ones from our village..."
"No prob! it is time for me to wander again."
The mecanical thingy was treembling. A good steal... would it?
The theif moved closer to a middle aged man.
"So!" exclaimed John ,"A theif sneaking on us?"
The thingy Barked, the theif realized and tried to steal out of the cave.
Zappp!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Another Theif!" I cried. My Automated Protection Rover Barked,
"The collection office will give this one a monoir punishment. Come on!"
Then I went with my new creation to submit the theif.
"So he tried to kidnapp you?"
"Yup., same story. Wandering in the Tundra when he showwed up."
"Well" said the man "he is truely sorry. "
"Just let him go." I said ,"those who get caught will never do it again!"
"just thanks for clearing out the bad ones from our village..."
"No prob! it is time for me to wander again."
das
Regeneration In Process
Now was a time of rest, sometimes interrupted by anxiety. Gregore Angarine (for that was who he truly was right now, away from the court and the army and the politics and the warfare, alone but for the Mamluk) reclined in his chair, his eyes weary from the blueprints and the ciphered reports of Ostad Sayeh, and his ears listening intently to the ticking of the clock. It was a large, decades-old, well-crafted Alleman clock, and Gregore had to admit that, though Jeremy Sieko was undeniably one of the most Gifted men he had the fortune meeting, his tickless watches were nothing compared to the simple greatness and geniality of this clock. Though not, in his own opinion, a man of mystical inclinations, Gregore saw his present activity as a form of meditation. The ticking of the watch resonated well with his present mood. He was somewhat tired, but at the same time fatalistically content; the events have been set in motion a while ago now, everything was going according to plan, and though he usually preffered to do something at least for the sake of doing, when he rested it was both in body and spirit. His anxieties mostly concerned the possibility that he might grow complacent and forget his higher purpose; but that, he knew, was an ill-founded fear. And so for now he rested to the ticking of the clock.
Tick-tock, tick-tock... To the ticking of the clock moved the thoughts of the Chief Artificer as he pondered the events of the previous year. After the final victory in Khalkata, very little truly happened, and to a distant eye it might have seemed possible that the wave of Khur was to stop after that. It may be presumed to be natural to sit on the laurels of one's triumph, especially when it was so grand and at the same time so easy; and natural it was, yet all of the leaders of Khur had their reasons to avoid this temptation, this much al-Shamdli had learned well enough. He himself knew that his plan called for constant expansion and conquest, and admitted no delay; still, alas, some delays had to be made in the face of reality. Yet when Abbas Shah explained to his unusually-impetuous minister why the war with Duria had to wait, al-Shamdli found that he could not disagree with the monarch's logic. It was not just a matter of integrating the gains, or of improving and strengthening the army (though all that was definitely a part of it); but also the reaction had to be gauged, and likely enemies had to be granted an opportunity to make some mistakes. Enemies lurked not even so much abroad as at home; and it was vital to catch everyone off guard, whether it was by a sudden offensive or by sudden apathy. Abbas Shah was probably a great duelist, but it was impossible to know for sure because none dared duel with the Shah, and al-Shamdli had long ago decided that it was important to keep Abbas Shah in the Plan for as long as possible.
While Abbas Shah hid in his palace in Shemran and consulted only with al-Shamdli and Nasar Mirza Yakub (the Minister of Artifiction and the Minister of Security respectuvely), Baba Khan was in Khalkata. The Tiger of Shemran, the Hurricane of Kottayam, the Ab-Larzeh, he obviously cared little for delays; but he easily found many things to occupy himself with, and as the Viceroy of Mavadi he had filled the year with a flurry of activity. Over the clandestine protests of Kalim ibn Abd-al-Wahhab Al-Bayyati, the Khurian government gladly cooperated with the Mavadian nobility, and Baba Khan was quick to both defend their rights and privileges and resolve all their disputes, by force if necessary, so that they would assist the occupation. The provinces of Mavadi may very well have been unhappy with the war, and the looting, and the constant atrocities performed by the outriders; but Khalkata was loyal, and the line drawn between it and Sherman spelled defeat for any attempts to steal Baba Khan's victory. Still, rebellions occured, and Baba Khan was all too happy to commit massacre after massacre until the people lost heart. When they did that, he replaced the massacres with parades, exercises, patrols and border skirmishes; he was very concerned with keeping the army in good form. The Mavadian troops - both the volunteers from the warrior tribes of the hills and the simple conscripts - were added to every unit just as surely as the assorted artifacts, and Baba Khan treated them with particular love and attention, throwing them into the heat of whatever action was going on, and binding them to him in the process. Kalim and the Shah had reached a most amiable agreement in the end, an agreement al-Shamdli approved out of pragmaticism and Baba Khan approved out of bloodthirst and sheer contempt for the conquered. Duria will be annexed into Khur with little trouble; the people there were close enough, ancient traditions unified the lands, and when the local dynasty would be overthrown the local capital would be as good as Shemran itself, and much better than Khalkata. Mavadi would be overwhelmed geographically and demographically, and so easily overpowered politically and strategically even if it were to resist the subsequent plans. The local nobles will be forced to convert to Islam or sent to mine aluminium (or whatever was it that needed mining); the local priests would be simply cut down and their temples would be confiscated by the state. The caste system will be abolished, and the jizya will be put into place. Missionaries and colonists would be encouraged to move in (already now, Baba Khan had managed to free up a fair amount of convenient villages). Kalim would be given free reign in bringing Islam to the locals; in the long-run, the Shah and al-Shamdli agreed, this would create a vital homogenous power base, and until then the constant rebellions would make for good training and pastime. And as for the Mavadian troops? When the war begins, the conscripts will be used for cannon fodder, while the elite will take care of retribution and would be encouraged to commit as many atrocities as possible; it will later be slaughtered by Baba Khan, and the Durians will flock to their saviour.
Tick-tock, tick-tock... The ticking created a mental image of a very familiar map. It was the map al-Shamdli had studied again and again in the later months of the past year. On the Durian borders, along the great river Gangha, new model fortresses were set up by now. Ostensibly built for defense, they were mainly bases for operations in Duria, and later, when the time comes, in Mavadi. They were built by the latest word of European fortification technology and equipped with both advanced artifacts and everything needed for maintenance. The armies had massed there at the end of the year. The plans had all been prepared by then. On the fourth year since al-Shamdli's arrival at Shemran - to the ticking of the clock - the armies will cross the border. No, not "will", Gregore reminded himself. They already had. Tick-tock, tick-tock - the Mavadian cavalry advanced deep beyond the borders before anyone was prepared and started massacring villages and destroying enemy supply routes, while flocks of Cirruses located and destroyed enemy mountain campsites. Tick-tock, tick-tock - three armies advanced across the river on brand new pontoon bridges, and destroyed all the enemy attempts at resistance, already thrown into disarray by the earliest attacks. Tick-tock, tick-tock - while the Durians recoiled and attempted to salvage the situation, the main army, headed by Baba Khan himself, had finally entered the fray and gone straight for the capital, which was already subjected to several bombardments and thrown into a state of panic. Oh, but between his logistical difficulties and his sadism, Baba Khan did not take the city immediately, instead he kept bombarding it while keeping it under siege! Yes, much cruelty and heroism no doubt occured during the campaign, and probably on both sides. But history had rendered all deeds of the Durian defenders quite irrelevant; tick-tock - and the capital fell. Resistance still contined, though; this was not Mavadi at all; but the war was, for all al-Shamdli knew, perhaps already decided. From all that he had heard, the last enemy armies were fighting with their backs to the foreign borders or the very ocean, albeit according to some rumours one such army had been receiving much assitance from the Turqs. The Turqs... They may very well be the next target.
Al-Shamdli did not bother joining the attackers; his presence was not truly needed there, and he had much work to do in Shemran. The factory was constantly expanding, and production of all kinds of things was going as quickly as possible. Kalim received yet another new building, in addition to a constant stream of enemy captives and crippled Khurian soldiers to experiment upon. Jeremy Sieko was doing poorly; his health, despite his own efforts at self-augmentation, was faltering and that was becoming more and more of an issue. More frustrating for al-Shamdli personally was Rowan Becket. Oh, Ostad Sayeh had followed orders well enough, and his thugs did find and bring Becket to Khalkata, from where he was eventually transported to Shemran; but the man was badly injured, and at the same time, as it turned out, extremelly uncooperative. He was being kept well, and was both too injured and too well-guarded to escape; but coercion was simply... impossible in this case, while voluntary cooperation was not forthcoming. For whatever reason, Becket simply refused to help in any way. Not that, al-Shamdli reflected, that wasn't perfectly understandable; but it still was unacceptable and hampering, as Becket would have undeniably been useful. Perhaps he (Gregore) could get Kalim to... help in this case, at least medically; other than that, perhaps either the fire prophet's charisma or his surgical ability might be of some use.
Gregore Angarine stood up; his thoughts of Rowan Becket had interrupted his blissful state. Yes, yes, he thought as he paced back and forth; something had to be done. Meanwhile, meanwhile... Going back to Ostad Sayeh, and the Turqs! One of the recent reports indicated that what he had been hearing of a Magnatean "Spark" being arrested and forced to work for the Turq government was evidently true. Damnation, but that meant that by now something might have happened to him, in which case a rare opportunity had been missed. Indeed, looking back, many opportunities had been missed because they were dismissed as rumours; the "Germanicus" that was building a machine army in Pjolaka was almost certainly the same man that had seized power in that country not so long ago, and there very well may have been others. Sadly, Ostad Sayeh's thugs were just that; they were numerous, and omnipresent along the ancient trade routes, but very brutal and incompetent. Information they could gather, albeit poorly, and lone men they may kidnap or kill; but they lacked genuine subtletly or talent, which made their use for more difficult, complicated and/or significant missions nigh impossible. At least... that applied for their majority. As he paced back and forth more and more quickly, two ideas came to Gregore's mind. Firstly, the search for "Sparks" had to be initiated; thus far it was really just him gathering rumours and having Ostad Sayeh find confirmation, but surely a more advanced procedure could be developed based on what information was already possessed. When that is done, some of the more talented scribes assigned to the Ministry, as well as the more literate of Khaydar's guardsmen (who had grown in numbers proportionally to the factory's expansion) might take care of the "Spark search".
Secondly, Ostad Sayeh did have some elite thugs that might just be able to handle the task al-Shamdli had in mind for them, if it is not too late (and there was no time to check that). Gregore Angarine quickly dressed, checked his sword and hurried downstairs. The whole affair needed to be arranged as quickly as possible; in his mind, he already thought of the various gadgets that might prove useful in this case. With some luck, Ostad Sayeh's elites would be able to rescue that Magnatean from Turq captivity and bring him to Khur, where his Gift would be more duly appreciated. With less luck... Well, if he were to die, then that would be it, and if he were to somehow escape, then all would still not be lost. After all, Ostad Sayeh's men did have sheer quantity going for them. Yes, decided Gregore as he moved intently and distractedly through the Shemran streets, scaring away the few people that still dared to stand this close to his ministerial palace, it was quite silly to discount that entire network so quickly. They would search for the Magnatean - and any other known "Sparks" - everywhere, in all cities. And who cares for civilities? The more people the better. Liberated or captured, they would all have to work in Shemran, for the Shah of Khur and his Minister, and for noone else. The Plan required it, and Gregore was all too happy to serve it.
Tick-tock, tick-tock... To the ticking of the clock moved the thoughts of the Chief Artificer as he pondered the events of the previous year. After the final victory in Khalkata, very little truly happened, and to a distant eye it might have seemed possible that the wave of Khur was to stop after that. It may be presumed to be natural to sit on the laurels of one's triumph, especially when it was so grand and at the same time so easy; and natural it was, yet all of the leaders of Khur had their reasons to avoid this temptation, this much al-Shamdli had learned well enough. He himself knew that his plan called for constant expansion and conquest, and admitted no delay; still, alas, some delays had to be made in the face of reality. Yet when Abbas Shah explained to his unusually-impetuous minister why the war with Duria had to wait, al-Shamdli found that he could not disagree with the monarch's logic. It was not just a matter of integrating the gains, or of improving and strengthening the army (though all that was definitely a part of it); but also the reaction had to be gauged, and likely enemies had to be granted an opportunity to make some mistakes. Enemies lurked not even so much abroad as at home; and it was vital to catch everyone off guard, whether it was by a sudden offensive or by sudden apathy. Abbas Shah was probably a great duelist, but it was impossible to know for sure because none dared duel with the Shah, and al-Shamdli had long ago decided that it was important to keep Abbas Shah in the Plan for as long as possible.
While Abbas Shah hid in his palace in Shemran and consulted only with al-Shamdli and Nasar Mirza Yakub (the Minister of Artifiction and the Minister of Security respectuvely), Baba Khan was in Khalkata. The Tiger of Shemran, the Hurricane of Kottayam, the Ab-Larzeh, he obviously cared little for delays; but he easily found many things to occupy himself with, and as the Viceroy of Mavadi he had filled the year with a flurry of activity. Over the clandestine protests of Kalim ibn Abd-al-Wahhab Al-Bayyati, the Khurian government gladly cooperated with the Mavadian nobility, and Baba Khan was quick to both defend their rights and privileges and resolve all their disputes, by force if necessary, so that they would assist the occupation. The provinces of Mavadi may very well have been unhappy with the war, and the looting, and the constant atrocities performed by the outriders; but Khalkata was loyal, and the line drawn between it and Sherman spelled defeat for any attempts to steal Baba Khan's victory. Still, rebellions occured, and Baba Khan was all too happy to commit massacre after massacre until the people lost heart. When they did that, he replaced the massacres with parades, exercises, patrols and border skirmishes; he was very concerned with keeping the army in good form. The Mavadian troops - both the volunteers from the warrior tribes of the hills and the simple conscripts - were added to every unit just as surely as the assorted artifacts, and Baba Khan treated them with particular love and attention, throwing them into the heat of whatever action was going on, and binding them to him in the process. Kalim and the Shah had reached a most amiable agreement in the end, an agreement al-Shamdli approved out of pragmaticism and Baba Khan approved out of bloodthirst and sheer contempt for the conquered. Duria will be annexed into Khur with little trouble; the people there were close enough, ancient traditions unified the lands, and when the local dynasty would be overthrown the local capital would be as good as Shemran itself, and much better than Khalkata. Mavadi would be overwhelmed geographically and demographically, and so easily overpowered politically and strategically even if it were to resist the subsequent plans. The local nobles will be forced to convert to Islam or sent to mine aluminium (or whatever was it that needed mining); the local priests would be simply cut down and their temples would be confiscated by the state. The caste system will be abolished, and the jizya will be put into place. Missionaries and colonists would be encouraged to move in (already now, Baba Khan had managed to free up a fair amount of convenient villages). Kalim would be given free reign in bringing Islam to the locals; in the long-run, the Shah and al-Shamdli agreed, this would create a vital homogenous power base, and until then the constant rebellions would make for good training and pastime. And as for the Mavadian troops? When the war begins, the conscripts will be used for cannon fodder, while the elite will take care of retribution and would be encouraged to commit as many atrocities as possible; it will later be slaughtered by Baba Khan, and the Durians will flock to their saviour.
Tick-tock, tick-tock... The ticking created a mental image of a very familiar map. It was the map al-Shamdli had studied again and again in the later months of the past year. On the Durian borders, along the great river Gangha, new model fortresses were set up by now. Ostensibly built for defense, they were mainly bases for operations in Duria, and later, when the time comes, in Mavadi. They were built by the latest word of European fortification technology and equipped with both advanced artifacts and everything needed for maintenance. The armies had massed there at the end of the year. The plans had all been prepared by then. On the fourth year since al-Shamdli's arrival at Shemran - to the ticking of the clock - the armies will cross the border. No, not "will", Gregore reminded himself. They already had. Tick-tock, tick-tock - the Mavadian cavalry advanced deep beyond the borders before anyone was prepared and started massacring villages and destroying enemy supply routes, while flocks of Cirruses located and destroyed enemy mountain campsites. Tick-tock, tick-tock - three armies advanced across the river on brand new pontoon bridges, and destroyed all the enemy attempts at resistance, already thrown into disarray by the earliest attacks. Tick-tock, tick-tock - while the Durians recoiled and attempted to salvage the situation, the main army, headed by Baba Khan himself, had finally entered the fray and gone straight for the capital, which was already subjected to several bombardments and thrown into a state of panic. Oh, but between his logistical difficulties and his sadism, Baba Khan did not take the city immediately, instead he kept bombarding it while keeping it under siege! Yes, much cruelty and heroism no doubt occured during the campaign, and probably on both sides. But history had rendered all deeds of the Durian defenders quite irrelevant; tick-tock - and the capital fell. Resistance still contined, though; this was not Mavadi at all; but the war was, for all al-Shamdli knew, perhaps already decided. From all that he had heard, the last enemy armies were fighting with their backs to the foreign borders or the very ocean, albeit according to some rumours one such army had been receiving much assitance from the Turqs. The Turqs... They may very well be the next target.
Al-Shamdli did not bother joining the attackers; his presence was not truly needed there, and he had much work to do in Shemran. The factory was constantly expanding, and production of all kinds of things was going as quickly as possible. Kalim received yet another new building, in addition to a constant stream of enemy captives and crippled Khurian soldiers to experiment upon. Jeremy Sieko was doing poorly; his health, despite his own efforts at self-augmentation, was faltering and that was becoming more and more of an issue. More frustrating for al-Shamdli personally was Rowan Becket. Oh, Ostad Sayeh had followed orders well enough, and his thugs did find and bring Becket to Khalkata, from where he was eventually transported to Shemran; but the man was badly injured, and at the same time, as it turned out, extremelly uncooperative. He was being kept well, and was both too injured and too well-guarded to escape; but coercion was simply... impossible in this case, while voluntary cooperation was not forthcoming. For whatever reason, Becket simply refused to help in any way. Not that, al-Shamdli reflected, that wasn't perfectly understandable; but it still was unacceptable and hampering, as Becket would have undeniably been useful. Perhaps he (Gregore) could get Kalim to... help in this case, at least medically; other than that, perhaps either the fire prophet's charisma or his surgical ability might be of some use.
Gregore Angarine stood up; his thoughts of Rowan Becket had interrupted his blissful state. Yes, yes, he thought as he paced back and forth; something had to be done. Meanwhile, meanwhile... Going back to Ostad Sayeh, and the Turqs! One of the recent reports indicated that what he had been hearing of a Magnatean "Spark" being arrested and forced to work for the Turq government was evidently true. Damnation, but that meant that by now something might have happened to him, in which case a rare opportunity had been missed. Indeed, looking back, many opportunities had been missed because they were dismissed as rumours; the "Germanicus" that was building a machine army in Pjolaka was almost certainly the same man that had seized power in that country not so long ago, and there very well may have been others. Sadly, Ostad Sayeh's thugs were just that; they were numerous, and omnipresent along the ancient trade routes, but very brutal and incompetent. Information they could gather, albeit poorly, and lone men they may kidnap or kill; but they lacked genuine subtletly or talent, which made their use for more difficult, complicated and/or significant missions nigh impossible. At least... that applied for their majority. As he paced back and forth more and more quickly, two ideas came to Gregore's mind. Firstly, the search for "Sparks" had to be initiated; thus far it was really just him gathering rumours and having Ostad Sayeh find confirmation, but surely a more advanced procedure could be developed based on what information was already possessed. When that is done, some of the more talented scribes assigned to the Ministry, as well as the more literate of Khaydar's guardsmen (who had grown in numbers proportionally to the factory's expansion) might take care of the "Spark search".
Secondly, Ostad Sayeh did have some elite thugs that might just be able to handle the task al-Shamdli had in mind for them, if it is not too late (and there was no time to check that). Gregore Angarine quickly dressed, checked his sword and hurried downstairs. The whole affair needed to be arranged as quickly as possible; in his mind, he already thought of the various gadgets that might prove useful in this case. With some luck, Ostad Sayeh's elites would be able to rescue that Magnatean from Turq captivity and bring him to Khur, where his Gift would be more duly appreciated. With less luck... Well, if he were to die, then that would be it, and if he were to somehow escape, then all would still not be lost. After all, Ostad Sayeh's men did have sheer quantity going for them. Yes, decided Gregore as he moved intently and distractedly through the Shemran streets, scaring away the few people that still dared to stand this close to his ministerial palace, it was quite silly to discount that entire network so quickly. They would search for the Magnatean - and any other known "Sparks" - everywhere, in all cities. And who cares for civilities? The more people the better. Liberated or captured, they would all have to work in Shemran, for the Shah of Khur and his Minister, and for noone else. The Plan required it, and Gregore was all too happy to serve it.
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