The Peacock and the Manticore

North Timistania

North Timistania

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Prologue

Iraelia 1977

Farhad Kevshah all but threw himself into the still smoking crater, around him it felt like the world was ending, the column he had been traveling with had wandered right into the Killzone and now he was for all he knew the only Astragonian left alive. The tank lay like a great beast with its shell cracked open, the driver's corpse lay slumped on the edge of the turret, black smoke spewed from within and shrouded everything in a sickening haze of petrol and burning flesh and metal.

Farhad bent forwards as a stream of vomit surged from his throat, his heart pounded like hammer blows and he couldn't stop the shaking in his hands. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out the Shadaist necklace within, he began to pray, clasping the silver charm with both hands.

'Though a host should encamp against me, my heart shall not fear; though war should rise up against me, even then will I be confident' He said trying to still the fear in his voice as he repeated the words like a mantra

Placing the necklace around his neck Farhad reached for his sidearm, the shelling was beginning to abate and that meant only one thing, the Skandan's would soon begin their offensive. Farhad clicked the safety off and readied himself, he had no desire to be taken alive by the godless communists.

It had all been so different months prior, they had marched for the border in clean blue dress uniforms as the crowds had cheered. They had enlisted for the crown princes volunteer force in the thousands, young men and women filled with idealism and Shadaist zeal, they would fight alongside their shadaist brothers in Iraelia and drive back the Skandans.

The reality had been a far cry from that hopeful leaving parade, inexperienced volunteers were ill prepared for the horrors of modern war, the Skandan's meanwhile had been fighting for decades. Now, sitting in a dirty trench with his uniform stained with vomit Farhad knew he would most likely die. The shelling had stopped, silence covered the field for a few tense moments, then the sound of a whistle fille the air its sudden shriek making Farhad jump.

The sound of Skandan soldiers advancing filled the air, boots crashed and men called out war cries as they moved forward. Farhad felt a chill run down his spine as he glanced out from his improvised trench and saw the first figures advance through the smoke. He raised his pistol and prepared to fire, a sound like thunder drowned out all other sounds, the frontline of Skandan infantry vanished in an explosion of fire and screams.

He looked up and saw Iraelian fighter jets screech overhead, behind the rumble of Astragonese tanks caused him to cry out in joy, at that moment they were like the chariots of angels, salvation in the form of 30 tons of metal. A loud voice cut through the din of battle.

'Still alive cousin!? Thank Shadai that your luck hasn't run out!' the voice said in a booming, jovial tone

Kaskaran Valdishah, crown prince of Astragon, was a giant of a man standing well over 6 feet and grasping a machine gun in his muscled arms like it was a child's toy. His bearded grin and wild, mischievous eyes made him instantly recognizable to his men even in the absence of an officers uniform. Farhad, the pampered child of one of Astragon's oldest noble lines knew the man as a cousin.

'Thank Shadai indeed! the others...were...not so lucky' he said in a sorrowful voice

'We shall avenge them cousin, i promise you they did not die in vain' Kaskaran replied a look of sympathy on his face

Kaskaran clapped Farhad on the back, then he did something strange, Kaskaran climbed onto the still burning wreck of Farhad's tank and addressed his men, even as bullets and shells rained around him.

'Brothers and Sisters! today we drive the Skandans back! these godless swine have violated the holy land for too long! Come with me and we shall seize victory! For Astragon! Iraelia! and Shadai!" he roared, his voice carrying across the battlefield.

The men cheered and pressed their advance, many would die before the battle was over, but the Skandans would be driven back as the prince had declared.


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Chapter One: Sabhrain

'In Astragon Court Politics are more dangerous than any war, at least on a battlefield you know who's trying to kill you!' - Vashad Izran, Commander of the Palace Kaiderin, 1923

Present Day
Bayyah Na Tyrooz
Capital of Astragon

The motorcade sped down the evening roads of the capital moving ever upwards, the imperial palace awaited us at the cities highest point, a veritable citadel perched on a great rock overlooking the ancient city below. Fazah my aide-de-camp was arguing on his headset with the chief of palace security

'No, we will need security to meet us at the gate, no! holdups are unacceptable!, yes captain I am aware of palace protocol!' Fazah was keeping surprisingly calm given the amount of red tape he was struggling to cut through

I sighed and eyed my tablet irritably, status updates from all the regional commands were pouring in all asking for guidance on subjects ranging from troop movements to greenlighting missions, I sent replies to a dozen requests before Fazah interrupted me.

'Still working Ma'am? you know you have command staff to handle most of these requests' he said eyeing my tablet with concern

Delegation of duty has never been something I like to engage in, I didn't get to be Prime Marshal of Astragon by leaving my work for other people to complete. Still, Fazah had a point and I set the tablet down and rubbed my eyes, I was fatigued from the long flight and the prospect of more meetings and audiences did not appeal greatly.

'A Prime Marshal's work is never done Fazah, what was the result of that little exchange with captain Ashan?' I asked as I lit a cigarette and took a long drag

Fazah's lip twitched slightly, a well-concealed sign of disapproval, I rolled my eyes and exhaled before stubbing out the cigarette and reaching for my tablet. Fazah sighed and checked his watch.

'The captain put up the expected protests to us fast-tracking entrance into the palace, I told him who the order for our presence came from and he reluctantly acquiesced to a streamlined entry' Fazah said with a satisfied grin

The palace Kaiderin were notoriously protective of the emperor, so much so that they had developed a reputation for inflexibility with regards to security checks if the Vizier of the estates hadn't ordered my presence I suspect, Prim Marshal or no, I would have been waiting several hours before being allowed to enter the palace proper. A ping on my tablet caused me to pick it up again, the update I had been waiting for.

'With respect Prime Marshal, you handpicked Colonel Korshad to oversee operations in your absence, I'm certain he can handle this' Fazah said trying in vain to get me to focus on my imminent palace audience

It was true that I had handpicked Korshad, it was also true that I had done so because this accursed summons had left me no choice. For months I had been working from a command centre on the border of Thembaland, the autonomous region of the Na Themba tribe. Their government still paid lip service to our emperor and allowed him to handle foreign affairs, but syndicalist movements had been springing up in recent years and threatening this arrangement.

Countless hours of co-ordinating kill teams, tipping off local security forces and military surveillance had all been undone by one priority message bearing the imperial seal, forced to leave operations in the hands of a trusted second I was rushed off to the airport unceremoniously and put on the first military flight back to the capital. To say I was annoyed by this interruption would have been a vast understatement, I was seething.

'I may have been forced to hand over command of my operation, but they never said I couldn't demand updates from the man I left in charge' i said scanning the message from Korshad


'Local military compliant, kill teams operating with maximum efficiency, syndicalist cell leader located, permission to eliminate?' the message read, I tapped in a reply

'Confirmed, you have operational control, greenlight execution' i replied and then put the tablet out of view

Fazah grinned as he sensed he had won, I frowned and lit another cigarette watching the smoke coil around the lit end and flow out the open window. Outside I could hear the low buzzing of police helicopters flying overhead, the streets leading up to the palace district had been cleared hours earlier in anticipation of my motorcade.

I'm fairly sure I requested the standard motorcade detail and sent specific instructions not to disrupt local traffic with my arrival' I said irritably, the amount of fuss the capital authorities were making would attract more attention than any rumour of my visit ever could

'The Vizier's office received your message, they insisted despite your concern' Fazah replied cautiously, he was well aware I was in a foul mood

There is always a delicate game of power being played by the emperors leading officials, in times of war I am ostensibly the most powerful person in Astragon and have absolute authority, but in times of peace I am outranked on all domestic concerns by the Vizier of the Estates, he says jump and I ask how high. It's supposed to stop me from launching coups, honestly though I sometimes think the annoyance of imperial bureaucracy might cause me to start one out of pure frustration.

'Prime Marshal, we are approaching the palace' the driver announced over the car's intercom

The great gates of the imperial palace, two vast steel gates bearing the imperial seal, began to open slowly, a Kaiderin sergeant dressed in grey urban fatigues waved out motorcade through. Moments later we were within the sanctum of one of the greatest palaces on the face of Eras, I glanced out the car window, the spires and battlements of the great whitestone fortress beckoned.

'Come Fazah, let's get this over with, bring the case' i said stubbing out my second cigarette and rise out of the car as the door was opened for me

Outside in the cool evening air, was greeted by an honour guard of Kaiderin, their red uniforms marking them as members of the elite palace guard. At their head wearing a gold lined breastplate and plumed captains helm stood Ashan Na Mazzah, commander of the imperial guard, the Kaiderin saluted me pounding their fists against the breasts in the traditional manner.

'Welcome to the palace Prime Marshal Na Kevsha, Vizier Izrah is expecting you' Ashan said his deep voice seeming to emerge from within the darkness of his closed helmet

I nodded and bid him lead the way, The Kaiderin marched behind us in perfect time and order, I felt like I was being escorted into a gilded prison. so it begins I thought, I was not enthused about the prospect of being trapped in the ancient realm of court ritual.






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Chapter Two: Origins
Iraelia, 1978

The downpour pitter-pattered on the flimsy tarpaulin like hundreds of tapping fingers, Farhad felt himself relax as he took another sip from his cup, Iraelian wine was potent stuff after all. One of the troopers was playing an old folk tune on the flute, it was a rare moment of respite from the nearly constant back and forth skirmishes on the frontline.

Kaskaran lit a cigar and waved the match out, he took a long drag before regarding Farhad with a curious stare.

'It occurs to me cousin, we've been fighting together for over a year now, and yet I know so little about you, why leave all the status and comfort to come here?' Kaskaran asked Cigar now perched between his fingers

Farhad was momentarily taken aback by the question, it was a good one, after all, he had been on the Iraelian front for over a year and already his old life seemed like an eternity ago. He took another sip from his cup enjoying the strong alcoholic buzz it brought and sighed before answering.

'You really want to know Kaska? it's stupid really, obviously, I was angered when Skanda invaded but...'

'But?' Kaskaran said trying to cut to the heart of the matter

'There was a woman' He began, Kaskaran chuckled, Cigar firmly in mouth

'Usually is the case' Kaskaran said grinning mischievously

'Vashah Na Azrayah' he said letting the name tumble from nervous lips

'That's a Kaiderin surname' Kaskaran said surprised

Farhad's face reddened with embarrassment, inter-caste marriages did happen but they were frowned upon.

'Yes, I am in love with a Kaiderin' Farhad admitted 'i thought coming here might impress her, even earn me the right to marry if I distinguished myself' he said increasingly embarrassed to repeat his sob story to the crown prince

Oddly Kaskaran did not appear fazed by this news, he actually looked sympathetic, the crown prince sighed and stubbed out his cigar.

'My father would never allow it...' Kaskaran said sadly, Farhad could not resist the urge to interrupt

'But surely!' he said angrily, Kaskaran raised his hand for silence

'I said my Father would never allow it, but I might, he's an old man now, and if we survive this lunacy I will make sure you get to marry when I am crowned' Kaskaran said with a sincere look

'You would do that? for me?' Farhad said surprised

Kaskaran chuckled 'We've been facing death together for a year already, there is little I would not do for a fellow brother in arms, now quit moping and pour me some of that Kosher wine you've been hoarding, We are back to the front in two days and id like to steal some joy before then' Kaskaran said holding out his cup

Farhad reached for the bottle and filled Kaskarans cup to the brim "Blessed are You, LORD our God, King of the universe, Who creates the fruit of the vine." both men repeated before toasting and drinking deeply

It would not be the last toast or the last bottle of the night.



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Chapter Three: Dinner and an Audience

Bayyah Na Tyrooz, Capital of Astragon
Present Day

'The Palace of the Exalt is perhaps the greatest continuous complex ever the grace Eras with its existence, generations of Exalt Emperors adding their own wings to a Citadel that bloats and expands with the ages. Old wings fall into disuse only to be renovated and built over by new more fortunate dynasties, each generation seeking to outdo the last in extravagance and power, it is said that if you have an eye for detail you can decipher almost every aspect of an emperors reign and personality just by examining the wing of the palace they reside in'

-'The Unofficial Guide to the Empire' By Absha Na Revash Written 1883, Banned 1889, Exonerated 1989

It has been said, probably with no small amount of truth, that to look upon a wing of the palace is to look upon the emperor themselves. Every Emperor has built their own wing within the palace of Exalts, that's nearly two thousand years of maze-like construction to contend with, from Razad's almost transcendently decadent emerald wing to Shaddan II's warlike apartments, no two are ever the same. ​

Now my uncle 'Kaska' was not a man for such extravagance, a lifelong soldier he preferred simplicity over gaudy displays. His apartments could best be described as 'comfortably functional' the wooden paneling and almost rustic chambers were indicative of a man entirely disinterested in the generational chest pounding that so often defines our imperial dynasties.

two concession to the otherwise spartan surroundings were permitted, the first was a large mirror that adorned the wall next to the dining table, it had belonged to Kaskaran's wife and he had never taken it down. I stared into it my reflection meeting my gaze, at 30 I was and do not take this for idle vanity, attractive for my age, my mother's prominent cheekbones crowned a delicate and thin face, my nose meanwhile was a gift from my father and bore the same slender aspect as all Na Kevshah, dark hair in a military bun marked me as Hailakaid as did my coffee colored skin. The eyes that stared back at me, however, were my own, two deep green orbs that bore a countenance somewhere between analytical and predatory.

'I need coffee' i muttered tiredly, pursing my lips in annoyance

A servant seemed to pick up on my utterance and brought a tray of silverware bearing the desired pick me up. I dislike being waited on hand and foot, in my role as prime marshal I prefer to be hands-on with everything. In the military command centers that are my normal haunts I pour my own coffee and deal with all my needs without hand-holding, still when in the palace do as the royals do.

Ah, where was I, the other concession my uncle had allowed in this vast stateroom, was a printed and framed photograph, two men standing next to an old tank and holding aloft an Iraelian and Astragonese flag each. The man on the left is Uncle Kaska, the man on the right is my father Farhad. Yes, I Sabhrain am his daughter, a fact I would hope the more perceptive among you would have picked up.

I should clarify, Kaskaran was not truly my uncle, we are in fact cousins once removed, however, our relationship had always been closer to uncle and niece and the age gap made any pretense of cousins farcical. He was always Uncle Kaska and I was always his dear Sabhra, a smile came to me as I thought about those far off days in the palace gardens, a jovial giant spoiling me rotten while my father protested in vain, all long passed now.

I sipped my coffee and waited idly, Fazah had been instructed to wait outside, for all intents and purposes I was to meet my immediate superior alone if he ever showed up. The biggest difference between military life and palace ritual is the pace, in the Kaiderin everything happens with speed and via a clear chain of command, in the palace, everything is measured in long periods of time that increase the further up the complex hierarchy you climb. As a woman used to commanding kill squads and ordering strikes I now felt rather impotent, all my power rendered meaningless in this labyrinth-like world.

Finally, an ornate wooden door at the end of the room creaked open, Izrah Na Rishah entered quietly and oddly also alone. He was an ancient man having served under both my uncle and the late Sakard before him. Bald and stoop backed his aged features resembled a wrinkled prune more with each passing days, he smiled all his teeth still oddly present and locked eyes with me, he had more bags under his then I did mine.

'Sabhrain! My how you've grown! how many years has it been now? ten? fifteen?' he asked in a cheerful tone that my wearied self found irritating

'Sixteen' i said correcting him

I had been fourteen when I had joined the Kaiderin, sporadic visits home aside, I had not set foot in the palace proper in nearly two decades. It was an arrangement I had found agreeable, I had buried myself in my work, first my training and then later my commands. However now here I was and the old prune seemed utterly overjoyed even if I was quite unenthused by my presence here.

'Indeed, how quickly the years pass, the last time you saw me I probably had hair!' he said chuckling, he was not wrong, though on balance I think baldness was an improvement

'Enough pleasantries Izrah, I was in the middle of a complex operation before you dragged me here, what could possibly be so important!?' I asked patience rapidly exhausting

His face hardened slightly, he suddenly seemed utterly exhausted, even for a man of seventy-five, he limped to the chair and slowly sat down, pouring himself a glass of wine and sipping it with both shaking hands clasping hard. I suddenly felt a surge of pity despite myself, he was more worn out then he let on. Finally, he sighed and spoke.

'What I am about to say would end with my execution if it was ever repeated in public, and yet it is vital that I do say it' he replied in a grim tone

'Coup? please tell me you're not planning a coup!' i said suddenly feeling the urge to run

'What?! no Sabhrain...i speak of our lord's health... his condition is worsening by the day' Izrah said his tone utterly candid

My uncle was nearly 60, it seemed ridiculous to assume that a man famous for his strength could suddenly be labeled as on his last legs. And yet there it was, and it did not appear that the Vizier was playing some elaborate practical joke either.

'What is his condition?' I asked concerned

'What isn't his condition at this point...Psoriasis, Liver disease, and frequent mood swings and bouts of depression, all joyous diversions to fill the day I can tell you' Izrah replied almost venting, I was probably one of the few he had spoken to about this

'Then...what do you want me to do? I'm a soldier, not a doctor' i said unsure where this was going

Izrah let out an exasperated sigh 'Im not asking you to cure him Sabhra! I'm asking you to help me support him! he sits in this palace like a dying antelope surrounded by vultures and hyena, every day the Hailene jostle and scheme as they try to carve up the coming carcass, he needs strong supporters here!' Izrah said slamming his fist on the table for emphasis

'How long does he have?' I asked suddenly fearful, I had not seen him often but we had a bond that had been strong throughout my life, the sudden knowledge that he might soon be gone was jarring

'There is no way to be truly sure, days, weeks, months, a few more years, the doctors left things wonderfully vague but I will tell you that I would estimate on the lower scale, not the higher and when he dies, this empire could very well tear itself apart' He said whispering the last words as if to prevent their happening

'Stay with us Sabhra, help me protect the throne and the Emperor, trust me, this is more important then Na Themba Separatists' he said trying to sound reassuring

My mind was reeling, my usually calm demeanor replaced by seemingly endless new variables that threatened to undo the carefully constructed mental order I had established, Izrah was and I say this begrudgingly, absolutely right, the empire would tear itself apart, I would be needed if there was any hope of stopping that. Shadai and Kaidain help me, i was truly scared for the first time in many a year.






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Chapter Four: Armistice

Iraelia 1980

The ground shook as the barrage of artillery bombarded the Skandan positions with a rain of death bearing ordinance, Farhad grinned as a trooper loaded another shell into their hilltop mounted gun with the words 'Shadai sends his regards Commie!' scratched onto its side.

'Fire!' the command came and the gun roared into life as it sent its lethal payload shrieking towards the enemy

Farhad smiled with grim satisfaction as it detonated in the distance, a plume of fire and smoke marking the point of impact. After years of fighting the war had all but ground to a halt, territory was taken only to be lost again and men died in droves in what increasingly seemed like a meat grinder devoid of purpose other than to cripple and butcher young men.

Farhad looked around at his men, any sign of the young idealists of 76' was absent, the men who fought alongside him now were all hardened veterans. The dirty combat fatigues and unshaven faces of the Astragonese volunteers hid well the lethal threat these men now posed, each man was a certified killer. Offensives were rare now, most days Farhad contented himself with artillery duties, neither side wished to commit men to pointless assaults this late in the war, they were happy just to lob shells at each other.

'I could listen to those things fire all day long' Kaskaran said his approach surprising Farhad

The crown prince had changed little in the years since the war began, he was a giant of a man still and he radiated the same fierce charisma he had since the beginning, even the most jaded veteran seemed fresh-faced in his presence. His wild beard and dust-caked fatigues hid his royal status well, but the glint in men's eyes was always there to hint at his true nature.

'I'd almost say it was pointless shelling them if the explosions weren't so satisfying to watch' Farhad said with a chuckle as another detonation shook the distant hills

Kaskaran sighed, a sudden look of weariness covering his face, he looked up at Farhad with a serious expression

'Let's take a walk brother, I want a word away from the men' he said motioning for Farhad to follow

They walked back towards camp and stopped at a pile of rocks halfway between the firing line and the sea of tents in the valley below. Kaskaran sat down on a boulder and struck a match, he held it to a cigar perched between his lips and ignited it. After a long drag, he let out a stream of smoke and regarded Farhad with a serious expression.

'If the war ended tomorrow what would you do?' Kaskaran asked with a quizzical look

Farhad shrugged 'Get drunk' he said in a dry tone

Kaskaran chuckled and took another drag on his cigar before exhaling and pointing it at Farhad for emphasis 'After that?' he said

'Honestly? I don't even know, wars been going on for so long that thinking about peace felt like daydreaming' Farhad replied in a weary tone

Why was Kaskaran asking him such questions? they had all shared pipedreams of marriage, drunken revels and even children and homes...but the war had raged for so long most men had forgotten what peace even looked like, making plans for a future that could be snuffed out by a stray bullet was a difficult task at the best of times.

'You are correct, it has raged for a long time now but these are the wars last days' Kaskaran said calmly

Farhad blinked in surprise 'how could he know that?!' he thought in disbelief, how could Kaskaran possibly know that a conflict that had claimed thousands of lives and stretched across half a decade was going to end.

'Seems like it's got more than days to go yet' Farhad said in a sceptical voice

'on the surface perhaps, but look deeper and you can see the end in sight, everyone is tired brother, too much death for too little gain, I received an encoded telegram from Iraelian intelligence last week' Kaskaran said stubbing out his cigar as he did so

'And? what did they have to say?' Farhad asked curiosity building

'That the Skandans are weighing up peace talks with Iraelia, both sides are eager to conclude this wasteful conflict' Kaskaran said with a tired smile

Farhad's heart pounded as Kaskaran uttered the sentence 'An end? Truly!?' it didn't seem real, and yet there it was, news from the mouth of a crown prince no less. Farhad's mind raced as a thousand different thoughts filled his head.

'that wasn't all though, I received another telegram' Kaskaran said his voice suddenly grim

'What did it say?' Farhad asked still in shock from the first telegram

'it was from Astragon, my father is dying and upon his passing... I will be crowned exalt' Kaskaran said mirthlessly

The death of a parent was a reality all children were destined to face, royalty was no different in this regard. in a sense, Farhad pitied Kaskaran, his role as crown prince added a political element to even his most personal of moments, grief was as much a state activity for him as it was a familial one.

'I will need allies when I return home and Farhad?' Kaskaran said locking eyes with his subordinate

'Yes brother?' Farhad replied

'Im going to need a Vizier' Kaskaran said

in the distance, shells continued to echo, but now they didn't seem so loud.

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Chapter Five: Behold The Exalted

'A palace soon becomes a prison without warm company with whom to fill it, golds glitter soon turns from enticement to mockery in the lonely darkness, The love of man alone sustains the soul of the righteous, for it is this eternal gift alone that descends from Shadai'

-Tavaid Na Irasha Chief Rabbi of Astragon ca.1903

Bayyah Na Tyrooz, Capital of Astragon
Present Day

It was a cool morning, the gentle breeze that flowed across the palace was a welcome relief from the scorching heat of an Astragonese summer. Kaskaran sat on the balcony of his apartments taking in the morning chill, one of the few pleasures he could still enjoy in his declining state. In his late sixties now, Kaskaran was a shadow of his once vigorous self, white robes and gloved hands covered psoriasis ravaged skin and sunglasses concealed his jaundice yellowed eyes from scrutiny.

Age had not been kind to the Exalt Emperor, liver cancer had withered his body and the haze of painkillers and medical treatments left him frequently delirious and confused, today was a rare day of blessed lucidity, and already the noise from the palace was threatening to shatter that tranquility. Below a vast warren of keeps, courtyards and palaces hummed with activity, the red Kaiderin were making every effort to drown out the silence of the morning with their endless cannon salutes.

Kaskaran could feel his rage building with each new barrage, the noise of cannon fire and bellowed orders were tearing into his skull and an agonizing migraine was growing larger each passing moment. He gritted his teeth and then knocked the porcelain coffee cup to the floor in an angered cry, the sound of shattering brought a horde of servants rushing to his side.

'Is everyone alright Exalted?' a young male attendant asked as his fellows frantically swept away the remains of the shattered pottery, he sounded nervous, they always were these days, ever on guard for the moments when Kaskaran would fall into a delirious rage

'Get the Vizier! Now!' he snarled from between bared teeth

Vizier Izrah appeared shortly afterward, the tapping of his cane growing louder as he drew closer, the aged Vizier of the Estates regarded his lord with a calm and attentive expression '

You summoned me Exalted?' Izrah asked gently

'Those infernal guns are driving me insane! tell them to stop it!' He yelled angrily, he waved a bony finger in the Vizier's direction as he did so

''he traditional salute is a time-honored ritual to salute your majesty' Izrah replied his expression never changing, the Vizier was used to the emperor's frequent outbursts

'I don't care if it been done since Kayyvan the Eternal! Tell them to pack it in! They salute me every day! they can do so without cannons!' he roared his headache growing nigh unbearable

Izrah bowed his head and signaled an attendant to deliver the emperors message, the two men stood in awkward silence as the servant rushed off to silence the cannons. Kaskaran sighed, he felt exhausted and the pain in his body was starting to rise, he would need medicine before long.

'What happened to me?' Kaskaran thought melancholically, after his coronation he had felt as though he could re-arrange the very stars and with his loyal brother Farhad at his side they had done great things. The '80s had seemed like a time in which anything was possible, he raised moderates to positions of power, stabilized the economy and even pushed for greater freedoms. But that had been before the tragedies before loss had driven the reformist emperor into self-imposed exile.

Farhad had been the first to die, his beloved brother and right hand, killed in a bombing of his yacht by Na Themba Separatists in '86. Without Farhad Kaskaran had lost his closest confidant, Izrah had done his best to fill the gap, but to lose a comrade like Farhad represented an irreparable situation. The death of Farhad had also robbed him of his niece Sabhrain in a way, her mother and father had both been on the Yacht and she burned for vengeance, the little girl who had played in the gardens had died that year as well.

Next had come his wife Lahrain in 89', her last days spent coughing her lungs out and begging for water. His wife had been a witty, vibrant and kind woman, to see her die so cruelly had pushed Kaskaran even further into depression. But it was Razad that finally broke the Exalt-Emperor, the only son and hope for the future. Razad had died in a car accident on a routine visit home from University in '92. To lose his wife and friend had been a blow, to lose his heir and beloved child had been crippling.

The years after '92 had been a blur of alcoholism and isolation, in his seclusion the empire had fallen into intrigue and corruption. Without Kaskaran to keep the council in check every minister and prince had simply acted as though they were petty kings of their own fiefdoms, Izrah had been unable to stem the tide without his master's authority. Now years later Kaskaran cursed the day he had been crowned when he was conscious enough to do so.

'My lord?' Izrah asked his voice jolting Kaskaran from his bitter musings

'What?' Kaskaran asked rubbing his temples with a weary hand

'Was there anything else you required Majesty?' Izrah asked his tone always gentle and patient

'Send for the palace doctor, I am in pain, that is the only person I wish to see' he said irritably

Izarah smiled suddenly, it was a genuine and broad thing, Kaskaran narrowed his eyes in a look that was both perplexed and suspicious

'What are you smiling about Vizier?! do I amuse you!' he asked in a rasping voice

'There may be one more person you might wish to see Majesty' Izrah replied, that damned smile still on his wrinkled face, he looked like a grinning raisin

'And who would that be?' Kaskaran asked irritation at the edge of his voice

'Prime Marshal Na Kevshah is here, at my invitation' Izrah replied

Kaskaran had no words to answer that with, Sabhrain had been away for a long time now, she wrote to Kaskaran of her travels and duties, but her presence was rare and fleeting. 'How many years now?' he thought 'ten? twenty?' his memory was foggy these days, everything seemed blurred the further back he tried to remember.

'Yes' he said, that rarest of emotions filled him, excitement, something he seldom felt any longer

'Yes!' he repeated tone suddenly joyous 'Send my darling Sabhra to me, it has been so long!' he said with a sigh that was equal parts fatigue and happiness


Izrah nodded as he always did when his lord gave a command and another Servant rushed from the room, the guns outside suddenly did not sound so loud.
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Chapter Six: Reunions and Goodbyes

Bayyah Na Tyrooz, Capital of Astragon
Present Day

The funny thing was that everything was exactly as I remembered it, right down to the arrangement of the room, it was as if nothing in my uncle's apartments had been moved since 1986. It was a vast and bare sort of room, all the more imposing for how empty it was. walls of Onyx and Obsidian lent the dimly lit apartments a void-like quality and made the balcony seem like some gaping orifice of light.

It was there in the brightness that I found him, Kaskaran Valishah III, hunched and withered in that mockery of a chair, I hated it at the first sight. My uncle had been a giant in his prime, a veritable titan whose laughter boomed across hallways and streets, to see him withered and confined to a wheelchair filled me with rage, an unidentifiable sort of rage like some terrible joke had been played at his expense.

I walked towards him with tentative steps, I wanted to see him and at the same time, I didn't want to see what he had been reduced to. The sight of those yellowed eyes almost made me weep, the same loving expression-filled them even in that obvious moment of pain. I knelt, he once towered over me but now I must have seemed a giant in comparison.

'Uncle Kaska' i said in a soft voice, I gave in to emotion and gripped his bony hands as though they would wither away if I did not

'Sabhra, my darling!' he said in a rasping voice that was so warm I thought i might melt

************
We talked at length, a length the palace doctors would later tell me he had not spoken with anyone at for years, he wanted to know everything. My life, my goals, he even asked if I was eating properly. It was bittersweet, I felt immense guilt both for the joy I took from speaking to him, and the knowledge that I had come far too late.

after a while he became quiet and a grim look flowed across his sickly features 'Sabhra' he said softly 'I am dying' there was no fear or hesitation in his tone, just a certainty that I found chilling

'Don't be morbid uncle, your doctors are taking good care of you' i said immediately hating those stupid words, love makes us say idiotic things, we want so badly for our family to stay with us that we lose all sense of reason

He stared with a look that was simultaneously the most gentle and serious expression I have ever seen my uncle make 'Not morbid, just realistic' he said calmly

It was in that moment that I knew, the wall of false hope and denial shattering into pieces, he was right and I knew it, my uncle was dying. Noticing my discomfort he sighed and tapped my hand with a bony finger.

'Now now, you shouldn't be so mournful, I am old and you are young, it is natural for a king to die and for his heir to rise in his place, what would you do if I lived eternal? stuff me in a broom closet' That made me laugh, far louder then I expected to

'You're skinny enough!' I replied between guffaws of laughter, he was soon making rasping chuckles of his own

And yes dear reader, I was entirely aware he had just equated me with his successor, but I shall be honest, at that moment the throne was farther from my mind then Eras is from distant Abbadon.

Outside a sudden blast of cannon fire began, Kaskaran wrinkled his face in annoyance 'I told them to stop! you'd think these Kaiderin have some sort of death wish' he said in an irritable voice

I laughed slightly, amazed my uncle had forgotten 'Uncle' i said gently, holding back a slight laugh 'Its coronation day in a week, those are rehearsals' i said smiling at him warmly

He seemed taken aback by that ' Dear Shadai, I am getting more dopey each passing day' he sighed, perhaps realizing how much time had passed

'Do me a favour then Sabhra' he said locking his eyes on me with a paternal stare

'Anything' i replied without hesitation

'When the parade begins, I want you to ride my horse at its head, the people must know their Exalt' he said in a tone that made it entirely clear he was not joking

'Im no exalt' i replied hoping this was a moment of confusion

'Not yet, but you shall be' he said gripping my hand in his tightly




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Chapter Seven: The world that was

Bayyah Na Tyrooz, Capital of Astragon
1982

'My uncle was a titan amongst men in those early days, quick to laughter and even handed in all his dealings, the greatest tragedy in our century of woe may have been that he did not come to a better end'

-Exalt-Empress Sabhrain Na Kevshah I

'Meditations on things past'

The vast halls that snaked towards the peacock gate were overcrowded with nobles and high officials, the great alabaster arches glittered as shadows of the thousands below flowed around the walls. It was a new day for Astragon, Kaskaran had been crowned less than a year before and now he would greet his new Vizier for the first day of governance.

Farhad couldn't help but fidget in the uniform of a Vizier, barely a year ago he had been living in dusty military fatigues, compared with those broken in clothes his new uniform felt stiff and weighted.

'I have never seen a man fuss as much as you do husband, and I spent my youth guarding eunuchs' his wife Vashah said with an amused grin

she was beautiful, like a fierce bird of prey, her dark skin, and green eyes were striking and her thin boned face and tightly braided hair lent her an air of militant beauty. There had been times on the frontlines that he had thought such a pairing would have been nothing more than a pipe dream with no hope of reality, that was before he had returned home.

It had turned out that the best person to understand a soldier was another one, she respected his service and understood the sacrifices of a warriors life in a way that all the noble brides of the court never could.

'Kaiderin Pesha Na Azrah!' The captain of the guard roared as the vast emerald gates that barred entry into the emperor's inner palace swung open. Two columns of red kaiderin marched in perfect step before halting and raising their blades in salute.

They were a magnificent sight, tall men in blood-red uniforms and golden breastplates and helms, some the most fanatical and well-trained soldiers in all of Eras, they held two lines and waited like statues for the arrival of their master.

A single high pitched wail broke the respectful silence that held sway over the great hallway, a tiny voice that carried like a roar in the long corridors. Farhad's young daughter, barely months old, was awake and evidently wished the entire palace to know.

His face reddened as he reached for the child and began to try to hush her, he made gentle soothing noises and tried to calm her but the wailing only grew louder, he felt the eyes of thousands hone in upon him, the heat on his cheeks was near unbearable.

The embarrassment would have continued but for a booming laugh that washed it away as though it were driftwood on a beach. Farhad looked up, the child still in his arms to see his comrade and emperor staring down with a wide grin from the steps of the gate.

'HAHAHA!!! now those are some fine lungs brother!' he roared in approval, Kaskaran wore the crown of the Exalt upon his brow and his black generals uniform, he looked every bit the part of an emperor

The child ceased her crying and gazed up at the approaching giant quizzically, Kaskaran soon stood over her with an adoring eye

'Vashah please tell me this child has a name!' Kaskaran said with a good-natured smile

Vashah could not help but smile back 'Indeed my lord, we named her Sabhrain' she said proudly

Kaskaran nodded evidently pleased with the choice 'after the dawn star, an auspicious name for an auspicious child!' he said clapping Farhad on the back like a proud brother

The entire hall seemed to ease in the presence of the new Exalt, he was a man of easy humor and slow anger, people felt instantly at ease around this man. It was such a quality that had made him beloved by his soldiers and now it seemed likely to have the same effect upon noble and commoner alike as well.

'She was born in the early morning at the height of the sunrise' Farhad said solemnly as he gazed down at his prized child

'Together brother we shall create a better future for both your Sabhrain and my Razad' Kaskaran said in a sincere voice

'May I hold her Vashah?' Kaskaran asked gently, it was a strange thing for an Emperor to ask permission, but Kaskaran always wore his title lightly

'Of course my lord! without your help she would not even be here' Vashah replied in assent

Kaskaran lifted the babe up into his arms and stared down at the child warmly 'My dear Sabhra, the light of your parent's lives and now I think one of the two stars to glitter in my own!' he said smiling

The child started laughing, a loud and perfect joy, it was a good omen, the court began to clap.

'Shhhhh, too loud!' the emperor said sharply, silencing thousands with a voice that was barely a whisper

'Come, brother, we have an empire to reform!' Kaskaran said, carrying Sabhrain up the steps as the red Kaiderin formed up around him





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Chapter Eight: Coronation Day

Bayyah Na Tyrooz, Capital of Astragon
Present Day

The processional of Shaddan was a testament to the power of ego, the exalt emperor built this obscene monument to parade his victorious armies in an endless line from the palace to the harbour. Shaddan's obsession with military glory nearly emptied Astragon's coffers, yet still, we use it to this day.

Vast marble statues and amphitheatre-like seats line the snaking road, it runs from one end of the capital all the way to the palace of the Exalt. There are few greater spectacles in all of Eras then the coronation day processional and few that can match its pretentious nature.

Thousands of women in traditional Hailakaid dress sing our national songs in vibrant choirs as xylophones, gourds and drums play bombastically behind them. Overhead the shriek of fighter jets fills the air and the endless thump of gunfire almost drowns out all other sounds. I could see why my uncle hated these events, it was like a competition to see who could deafen the audience first.

And yet despite the cacophony that was playing out around and above me, I could not deny that the spectacle was had a certain magnificence to it, it was one gigantic celebration of our nation's culture, bombastic to be sure but also stirring in its own way. It was like a vast peacock extending its feathers in a display, utterly lacking in subtlety and utterly impossible to ignore.

Vaishalan or 'White Head' in Mercanti was my uncle's prized horse, though he had never ridden him, a striking beast he had a main of snowy white hair and a body as dark as obsidian. He kicked and shuffled idly as we waited for the signal to begin the parade. I'm not typically one for ceremony, but my uncle had requested I lead his coronation day parade, and I would do anything for him, even this noisy task.

I wore the armour of a prime marshal, gold-lined plate armour and a cloak of crimson, my helm was encrusted with emeralds and a plume of peacock feathers marked me as bearing the favour of the emperor. it all weighed a tonne, even my boots glimmered with rubies and emeralds, I prayed this march ended before this extravagant attire crushed me.

A great horn blew silencing all the prior noise, an announcers voice filled the speakers that were present in every seated area along the processional

'Citizens of Astragon, in this our Exalt Emperors 38th Regnal Year we gather once more to give honour to the father of our nation and the protectors of the glorious civilization he reigns over! Long Live Kaskaran III Long Live his steadfast Kaiderin!' The announcer's voice boomed as cheers erupted from the sea of people in attendance

'Leading our glorious Kaiderin in their march, Prime Marshal Sabhrain Na Kevsha! Cousin to the Exalt and master of our war caste!' the announcer said, his use of 'cousin' causing me to frown with discomfort, correct in a formal sense but wrong by any other standard

The great horn blew a second time, this time to signal the beginning of the parade, behind me thousands of soldiers stood to attention and shouldered their weapons. I straightened in the saddle and breathed deeply, then I opened my mouth and repeated the same ancient command that every Prime Marshal has uttered at some point in their career

'Kaiderin Pelesha!' Kaiderin Forward!

Drums hammered into life as the marching bands struck up a rousing tune, we advanced as one endless column, behind my horse a sea of uniforms marched in perfect time, the red of the palace guard, the black of the infantry and the white of the navy. Above us, the sky was filled with the trails of low flying aircraft formations.

Down the endless processional, towards the great Meterran sea, I did not know it at the time, but I had just crossed the point of no return.
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Chapter Nine: Farewell to a Weary World
Bayyah Na Tyrooz, Capital of Astragon
Present Day

Rain, Kaskaran hated rain, it had been raining the day of Farhad's murder, the sky had wept on the morning Lahrain had passed, it had fallen in buckets on the night of Razads death, the rain was a constant reminder of far off and unhappy things.

Farhad and Vashah had died in 1986, it had been raining bitterly all month in the capital, they had decided to go on a Yacht trip, Sabhrain had been suffering from a fever, Kaskaran had assured them she would be fine and told them to go. In hindsight, he blamed himself more then the rain.

He remembered the moment he had been informed of Farhad and Vasha's deaths, he had been sat in his office planning an address, and then that accursed knock had come.

'Enter' he had said and in had walked a dozen uniformed officials

'Your Exalted Majesty' one of them had said deferentially

'Yes gentlemen, what is the matter?' Kaskaran had asked, he knew already something was wrong, none of them would meet his gaze, they all just stared at the floor like misbehaving children during a scalding

'We have some...unpleasant news my lord' an official in a naval uniform had said nervously

'Regarding what?' Kaskaran had replied still gripping his pen as he stared up at the assembled officials

'Vizier Keshah and his wife Lady Kevshah have been assassinated in a bombing, their yacht was targeted by a political group we believe to be loyal to Na Themba separatists' the officer had replied in a solemn voice

The pen had fallen from his hand, he had sat there in utter silence for what seemed like an eternity, the thought of a world bereft of his beloved brother was unthinkable, and yet there it was. Eventually and with a voice trembling with both rage and sorrow he had replied

'Find them, I want every single bastard involved dead!' he had snarled barely managing to hold back tears

His advisors seem terrified by the visage of their emperor, he was wild-eyed with grief and his voice low with uncontained anger, finally one of them had worked up the courage to speak

'And what of the matter of the young Lady Kevshah' a balding man in a plain grey robe had asked

'Leave that to me' he had rasped in a pained voice 'Now, leave me to my grief!' he had said waving them all out of the room

The screams and sound of smashed objects had been loud enough that even the guards had been afraid to enter, finally, his wife had opened the door to find him, he lay on the floor the office a mass of destroyed finery. She had knelt and held his hands in her own, a gentle gaze he had grown to miss so much in later years on her face.

'You need to tell Sabhra' she had said, Lahrain was ever the voice of reason in his life

'Sweet Shadai I miss you dearest Lahra' Kaskaran thought longingly as the rain spread across the balcony

He had told Sabhrain himself, no officials with their lack of emotion for his dear niece, she had screamed until she had no voice. She spent the next week hiding under her bed, that hurt Kaskaran more than the pained cries. He had wanted to choke the life from every separatist in those agonising weeks and he had felt utterly powerless, an Exalt Emperor that could do nothing.

The child that emerged on the day of the funeral had been Sabhrain, but greatly changed, gone were the smiles and laughter, a serious and almost terrifying focus had replaced them. She would remain his beloved niece in the years to come, but gone was the carefree child that had once been.

'She's down there somewhere leading ten thousand men, her father would be so proud, I know I am' thought with a weary smile

*******************

The rain continued on, it hammered on the balcony window like winter hail, Kaskaran gazed out to see someone standing at the edge of the balcony, a young man he recognised, he fumbled the door handle and pulled his wheelchair out into the pouring rain, it stung his skin with its chill as he became drenched.

The figure turned and for a moment regarded Kaskaran with a mischievous smile. The face of his only child was both comforting and haunting, as fresh in his memory as the last day he had seen the boy.

'Razad!?' he had said reaching out with a withered hand as the figure faded from view

'Just another trick of my failing mind!' he thought dejectedly

Razad had been Kaskarans pride and joy, a bright boy who never ceased to amuse with his antics. Kaskaran had hoped that one day his son would rule over a reformed and peaceful empire like his namesake, scion of new golden age. But that had all been snuffed out during a car accident in 92'

'I miss you, son, I miss you so much' he thought as the cold made his bones feel sore

He felt tiredness wash over him, he gazed up and noticed the rain had stopped. He could see something bright in the distance, the steps of some great palace, he felt himself growing closer to that far off place. He could see figures waiting there, Farhad in his old army fatigues, Lahrain holding flowers picked from the gardens, Vasha and finally little Razad.

'Im ready' he said weakly

A bird flew over almost as if in response, it was a bright blue creature with a plume-like crest and a silver-coloured beak, a seeker bird, the guides of the dead in old Hailakaid lore, it must have flown all the way from Essalanea.

Kaskaran felt his breathing go still and his vision darken, he felt warm and without pain, his final sight was the seeker bird spreading its wings and turned to swoop off towards the light in the distance.

'Goodbye Sabhra, darling morningstar, I go to see your father' he said in a gentle whisper, then he lay back and let out one last breath

The rain stopped and sunlight streamed down on the balcony, he lay there as though sleeping, the servants found him later, a look of utter peace had covered his smiling features. ​
 
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Chapter Ten: Taking Stock

Bayyah Na Tyrooz, Capital of Astragon
Present Day

The palace of the Exalt was a maze of estates, fortifications and gardens, over the millennia it had been occupied* the complex had seen countless palaces rise and fall on the emperor's mountain enclave. Old palaces would emerge only to be torn down later or repurposed by newer dynasties, in this sense the face of the complex would change every century or so.

One building that had remained relatively unchanged however was the personal keep of the Vizier of Estates. It was a far less extravagant home then the often bombastic ostentation of the Exalt Emperors palaces, it was smaller and relatively minimalist by comparison. This was not to say it was without beauty, but its clean white walls and smaller more homely interiors were more subtle than was common for Astragonese nobility.

Izrah Na Rishah had the curious honour of having occupied the keep twice in his life, first when he had served under Sakard I and then when he had come out of retirement following the assassination of Farhad Kevsha. In his time here he had added personal touches to make the place more homely, the wine cellar, the well-tended courtyard gardens and of course his beloved collection of golden age era* paintings. All had helped to make his time here if not always enjoyable then at very least bearable.

Izrah had served long and by all accounts well, his ability to author compromises and to maintain a stable status quo were prized skills in an empire that all too often ran the risk of infighting and intrigue. Izrah had somehow managed to keep the hordes of Halkaid nobles, generals and Princes from tearing the realm apart, yet still, his work felt thankless.

He was aware of course that he had never been Kaskaran's preferred choice, he did not begrudge his lord this preference either, he had never held any notion of being able to compete with the emperor's beloved comrade and yet he had served the emperor for vastly longer then Farhad ever had.

For decades he had sought to keep his masters empire in working order, a task that had become ever more difficult the further Kaskaran had retreated into isolation, the alliance of moderates he had cultivated did their best, but without an emperor, it was a losing battle.

Ultimately Izrah had managed to keep the empire ticking over but without Kaskaran the march of reform had been replaced by unmoving stagnation, ministers and princes acting with relative impunity without a strong emperor to rein them in. He wondered sometimes if he had actually done enough to prevent this, he felt as though he had merely prolonged the empire on life support.

'No time for doubts now' He thought as he forced himself to focus

He sat at his desk and reached for a bottle from the nearby shelf, it was a dusty old thing with a browning label but the words 'Mondaland Ruby' were still visible in faded ink. It had been sitting on his shelf for years now, given the crisis though he suspected now was as good a time to savour it as any.

He poured himself a glass of wine, he sipped it savouring the spicy notes on his pallet, he poured another glass and waited. An attendant opened the door and bowed slightly, they knew better than to be too formal around Izrah, he detested wasting of his time.

'Lord Vizier, his highness prince Sarakhaid has arrived' the messenger said in a respectful tone

'Excellent, send him in' Izrah replied before taking another sip from his cup

Sarakhaid was the prince of Domos, the second largest province in Astragon after the capital, he was wealthy and held great sway on the imperial council, surprisingly he was also a reformist. Over the years they had worked together amicably to preserve the empire against disorder, now he hoped they would be able to do so again.

Sarakhaid entered, escorted by two household guards in red uniforms, Izrah dismissed them and rose painfully to his feet before bowing his head in respect. He outranked the scholar prince many times over, but respect between trusted allies was a good habit to cultivate.

Sarakhaid was a tall man, his shaven head always covered by a linen cap, he wore simple but beautiful blue robes and a pin that symbolised his province. He was a striking man if not truly handsome, he had strong facial features and prominent, determined eyes that reminded Izrah of a hawk.

'My lord vizier' Sarakhaid said returning the bow

'Your Highness, thank you for joining me on such short notice, please sit and share my wine' Izrah said motioning to the nearby chair and the waiting glass

Sarakhaid sat down and reached for the glass, he raised it and uttered 'To your health vizier' he then took a deep sip of the wine before setting it down

'Hmmmm...at my age that's a tricky one' Izrah said with a half-hearted chuckle

'This is good wine but I take it, my lord, you did not bring me here just to drink' Sarakhaid replied in a calm but firm tone

Izrah sighed and leaned forward in his chair, he paused for a moment searching for the right words 'No my lord I did not, I need you to do something for me' he said trying not to sound too weary

'And what would this task be my lord' He replied with a thoughtful look on his face as he sipped his wine

Izrah always felt uneasy when Sarakhaid had that look on his face, it was like a hawk studying its prey searching for the moment to strike. He sighed again and leaned back in his chair

'The Iterian league is meeting in the coming weeks to discuss new membership, I need you to go to Skanda on my behalf and request our re-admittance into the league' he said waiting for the penny to drop

Sarakhaid chuckled as if Izrah had just made a joke with a good punchline 'We left the league in 1992 when the crown prince died, why return now? besides, would the council even allow such a drastic step?' Sarakhaid replied sceptically

'The law is clear, in the event we lack an emperor I am the ultimate authority in the empire until an heir can be found, trust me, we need this, we may yet need the support of the continent in the days to come' Izrah said in a determined voice

Sarakhaid set his glass on the table and placed his hands together in a thoughtful gesture, he still had that probing look on his face only now it seemed less about finding a weakness and more about searching for a motive.

'Support of the continent, what trouble are you expecting lord Vizier' Sarakhaid said feigning ignorance

'disingenuous bastard, he knows full well what danger' Izrah thought irritably

'I will speak plainly, we do not have an emperor and worse we have no designated heir, if we do not manage this situation carefully the empire will tear itself apart' Izrah replied laying out his fears clearly

Sarakhaid frowned 'Pity that Kaskaran did not live to declare a successor' he said in a disappointed tone

'I had hoped he would officially declare Sabhrain his successor, unfortunately, death came too swiftly, we have a hard battle ahead now, every ambitious vulture in court will be trying to press their claim as soon as the emperor is buried' Izrah said grimly

It was true, without an officially designated heir the council would have to arbitrate the succession, that meant two things endless intrigue and potentially a great deal of social unrest.

'Sabhrain will escort the body of our lord to the valley of Balesha, it is my hope that while she is away I can support her candidacy via my position, she is the emperor's successor whether officially declared or not' he said before draining his wine glass and pouring himself a refill, no sense in being stingy now

'She has already been revealed to the public, sending her to bury Kaskaran would be a wise step, she has his blood after all' Sarkhaid said hopefully before draining his own glass and accepting a refill from Izrah

'That she does, but cousin or no blood has never stopped others from getting ambitious, this might still turn bloody, if anything should happen I expect you will provide her with anything she requires, including sanctuary' Izrah replied his tone far less optimistic

'What could possibly happen? you are the leader of the council! as long as you hold power she is safe' Sarakhaid replied dismissively

'Exactly, as long as I hold power, if anything happens to me she would be adrift without support, it might be nothing but I want to be sure she is safe, Kaskaran would expect that of me' he said darkly

Sarakhaid seemed taken aback by this, Izrah was frequently frustrated by his immense task but seldom so fatalistic, he sighed and nodded in agreement.

'And one more thing Sarahkaid' he said quietly as though he feared others would hear him

'Nothing about what we have just discussed leaves this room' Izrah said in a stern voice

'Shadai, Kaidain and any other gods that will do so help me, if I fail Sabhrain may lose life and throne both' he thought a chill running down his spine as he did so


*The Exalt Emperors only began utilising the site of the Palace in 500CE, before that they had largely continued to rule from palaces in the countries north such as Quaresha and Menhe Hailasse.

*The Razadi Dynasties Golden age lasted from 1490 to 1698 and saw art, trade and sciences flourish in the Exalted Empire.
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Chapter Eleven: Evening Prayers
'Kaidain: Ancestral Father-God of the people of Astragon, a warrior deity whose indigenous religion makes up the largest faith in the Exalted Empire, his precepts include loyalty to the state, self-discipline and the creation of ordered and law-abiding communities, his worship has likely existed in some form since the Hailakaid peoples broke with their Ubgandian cousins untold millennia ago'

-Encyclopaedia Astragon

1986

Bayyah Na Tyrooz, Capital of Astragon, Kevshah Estate

It was dark when she led me to the shrine, the night air cool on my face as we moved through the unlit blackness of my father's gardens. I remember precious little of either my mother or father, I was barely four years old when they died, but the events of that evening vigil are burned into my mind.

My father's estate was a vast compound far from the noise and bustle of the city centre, here in the rurals the land was still verdant, untouched by the crushing march of urbanisation, and the sky was still untainted by the orange haze of light pollution. We came here whenever my father needed time away from the endless pressures of court life, it had a certain solemn tranquillity to it.

The estate still exists of course, but I can't tell you I've spent much time there, the thought of lonely nights spent beneath the ghostly eyes of ancestral statues and portraits does not appeal terribly. For my father, though this place served as a haven from the wider world, he would pray in the Shadaist shrine, read long tracts of philosophy on the patio and catch up on that rarest of pleasures, undisturbed sleep.

My mother's arrival in this ancient realm had necessitated changes to the ancient rhythms of the Kevshah estate, a weapons room and training hall had been added to satisfy the rigorous physical regime of a Kaiderin. The sound of swords striking against dummies was a common disruption to my father's otherwise tranquil realm, but it was arguably the shrine she had insisted be built that had caused the greatest stir in the insulated realm of my family estate.

It has always been ominous-looking, a square block of obsidian that seemed so out of place amongst the delicate marble columns and well-tended hedges of the gardens. The Kaidainist shrine had been built to the most orthodox of specifications, a plain and unadorned exterior with nothing to indicate a shrine lay within save a rather grim-looking barred door.

My mother's torch was the only source of light as she led me within the shrine, it seemed like the entrance to some dark nether-realm, the door opened with an audible creak and we descended the steps into the prayer room below. Mother lowered the torch onto a large brazier in the centre of the room, it ignited as the flame touched the oil. The darkness was banished as the roaring brazier revealed the contents of the prayer room.

On an obsidian altar with a blood-red cloth stood a bronze statue, it was a tall man in tribal armour mounted on a mighty warhorse whose legs were raised as if ready to kick some phantom assailant. His head bore the traditional beaded crown of a Hailakaid prince and his right hand gripped a spear that he raised high ready to strike.

'Behold Kaidain, the father god of our people' My mother said reverently

I had probably seen images of the bronze lord before that moment, but at age four that image was the one which stuck, his features were stern and he seemed towered over me from the altar he rested upon.

'I thought Shaddai was our god? papa always prays to him' i said my youthful mind unable to process what my mother was saying

My mother smirked in amusement, she always did when someone said something naive, it's probably that expression that I remember her for the most. She motioned to the statue with her free hand

'Kaidain is a god of many faces Sabhra, any who serve his goals serve him, your father may call him by a different name...but the one he calls to is the same' she said gently

In hindsight I doubt my father, a devout Shaddaist would have agreed with that assessment, but it was enough to resolve my youthful confusion. I gazed up at the statue once more, Kaidain was a fierce figure, martial and with eyes that had been shaped into a piercing glare thanks to ivory inlay.

'He looks scary mama' i remember saying, his gaze certainly had that effect on my four-year-old self

'He is a warrior my child, his anger directed at any who would disturb the peace of our lands, do you know why he fights?' She asked in a calm but expectant voice

'to stop bad people?' i answered in an unsure tone

'Yes and more my darling Sabhra, he fights to build a better world, a world of order, discipline and peace, he fights to create on earth what is already present in the land our ancestors' she said her tone filled with quiet passion

'do you fight for him mama?' i remember asking

'All Kaiderin do my child, it is our role, we serve the state that it might make Astragon a mirror of the world to come, one-day Sabhra you will have the chance to serve Kaidain too' she said locking her gaze upon me, it was a piercing look not unlike the one on Kaidains face.

'Papa says I am Halkaid though? I thought only Kaidarin got to fight?' i replied still confused by this entire night visit

'You are both daughter and with that mixed heritage you have a very rare opportunity, you can be something greater then warrior or noble alone, you could even sit upon the throne one day' she said in a voice barely a whisper

'What about Razad? uncle Kaska says he is going to be a great emperor and bring a new world' i asked

'I love your uncle and Razad, but listen, darling, that boy does not have the look of destiny about him, born in the phase of the night but given a name associated with the dawn*, the omens are all wrong! and besides, it is in your blood to rule' she said quietly as if fearing to be heard

'What do you mean Mama?' i asked

'Have your tutors ever told you of Kayyvan?' she asked calmy

'yes mama, he was a big hero' i replied enthusiastically, she laughed at that

'Haha, indeed darling, the first emperor founded this great empire and became the original Exalt, he is also your ancestor' she said

Kayyvan the eternal, father of Astragon and first amongst the chosen, I had heard stories then but a child's knowledge is always limited at so young an age. He had conquered the land and united almost all the tribes of the Hailakaid* under his rule, he had borne many children thereafter one who would become my father's great ancestor, another who would pass on the legacy to my mother's line. I did not know it then, but a seed had been planted.

'One-day Sabhrain, you may also sit on the throne of the Exalt, but if such happens it must be for the right reasons, look upon Kaidain, learn his teachings well and when the time comes dear child, may your deeds be in his name, whether you call him Kaidain or Shaddai' she said in a firm voice

That is one of the last memories of my mother I have, a month later she would die alongside my father, that midnight vigil stayed with me though, I took her words to heart, the discipline of Kaidain was combined with the wisdom of Shaddai, I would be an instrument for their will, I just didn't know it in the darkness of that shrine.




* Astragon does not use a zodiac, instead the time of day or night in which the child is born is used as a means of assigning traits and destinies. Children born in the dawn are associated with glory and expansion, children born in the night with a decline and internal reflection.

*Kayyvan united the majority of the Hailakaid tribes under his rule, the Na Themba, Mondaba and Kuwase were absorbed into Astragon over the ensuing millennia by various emperors. ​
 
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Chapter 12: In the Valley of Silence

The Tomb of the Exalts, Balesha Valley, Northern Astragon

'From the sands, we come and to the sands, we return, our flesh is the dust of the coming ages, our souls the wind that stirs them in their place of rest'

-Anon

The chill darkness of the tomb is a jarring contrast with the heat and endless light of the necropolis outside. The tombs of the Exalt have stood for longer then Astragon has existed, the bones of the dead slowly decaying within as the march of time brought endless construction and change to the valley outside.

Every ruler to grace the obsidian throne has eventually been interred in this ancient site, their statues and lavish tombs a testament in death to their importance in life, I cannot help but think that my uncle would despise this place.

The journey to reach the valley was taxing, a long convoy bearing a deceased exalt to his final rest, all against the backdrop of desert heat and a sea of orange sand. The desert beckons every exalt home eventually, it was after all this land in which Kayyvan grew into the man who would forge a nation, the sand flows in the blood of his every descendant.

We are led down long and dimly lit corridors by silent guides, the priests of Dain Na Balesh* who keep mute vigil, we pass walls carved with scenes of ancient glory and rooms adorned with finery that would feed a man for three lifetimes. They carry my uncle to his final rest without whimper or whisper, their tongueless mouths do not even move to grunt in discomfort at the coffins immense weight.

The irony is not lost on me, mere days earlier my uncle had lain in state, thousands laying flowers and wailing lamentations in a display that approached grief-stricken insanity, now only silence and a walk into darkness. The contrast between that loud spectacle and this lonely procession, it seemed almost sad.

They bear his sarcophagus on toil-worn shoulders, a slab of obsidian and bronze that will protect my uncles remains for all time. It was a simple thing by the standards of an exalt, black obsidian and the bronze lettering of a Shaddaist scripture, it was exactly as my uncle would have wished.

We come at last to the vaults of the Valdishah emperors, they open the golden gates with keys that rattle eerily in the dark. Within lie rows of sarcophagi, golden stone dimmed by the passage of time, I can still make out the words carved on to their faces.

Lahrain Valdishah-Empress and beloved Wife

Razad- Treasured son, taken too soon

Vashah Kevshah- Mother, Friend, Kaiderin

Farhad- Cousin in Blood, Brother in life

The last two take the wind out of my lungs, I knew he had buried my parents in the valley....but I had always assumed in a lesser tomb as was custom and yet here they were in the tomb of an exalted family. Had he wanted me to discover it like this? had he meant for me to be the one to bear him to his rest here? I will never know, but the gesture is beyond moving.

They raise the face of his sarcophagus and lower the great obsidian vessel into it, prayers are mouthed from lips that do not speak, the hint of funerary incense clogs the nostrils and fills the air with sickening perfume. They close the stone on top, the last thing I see is the final glimmer of bronze lettering.

'Goodbye Uncle, rest well in the arms of the divine' I whisper from strained lips


*The priests of Dain Na Balesh worship the aspect of the divine known as 'Father of Silence' they ritually sever their tongues as a form of devotion. They are the primary maintainers and protectors of the Tombs of the Exalt

​
 
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Chapter 13: Siren Song

Bayyah Na Tyrooz, Capital of Astragon

'Calm is the Blade that cuts the flesh, Steady is the hand that wields it'

-Ancient Kaiderin Adage

The city was subdued as the Viziers entourage pulled up to the neon-drenched building, it glittered madly in the rain-slick evening light, the days since the emperor's death had been hard for everyone and the city was very much still in mourning, still, life had to go on even if at a hobbled pace.

Vizier Na Rishah was helped from his seat by a uniformed bodyguard of the red kaiderin, he steadied himself on his cane as he breathed in the wet evening air and gazed up at the glowing sign above. It was a neon covered calligraphic scrawl that read 'Sirens Den' a marker for the best jazz club in the empire.

Music was a pleasure that Izrah had chance to indulge all too rarely but with the work of state growing ever more pressing he had decided to enjoy a brief reprieve while it was still possible. Sabhrain was laying her uncle to rest, the council was largely under Izrah's thumb and Sarakhaid had succeeded in re-admitting Astragon to the Iterian League, there was a chance this could all work out minus any bloodshed.

'Divine willing' Izrah thought as he was ushered inside by a small army of attendants, all under the scrutiny of his personal security detail. Guards and police stood ready both outside and within, he did not normally feel the need for such precautions but with his current role as a regent, he was taking no chances.

The Sirens Den was a deliberately antiquated establishment, a callback to the long-gone '50s of Izrah's youth, being here allowed him to enjoy fleeting moments of pleasant nostalgia. The wooden and gold panelling and red silk curtains evoked memories of long-gone nights of dancing and carousing, the forgotten pleasures of his youth.

He took a seat in his usual booth and a waiter brought him a glass of iced brandy, tomorrow he would likely regret drinking the heavy stuff but tonight he was determined to squeeze some joy from what time he had. Tomorrow was all paperwork and state meetings, he would shepherd his young charge to her throne, twisting arms and shouting down naysayers all the way there.

'Fortunate I don't have any hair left, it will be white by coronation day' He thought with a mirthless grin

He sipped his brandy, Admiral Sedhain No.7* over ice, it was excellent as always. He smiled as the lights dimmed and the singer and band strode onto the stage to the sound of gentle applause. A woman in a beautiful red silk dress and her musicians in their black and wide tuxedos, she took the microphone and in a voice that grew from a whisper to an ever so gentle note began to sing.

He sighed happily and lay back brandy still in hand, he traced the notes of the instruments with his free hand and felt utterly at peace, moments like this were as precious as the emeralds that lined Razad's throne room and he savoured them like fine wine.

The Singer reached the height of her first song and holding the note for what seemed like an eternity finished with one final riotous serenade, the band roaring as they brought the tune to an end. He rose to clap with the excitement of a man many years younger.

The band bowed to the Vizier, he hoped their next song would be even more wonderful, then the stage and the entire building shook and rumbled as debris and fire buried everything. A blast shook the streets outside as chunks of glass, brick and metal tore into nearby buildings and passerby's, the gentle evening music replaced by screams and alarms.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UqUdiOmqH0w

***********************************************************

From the roof of a nearby apartment block a man in a black suit raised a cellphone to his ear

'Status report!?' An impatient voice snarled

'It is done sir, the Vizier is no longer an obstacle' The suited man replied before turning to leave

Behind him, the sounds of emergency vehicles screeched in the night air.

*Admiral Sedhain is a prestigious Brandy made from the finest ingredients, the name honours the founder of the Sedhain dynasty, a house known for their skill as mariners.​
 
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Chapter 14: The Spurned Man Part 1
Tyrooz Bay, Astragon

'The Imperial Council of Astragon represents the most accomplished collection of schemers and powermongers ever to blight the face of Eras with their presence, managed by a strong Exalt they are of use...left to their own free will they are a cancerous growth that will wither our great nation from within'

-From the confidential writings of Abashad Kevsha

The sky was dark with rain which fell from a black sky and vanished into the chaotic tides of the Meterran sea below, waves crashed against one another and pounded the distant shores like angry fists striking the land. Something vast moved through the storm-wracked ocean, a vast shadow that darkened already murky waters.

The Grashah was an ugly vessel, a leftover from a more violent age, the warship was a terrible mass of jagged spires and menacing gun batteries. It didn't so much glide across the sea as cleave through it, a trail of noxious smoke flowing behind the battleship as it sped towards land. Its destination was close, the glittering lights of the capital beckoned on the horizon.

Deep within the bowels of the vessel, countless sailors beat to quarters even barely a day from home the crew was being drilled constantly. The reasons were not known to the rank and file, it was enough that the Admiral commanded it and that his officers enforced said commands. rumor mill suggested everything from upcoming joint exercises to military parade, the truth was far more sinister.

Janah Na Deklah knew the true reasons but he had been chosen for his skills at keeping secrets, not revealing them every time an enlisted offered him rum. The scratched the side his face irritably as he moved through the maze of corridors leading to the Admirals quarters, the old burn scar always seemed to itch when things got tense and what was to come would be very tense.

He reached his destination and straightened his posture as he regarded the steel door in front of him 'Grand Admiral Talesh Na Murza' was etched on the steel in gold lettering. He tapped on the door with the back of his hand.

'Enter' A deep voice said in reply to his knock

Janah opened the door, it creaked on its hinges loudly as he stepped inside, the darkened realm within was a far cry from the cold steel outside. The Admirals quarters were ornate if not entirely extravagant, wooden paneling, leather couches, and modern electronics filled the commanding officer's personal room. A ceiling-mounted projector displayed several icons on the nearby wall, three glyphs each representing one of Murza's fellow council members.

The admiral sat at his desk with a cigarette perched between his fingers, the smoke mingled with the light of the projector to create a noxious ambiance. The Admiral wore his dress white uniform but his cap rested next to the ashtray, his shaved head glowed in the illumination of the projector and he watched the wall in front of him with two focused black eyes.

'Are all the arrangements made' Murza asked tapping his cigarette

'I have the palace under ministry control, the council will do as we say' A stern voice replied

'And the police?' Murza asked with a raised eyebrow

'In our pockets, they will follow our commands, oil money has seen to that' a woman's voice chimed in

'Good, I arrive in the capital in a few hours, we will reconvene then' Murza said closing the projector with a gesture

The admiral turned to Deklah and regarded him with a weary smile 'My apologies Deklah, the details of any great undertaking are always time-consuming, are your men prepared?' he asked in a tired voice

'The marines will do their duty, we need only give the command' Deklah replied affirmatively

He was not wrong, the constant drills and subtle indoctrination he and the other officers had paid off when the occupation began the men would not hesitate and if shooting began they would pull the trigger without any reluctance.

He stubbed out his cigarette and reached for a bottle of Admiral Sedhain 0.7, he poured two glasses and passed one to Deklah, the two clinked their glasses together

'To the New Astragon' the two men said in unison


He drank deeply, a new Astragon, it was a dream both men had fervently strived for though for different reasons, for Deklah it was a desire rooted firmly in a lifetime of toil and oppression. His menial origins had doomed him from birth to poverty, disdain, and restriction, to be a menial in Astragon was to be simultaneously the focus of attention and hatred and also to be invisible.

His early life had been a haze of police sirens, beatings and nights sleeping rough, the slums of Bayyah Na Tyrooz had proved a brutal teacher but he had taken the lessons to heart, survival at any cost had been the only thing that mattered.

Deklah had fled from the crime and poverty of the slums at an early age, the burn on the side of his face a reminder of the squalor, to the navy he had fled and with desperate lies managed to gain entry. His talent for violence had been discovered there, stints in the brig had been common, it had proven useful in suppressing labor riots and extracting information, over time it had allowed him to rise in rank and become something more than a mere blunt instrument.

Murza had discovered Deklah during the Tyrooz menial pacification of 75', arguably the moment that had defined Murza as well, the young captain had taken Deklah under his wing and filled his head with the promise of something greater. Murza had promised Deklah a new world, one free of caste or judgment, but it was a world that would need to be birthed, and birth required blood.

Deklah had honed himself into a killer with a purpose, anyone that threatened the Admirals vision was removed, together they would build a new world in which people like Deklah could be free, that was the plan at least.

'You have served me loyally for years Janah, soon that service will be rewarded, but there is something I need you to do first, one last service' Murza said in a warm almost paternal voice

'Murder, it's always murder' Deklah thought inwardly, he sometimes worried that killing was his only true skill, he wondered what he would do when he was no longer needed.

'What would you have me do sir?' he asked obediently

Murza frowned and turned on the projector, the image of a woman in the black and red of a prime marshals uniform flashed into view.

'Sabhrain Na Kevshah, Prime Marshal of Astragon and Kaskarans likely heir, she is in the north burying the late emperor, she must not return south' Murza said putting emphasis on the last sentence

Deklah studied the image of his target with an assassin's analytical focus, An attractive fine-boned face with shoulder-length dark hair and a stern expression stared back, it was the eyes that caught Deklah's attention, those green orbs had a look of steely determination that was almost unnerving.

'This woman must not be allowed to live Deklah, she has the potential to shatter our dream before it is formed' Murza said switching sitting back in his chair and lighting another cigarette

Deklah glared at the screen one last time and then stood to attention 'It will be done Admiral' he said bowing

'Good you leave in an hour for the north, I will await news of her elimination' Murza replied in a matter-fact tone

She must die Deklah thought as he left She must die so that a new Astragon can live!



​
 
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Chapter 15: The Spurned Man Part II

Tyrooz Bay, Aboard the Grashah


Grand Admiral Murza slumped in his chair and lit another cigarette, he was chain-smoking at this point, he would get little sleep tonight, the anticipation was too great for that. Plans that had been in the making for what seemed like a lifetime would soon come to fruition, he found himself growing nostalgic as he pondered the many choices that had led to this point.

Since his youth Murza had felt seething resentment, the pampered son of merchants he had found himself trapped in the rigid caste system from the earliest age. Too lowborn to join the Halkaid* and not strong enough to pass the Kaiderin's sadistic trials he had been forced to make do with a commission in the navy, less prestigious than the Kaiderin and far less conducive to political advancement. nonetheless, Murza took to the sea at 18 and never looked back.

Years of clambering up the ranks had followed, from lowly midshipman all the way to commanding his own vessel. It had been during his command of the cruiser H.E.M.S. Bashan that an event had occurred which would change his life forever after. 1975 had been a bad year for Astragon, the Skanda-Iraelian war raged without end and pushed to breaking point by endless quotas the dockworkers of Bayyah Na Tyrooz had finally revolted.

A standoff had occurred for three days, the Prefect Corp unable to restore order to the dock zones, in the end, it had been Murza who had brought the situation to its bloody conclusion. Leading his crew ashore he had entered the docks and put down the rebellion by force, hundreds of menials had died before the day had ended, but industrial productivity and order had been restored. He had expected to be reprimanded, instead, he had been personally congratulated by Emperor Sakard himself.

The aging monarch had been impressed by Murza's initiative and willingness to bloody his hands, he had invited the young captain to the Palace and pinned a medal on his uniform personally. It had been a moment Murza would regard as his proudest for years afterward. The Emperor had kept him close afterward, promotions and influence following swiftly, the young man proving to be something of an imperial favorite.

'So few men are like us Murza, this empire is wracked by indecision and weakness, when I was young I did what had to be done, today men like my son follow their misguided causes rather then what is necessary for the survival of the nation! if only he understood as you and I do!' Sakard had said one night, he had been drunk at the time and the bitterness in voice was evident

The Lion of Kosh Kasad* had struck Murza as utterly isolated, he held his court at arm's length and frequently cursed his heir's name, the two men had never seen eye to eye. during the last years of Sakards reign, Murza had filled the gap left by an absent son and in turn, Sakard had been something of a mentor and father figure to the young naval officer.

Palace life had been a maze of social etiquette and endless ritual, Sakard had despised his nobility and considered them weak and parasitic, he had largely preferred the company of military men. It had been evident that the feeling had been mutual, the nobility feared Sakard and they despised his low-born pet with barely concealed hatred. As Sakards health worsened with age his bitterness had only increased, he spent his nights drinking and cursing the names of his courtiers and his own son.

'Kaskaran would rather galavant in Iraelia then serve under his father! Never have sons Murza...they are ungrateful creatures!' he had snarled as a servant refilled his brandy

Murza had watched his mentor with a mix of pity and disgust, the old man had once commanded armies and reign over Astragon with peerless authority, now he was little more than a bitter drunk waiting for the end. It had been the first of many illusions to be shattered, the Exalt was not a living god, how very human he truly was.

When Sakards end finally came it had been Murza who was with him, the old man had been hateful to the last, his rasping voice filled with resentment as he wheezed and struggled to form sentences.

'Would that I could...buurn it all...s-star anew!..No ritual! No courtiers! just men like you...Murza...there is nothing that makes men noble, empty titles are nothing compared to action' he had hissed spittle foaming at his lips

The words had turned to nonsense after that and then Sakard had gone limp as life had fled his frail body. Murza had left not long after, Kaskaran would not arrive for several days. Murza had always resented Kaskaran for his lack of filial piety, Sakard had been bitter and hateful but part of that had been a reaction to his son's distance.

Murza had left court promptly, back to sea and into relative obscurity, he had gained the high position of Grand Admiral of Astragon and faded into the background as pomp, regalia, and ceremony reasserted itself at court. But he had not forgotten Sakards lessons. The dying exalts refutation of nobility had convinced Murza of an essential truth, titles were meaningless, it was only the ability to act that enobled men, the system of Astragon was stagnant and founded upon nepotism and ineptitude.

Murza had been determined from that moment on to change the nation, to build a better world in which fools with pedigree would not hold power over the truly worthy. It had been a long road of clandestine meetings and intricate plots and now with the support of both the Internal Ministry and the Oil Executives he would bring his dream out of the shadows, he just needed to remove one last obstacle.

As long as Sabhrain Na Kevsha lived there existed a potential rival to his dream, she commanded the armed forces and given enough time she would be able to unite the nobility behind her, Deklah would see to it that she did not. When Farhad's brat had been removed no enemy would remain and then, the republic would be born and with it a new Astragon.

*Astragon's Nobility, The primary holders of government positions

*Major battle during the Fascist Wars, Sakard led the Kaiderin to victory over the Na Themba Fascist state.


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Chapter 16: Obfuscation


'Battle is infinitely safer than politics, in war your opponent has the good manners to stab you in the front'
-Anon

The apartment was pitch black save for the sickly white light coming from the computer, Fashal scratched his beard irritably and took another look at the screen, it was clogged with incoming messages. He padded over to the kitchen and reached for an open box of Kosh lights, he pulled a can out and cracked it open with a satisfying hiss, the taste was an appalling mix of iron and chemicals but it was better than facing his screen fully sober.

'Depression in a can' he muttered mirthlessly taking the beer with him

The vizier's death had thrown the country into chaos, fear gripped the populace as the realization that even the highborn were not untouchable set in. The news channels played looping situation reports which only served to increase peoples anxiety, three days after the Viziers death no prime suspects had been named. Every channel seemed to have a different theory be it separatists, menials or even syndicalists. Fashal knew better and the implications of that knowledge scared him.

'Manticore? are you there?' he typed

'im here, is the channel encrypted?' A blank icon on his screen replied

'Home terminal, completely secure' he typed back

'Good, proceed with your report Vekshah'

'Where to begin' Fashal thought grimly

He had been deployed as an Interior ministry mole for the better part of two years, an assignment from the Prime Marshal no less, his role was simple, to keep tabs on Astragon's secret police and if necessary impede their activities if they overstepped their bounds. The current minister of the interior, Hushen Na Tamba loved to overstep his authority, Kaiderin operations were his favourite target for interference, he frequently embarrassed himself doing so, the military caste always seemed one step ahead, Fashal was good at his job.

What had been a simple interference role had taken on new and frightening dimensions with the death of the Vizier, things at the ministry were moving in directions that seemed wholly out of place for an organization created to ensure national security. Police reports were going missing, lines of enquiry were being shut down and any time a prefect corp investigator got close to finding new information they were mysteriously re-assigned. The conclusion was simple, the interior ministry was impeding the entire investigation and that meant only one thing to Fashal, inside job.

'Strong suspicion of ministry involvement in the Vizier's death' he typed

....... the typing icon on the screen showed

'You are certain? Evidence?' Manticore replied quizzically

'Interior ministry has seized all evidence from the bombing' he typed

'Standard protocol for a terrorist act?' Manticore replied sceptically

'The bomb fragments and demolitions report went missing not long after they were seized' Fashal typed between sips of Kosh

'Suspicious but not conclusive, what else do you know?' Manticore replied

Fashal had dug deep in the days after the assassination, hacking confidential servers, accessing evidence without permission, it was a miracle he had not been caught. One email, in particular, stood out, a private memo from the Minister to the head of Tyrooz Prefecture requesting two things:

1. The likely cause of this attack was Na Themba separatists, you are to focus your investigations on this group
2. The attack site is under Ministry control and will remain the ministries exclusive jurisdiction until further instructions are provided

The minister had the police under thumb if the email was to be believed and he was actively directing the investigation down one line of enquiry.

'Na Themba separatists could not have carried out this attack, they haven't got the reach or resources' Manticore replied after seeing the email

'And yet the ministry is ordering police to focus on them' Fashal typed, he scratched his head irritably, the implications were terrifying

'What about the minister? Where is he now?' Manticore replied

'He moved to Palace yesterday as part of the new imperial council' Fashal typed

'I've heard enough....this is an inside job' Manticore replied after a pause that seemed like an eternity

There it was again, that ominous word, Inside job, it sent chills down Fashals spine, he typed his reply with shaky fingers

'Instructions?' he asked

'You've done well Vekshah, the situation in capital volatile, go dark and await further instructions and destroy this terminal' the reply from manticore said

Fashal stood up as the icon for manticore went dark, he walked to the bathroom and stripped before stepping into the shower. The warm water pulled him out of his stupour and focused him, when he was clean he stepped out and headed for the mirror. He regarded his reflection for a moment, a man in his mid-thirties with dark brown complexion, scruffy black hair and a full beard.

'guess this look is out of fashion' Fashal thought with a humourless grin, then he grabbed the shaver

The sink was soon a mass of hair as the now bald and beardless Fashal stepped out of the bathroom and dressed. His new outfit would not have looked out of place in most student districts, boots, a hoodie, plain t-shirt and faded blue jeans. He grabbed his pistol and a pack full of fake ids before pulling a large plastic box out from under the kitchen sink. Inside was a lighter, a jerrycan and gloves, he pulled the gloves on and began splashing kerosene across every surface in the apartment.

When he was finished he walked to the computer and typed in a phrase on the command prompt 'Lamentable' no sooner had he pressed enter then the entire screen went dark and began to smoke as the internal components fried on command. He gazed around his home of two years with mild annoyance, going dark always entailed loss. He took one last look at the box-like realm of dirty dishes and takeaway boxes, and then he lit a cigarette and took a deep drag before exhaling and tossing it into the pool of kerosene.

The fire roared into life as he strode out the front door, the fire alarms were rigged to go off 30 seconds after his exit, as he strode down the stone stairs and vanished into the crowds on the streets below he grinned slightly.

'Guess I'm not going to work on Monday'


****************

I watched Vekshah's icon go dark, I could have asked him to stay longer but I have no desire to endanger my agents simply to get absolute confirmation. Besides, the minister's actions speak for themselves, its an inside job, maybe even a coup.

'Fazzah' i say turning to my aide-de-camp

'Yes Prime Marshal?' he replies obediently

'Cancel our flight back to the capital...and prep the entourage' i say rising from my desk

'What should I tell them ma'am' Fazzah replied curiously

'That we are getting out of this city' i reply shutting my laptop for emphasis

it's an inside job and if they had something to do with Izrah's death, well its more then likely they haven't got my best interests at heart either. time to leave, time to go dark.






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Chapter 17: Flight of the Manticore

'Strike hard, Strike Fast, Strike once!'
-Kaiderin mantra

Quaresha, Northern Astragon

We move quickly, armed guards pile into black SUVs as we race out of the villa, our home of three days is abandoned with no ceremony, we move as though the end times are coming.

We speed down darkened streets, narrow and filled with loitering citizens, our driver slams his fist on the horn and when necessary flashes his assault rifle at the peasants outside, the threat is enough to send most scarpering down alleyways and away from us.

Quaresha, my ancestor Kayyvan was born here, it was the womb from which Astragon sprang, now like Kayyvan I am leaving this place but with far less glorious reasons. As we race down narrow streets flanked either side by sandstone coloured buildings I feel my unease grow. these old cities were not built for cars, if someone wanted to ambush us they would have the advantage.

'Airport is twenty minutes away ma'am' Fazzah says calmy his phone in hand

'Good have the plane ready for take-off as soon as we arrive' i replied trying to sound confident

We have to get out of this city, get off the grid if the internal ministry is involved in the Vizier's death then there's no telling how far their influence now reaches. We have to get in the air and away from populated cities, then I can figure out our next move.

'Ma'am there's a roadblock ah...' the driver's sentence is cut off as something shrieks towards us

something thumps into the windscreen with a loud screech as it shatters the glass and hits the driver squarely in the chest, he slumps forward with a gaping exit wound on his back. The car smashes into a nearby wall, the impact causes me to slam my head on the front seat, my vision goes blurry for a moment.

'GET DOWN!!' Fazzah roars pulling us both down

Rounds and more shots from whatever weapon killed the driver slam into the car leaving dents on the windows, I reach for my pistol and kick the side door open. we all but collapse out of the side of the crippled SUV as bullets hurtle past.

The other two SUV's are arranged around our stricken vehicle in a defensive formation, the detail is well trained, my bodyguards exchange fire with our attackers the muzzle flash from their Razad's illuminating the darkness.

I risk a glance and see the road in front has been blocked by debris, men in black fatigues move in the darkness firing at us with their automatic weapons. We have to get moving again.

'Fazzah! we need to get that road cleared!' i yell over the sound of impacting rounds

Fazzah nods and signals to the men ' Kaiderin! I need two volunteers and covering fire!'

Kazah and Dasha slam their fists against their chests in salute and with that they and Fazzah race for the barricades, my remaining bodyguards take up firing positions and await my signal. Above us, several assailants open fire trying to keep us trapped in place.

'KAIDERIN FAIRAH!!!' i yell in Hailesha we take aim and open up in unison, our weapons ripping through the attackers on the rooftops

Enemies fall to our withering hail of fire their bullet-riddled corpses flying off the roofs, I see a large figure striding forward, the bastard with the rifle that crippled our vehicle! I take aim with my service pistol and squeeze off a single shot, the would-be assassin is struck on the side of his head and falls back.

'You owe me a car!' i mutter as I select another target

Ahead of us the sounds of gunfire and screaming fill the night air, Fazzah walks calmly back moments later without a scratch on him, behind him Kazah and Dasha finish off enemies with single shots to the head.

'The barriers down! everyone mount up!' i yell as we race for the two remaining vehicles

As soon as the survivors are all inside we slam the breaks on and race through the once again clear streets, we leave a smoking SUV and over a dozen bodies behind us.

'As soon as we reach the airport we get in the air!' i say turning to Fazzah

'Agreed' he replies as the ambush behind us begins to fade into darkness

I reach for my phone and key in an encrypted number, its time to call in some backup.

****************
Deklah's face burned as the bullet wound leaked hot blood, he watched as the convoy vanished into the night, he could already hear police sirens in the distance.

'We need to go Deklah!' one of the remaining assassins muttered

He felt his rage build within him and he took one last shot with his rifle at the fleeing convoy, it missed. He tossed the weapon aside in a rage and turned to leave with the others.

'This is not over!' he snarled inwardly

​
 
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Chapter 18: Conspiratorial Whispers

'A traitor never knows a peaceful slumber'
-Astragonese proverb


Bayyah Na Tyrooz, Palace of the Exalt

Murza paced the council room angrily, his boots making loud clacking noises as they stamped upon the ornate marble tiles. around him the busts of countless Exalts watched silently, eyes of pearl, ivory and emerald seemed to glare at him in icy disapproval from their pedestals.

'let them glare, the future is mine to shape' He thought shooting the busts a hateful look as he continued to pace

'How could you be so foolish! She is the Prime Marshal! the Kaiderin will follow her without question if she manages to gather an army we are finished!' Hushen chided as he lounged on a throne at the council table

Hushen Na Tamba was a squat, bloated man who seemed entirely unaware of his own mediocrity. A career bureaucrat more suited to stamping papers and attending state dinners, he considered himself something of a warrior politician, it was a wholly delusional view. He had failed to gain entry to any warrior fraternity be it Kaiderin, Navy or otherwise and his appointment to Minister of Internal Security was the result of nepotism and bribery, not genuine merit.

Hushen was useful in so much as he controlled the most powerful security agency in Astragon, but the stunted little narcissist would outlive his usefulness once the initial takeover was complete, Murza fully intended to dispose of the pathetic runt as soon as he ceased to serve a purpose. For now, though he humoured the fools delusions of importance.

'IF she gets an army we shall deal with the problem accordingly Minister' Murza replied sternly

'She is out of our reach! She could be halfway to Iraelia by now!!!' Hushen yelled angrily

'It is time to escalate our plans Minister' Murza said coldly

'What do you mean?' Hushen replied incredulously

'She is only dangerous as long as she has legitimacy in the eyes of the nation, we must undermine that trust' Murza said darkly

'And how do you propose we do that?!' Hushen baulked still unconvinced

'Make her look like a power-hungry schemer my dear minister, we control the press now, we will make her look like a demon in human form' Murza replied emphatically

'You want to pin the Viziers death upon her?' Hushen replied his curiosity peaked

'Indeed, meanwhile your internal security agents will be deployed as minders in the Kaiderin garrisons, we will keep tabs on them and prevent any uprisings' Murza said his tone returned to a relaxed, easy speech, like a man planning a day trip

'What about the Iterian League?' Hushen asked fearfully

'What about it! They have their own problems, they do not have the stomach for intervention, their reluctance will be our shield' Murza replied derisively

Hushen sat back and sighed in relief 'It seems you have things under control, what of the council?' Hushen said in a calmer voice

'I shall take command of the Imperial council as regent, this will allow us time to begin asserting influence over the state, we will reshape the nation from within!' Murza said with a manic look filling his face

'And what of me?' Hushen asked quizzically

'Stay here in the palace minister, make sure our voice is the only one the public hears and when the time is right, be prepared to purge our enemies' Murza replied in an ominous tone

Murza gazed at the bust of Sakard, its dead emerald eyes staring back vacantly.

'I will do what you could not old man, I will make this land anew'


​
 
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Chapter 19: The Point of No Return

'Destiny waits for no one'
-Anon

Astragonese Airspace

The low hum of jet engines was the only soothing sound inside the cabin, I was slumped on a couch attempting to follow the conversation between Fazzah and the plane's captain. I was exhausted, the events of the last few hours had rapidly spiralled out of control.

'We need to get out of Astragon' Fazzah said hands raised emphatically

'Sir with all due respect we have enough fuel to make Rafhazan or Iraelia, any further will require us to refuel and I cannot guarantee we will receive permission to land' the captain replied in a placating tone

'So we refuel in Iraelia and then fly to Alnaria! Damnation maybe even Essalanea! we cannot risk Sabhrain remaining in Astragon!' Fazzah said in a loud voice

Around me my bodyguards sit wearily, still gripping their weapons despite the lack of danger this high up. True Kaiderin, ever ready, even when they are powerless to do anything.

'We can't leave' i say finally in the firmest tone I can muster

'Prime Marshal you are not safe here! they tried to kill you!' Fazzah said trying to change my mind

'I am a soldier Fazzah, people are always trying to kill me, If we leave Astragon then the conspiracy wins, they need time and if we hand that to them then we are also handing the nation to them as well' i say matter-factly

Fazzah sighed 'Where then?' he asked in a resigned voice

'We make for Na Thembaland' I say with weary determination

The semi-autonomous region, possessing its own parliament and police, it was one of the few places that internal security did not have a strong grasp. More importantly, t was the location of a vast Kaiderin army group under the command of a man loyal to me, Malek Korshad, I handpicked the good colonel when I was recalled south, now I would place my fate in his hands.


​
 
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Chapter 20: The Army of the North

Astragonese Airspace, Above Na Thembaland

The sights of the Savannah stretched out across the world below, vast tracts of gold broken only occasionally by sporadic patches of green. Na Thembaland beckoned, the semi-autonomous region with its unspoilt wilderness and utterly unique culture beckoned.

In times of old the Na Themba were the last of the Hailakaid tribes to settle, they journeyed north and claimed the far provinces as their own. Unlike the other great tribes they did not adopt Hailesha, their language and traditions still greatly resemble the old Ubgandian faith our ancestors brought with them during the Exodus from Meterra*, it has been the source of unending strife.

Millenia spent trying to bring the Na Themba to heel achieved only misery, a revolution in 1920 gained them independence, a fascist uprising in 1940 eventually saw them lose that independence in favour of semi-autonomy. Military bases dot the landscape here, the ever-present threat of terrorism and separatism necessitating a vast security presence*, the unity government here is ever on tenuous ground.

It was this ancient and volatile land that I was recalled from, my armies left in the care of Malek Korshad, it is to this most combustible of provinces that I return, ironically enough to seek safe harbour. The jet glides through the clouds its course set to the co-ordinates I provided, somewhere in the wilds below lurks Kijali military base, the headquarters of the Army of the North.

The sun rises in the distance, its glow almost blinding as it emerges, I can just make out the outline of two objects as they move through the clouds. Two Shrike T30 interceptors form up alongside our jet, they are so close I can see the pilots from the window.

'Unidentified vessel, this is restricted airspace, submit authentication or prepare to be escorted to the ground for arrest' A machine like voice booms over the intercom

I move into the cockpit where my pilots are frantically lowered our speed to cruise, I reach for the radio and switch it to transmit.

'Kijali intercept, this is Manticore Actual, I authenticate Lamentable conditions have led to vigilance, requesting sequester, Vekshah rise in the west' i say using the seemingly nonsensical phrases that actually provide them with all the clearance they could ever need and more

A long pause follows as they relay the phrase to the base control tower, after what seems like an eternity the radio crackles back into life as that metallic voice relays new instructions

'Authentication confirmed, we will provide escort to landing zone' the pilot replies as the two shrikes form up either side and we begin our approach

My crew are visibly relieved as it becomes apparent we are no longer at risk of being shot out of the skies, soon we are descending into the savannah below. A vast compound stands sprawling across the wilderness, countless buildings and roads mark the sight of Kijali Base, my old command centre.

The plane touches down not long afterwards, the wheels hitting the tarmac with a gentle thump as we taxi towards the designated hanger, I can see soldiers forming up as we pass, It is almost certain Malek knows it's me at this point, no one uses the Manticore callsign save me.

As the plane comes to a stop and the engine's cycle down Fazzah is already up and gathering my cases, Aide-de-Camp to the very end. I consider lighting a cigarette but then think better of it, I already look like shit, best not to lend any more to that appearance.

'Ready?' Fazzah asks gently

'As I'll ever be' i reply

My uniform is caked with blood from the firefight, my own and others and my face bears the marks of our near-death experience, I look like I've just returned from war and well...in a way I have. I straighten my posture and head for the exit, my bodyguards fall in to step behind us.

The door swings open, the morning sun is momentarily blinding as we step into the daylight, what greets me below is more imposing still, hundreds of Kaiderin stand at attention in full battle dress...and Malek Korshad waits just ahead of the plane steps, honour guard and full dress uniforms on display.

I step down slowly, all eyes are on me as I do so, Merrick salutes pressing his first against his chest and hundreds of soldiers repeat the gesture in unison. He kneels as I approach and I notice he is holding his sword out, a traditional display of loyalty to the monarch, they think I am the exalt, I'm glad someone has decided this as I am still on the fence.

'Your Majesty! Welcome back to Kijali! we stand ready to serve' Malek Korshad says his tone approaching reverent

He was a big man, he towered over me when he stood at his full height of six feet, he sported a long beard and a shaved head, his left eye was cloudy and sightless and a long scar ran down that side of his face, a gift from the Skandans, his other eye held an expression of gleeful mischief.

Malek Korshad had served in the Skanda-Iraelian war as a tank commander in the volunteer army, one of the few Kaiderin to do so, he had distinguished himself on multiple occasions and earned medals and wounds in equal measure for his fierce abilities. He had been one of my uncle's old circle, a dependable second known for getting the job done and remaining loyal at all times. Other then Fazzah I could not ask for better.

'Im flattered by the welcome colonel but who told you I was the Exalt?' I say with a raised eyebrow, my uncle's decision to make me his heir had never had the chance to go public and i certainly did not tell anyone.

'I received news from one of your political allies, he did not give his name but told me he would reveal himself when the time was right, You are Kaskarans Heir Sabhrain and i and all the men under my command will follow you!' he said raising his sword in salute

'LONG LIVE THE EXALT!!! LONG LIVE THE EXALT!!!!' hundreds of voice shout in deafening unison

Izrah's political scheming appears to have outlived him, the old Vizier said he would make arrangements in my absence, had he been anticipating this? in any case, I will not turn away willing servants, last night I was in command of less than a dozen men, now I have an entire army group, not bad for one nights work.

'Colonel, please tell me the coffee machine is still working, we have much to discuss' i say as he leads the way into the command centre

**************************************************************

The taste of bitter instant coffee is like a hug from an old friend, the command centre has changed little in the weeks of my absence, even my old office has been left untouched, this is the perfect place to begin regaining the initiative.

'The situation in the capital is troubling, my sources tell me internal security has the police firmly under their thumb and the navy appears to have deployed an entire division of Marines to keep order' Malek says his tone grim

'Marines? what is the navy doing landing forces in the capital?' i ask confused

'I suppose you wouldn't have had time to see the news Majesty' he says using that title again, it feels clunky and unnatural

'What is the navy doing in the capital colonel?' i ask pressing him for details

'Grand Admiral Murza has been declared the regent of Astragon in light of the current security situation, he has put the capital under martial law in all but name' Korshad replied his tone never wavering from serious

How deep does this conspiracy go? first internal security and now our nations navy, someone has been planning this for a very long time. I am beginning to suspect that this someone is the good admiral.

'I am afraid it gets worse too your majesty' Fazzah says, I flash him an irritable look for calling me that

Bringing up a news report on the command centres main screen I am treated to a terrible scene. Unity Nkosha sits behind her desk, the young journalist is wearing too much makeup again, she rises from her seat and addresses the audience

'Loyal citizens! we have received news that the Ministry of Internal Security has ascertained the identity of the perpetrator of the cowardly terrorist bombing that killed our beloved Vizier, Sabhrain Na Kevsha, Prime Marshal of Astragon is believed to have been responsible for the deaths of Vizier Izrah Na Rishah and possibly even the late emperor as well, Minister Hushen Na Tamba had this to say' her delivery has no pauses or hesitation in its tone, I don't doubt that the news was fabricated, but the effect is damning all the same

The screen turns to a fat man in a black suit, he looks at the camera with an expression of sheer self-importance, Hushen is loving this, his moment in the limelight, he pauses soaking up as much air time as he can before speaking.

'Enjoy it you little bastard, I will kill you soon' i think with a venomous tone

'It would appear the Prime Marshal was seeking to claim her uncle's throne, likely she saw her chance when he grew ill and sought to remove the Vizier as well, rest assured she will be apprehended and brought to justice, in the meantime I encourage all loyal Astragonese to support our regent Talesh Murza so that he might bring order back to our sacred land!' Hushen says in a voice that reeks of pomposity

I close the screen with a gesture, I've seen enough, my enemies have sought to kill me and failed, so now they are trying to turn the country against me. Clever, but this game is far from over.

'Gentlemen, we have work to do' i say sitting in my old command throne

it's appropriate, from this room I dealt out death to the enemies of Astragon once before, now I will do it again, only this time they will be easier to find, they can have the capital, for now, its time to see how well they play the great game.














*The Meterran Exodus occurred some 7000 years before present day

* Some 125,000 Kaiderin are stationed in Na Thembaland in order to maintain security and support the pro-imperial unity government.​
 
Chapter 21: Ibis

Kijali Military Base, Na Thembaland

1 month after Sabhrains flight north

the mood in the briefing room is tense, I sit at the head of my ad-hoc council a pretender empress seeking legitimacy. The weeks since my flight north have been a cat and mouse game as both murza and myself have vied for influence and support amongst the international community. Murza still has the upper hand, for now, he holds the capital and with it the nation's media and government, I need more leverage to bring the world to my side.

'Have our representatives to the Iterian league reported in?' i ask leafing through the pile of reports in front of me

'They have ma'am' Fazzah replies

'And? what does the rest of the continent think' i ask in a pressing tone

'There is sympathy for our cause, especially in Iraelia, but until we have damning evidence of a coup Murza will retain an air of legitimacy which will discourage intervention' Fazzah says calmly

'We need information that will bring the people of Astragon and the world to our side' i say emphatically

'Murza couldn't have gained control of the police, media, and state without substantial resources, we need to find out where his finances are located' Fazzah says after a thoughtful silence

Easier said than done, chances are he has dummy accounts, shell companies, and god knows how many foreign bolt holes to conceal coup funds behind. Still, if we can't prove his treachery to the world any hope of legitimacy when we take the fight to him will be lost.

'Majesty we are getting an encrypted transmission, should I patch it through' A buzzing voice asks over the Intercom

'Yes, patch them through' i reply

'Your Majesty' A blurred voice says in greeting, the honorific still feels unwieldy

'To whom are we speaking?' i ask

'A friend, for now, you may call me Ibis' the voice replies

'Id ask how you were able to find this network, we've been a black site for weeks, but I'm more interested in why you reached out to us' i say inquisitively

'You have been playing a game of hearts and minds for weeks now majesty, I offer you a chance now to turn the tables on them would be regent' the voice replied

'You have my attention' i reply in a blunt tone

'My sources have uncovered certain...irregularities within the accounts of our state oil fund, I can provide your agents in the capital with an informant willing to provide you with the relevant data' the garbled voice continues the tone always changing

'What's the catch?' i reply with a raised eyebrow

'Consider this an act of goodwill on my part' Ibis says in a blurred tone that almost sounds reassuring

'How can I trust you' i ask still unsure I can trust this mysterious contact

'Trust by its very nature assumes an element of uncertainty, however, if it eases your concerns, it was my tip-off that ensured the good colonel greeted you so warmly when you arrived in Kijali' Ibis responds, that seems more convincing, not many people know about my presence in Kijali, let alone those outside Na Thembaland.

So this was Korshad's mysterious ally and by extension my benefactor, I suppose it would not be Astragon without some political mystery. I pause and ponder lighting a cigarette, trusting an unknown source is always a gamble, I tap my finger on the table as a i ponder what course of action to take. in the end, I decide that the risk is calculated, we need dirt on Murza and if this source can provide it we need to at very least entertain the possibility with action.

'Very well, send me the details of this source, we will see if the information you provide is truthful' I reply

'I assure you majesty it will be, worry not I will reveal my identity when the time is right, for now, it is too dangerous but rest assured I am on your side' the feed cuts as soon as Ibis has finished speaking, almost immediately after our system is inundated with encrypted data packets

I turn to Fazzah 'Do we still have assets present in Bayyah Na Tyrooz who can make contact with this source?' i ask as he pulls up the requested information on a tablet

'Vekshah is currently in the capital, he went dark after leaking the information regarding internal security but we can re-activate if needed' Fazzah replies affirmatively

'Good, do so, we need to move quickly' i reply

The Game is afoot




​
 


Chapter 22: Whistleblower
'Loose Lips Sink ships'

Tyrooz Old City, Astragon Capital Region

Otto's Essalanean grill was an odd place for a meeting, loud drums and throat singing played on a loop from a battered old cd player and an ugly portrait that was meant to represent High Chief Gaiseric Volkmann hung crookedly on the wall looking distinctly out of place on the grease-stained walls. the titular owner of the shop sat next to a smoking grill his braided beard and bushy eyebrows dripping with sweat as he slammed great hunks of meat onto a blackened stovetop.

The shop was so out of place it almost seemed camouflaged amidst the rows of foreign restaurants and kebab houses that made up the old cities bazaar quarter, outlandish things were practically the norm here. For his part Fashal didn't mind the gotic chants bombarding his ears or the smoke for that matter, the beer was good and the location was far enough away from the main street to be discreet.

'he's making his entrance' Kazah said his deep voice buzzing in Fashal's earpiece

'Good, keep me posted if anything changes'

Kazah had been sent south some days earlier, the situation calling for multiple kaiderin agents, Fashal generally worked alone but it was reassuring to have a sniper rifle trained on the street. The bell on the door rang as a disheveled looking man in a hoodie and dirty jeans entered and without a word took a seat on Fashal's table. If the owner noticed the new customer he clearly wasn't showing it, he busied himself turn steaks and ribs, the smell as amazing.

'You tried the beef?' Fashal asked

'No but I hear the lamb is a little rough' the guest replied using the established code word

Fashal leaned forward and regarded the would-be whistleblower, the face under the hoodie was unmistakably that of a corporate, clean-shaven and well-groomed, the man shot him a nervous glance and then picked up a menu and pretended to study it, this man knew what he was doing nerves or no.

'So you have it?' Fashal asked lighting a cigarette

'you first' the man said in a firm tone

Fashal nodded and slid an envelope across the table 'those papers will get you through the prefect barricade and out of the capital, not easy to get hold of either, your turn' Fashal replied as the man leafed through the documents and nodded approvingly

The man passed something over to Fashal, a USB stick, it seemed laughable that such a small thing could shift alliances and decide the fate of an empire, and yet here it was.

'Seems small' Fashal said in nonchalantly

'You were expecting a great brown file like in some spy movie?' the man asked in an amused tone

'Suppose not' Fashal admitted

'It's got everything you need on there, budget irregularities, shell companies, bribes, all signed off by Murza and the chairman of the energy company, Kirah Nyesha signed approved it all' the man replied his voice a mix of pride and fear

'Kaidain's shield...is there anyone not involved in this thing!?' Fashal muttered as he pocketed the drive

'Well I just crunch numbers, it's up to you what you do with that thing, I need to leave, this city is going to the dogs' the whistleblower said rising from his seat and leaving

'looks like this guy was legit' Kazah said the click of the safety on his rifle audible in the background

'Guess so' Fashal said stubbing out his cigarette and rising from his seat

he slammed several Kashai on the counter 'Danke' he said in gotic before leaving

' Getreu Essalan!' Otto replied never taking his eyes off the grill

The bell on the door rang as Fashal exited, a car pulled up immediately and he climbed in, then he was gone.
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Adonai-Jireh, Iraelia

Taneli Gadi made her way through the halls of the Knesset building as Eshkar Hiskiyah picked up his step to catch up to her.

"Eshkar, thank Shaddai, I've been looking everywhere for..." Hiskya just shook his head, putting a hand on her back to force her to keep moving.

"Walk and talk, Madame Prime Minister" he said, his tone tense.
"We need to get the Cabinet assembled."

"Most of the Ministers haven't even fully staffed their Ministries!" the newly sworn-in Prime Minister remarked as she kept up with her more experienced Foreign Affairs Minister.

"Thankfully the Yeniem* are" he replied.

"So we have something?"

"Yes. They received information on a number of irregularities with Astragon's state oil finances. They've confirmed authenticity."

"Is it enough to nail Murza?"

"Maybe. Things are in a state of flux."

The two entered the Cabinet's secured meeting room, a number of freshman Ministers from four parties all nervously taking their seats. This bloc hadn't been in power since the 1990s. Everyone outside of Eshkar Hiskiyah and Razya Atzil were new to this, herself included. And Eshkar and Razya were barely on speaking terms.

"Alright" Taneli said to herself as she took the seat at the head of the table, flanked by her two experienced yet icy deputies.
Unsure eyes looked to her as she scanned the room.
"Ideas?"

"We do nothing, for now" Lenny Nezer, the new Minister of Defence stated.
"We can't be sure of anything coming out of Astragon. Sabhrain Na Kevsha isn't any more trustworthy than Muza at this point and..."

"Her father was a damn war hero. He risked his life for this country" Atzil replied, the old man showing his disdain for the younger rookie Minister's take. Nezer, however, wasn't having any of it.

"Her father was, but she isn't her father" he said shoot back.
"We're not going to be making these decisions based off of presumed familial loyalty are we?"

"We have evidence that, at least tentatively, paints Muza as a traitor" Hiskiya replied.
"You all have access to the same Yeniem files."

"It's hardly a smoking gun. And what happens if we support Sabhrain and she loses this power struggle? Astragon's been an ally since time immemorial. Are we going to risk those relations by angering the legitimate ruling regent of the Empire?"

"Mr. Nezer" Gadi asked, trying to cover up her nerves.
"If we were to back the Emperor's daughter, could we do so with only our military forces stationed in the north?"

"Yes" Nezer nodded.
"Simply denying him our air space would prove to be logistically devastating to him. If we moved fast and secured key transportation hubs in the south? His forces would be caught by surprise. He's already facing an insurgency in the north of his country."

"And if this is possible, as you say it is, why are you worried about backing the wrong side? It seems like our involvement increases the Sabhrain Na Kevsha's chance of success."

"Because I didn't get into politics to support a terrorist takeover of an allied state, Madam Prime Minister. With all due respect."

Gadi looked first to Hiskiya and then to Atzil before returning her attention to Nezer.

"Each day we deliberate and wait for a smoking gun we lose a better chance to do something that matters. I understand you want definitive proof, but the universe isn't so kind that it drops clear answers into our laps. Sometimes we must take a risk on what we have. Mr. Nezer? We're going to be supporting Sabhrain Na Kevsha's cause."
She felt like she was trembling as she spoke, the full weight of what this job entailed dawning on her before she even got a chance to get rid of Yamesh's stationary from the office. Nezer, however, didn't seem to pick up on it. He just gulped and nodded.
"Yes Madame Prime Minister."



Efa, northern Iraelia

Major General Akiva Rami was dressed in combat fatigues, having chosen to forgo the formal military uniform. He was skimming over his notes when an aid approached with the cup of coffee he'd asked for, giving the young man a nod before sending him on his way.
"Seems the bleeding hearts have some guts after all" he muttered. They'd given him the green light to engage what everyone in the military saw as an illegal regime. Sabhrain Na Kevsha's family was beloved in Iraelian military circles.

"We're ready to broadcast, Major General" the IBC Iraelia News director indicated. Rami just nodded and stared at the camera. Part of him was worried that the young guns under him, these new hotshot officers, were overthinking themselves. Announcing an attack beforehand? Didn't make any sense. They were right though. This wasn't a usual engagement. Cocky sons of bitches who had more balls than brains at their age, but when they were right they were right.

"My name" he began as the broadcast went live, "is Major General Akiva Rami, commanding officer of the Imperial Iraelian Army Group North and, as of one hour ago, supreme commander of Operation Northern Winds. I am speaking not just to the people of Iraelia but to the people of Astragon and Grand Admiral Murza. The government of the State of Iraelia formally recognizes Sabhrain Na Kevsha as the rightful Empress of Astragon and Admiral Muza's regime as illegal and illegitimate. Iraelian air space is hereby restricted to any Astragonese military aircraft acting on behalf of Admiral Muza's government. Any such aircraft will be fired upon by Imperial Iraelian Air Force fighters. I am also announcing that the Prime Minister has authorized me to begin military operations across the Iraelian-Astragon border."

He took a moment to pause and let the words sink in.
"To the people and soldiers of Astragon. We are not your enemy. You are our brothers. We've shed common blood for common cause before. We come only to ensure that the rightful heir to the throne of Astragon is allowed to ascend in the face of a criminal conspiracy occupying your government. Our soldiers will defend themselves if attacked, but I ask you to join us. We come not to conquer but to ensure a peaceful transition of power. Join us in ensuring the coup against the Exalted Empress fails."

The red light on the camera flickered off. Rami didn't linger. He had a war to run. Troop movement had already begun.

OOC:
* Yeniem = Iraelian intelligence agency
 
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Chapter 23: Assemble the Fighters!

'Raise high the red banners of bloodletting!'
-Kaiderin call to battle

'It's spreading like wildfire! Your claim has already been recognized by Syrixia and Iraelia!' Malek Korshad exclaimed with an expression of joy

The war room was a scene of excited chaos as phones rang incessantly and countless screens lit up with constant updates, I studied the overhead map of Astragon with a strategists eye, the Iraelian's were advancing from Efa under the auspices of Operation North Winds their blue divisional logos visible on the border. Murza still had forces in the countries center and a full division in the capital but his grip was slipping with each passing hour.

'We have the support of the world gentlemen, the time has come to depose this lunatic!' i said rising from my chair

'He still has at least half the imperial military nominally under his command' Fazzah said as he straightened his glasses and pointed to the central Aragonese army group.

'defections amongst the Kaiderin are growing more numerous as the news spreads of Murza's corruption, it's unlikely that they will follow him when the time comes' Colonel Korshad replied dismissively

'Still, we cannot rely on an entire army group simply laying down its arms, especially given the presence of internal security force minders in the southern regiments' Fazzah replied with a stern look

I sighed and gazed at the map, this was no time for caution, the leak of Murza's oil funds had been a damaging blow to the would-be regent, but he still held the capital, any delay was to his advantage. No this was no time for caution, this was the time to deliver the killing blow!

'When Kayyvan marched south he did so knowing he might never see his home again gentlemen, his gamble won him an empire, if am truly your Exalt I must be equally willing to roll the dice, you have followed me, put your lives in my hands. I ask you to trust me one last time' I said pointing to the southern military highway

Astragon has always been a nation of warriors, since the days of the Hegemon when we shielded Iteria from would-be colonizers we have known war as only Hailakaid can. The highways would be the path to victory.

'We will advance down the southern highway towards Bayyah Na Tyrooz, any Kaiderin we encounter along the way shall be given a chance to surrender and join our cause, we will crush any who resist' i said with a grim tone

'What about enemy air assets? we would be like fish in a barrel!' Fazzah replied skeptically

'The Air corp is Kaiderin, the chances of them siding with Murza will become lower the closer we get to the capital, besides we have air units of our own that can provide cover and then there's the matter of the Iraelians' i say pointing to the blue squares on the border

Iraelia our ancient ally, the holy land my forefathers have bled for since the first children of Menhe Hailasse swore loyalty to Shaddai, it seems only fitting that our staunchest ally might well deliver me onto the throne.

'Assuming the Iraelians honor their promise to shoot down any planes loyal to Murza, we would be well within the range of Iraelian anti-air and interceptors, it seems Iraelia shall shield the advance of Astragon' Korshad said scratching his scar as he did so

I nod approvingly 'very well then, Colonel Make the call' i say feeling a chill run down my spine as he reaches for the base intercom

'Kaiderin! this is Colonel Malek Korshad! The traitor Murza has been exposed to the world as a snake at the throat of our beloved peacock! We shall march south and cut this vile cancer from the pure heart of Astragon! All leave is Cancelled, Mobilization begins immediately! Raise High the Red Banner of Bloodletting! We are going to War!' he says switching the intercom off as the sound of cheers begins to fill every corridor of Kijali

'I have sat in this damned chair for a month too long gentlemen! bring me my sword and ready the tank! I am going home!' i said turning to leave

All around me men and women cheer as though we had already won, it is a Kaiderin thing...the joy of the coming battle...we are going to war

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=czXaKxcQNkQ&list=RDczXaKxcQNkQ&index=1​
 
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Chapter 24: Death Throes

'A Cornered Hyena bites the hardest'
-Ancient Astragonese proverb

The Palace of the Exalt, Astragon Capital Region

Deklah's chin cheeked itched incessantly, the wound had been crudely stitched and was almost certain to leave a hideous scar, at least it would balance out the burns on the other side of his face. The council room was deathly silent save for Murza's enraged ranting, the conspirators all stood in shamed silence as he roared and showered them in spittle.

'IS THERE NO ONE CAPABLE IN MY EMPLOY!' he roared, he was holding a half-empty glass of brandy that he waved at Hushen and Kirah accusingly

'Admiral it's not too late! we can flee, Ugria maybe...' Hushen did not have time to finish his sentence as he was cut off

'SILENCE!!! You would love that wouldn't you Hushen? for me to slink off in defeat! no one leaves! we stay the course!' He yelled causing Hushen to stare at his feet like a scolded child

The atmosphere of fear and tension in the council chamber was palpable, it felt like the end of the world from where Deklah was standing, the conspiracies intricate plans had unwound and been exposed...all due to diligent accounting. The admiral raged against any talk of defeat, but the fact was more nations denounced the region with each passing day and with Sabhrain now on the march south, it was just a matter of time.

'Sir we cannot maintain our present situation for long, the oil money will begin to dry up when the Iterian league moves to sanction us and I'm already hearing reports of calls for a blockade on Astragonese shipping until you are deposed' Kirah said holding her ledger between shaking palms

She was a slight woman of Shahkaid extraction, her light brown skin and short black hair marked her as distinct from the Hailakaid majority. She was normally a background figure, content to crunch numbers and drive profits ever higher, now she trembled like a willow in a breeze, exposed to the full force of Murza's ire.

'Enough! you all reek of defeatism and cowardice! We still control the lions share of the military!' He said hurling the glass at the wall, it shattered sending shards of glass spilling across the floor

'but for how long?' Deklah thought grimly

Murza was not Kaiderin, he was a naval officer, the war caste were fanatics who always backed their own. The only thing keeping the Kaiderin leashed to Murza was the proximity to the capital and the presence of interior ministry political officers, such things did not make for a loyal army. Sabhrain, by comparison, was legacy Kaiderin from a bloodline that stretched back to antiquity, she had the admiration of the warrior caste and the traditional clout to bring them to her side. Deklah was not surprised so many defections were occurring daily.

'What would you have us do?' Hushen asked in a fearful voice, eyes still glued to the floor

'We still have the central army under our command, send them north! time for your handlers to prove they can command these warrior-fanatics!' Murza said tone laced with venomous disapproval

A standoff in the centre of the country was almost certain to occur now, it was a sound plan from a purely strategic perspective, stall Sabhrain before she could get within reach of the capital. But while Deklah was no strategist he did understand loyalties, there was little to prevent a revolt if the handlers proved unfit to rein in the rebellious elements within the warrior caste, Murza might end up handing Sabhrain yet more men.

'And you Deklah!' Murza snapped the 'you' coming out in an accusing tone

'Admiral?' Deklah said trying to ignore the sting as he moved his cheek

'I had hoped that you would ensure the success of this revolution with a single bullet, my faith it appears was misplaced, however, you now have a chance to redeem yourself' Murza said his words laced with disappointment that stung worse than any screaming

'What are my orders, sir?' Deklah asked suddenly curious

'Empty the prisons and round up everyone who can hold a weapon in the slums, I had hoped to give your people freedom without bloodshed, now they will have to earn it!' Murza said his tone utterly serious

'The prisons and slums? are we so desperate...' Deklah thought grimly

'And how will we arm these new forces?!' Hushen asked working up what little spine he could to speak

'Raid the state armouries, Empty the treasury! I want guns in hands immediately!' Murza said with a dismissive wave of his hand

Prisoners and menials would do little to prevent a Kaiderin advance, this was tantamount to orchestrating a massacre. At best Murza was ensuring that many more would die when Sabhrain entered the city.

'It will be done admiral' Deklah said saluting

'Good, now get to work' the admiral said curtly dismissing him

Deklah saluted again for good measure and left the room, once outside his mind began to race with fearful ideation, the admiral was desperate and his plans were becoming more outlandish with each passing moment, Deklah felt the first pangs of doubt fill his mind.



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Chapter 25: Death Throes II

Bayyah Na Tyrooz, The Old City, Menial District

Fashal and Kazah watched the trucks approach from their vantage point in the attic of a dilapidated tower. The old city was a honeycomb of ancient buildings, derelicts and once proud halls all slowly collapsing under the weight of generational neglect. Nowhere was the decay more obvious or more severe than the old cities menial district, a vast expanse of poverty-stricken tenements that blighted the cities face for miles in all directions.

The Prefect's seldom entered the slums and if they did it was in platoons and armed to the teeth. Here amongst the rot and tatters an unseen mass of humanity eeked out a piteous existence, a vast unsung horde of cleaners, servants, labourers and helots all called this crumbling expanse home. This was the place of Astragon's forgotten children, the descendants of slaves, convicts and deserters alike.

Fashal gazed at the ruined shop fronts and food stands, to call this place home was to be subjected to the daily mind-numbing indignities of police raids and gang violence, the desensitizing sea of drunks and addicts all deadened by an endless stream of subsidised alcohol and pornography. To live here was to be both invisible and painfully exposed all at once.

'You think the corps is here to raid the place?' Fashal asked as men in black uniforms disembarked from trucks in the square below

Kazah shook his head 'too many trucks for that, this is something else' Kazah said straightening his cap, he always did when he was anxious

Kazah did not get anxious very often, he was an old hand at the intelligence game, a veteran of countless kill teams and covert operations. The older man's expression seldom changed from the calm faced look of a professional soldier, but Fashal knew a twitch when he saw one, something was indeed going on in the square below.

'LINE UP!!! I Want Everyone in the streets in a straight line now!' A booming voice yelled from a microphone

The prefects were hauling people out of homes and shops and forcing them against the wall, they were all armed with machine guns and they kept them trained on the assembled menials.

'By Order of Imperial Regent Murza all able-bodied menial caste members are hereby conscripted into the militia! Any attempt to resist this order will be treated as a treasonous offence!' The officer yelled over the microphone before signalling his men to begin

Prefects in riot gear shoved through the crowds hauling out men and women and zip-tying their hands before shoving them onto waiting trucks. Resistance or moving too slowly was met by kicks and whacks from rifle stocks.

'Shit its a round-up!' Fashal muttered as he reached for his camera

'Looks like Murza is getting desperate if he's grabbing menials' Kazah replied before scratching his beard thoughtfully

Below a man broke free from a prefects grip with a well time elbow to the stomach, he set off at a sprinting pace trying to escape the draft.

'Shoot that man!' the officer barked

A prefect aimed his rifle and fired, the spray of bullets ripped into the fleeing man sending him flailing forwards before he collapsed in a bloody heap. This set the crowd into a frenzy as people began shoving and screaming.

'Traitors!!! kill the traitors!!!' the officer roared as his men struggled to contain the frantic mass of terrified menials

Prefects with batons and rifle butts began to lay into the crowd, bodies fell skulls cracked open and open wounds gushing onto the cobbles. A menial knocked a prefects cap off with a well-timed punch only to be shot down by rifle fire, the scene devolved into a heaving melee as people fought and fled.

More Prefect trucks arrived and more menials were hauled off, any who resisted or could not flee in time were shot. After what seemed like an eternity of violence the Prefects piled back into their vehicles and left, their victim's bodies still strewn about the square.

It began to rain, water and blood mixing in muck tainted puddles in the street below, Fashal and Kazah watched as people began to emerge, a woman knelt in the rain-slick cobbles and began to weep over the body of a slain man, her keening was like knife cuts and the two Kaiderin regarded the scene below with an uncomfortable silence.

'Did you get all that?' Kazah asked his tone containing barely detectable hints of shock

'Yeah, I got it' Fashal replied grimly

below the only sound was rainfall and weeping

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Chapter 26: What Comes Before

Palace of the Exalt, Bayyah Na Tyrooz, Capital of Astragon

It was dark as Murza paced angrily up and down the deserted council chamber, he clutched a bottle of brandy in one hand and a near-empty glass in the other. How had it all gone so wrong? Years of planning undone in mere days.

He slumped in one of the high backed thrones and set his glass on the table, the room was pitch black save for the distant lights reflecting through the window, Bayyah Na Tyrooz glittered in the darkness below, a prize he had plotted and killed for and which soon might be his undoing.

'Ah Murza, you set the board so well only for Sabhrain to knock all the pieces over in record time' A disembodied voice hissed with mocking laughter

Murza snarled and reached for his pistol 'whose there!? Show yourself!' he yelled waving the sidearm blindly

The laughter continued, a stream of rasping laughter that sounded vaguely like iron scraping on stones. Murza rose from his seat and tried to follow the laughter, but it seemed to emerge from everywhere and nowhere.

'might as well holster that thing, nothing you can do to harm a long-dead man, you should know that Murza, after all, you were there' the voice said its tone amused

'Sakard!' Murza growled from between gritted teeth

The lion of Kosh Kosad had been dead for nearly four decades, yet now his shade seemed intent on mocking Murza's failings from beyond the grave.

'You are not real, I saw you die!' Murza said dismissively

'And yet here you are speaking to me' Sakard replied in a condescending voice

Murza placed the gun on the table and poured himself a glass of brandy which he reached for a took a long sip before gazing into the inky darkness.

'It's not over yet... I can still win' he said grimly and perhaps more to himself than shade tormenting him

'You failed Murza, you made the mistake of underestimating her, a fatal error on your part, after all, she is my granddaughter' Sakard said in mocking reply

'She is another glorified peacock propping up a stagnant system! You said it yourself Sakard! nothing makes us noble except our deeds!' Murza roared at the darkness

But Sakard had been right, he had assumed Sabhrain would be an easy target, instead, she had proven an implacable foe. All his dreams of a republic were now threatened by Farhad's spoilt brat, that and an entire army of Kaiderin loyalists.


'I can still win!' he said again, the tone was unconvincing

'Perhaps...but I suspect more likely that we will be seeing each other soon' Sakard replied in a voice that was utter poison

Murza covered his ears in vain as the laughter echoed endlessly



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Chapter 27: The Taking of Debasha

Limpane, Central Astragon, Mondabaland


Limpane was like most places in the countries middle, small, green and utterly forgettable. If Bayyah Na Tyrooz is our nation's head and Quaresha its heart then Mondabaland is undoubtedly Astragons spine. A sea of factory towns, agrarian estates and vineyards spread out across the region, feeding the empires insatiable hunger for commerce and industry.

All that seemed to have been put on hold today, Tanks rolled through dusty streets and jets screeched overhead keeping watch for any would-be attackers. I imagine the sight of so many Kaiderin probably had the locals thinking the world had ended. We had seized the local town hall upon arrival in Limpane, the local governor had been unceremoniously dumped at my feet by a terrified populace. I had ordered him to be arrested for his loyalties to Murza and then I had borrowed his office.

It was here my war council now met, all of us crammed into the governers tiny office as we poured over maps and intelligence reports, all the while the haze of cigarette smoke and steaming coffee-growing thicker and more intolerable. I stared out the window at the sandy-colored buildings below, it was a factory town, Limpane's life revolved around the rhythms of the local car producers. People here lived quiet, hardworking and obscure lives and now I had come and shattered that peace with my tanks and armies.

Never let it be said I am without empathy for the common citizen, I don't claim to understand their lives but I do understand what Kaskaran taught me, that it is my job to keep bellies full, employment up and enemies at bay, it pained me to be the one marching soldiers through their streets.

I fully intended to make Murza pay for creating such upheaval but to do that I needed to decapitate his forces before they could oppose me. That necessitated seizing Debasha airbase, the largest military base in central Astragon and currently, headquarters to the central army group.

'It's well-defended your exalt, fenced-off perimeter and surrounded by flat terrain, assuming they have mortars and artillery we could lose thousands before getting anywhere close' Colonel Korshad said in a concerned voice, his sole functioning eye focused intently on that red marked circle on the map

I don't take my gaze off the window, in the distance mountains darken in an orange haze as the sun slowly falls. Indwesha crane glide gently over the rooftops of Limpane on their way to far off nesting grounds, for the briefest of moments I am transfixed by the beauty of my homeland. I sigh and turn back to the waiting council, first, I must do the ugly work of winning my throne before I can indulge in beauty.

'Our informants within the central army have said that morale is low yes?' i ask, Fazzah opens a folder on the desk in response

'All reports from the Shavashkaid indicate that the Kaiderin are disillusioned with Murza's cause and frustrated by his use of internal ministry handlers attached to every regiment' Fazzah replies calmy

No surprises there, Kaiderin don't take kindly to being commanded by anyone except for other Kaiderin or their Exalt. A self-appointed regent, from a lower branch like the navy no less, well they can't be too happy taking his orders and kowtowing to his agents.

'Who is commanding the central army group?' i ask

'Major General Adasha Sedhain' Fazzah replies hesitantly

Adasha Sedhain, funny thing about living in Astragon is that names tend to determine our place in society far more readily then deeds. She was like a mirror image of my self in many ways, adopted into the kaiderin from an early age, child of an esteemed imperial bloodline and blessed with a head for strategy.

but where house Kevshah had been in ascent for the better part of a century, the once glorious Sedhain dynasty was dying a slow death as the house withered away. My entrance into the Kaiderin had signaled ascent, for her it was a last-ditch effort to revive flagging fortunes.

She did not like me, I wasn't overly fond of her either if she was in command of Deshaba this would prove a difficult operation. I had one small advantage over Murza though, I was still Kaiderin and I could leverage that shared identity to my advantage if I played it right.

'Gentlemen I have a plan, but you are not going to like it' i say giving Fazzah a knowing look he sighs and removes his glasses

'What will you need ma'am' he says in a resigned voice

'A driver and a white flag' I reply with a smirk






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Chapter 28: The Taking of Deshaba II

Deshaba Air Corps Base, Mondabaland, Central Astragon

Lucian Vosges was an oddity, his pale-skin and foreign surname firmly marked him as the descendent of Astro-Hightonian settlers. It was rare for a Valan to serve in the warrior caste, rarer still to see one with any substantial rank but Lucian had succeeded in both capacities regardless.

He had survived the grueling trials, endured all the dirty looks and cruel hazings that an 'Opt-in' was doomed to suffer and somehow his intelligence and no small amount of luck had seen the son of a small-time craftsman rise to the position of Aide-de-camp to a major general. Lucian had proudly served Adasha Sedhain for nearly a decade as her right hand.

Sedhain had not always been the easiest officer to work for, she was temperamental, exacting and aristocratic to the point of snobbery. She was also one of the most brilliant military minds ever to graduate from the Kaiderin Academies.

He had managed to find an equilibrium with his master. Lucian's even-tempered advice and mastery of damage control had made him indispensable to Adasha. However that equilibrium was now being tested daily by the presence of internal security handlers, political officers sent to ensure the armies loyalty.

Presently he could hear the latest in near-daily arguments playing out loudly in Adasha's office, the closed doors and shuttered windows did nothing to conceal the sound of angered yelling. Lucian took a deep breath and knocked on the major general's door before entering.

'The Regent sent you to destroy this rebellion! why have your forces not engaged the traitors?!' Inspector Moposha was presently yelling

Adasha sat at her desk with an expression like a caged lion on her face, her lip was curled in muted disgust as the inspector ranted. She was a striking woman, her mixed Hailakaid and Shahkaid ancestry gifting her with beautiful coffee colored skin. She wore her hair in a tight braid and her expression seldom changed from the stern look of a mildly offended noblewoman, today Moposha had succeeded in cracking her defenses.

'With respect inspector! I am a Kaiderin officer, versed in war from the moment I could read, you are a bureaucrat trained to investigate sedition, I would advise that you leave the military strategy to those most qualified!' Adasha roared angrily

'Your Kaiderin nonsense is no excuse general! the Regent needs this insurrection crushed!' Moposha retorted disdainfully

'And he will have what he seeks! IF he allows me to do my job! as long as we hold Debasha, Sabhrain cannot pass, I am buying your regent time and if I'm not mistaken that is what he needs most!' Adasha replied almost snarling the last words

The two stared each other down with looks of pure hate for what seemed like an eternity, finally, Moposha relented and shrugged.

'Well, see that this is handled, the regent is watching General' he said before marching off and slamming the door behind him

Adasha leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes in annoyance 'Idiot!' she hissed under her breath

She seemed more troubled than usual, this deployment had been trouble from the very beginning. it wasn't just the handlers, the prospect of Kaiderin fighting Kaiderin was an unpleasant consideration.

No one wanted to meet their comrades on opposing sides of the field. Her normally animated green eyes seemed bloodshot and the bags underneath were noticeable, she had not been sleeping if the piles of coffee mugs on her desk were any indication.

'Office is bugged?' Lucian asked in Kaiderin battle sign

The battle sign was an ancient language known only to the officer corps of the Kaiderin, it existed as a means of covert communication when the situation rendered conventional methods dangerous. The internal ministry had been so focused on speech, email, and phone that they had overlooked something far more subtle.

'Almost certainly' Adasha replied with several complex hand movements

'Are we truly going to fight Sabhrain?' he signed

Adasha shrugged before signing 'She's an ambitious trollop, don't know that I prefer her much to Murza, but the regent is a snake, wouldn't be surprised if the rumors were true' she replied

'That wasn't an answer' Lucian signed back

'no, it wasn't, Sabrhain would have to prove to me that she's a better choice then Murza' Adasha replied admitting her indecision

'How would she do that?' Lucian signed

'That's her problem if she wants to be Exalt so badly she'll figure it out' Adasha signaled nonchalantly

'What about these handlers?' Lucian asked a slight grin spreading across his face

'That peasant is lucky to be alive, my ancestors ruled this land and he thinks to command me! if the time comes I will execute them personally, with pleasure' Adasha signaled irritably

'Guess we will see Ma'am' Lucian concluded

'Yes I suppose we shall' Adasha replied with a sigh

*************************************************

The jeep raced across the flatlands, Fazzah had protested my plan from the very beginning but when the realization dawned that I would not be swayed he was the first to volunteer. The tall hangers and towers of Debasha airbase beckoned.

'Keep driving and make sure that flag is visible' i said as a Kaiderin in the back seat steadied the flowing white banner

A shrike interceptor screeched overhead, for a moment it seemed like it was going to begin an attack run, then it broke off and headed for the base, I had Adasha's attention.

The gate loomed in front of me, on the towers above the steel fence Kaiderin trained assault rifles upon his and followed us with laser sights. Moments later the gates to the airbase swung open and a platoon of Kaiderin in full combat gear took up positions around us, their weapons all pointed at me.

'Kill the engines to your vehicle! Now!' A Kaiderin officer yelled his weapon raised

I stepped down from the jeep slowly and nodded to Fazzah to comply with the engine going silent as he cut it. A tall man in the grey uniform of internal security, Adasha in her full black and gold regalia and a Valan aide in battle fatigues entered my view as they emerged from the gate.

'If you have a Marousian horse in that jeep Sabhrain you must have very skinny warriors!' Adasha's voice called out mockingly

'Just me I'm afraid' i replied, my heart was pounding but I forced my words to sound calm, flippant even

'Take her into custody!' the internal security officer yelled in a weasel-like tone

Adasha raised a hand and halted the order before the soldiers had the chance to move

'Not so fast! I want to hear what the would-be Exalt has to say for herself' Adasha said sternly

'What are you doing!? we have her right in front of us!' the security handler yelled incredulously

'As I said, I want to hear what she has to say' she replied with a poisonous smile

I take a deep breath 'Kaiderin! I come before you alone, not as Prime Marshal or as Exalt, but as a fellow soldier of Astragon! Murza would have you turn against your own like dogs on a leash, unthinking and without dignity, but you are more than Killers to be ordered, you are the soldiers of the empire, the defenders of Hailakaid civilization! Do not fall into his vile deception noble soldiers! stand with me today and we will end this war and restore peace to our nation! And if you cannot trust my words, then I pray to aim for my heart! If you want to kill your comrade here I am!' I say my voice echoing across the valley, it is silent save for the wind

The soldiers in front of me do nothing at first, then hands begin to waver, one man starts to lower his rifle, incensed the internal security officer storms forward and aims his pistol squarely at my head.

'Enough of this nonsense! if you will not do your duty i wil...' A gunshot rings out silencing him before he can finish his sentence

He falls to the ground the back of his head blown open like the impact crater from an asteroid, Adasha stands over him her service pistol smoking in the evening air. She points it at me for a moment and then holsters it, the other Kaiderin follow her lead and soon all guns are lowered.

'Good speech Na Kevsha, took some balls to come here alone, I don't know if I buy all this talk of your being Exalt, but you've shown more courage then Murza and your a Kaiderin' Adasha said with a tone laced with grudging respect

'What now?' i ask exhaling in relief


'Now? now I go and personally execute every last one of those filthy peasant handlers' she says turning and walking towards the gate

Her aide signs something too quickly for me to fully make out but I assume he is signalling 'General...isn't there something you are forgetting?'

She stops and groans in annoyance before turning back and walking towards me irritably and kneeling 'Long live Sabhrain Na Kevsha, Exalt Empress of Astragon, my sword is yours to command and my life yours to spend! Long Live the Exalt' she says in flawless Hailakaid

Cheers soon fill the evening air as soldiers rush from their positions to kneel before me, some Kaiderin reach out to touch the hem of my coat as I pass. I turn to see Fazzah sitting slumped in the jeep with a cigarette in hand and a look of visible exhaustion on his face, I suppose it was a close call all things considered.

But now, Debasha is mine and with it, central Astragon, the importance of this site cannot be overstated, the way to the Capital is clear now. I am coming for you Murza and my visit will not be a kind one.











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Chapter 29: Moribund

Ministry of Interior, Bayyah Na Tyrooz, Capital of Astragon


The room was silent save for the naval officer giving the briefing, the map was a sea of marked circles and icons all converging on the capital. The officer to advancing armies, lost cities and defecting units with disturbing calmness, but everyone in the room knew what was happening, the coup had failed.

'The Iraelian forces have seized large sections of the south but our primary threat is the advancing rebel forces from the central provinces' he said pointing at the several threatening crimson arrows on the map

'Our forces at Debasha should be enough to keep them pinned' Murza said dismissively

A nervous silence filled the room as the penny dropped, the admiral really did not know about Debasha. He was a pitiful sight by this point, sleepless nights and endless meetings had lent the once confident Murza a dishevelled, crazed appearance. His uniform, typically a pristine white was now marked in countless places with stains and dust and his eyes were like two sickly looking orbs regarding the world with a paranoid glare.

The officer paused and seem to stare at the map blankly for a time before speaking, his brow began to show the film of sweat as he did 'Sir, Debasha fell to the rebels yesterday...General Sedhain appears to have defected to the side of Sabhrain Na Kevsha'

Hearing this Murza rose unsteadily to his feet, the chair slamming onto the ground with a clatter as it fell back. He glared at the assembled room was an accusatory expression, as though his betrayer was hiding amongst them. officers, oil executives and intelligence officers all stared at the ground in fear.

'Everywhere I turn I am greeted by traitors and defeatism! Not a single person in this room has the courage to do what I ask!!!!' Murza roared all decorum lost in his rage

Everyone remained silent, fearful of the regent's ire, he paced the room angrily, it had developed from an occasional habit into a ubiquitous part of the regimes daily meetings. Murza turned and regarded the room with an exhausted look.

'Hushen and Deklah stay, everyone else out, Now!' he said wearily

The room emptied as a relieved mass of officials promptly vacated the briefing room. Hushen and Deklah stood alone in the dimly lit room, Murza regarded them with a stern look.

'This city must be punished for its weakness, I want our militia to begin hunting down and purging anyone who has wronged the regime, defeatists, cowards, closet monarchists, all will be purged!' Murza said in a low, icy tone

Hushen scratched his neck before answering 'My lord, the public is already turning against us! further acts by our forces could tip them into open revolt!' he protested in a shaking voice

'You stuttering coward! The people have forgotten fear, they have forgotten the price for sedition! You will remind them!' Murza snarled from gritted teeth

'And what of the menials!? how can we guarantee they will be any more loyal then the Kaiderin were!?'

'Simple minister, they have more to lose, remind them that I am offering them freedom, dangle it like a treasure in front of them and if they resist still, remind them of the horrors Sabhrain will unleash in retribution' he said in a low sinister voice

'And you Deklah' Murza said turning his attention to the scarred assassin

'Yes, admiral?' Deklah replied

'You will gather my forces and purge this city of traitors' Murza said matter-factly

'What of the advancing army!?' Hushen blurted out his voice near whimpering in tone

'We will make this city into a tomb for the invaders, fortify every building, put a gun in the hands of every menial and blockade every street, we will defeat these invaders if we have to drown them in our own blood!' Murza replied coldly, his expression utterly emotionless

'You must consider an exit plan sir! the chances of us holding this city are slim to none with our current forces!' Hushen yelled in a fearful voice

'Deklah hold the minister down' Murza said calmy

Deklah obeyed and grabbed the screaming minister and pinned him to the table, his fat face crashed into the map of Astragon cracking the glass. Murza reached for a pistol and cocked it before advancing upon Hushen's restrained form.

'You see this' Murza said pointing to the loaded handgun 'old eight-shot revolver, it was a gift from Sakard himself' Murza said before pressing the weapon to Hushen's temple

Hushen began to weep like a scared girl as he felt the cold steel press against his skull. Murza sighed and slapped the man across the face with the pistol, teeth and blood sprayed across the table as he did so.

'Pull him up!' he said with a grin as Deklah once again pinned the mewling security minister against the table

'Sakard had a theory, that all titles are simply a representation of power, that we are all deep down the same, only one thing separates the worthy from the dregs...do you know what that is Hushen? hmm?' Murza asked mockingly

'N-nooo, please don't do this!' Hushen begged

Murza pulled the trigger, it clicked inconclusively as he did so, Hushen began to weep uncontrollably as Murza slammed the pistol on the table and grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt.

'The difference minister is action, those who are worthy act and those who do not remain in their lowly roles, the gun was not loaded this time, disappoint me again and it will be, now go before I change my mind!' Murza said nodding to Deklah who released the sobbing minister, Hushen rushed from the room his grey pants soiled by a long streak.

Murza sat back down and regarded Deklah with a curious expression 'the fool needed extra motivation, think nothing of it, now go and deal with the traitors' he said dismissing Deklah

Murza stared at the flickering screen that served as the table bound map of Astragon and grinned maniacally, he still held the capital and he intended to make it a death trap to bury an entire army in. He was so wrapped up in his delusional fantasy he did not notice the slightest hint of something catastrophic on Deklah's features as he left, doubt.






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Bayyah Na Goshabis, southern Astragon

The Iraelian invasion of Muza-controlled Astragon had been uneven. Kaiderin forces had willingly joined the Iraelians against Muza, the Menials recruited into militias had deserted their posts. Many pro-Muza forces had simply been too overwhelmed to offer much resistance.

And none of that mattered to Isai Raanan as he fought his way onto the docks of Bayyah Na Goshabis. The sky was on the fire as the zooming of Iraelian jets overhead was followed by the eras-shattering explosions of their targets.
Bayyah Na Goshabis was a central staging areas Muza's navy in the south. And that was the problem. Muza's navy. He was an Admiral himself, and the Navy by and large had remained loyal to the Regent. And that meant resistance. Marines loyal to Muza fought tooth and nail, even as their air cover was shot out of the sky around them. Naval vessels burned in the harbour as Etgar Gonen offered him a hand to help him up onto the docks. They could both smell the gasoline burning, and the smoke from the bombings. The shelling echoed in the distance, the sound of the Iraelian Army approaching by ground, trapping Muza's Marines and militia in the city.

"You alright?" Etgar asked as Isai nodded.
"Ok, come on."

The two moved through the docks, Iraelian transport craft landing at the few docks Muza's Marines hadn't managed to detonate.
"We're pushing into the Harbour District!" Etgar yelled as he waved for his friend to follow. Isai ran after him. Etgar wasn't as easily overwhelmed by combat as he was, but he was the only soldier in this whole Shaddai-damned invasion he knew from home. The sunny, smoke-filled harbours of Bayyah Na Goshabis might as well have been a world away from the snow-capped mountains and villages of Mishkanulsa back in northern Iraelia despite the geographical proximity.

"Nice of you mountain boys to join us" Sgt. Netsach Telem grunted as Isai and Etgar approached.
"Now that we're all here" he grunted, "we have a job to do. There's a barricade just beyond this cluster of buildings. We move quick, we avoid civilian casualties if possible, and we secure the enemy position. Show these sons of bitches what Iraelian marines are made of! I don't want to be standing here while the Shaddai-damned Army captures their objectives before we do! Move out!"

The next two minutes....
What could describe the next two minutes? More zooms from above....the deafening explosions on the ground....fire....Sgt. Telem calling in barrages from a battleship off the coast...Isai could see the enemies, just within the barricade, manning the machines guns...he could see the blood splatter from one as he fell, one of his comrades going to help before his CO pulled him up to keep up the suppressing fire.

Isai was shaking as smoke filled his nostrils. Now the enemy CO was dead...Sgt. Talem motioning them to move forward, the buildings and glass...the stones that made up the street stained with the smoke of artillery fire. And just then one word echoed through his mind that shook him from the trance of combat.
"GRENADE!"

The explosion dazed him, even as he ducked for cover behind a car. The dust was and smoke only added to a daze as he rolled onto his back. The ringing in his ears its own sort of trance, only broken by the emergence of an angry face, the face of an Astragon Marine. He dove at him with a knife as Isai dodged, wrestling with him as he flung him into a car before drawing his Setkyn. He drove the curved blade, a weapon of the Betar Yihuddi people, into the Astrogan Marine's chest, his own heat racing. The man breathed for another moment, but said nothing before he passed on. Isai pulled it from his chest, walking like a zombie to Etgar's body, dropping to his knees.

"Etgar, Etgar..." he didn't move. The grenade blast had taken him.
"Sarge!" he called out, but Sgt. Talem's body lay there. Along with the rest of his squad.
"Shaddai...Shaddai..." he gasped, dragging his friend to the enemy's barricade. He collapsed on his knees, seeing every one of Muza's Marines dead. He looked back, to the slumped body of the man he'd killed behind the car. A man he saw helping his comrade not too long ago...and he'd killed him.
Shaking, he grabbed the radio from Etgar's body.

"Command, S-916 Zeta reporting...position secured...over."

"Confirmed, over."

The radio dropped from Isai's hand as he collapsed against the barricade, sobbing softly as city was successfully taken.
 
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Chapter 30: All The Regent's Hyena's

'If you want to judge a society, give its lowest guns and see who they shoot'
-Kayah Luwade

Bayyah Na Tyrooz, The Old City, Capital of Astragon

The old city better resembled a necropolis then a city for the living. Once vibrant streets stood empty the only sound emanating from them the heavy downpour of rain and the unceasing boom of speakers delivering announcements.

'All citizens are required to comply with any instructions given by officers of the prefect corps or members of the civil militia, failure to obey orders issued by authorities is a treasonable offense punishable by death, long live Regent Murza!' A booming voice declared in a looped broadcast.

The old city was under lockdown, checkpoints blocked every road and armed men sporting blue armbands and old rifles prowled the plazas and boulevards like predatory dogs seeking prey. The militiamen reveled in their new power, men who had been confined to slums or prisons mere weeks earlier now had run of the city.

Many sported gang tattoos and patchwork uniforms, they strutted around the roads in menacing groups with their weapons drawn and ready to point in the face of anyone unlucky enough to meet them. An old man and a young girl walked nervously towards one such checkpoint, it was the only access point leading into a cluster of working-class neighborhoods that thousands called home.

Seeing the old man approach a militiaman in blue navy overalls with torn-off sleeves held up his rifle and pointed it squarely at the would-be passerby's

'Halt! Present your papers, Now!' He yelled

The old man hastily produced papers, one set for himself and the other for the girl. The Militiaman snatched the identification cards from the old mans shaking hands and thumbed through them disinterestedly, the militiaman threw the papers to the floor.

'Pick those up' he said with a poisonous smirk

The old man reached down to grab the papers only for the militiaman to seize him by the collar and glare at him angrily.

'Not you! I want her to do it!' he said licking his lips perversely

'Sir there's really no nee...' The old man attempted to protest, a smack in his gut from the militiaman's rifle caused him to double over in pain

'You speak when I tell you to you old fool! YOU Pick those papers up NOW!' he barked pointing to the young girl

She reached down as the militiamen let out foul whistles and ugly laughter, the papers were soaked in grime and rainwater as she gathered them up and put them in her coat pocket.

'Do you love your regent old man?' the militiaman asked mockingly as he hauled the elder from the floor

'Yes of course! long life to our regent!' the old man repeated in a practiced voice

'Hmmm, I'm not convinced, why don't you say it 30 times!'

'Excuse me?' The old man replied incredulously

'You heard me greyhead! Say what you just said 30 times!' the militiaman snarled

The old man was forced to repeat his words in increasingly louder tones as he was egged on by laughing militiamen. After the 30th utterance, the now sweating elder was finally allowed to stop.

'Good enough, you can go now' The militiaman replied dismissively, his fun concluded

As the old man was helped through the checkpoint by the young girl the militiaman stared with lustful eyes 'Maybe ill see you again soon' he said menacingly as they passed

As they entered the street they looked up to see a grisly sight, several young teenagers with signs tied around their necks swayed eerily from lamposts. The signs read 'i am a traitor' and 'i was hung for vandalism' and their skin had already begun to bloat and discolor as they hovered above.

'This is wrong! how can they do this to their own people's Hailadain*?' the girl asked her voice a mixture of disbelief and anger

'There's no one to tell them not to child, as long as they do Murza's bidding he won't lift a finger to stop them' the old man replied sadly

The girl looked at her elder with a worried eye, he hobbling after the cruel treatment he had received at the hands of the checkpoint guards, why were they in such a dangerous neighborhood?

'You're hurt Haildain, we can stop if yo...'

'Im fine Ubasha*, it will take more than some arrogant prick with a gun to finish me off' the old man replied with a slight grin

He was a tough old dog, he had always told Ubasha that life's trouble was nothing compared with what he experienced in Iraelia. But he was nearly seventy now and age was beginning to take its toll.

'Why are we even here? we've never traveled this far from the apartment before?' Ubasha asked nervously

'Meeting an old friend' the old man with a slight wink

That left Ubasha with more questions than answers but she did not press the issue any further, they needed to get indoors and away from the thugs stalking the streets. they came to a large apartment building and took the stairs up.

It was an old tenement, the sort that had been popular during the '20s when they were brand new. Nowadays such complexes were rundown reminders of the slow decay eating through much of the old city. The majority of tenants had moved to New City years ago, now it was just the old, the destitute and people who needed to hide.

They came to a rusty apartment door, the old man pressed a mildew stained doorbell which buzzed weakly. The door opened slightly and a big man peered through the crack

'Korbah?! come in' the man said his voice booming as he unlocked the door and let them through

Korbah and Ubasha entered a dirty one-room apartment, the sink was full of takeaway and dirty dishes and a stale smell of smoke clung to their nostrils as they walked inside. The doorman was a giant, his forked beard and bulging arms giving him an air of menace, but his eyes were kind brown orbs with a warm expression, Ubasha got the impression she was amongst friends.

Another man sat in the rooms sole couch, a torn leather affair, polishing weapon parts as he hummed a tune badly. He was slighter then the first man, bald and wholly unremarkable save for the focused expression in his eyes as he worked.

'Nana oh Nana, I had a little Nana from Tlaakatland it came, Nana Oh Nana, Potassium is thy name...Nana oh Na..' the man hummed an old banana commercial out of tune until he was interrupted by the bigger man

'Fashal enough! I've got that bloody song stuck in my head now!' Kazah growled in annoyance

'Kazah, Who's this?' Fashal answered ignoring his colleagues irritance

'Colonel Fazakh Korbah' Kazah replied respectfully

'Im retired kazah, Korbah will do just fine' Korbah replied brushing off the unwieldy title

'Its a pleasure colonel, but why did Kazah let you in without so much as a pat-down and what are you here for?' Fashal asked

Korbah grinned his dentures glittering as he did so, scratched his beard thoughtfully before speaking.

'I am retired from the military as I said, but I keep myself busy with other patriotic endeavors, intelligence gathering doesn't require me to be young after all' Korbah replied cryptically

'So your Shavashkaid*?' Fashal asked bluntly

'I operate a major network of intelligence gatherers in the city, I've been keeping tabs on the navy at Sabhrain Na Kevsha's request' Korbah replied conversationally

The Shavashkaid had countless cells across Astragon and Eras, military intelligence often relied on these assets working unaware of one another in order to preserve wider secrecy. It was not uncommon for cells to be based in the same city and never know the other existed unless necessary. Clearly, it had become necessary for Korbah to reveal himself.

'Vekshah I presume' Korbah said with a knowing smile

'How do you know my code name?' Fashal asked in a surprised voice

'Our mutual commander saw fit to reveal it to me' Korbah replied with a wink

'Ibis?' Fashal asked

'The one and the same' Korbah replied nodding

Ibis, the mysterious contact that had first leaked the Tyrooz briefs existence to Sabhrain, he had remained hidden in order to protect himself. As the war now began to turn in Sabhrain's favor it seemed Ibis was finally ready to come out of the shadows.

'I have one last piece of intelligence to share with you, but first, I need you to do something for me' Korbah said his tone suddenly firm

'What do you need?' Fashal asked

'Get my granddaughter of this city' Korbah replied his tone urgent

'I know a way, it will be done' Fashal said with a nod

'Good, see that you do it promptly, this city is no longer safe' Korbah replied approvingly

'Now, what's the intel?' Fashal asked excitedly

'My sources in the admiralty have made contact with a high profile defector, he has information on the city defenses that could make taking the capital far less bloody, I will send you the details when my charge is safely out of this city' Korbah said

It was a tall order, getting anything in or out of the capital was becoming increasingly difficult now that the majority of the country was in Sabhrain's hands. Checkpoints were growing ever more stringent and the recent fall of Goshabis to the Iraelians had further tightened security in the capital, nonetheless, any intelligence offered by Ibis was worth the risk.

'Okay, this defector got a name?' Fashal asked

'Deklah' Korbah replied his tone suggesting that name belonged to someone important

Ubasha watched as the two men conversed, it all seemed unbelievable, the guns, the spy talk and even the fact that both younger men referred to her grandfather by his first name. It was as though she was meeting Korbah for the first time, she did not know this side of her Grandfather, but it seemed she would have to trust him.

Outside the announcements began to blare again, Ubasha thought back to the thugs at the checkpoint, suddenly leaving the city sounded like a rather attractive prospect.








*Grandfather in Hailesha
*Unity in Hailesha, a popular first name
* 'Shadow kin' in Hailesha, Astragonese Military Intelligence
​
 
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Chapter 31: Final Preparations I

'From salt scented Tyrooz I sail, across the Meterran sea, to ports of call both near and far I go always longing for thee, to rose sweet Savona and sun-drenched Santes I sail, will I see you again my love? oh, when will that be?'
-Sedhain era poem

Bayyah Na Tyrooz, The Old City, Capital of Astragon

Shahvekis beach was pitch black, save for a few dimly lit streetlamps that cast their glittering silhouette on the lapping waves below. Kazah breathed in deeply, taking in the melange of scents, sand, seaweed, salt, camel shit and the wood smoke from the fire he had lit as a signal.

In response a small raft descended into the shallows and made for the beach, the shadowy outline of a tugboat loomed over the tiny vessel as it approached. Kazah turned to his young charge and motioned with a finger for her to be silent, he dropped his pack to the ground and produced a small pouch from his belt.

'Wait here and stay exactly where you are, these types do not take well to sudden movements' Kazah said in a gentle but firm tone

Three tall figures were already ashore, their faces were covered by hooded fur cloaks and beneath them, they concealed menacing type 58's, they raised the weapons slightly at Kazah's approach. He held the poach and his hands in front of him as he stopped.

'Password?!' a rough accented woman's voice demanded sternly

'Adder ferries peacock' he replied immediately

They lowered their weapons, the figure closest to Kazah lowered her hood revealing a woman's face. A scar ran along her right cheek giving her a hardened look and a red adder tattoo flowed across her neck, she had short-cropped hair and her green eyes held an expression that was positively lethal.

'Good, I take it that's the payment?' the woman said pointing to the pouch in Kazah's hand

'Mondabaland diamonds, all unmarked, there's another waiting for you when the task is completed' Kazah said holding out the pouch

The scarred woman took the pouch and opened it, the diamonds inside glittered like stars in the gloom. She closed the pouch and passed it to one of the other women, then she returned her gaze to Kazah. She nodded approvingly.

'hmmm you Kaiderin are easy to deal with, your words can trust, we will deliver your little cub' she said as Kazah motioned for Ubasha to come forward

Ubasha walked towards Kazah, she felt her heart pounded as she saw the armed strangers, their forms were sinister in the evening dark and she was reminded vaguely of the stories of Vekshah* that her nanny had used to scare her into compliance. Kazah retrieved his pack and knelt in front of her, he retrieved a small satchel from the cavernous innards of his pack and passed it to her.

'There are a day's rations in there, this boat will take you to Rushere* when you get there a man named Majolah will meet you on the wharf, tell him Kazah sent you'

'Thank you Kazah, before I go can I ask you a question?' Ubasha asked hesitantly

'As long as it's one I can answer quickly' Kazah replied with a grin

'You recognized my grandfather by face and name when we met?' Ubasha asked curiously

'I served under colonel Korbah for ten years, he saved my life more times than can count, I would recognize his face anywhere' Kazah replied reverently

'And now you're saving his granddaughter' she replied with a slight smile

'Indeed, but you need to get on the boat now child, don't worry you'll be home in no time' he said motioning for her to head for the raft

The tall scarred woman helped her into the raft and the motor fired up, they sped away from the beach, Kazah's shadow fading quickly into the darkness. Ubasha gazed at the woman sitting in front of her, her pale skin and unusual tattoos made her seem almost alien to Ubasha. There were plenty of pale-skinned people in Astragon, Valan, tourists and the occasional immigrant, but this tall stranger was like none she had ever seen.

'Why do you stare child, never seen an Essalanean before?' the woman said sternly as she noticed Ubasha staring

'Not really' she replied meekly

'Well in my culture we do not stare, that usually means you are sizing someone up for a fight and I dare say little Kaiderin, you would be an easy kill' the woman replied with a smirk

Ubasha felt her heart pound like hammer blows 'How did you know I was kaiderin?' she asked in a shaking voice

'I could spot your type a mile away, always walking with purpose, no small talk and come to think of it no sense of humor either' she said with a chuckle

'I have a sense of humor!' Ubasha protested

'Ha, so you do have some spine! we shall see little cub, I am Heva of clan Kimbri, what is your name?'

Ubasha had never met an Essalanean, the stories she did hear were always either romantic tales of free-spirited plains people or horror stories involving unwashed savages, she wasn't sure either fit the woman sitting in front of her'

'Im Ubasha Na Korbah, granddaughter of colonel Fazakh Na Korbah' she said trying to sound determined

'Well met little Kaiderin, if you pull your weight, do as I say and listen to my advice we shall have you safely to Rushere in a day' Heva said her tone softening into a warm, amused voice

'What about the navy patrols?' Ubasha asked apprehensively

'Haven't you heard? Goshabis fell two days ago courtesy of your Iraelian friends, the fools guarding this bay won't waste what little fuel they have chasing one little tug, besides it takes a lot to catch a sea-adder' she said with a dismissive wave of her hand

Bayyah Na Goshabis, the biggest port outside of the capital, were the Iraelians really so close? Ubasha felt something suddenly that she had not for many months, Hope. Ahead the tug boat loomed over their tiny raft, the vessel that would spirit her away from the capital had the words 'Sea Serpent' emblazoned in red on the side of the prow.

'Thank you Hailadain, may Kaidain keep you safe, may he allow us to meet again' She thought as she uttered a silent prayer, soon the lights of the city began to fade and the cold darkness of the Meterran sea beckoned



*Night Demons
*A small fishing town along the border with Iraelia ​
 
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Chapter 32: Final Preparations II

Bayyah Na Tyrooz, The Temple of Danis, Capital of Astragon

The temple of Danis loomed on the horizon a vast dome crowned by four spires that speared the night sky. You could tell something was wrong in the city, the night was humid but every building Fashal passed had its windows shuttered. People were happy to bear the wretched heat if it meant shutting out the world beyond their windows.

Fashal moved through deserted streets his boots echoing on the old cobbles, the temple of Danis stood like a lonely citadel in the midst of a sea of old buildings. Nestled on the hill of prophets the temple was one of the most sacred Shaddaist sites in Iteria, eclipsed only in size and importance by the temple in Adonai-Jireh. Generations of Shaddaists had knelt here in prayer and no less than two dynasties had called Danis their personal place of worship, the temple was intertwined with the very soul of the city.

Even Murza's most brazen thugs had not dared to invade the sacred precincts, to do so would have all but guaranteed a rebellion of 40 million angry Shaddaists. Murza's reluctance to anger the Shaddaist community worked to Sabhrain's advantage, her agents had taken full advantage of Murza's blindspot, all manner of covert action now occurred under the cover of the temple precincts.

Now Fashal would utilize the holy ground to chip away even further at the regents failing grip on power. Korbah's information had been expensive, the Kimbri smugglers had charged a small fortune to smuggle his granddaughter out of the city, but now that information might deliver the capital into Sabhrains hands. A defector awaited within the temple, a high ranking one at that if this Deklah provided the right information a killing blow against Murza would be far easier.

He entered the temple and was immediately struck by the immensity of the place, the domed ceiling towered over the hundreds of pews below as though it were the very heavens. The sandy-colored walls and pillars were almost entirely covered by ancient engravings depicting scripture or recounting history. Electric light glittered against vast stained glass windows of crimson and emerald and in the center of the dome on raised dais stood the lectern where the Gadol himself held ceremony.

The book of tribes, Astragonese Shaddaism's most sacred tome rested on the lectern partially open, the ancient vellum was sheathed in gold with inlaid jewels, only the Mikrah was more treasured by Shaddaists in the Exalted Empire. Fashal for his part maintained an air of respect, Kaidainists and Shaddai had existed alongside one another for countless millennia, in Astragon the two faiths were as two hands of the same body.

Seated near the front row of pews was a giant of a man, his navy blue fatigues making him stick out like a sore thumb. Fashal approached and quietly settled into the pew next to the large stranger.

'The weather is poor this time of year' the stranger said softly

'Indeed but the skies are blue in Saintonage' Fashal replied

'Who comes up with this nonsense!?' Fashal thought irritably

'You were sent by our mutual friend?' the man asked calmly as he turned to regard Fashal

He was a sight and not a pretty one, a vast burn scar ran down the left side of his face from his scalp to his neck and on the right side, his cheek was held together by crude stitching. He had sad brown eyes and his close-cropped hair caused all attention to be drawn towards his mutilated features. He was possibly the ugliest man that Fashal had ever met.

Fashal nodded 'They said you were willing to negotiate, level with me though, why now?' Fashal replied quizzically

'Hmmm I suppose that is the question....when Murza recruited me he had a vision for a better world, a place where menials like me would finally have the right to be more than indentured labor, I believed him, I was ready to die for that dream' Deklah said pausing

'What changed?' Fashal asked quizzically

'Murza did, too many compromises, too many orders that crossed lines, he'd rather turn this city into a funeral pyre then admit defeat' Deklah said in a weary voice

'So, how do you propose we solve this problem?' Fashal asked

'Murza is beyond saving, but my people can still be spared' Deklah said, his tone resigned to the fact he had just given up on his former master

'The city is crawling with Murza's thugs, naval units, civil militia...this is going to be a bloodbath when the Kaiderin assault begins, not an environment conducive to mercy' Fashal replied skeptically

'That's why I'm here, I'm putting my life and that of every menial in Bayyah Na Tyrooz in the hands of your empress, I will give you the information regarding Murza's troop deployments and order of battle...and when the time comes I will call on the civil militia to stand down' Deklah said in a determined tone

'You think they will?' Fashal asked not convicned

'The criminal elements, the fanatics, and the murderers are all too drunk on their power to do so, but I guarantee the majority of militiamen are just scared draftees forced to hold a rifle if I give them a chance to save their lives they will take it' Deklah replied his tone suggesting he pitied the impressed militiamen

'How do I know I can trust you? that this isn't some last-ditch scheme by the coup to kill more loyalists?' Fashal said his tone almost accusing

'Simple, I have nothing to gain from siding with Murza, the man has lost all reason! he held a gun to the minister of internal securities head just the other day for Shaddai's sake!' Deklah said his weary voice indicating he was no longer surprised or even shocked by his former masters insanity

'I would have liked to have seen that' Fashal said with a smirk

'Whipping his own trained dog, Murza really is getting desperate' Fashal thought with no small amount of amusement

It was a gamble to be sure, but something about the defector seemed genuine and if he was telling the truth then Murza was willing to sacrifice his entire army just to spite the enemy. Fashal pondered the situation, Even if it was a lie there was little chance of Murza turning the tables now, it was just a question of time and how many people would die before the end. If this man could make the final tally of death smaller it would be worth the risk.

'Very well' Fashal said with an affirmative nod 'I am placing my trust in you' he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small phone which he passed to Deklah

'What's this?' Deklah asked regarding the mobile with a skeptical look

'Encrypted phone, when I message you will do what you have promised' Fashal said wagging a finger at Deklah for emphasis

'So now we have a bloody Marousian horse... let's hope he's genuine' Fashal thought grimly

'One more thing' he said giving Deklah a stern look 'If you are lying or intend to try some last-minute betrayal, I can guarantee your head will roll, are we clear?' he asked in a firm voice

'Crystal' Deklah replied sincerely

Fashal smiled and got up to leave, outside it had begun to rain, he walked now cold streets and felt a chill run down his spine, the enormity of it all hit him as he stopped to regard the city below the hill. Soon the war would arrive here and when it did death would follow, he hoped that his actions had done something to save lives.









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Chapter 33: Of Things Past

Elsewhere

A place familiar and yet not, a blazing sun bright and yet icy cold, I recognize the worn stone walls and twisting obsidian statues of my family estate, but this place is something different, an imperfect mirror. The gate is open, the tribal warriors and lions engraved on the ornate doors seem to twist and move as I pass them by. He waits there at the end of the hallway, his back is turned but I recognize the leopard skin sash and ornate black and red uniform instantly.

'You are nearing the end my child' a familiar and yet strangely distorted voice echoes

The figure turns and I behold a face I have not seen for decades, same warm but weary expression, the same balding comb-over, the same deep brown eyes that watched me take my first steps. I struggle to find the words, but they come as though pulled from me by unseen hands.

"Father...is this real' i ask apprehensively

'Real? do you mean am I a figment of a tired mind? hmmm, a memory run amok? a specter come to greet you from beyond?' he replies cryptically

'Are you real?' i ask again still unsure what is occuring

'My child reality is a tenuous concept, a better question would be what does it matter which of those things I am? you will believe whatever you choose to in regard to my veracity and the exchange will play out the same regardless' he says in a calm voice

So strange to be here, in this bizarre lucid netherworld, to hear his voice alive and flowing through the air as sure as it did when he still drew breath. Perhaps my father's shade has come to visit me? perhaps my mind is wandering after so many sleep-deprived days. The apparition is correct though, it does not truly matter, to hear my fathers voice again is a miracle regardless of the source.

'I miss you' i say in a mournful tone

'I should never have gotten on that boat, Vasha and I had hoped to give you a peaceful life, for that, I am eternally sorry' he said in a lamenting tone

'You were murdered, father! I never blamed you!' i blurt out horrified by his admission

'And yet I regret my decision, all the same, I am proud of the woman you have become...Exalt of Astragon no less...but I had hoped to see you happier...to see you smile...fate has elected you its pawn and the path seems to have left you so much colder' he observed a slight hint not so much of disappointment as resignation

The night they died a part of my soul fled with them, I vividly remember hiding under my bed and refusing to face the world. That experience, to have everything taken from you and to be so utterly powerless, I never forgot it and I have spent my entire life attempting to prevent anyone from leaving me similarly powerless. The shade is correct, little of the joyous child I was survived, the being that emerged from that bed two days after was more creature then wain...

With a focus I did not know I had I grew from scared child to vengeful adolescent, every trial and challenge I overcame with a cold intensity and a seemingly endless determination to become stronger. I passed the Kaiderin trials at 15, killed my first enemy the following year, by 18 I bore the ornate blade of a commissioned officer. And always my path was dogged by two fearful hounds, revenge and fear, I wanted nothing more than to punish any who had taken my family from me. However more than that, I wanted to ensure that no one could ever find a vulnerability in me that they might exploit.

Had my entire path up to this point been that of the scared child that hid under that bed? It is academic now, I am who I am, I am Sabhrain Na Kevsha and if I must be cold and calculating to save my people then so be it. The shade regards me, those sorrowful eyes fixing upon me and sending a shiver down my spine.

'If only things had been different my little morningstar, but perhaps this was always your destiny, those born on auspicious hours are often bound to auspicious fates' He said sadly

Astragon does not have a zodiac, we mark the omens of birth by gazing at the sky. By the height of the sun or the passage of night, we pass judgment upon the lives of those newly born. I was born at the height of dawn, I am told the sun was almost blinding as I took my first breath and wailed loudly to announce my arrival. I never did put much stock in it all but my father, his priests and courtiers alike all took it is a sign that a glorious destiny awaited me.

'My darling Sabhra, peacock, and manticore both, you are the last of us' He said solemnly

Father, mother, uncle, aunt and even my cousin Razad...all gone...

'We thought to shape the world into a better form and it responded by breaking us each in its turn, you have a chance to do what we could not, to make Astragon a better place' he says his voice hopeful

'I never wanted this' i reply in a cracked voice

'I know, but greatness seldom takes our desires into account' he replied in a comforting tone

Around me the world begins to crack and break apart, streams of blinding white light flow through the cracks and my father's shade becomes harder to make out as everything falls into bright oblivion.

"WILL I SEE YOU AGAIN!' I yell fearfully

'Perhaps my child, but first you have to wake up' his words echo as my world is flooded by light

***************************************************************************

The Waking World

Debasha Airforce base, Central Astragon


I open my eyes and groan as I sit up and regard the room around me, my quarters at Debasha are a mess of papers and equipment, I regard the screen in front of me with a frown. Falling asleep at the desk is a rare lapse for me and yet perhaps that strange dream was worth the impromptu slumber. A message in blue lettering flows across the screen.

'Empress Kevsha,

The 9th Fleet stands with your rightful cause, even now we journey home across the Meterran sea when your assault on the capital begins, know that there are those in the navy who recognize the true ruler of this nation.

Yours Faithfully
Rear Admiral Naisha Na Jomosh'

My memory begins to return, a long night of co-ordinating resistance forces, allied armies, and my own regiments had evidently proven too long. We are finally ready to advance on the capital, and as my father's shade was right to point out, I now have a chance to make things better, starting with the removal of the vile conspiracy that nests in my capital.

'Is everything alright your Exalt?' Fazzah asks as he knocks on my door

'Im fine Fazzah, please enter' i reply trying not to sound like I have just woken up

My aide de camp opens the door and stands there regarding the mess that clutters my otherwise bare quarters.

'Another all-nighter ma'am?' he asks with a knowing smile

'Mmmm, overthrowing tyrants requires many sacrifices, sleep being the least of them' i reply as I stand and reach for a cigarette which I light with a practiced hand

'I've received word from our agents in the capital, we have the support of a prominent defector, their entire order of battle has been laid bare' Fazzah said excitedly

Good, the cracks are now becoming genuine breaches, soon there won't be anything left to prop up Murza's illegitimate coup, and I intend to tear apart the remaining foundations long before decay can finish the snake and his brood off.

'Have all the preparations for mobilization been completed?' i ask gazing out the window at the sea of tents and armor in the yard below. I came south with 30,000 men and now I command over 200,000, I pray it will be enough to seize the capital.

'Yes Ma'am, the men await your command to begin their advance' Fazzah replied enthusiastically

'Good, inform the command staff to have the men ready to leave by 0400 hours, and Fazzah?' i say fixing him with a firm stare

'Yes, ma'am?' he replies his tone curious

'Tell the commanders to assemble the men in the square below, I would speak with them before we embark' i say stubbing out my cigarette

He salutes and turns with practiced grace to leave and carry out my orders. I am alone once more, in a few hours my forces will leave this place and begin the greatest land offensive within Astragon since the Fascist war*, but first, I need a shower, it wouldn't do for the men to see their exalt in my current state.


*Sakard Valdishah defeated the Na Themba Fascist state with an army of some 300,000 at the battle of Kosh Kosad


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Chapter 34: The Approach

Debasha Airbase, Central Astragon
0300 Hours


The Parade ground is a sea of humanity, untold thousands stand with their gaze fixed upon the balcony above. Kaiderin stand in perfect drill, weapons shouldered, uniforms immaculate, an endless line of blades and rifles extends across the enormous concourse. Banners from countless regiments flow in the sluggish breeze that accompanies the gloom of the early morning.

Standard bearers carry ancient icons of war aloft, golden leopards, blood-skulls, burning blades and hundreds more are visible amidst the mass of armed men and women, they rise unfurled above their regiments their ancient totems promising menace and bloodletting as they glitter in the spotlights.

A horn sounds and officers bark commands 'Kaiderin come to attention!' hundreds of authoritative voices roar, a sound like a thunderclap follows as tens of thousands of boots snap into place with practised grace.

a low wind flows across the parade caressing stoic faces with its chill fingers, silence follows and it is agonisingly long. All eyes wait with torturous expectation hoping to be the first to catch a glimpse of her. Finally, two red uniformed bodyguards stride through the balcony entrance and stand at attention with their swords shouldered, another horn plays loudly, its noise booms across the plains.

She emerges as a vision, her uniform is not the formal attire of a general but the camouflaged battle dress of the common soldier, that wins many hearts as it is seen. She walks with slow easy grace towards the balcony and regards the army below with a serene expression. Her dark hair is tied in braids and her brow adorned by a simple bronze circlet, her green eyes seem to glitter like polished emerald as she gazes down at her men, it is, of course, a trick of lighting and makeup but it gets the desired effect all the same.

'Loyal Kaiderin' She begins, her booming voice echoing across the parade as all stand in rapt silence

'We stand on the precipice of a new age, today the traitors that have shamed our motherland and held its people to hostage shall meet their richly deserved ends!' She said roaring the last part as cheers rose from the ranks below

'Today we march upon the capital, we come to Tyrooz as liberators, we come to bring an end to the tyrant and his vile coup, the vermin that now huddle behind gilded walls and infest our fair city with their perfidy shall face the wrath of lions! Today we sever the hands of those who would hold a knife to the neck of our motherland! Today we cleanse the filth from our streets in a sea of traitors blood!' Sabhrain draws her sword and holds the blade aloft, it glows in the spotlight as though aflame, all discipline is lost below as soldiers and officers alike roar and cheer wildly

'Loyal Kaiderin! Today I claim my rightful throne! Today we raise high the red banners of bloodletting and march together into the annals of eternal glory! Show no mercy to the traitors! Their blood shall be the sacrifice we heap at the altar of war! Kaidain, Shaddai and the Messiah are with us! with their holy assent, we shall strike the cowards down with the fury of the righteous! Today you march not to war but to immortality!' The cheers boom and surge below

Men and woman raise weapons and wave banners with uncontrollable passion, oaths are sworn and promises yelled as they gaze with awe at the exalt above

'LONG LIVE EMPRESS SABHRAIN!!!'

'KAIDAIN SAVE YOU EXALT!!!'

'DEATH TO MURZA!!!'

'WE SHALL BRING YOU HIS HEAD!!!!'

Sabhrain turns and walks back inside with a grin briefly etched across her face, the bloodletting begins soon.


********************************************************************

Military Highway A1, Bayyah Na Tyrooz, Capital of Astragon

lieutenant commander Ikesha Kalesh gazed at his ragtag force with a disapproving eye, the grand admiral had been stingy with the best personnel and equipment. His orders were to hold the highway against any and all invaders, but the forces at his disposal were woefully inadequate.

ill-disciplined militia with obsolete rifles, light tanks with paper-thin armour and barely 500 marines were all he had been given to stem the tide of invasion, Ikesha had been handed an unwinnable battle if the reports of advancing Kaiderin were to be believed. Though he would never openly admit it he had genuinely considered fleeing, it was a hopeless task and one which would likely end in an unceremonious end.

And yet despite his reservations, he had taken his orders and come to this place complaint, the pull of 20 years of naval service had proven too strong to resist. He thought of what life he would have if he ran, forever wearing the badge of shame that accompanied cowardice and passing that sorrowful mantle to his children. No, he could not run, he was an officer of the Astragonese navy until the end, he had pulled on his best uniform, polished his medals and kissed his wife and children goodbye.

The location he would likely die in was a fortified checkpoint at the exit to the military highway, the outer city lay barely a few miles from his position. They had done their best to make it a defensible position, sandbags and concrete barriers had been placed and the civil militia shoved to the front where they would not easily be able to run. Behind them, his few professional soldiers kept watch, machine-gun posts and assault rifles trained on the horizon and potentially any fleeing militia.

He lifted his binoculars and scanned the road ahead, there was no sign of the enemy, long tracts of grey concrete and overcast sky were all that greeted his observations. He could hear his men chattering on the comms, discipline was becoming lax even among the marines.

'Think those militia idiots will run?' A cynical sounding voice asked with a chuckle

'Im counting on it' a second voice said firmly

'twenty Kashai says they bolt as soon as the shooting starts' the first marine said flippantly

'You're on' the second marine replied calmly

He was about to give the order for radio silence when he heard a noise, something akin to a shriek, he looked up to see something fall from the sky at great speed. The marine next to Ikesha placed a hand on his shoulder ready to pull him to the ground.

'Incoming! Mortar fire!' someone yelled in a terrified voice

'No' Ikesha said as plumes of white shrouded the road in front 'Smoke' he said icily

A light tank pulled forward ready to investigate, it moved down the road at a slow rumble as it advanced towards the smoke. another shriek, something smashed into the front of the light tank and it exploded sending fire and shrapnel in all directions. A black shadow pierced the smoke, Ikesha had just enough time to make out a grinning blood-red skull icon on the front of the armour.

'TANKS!!!' He roared as a Kosh Kosad battle tank smashed aside the ruined light tank and fired

A shell ripped through the sandbags where the militia were holding, dust and gore sprayed upwards as men were reduced to a red mist by the tanks main gun, behind the Kosad countless figures advanced, bullets began to fly from the smoke and rip into the defenders, Kaiderin were advancing.

'Open Fire!!!' Ikesha yelled as his men began to light up, volleys of semi-automatic fire roared and drowned out all sound

A screech tore through the morning air as he looked up to see the black silhouette of a Shrike T30* rushing towards them. A rocket launched from the fighter as it swept past, this time he ducked without thinking. The marine next to him leaping on top of him to shield his commanding officer.

screams erupted only to be extinguished by an earth-shattering explosion, the man that had been shielding Ikesha rolled lifelessly off him as the lieutenant rose, the top of his skull shaven clean off. Ikesha raised his head and was greeted by a scene of utter chaos, men lay dead many with their limbs strewn across the highway, everything was on fire. The Kosh Kasad was raking the survivors with machine-gun fire but it was advancing no further, why?

He heard another shriek and look up to see something else swooping through the sky towards them, a predator drone, the unmanned flight launched a warhead towards Ikesha's position, he had just enough time to mouth a prayer as the death bearing missile descended.

'Shaddai shelter me beneath your wings...' he said wordlessly, then everything was consumed by a sea of fire.

*************************************************************************

The smoke cleared, the checkpoint was in ruins, only fire and the bodies of the dead remained, I reached for the radio

'Area clear, all units advance' I said as troops and armoured vehicles moved down the highway towards the checkpoint, the remains of the enemies armour were strewn about the road, nothing more than burning husks now.

'Get those wrecks off the road!' an officer barked over the comms

Support vehicles rammed into the burning wreckage with their bulldozer ploughs and shoved them unceremoniously off the highway. tanks advanced through the ruined checkpoints, I noted a sickening crunch as we moved across the bodies of the dead.

Above my column, shrikes and assault helicopters zoomed overhead, Murza had sacrificed hundreds of ill-prepared soldiers rather then mount anything more then a token defence, now the way into Bayyah Na Tyrooz was open. I gazed at the towers poking above the hills on the horizon, the capital was within striking distance.


*The Bashadh and Kaska T30 'Shrike' supremacy fighter, notable for its distinctive forward-facing wings.
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Chapter 35: The Battle of the Old City

A Warhawk attack helicopter swooped past the sea of sand-colored buildings below, its rotor whirring menacingly as it passed overhead. A booming voice repeated a looped message that echoed across the rooftops.

'Soldiers of the regent, you are fighting for a tyrant who willingly sends you to certain death! throw down your arms and surrender! all who surrender will be guaranteed honorable treatment and medical aid. Failure to surrender will be met with deadly force!' The command blared loudly as the Warhawk zoomed past

Below Malik Korshad scanned the rooftops as his armored column advanced down the main road, tall Yellowstone tenements loomed either side of the street. Kaiderin infantry advanced in loose formation keeping close to the protection of buildings and tanks. The drive into the old city had been an unpredictable one, sometimes the enemy surrendered without a shot being fired...other times they fought to the last man.

Malik could not help but feel an infectious excitement fill his soul as he sat in the commander's chair of his battle tank. Kaiderin were trained, for one thing, to make war against the Exalt's enemies and while he had long assumed his next battle would be against Skandans, Rafhazanis or even Na Themba he would discharge his duties against the traitor forces with equal zeal. With his one good eye, he glanced something move on a nearby apartment balcony.

'INCOMING!!!' a soldier yelled over the comms as a rocket-propelled grenade shrieked towards the column and tore into the tank in front of Malik's

A powerful explosion rocked the front-most tank sending twisted shrapnel in all directions as a newborn fire kicked up black smoke which stung the eyes and clogged the nostrils with the reek of fuel, blackened metal, and charred flesh. A crewman leapt from the tank screaming as he burned, Malik drew his pistol and shot the man who immediately fell to the floor and continued to burn where he lay.

'Back up the line! get us off this main road!' he yelled as machine-gun fire raked the street from the apartment building

'The Bastards have dug in!' he growled as his tank reversed and crashed through a shop front sending a spray of ruined glass and brickwork crashing to the floor

Malik reached for the radio and switched it to transmit

'Waxbill, this is Leopard actual do you copy!?' Malike said all but yelling into the comms

'Waxbill one receiving loud and clear' A metallic sounding voice replied

'Requesting Fire mission at grid 223, the enemy is dug in on the third floor!' Malik said calling out grid coordinates with practiced calm

'Confirmed Leopard actual, we are thirty seconds out' the pilot replied

The screech of jet engines filled the air, Malik checked his watch...five, four, three, two, one...

'Weapons away!' the pilot announced excitedly

A missile smashed into the floor the enemy had been using and exploded, a sea of fire and debris spilled from the apartment. Smoke streamed out of the crippled building as the fire began to gut the innards of the structure, the enemy fire had ceased.

'convoy regroup, we are pushing into the city center!' Malik said clicking the radio off as his tank accelerated out of the shop and rejoined the advancing line



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Chapter 36: The Battle of the Old City II

Palace of the Exalt, Bayyah Na Tyrooz

The tower of Narkhad* rose above the palace complex like a solitary needle of stone and glass, from this vantage point the entire bay could be surveyed. The mad emperor Narkhad had built the tower using slave labor, thousands had died in its construction. Narkhad had been oblivious to the suffering caused, he was utterly transfixed by his obsessive desire to see the world from the perspective of a living god.

Narkhad got his wish, though not in the way he had thought to, thrown from the towers highest point by the vengeful hands of Towedrah Valdishah*, it was never ascertained whether the fallen emperor had time to revel in the view as he descended. Now in his place, Hushen gazed down at the city below.

Tyrooz was wracked by the wail of air raid sirens, explosions and fire gutted countless spires below, Hushen could make out the spots where the fighting was at its heaviest by the vast trails of black smoke that filled the air. jets screeched past the districts of the old city delivering death via their terrible payloads, gunfire raked the sky as the defenders struggled in vain to hold back the endless aerial onslaught.

Hushen watched, terror gripping tight, he watched as though the world was ending, perhaps it was for him. Murza in his now seemingly permanent state of delusion had left for the internal security building in the government district, he had rambled about wanting to see his victory from close by, he had scoffed at Hushen's desire to remain in the palace.

'Hide behind your gilded walls then! see if they will save you from those who keep watching within!' Murza had snarled before leaving

They were doomed, Hushen knew deep down it was all over, but Hushen forced himself to believe the lie, to believe that everything would be fine. The lies men tell themselves when facing death are often strong enough to defy even the most obvious reality. Murza had chosen to fall into delusion proclaiming loudly that he was leaving to watch his armies crush the loyalists.

'Tides of menials will overwhelm her! and then they shall bring me her head!' Murza had ranted, he could not see how decrepit and crazed he appeared to others

For Hushen's part he chose to believe everything would be fine, he told himself he was resourceful and that he would find some way of escaping. plans were hatched by a fearful brain close to its end, dashes to neutral embassies, daring escapes by plane or boat, pipe dreams all of them. Hushen suddenly felt an unspoken kinship with Narkhad, both men had wanted to observe the world as gods and in that desire, they had been blinded.

*Narkhad I the mad emperor of Astragon
*Towedrah Valdishah, Exalt Captain of Astragon, Raised to the Red following his assasination of Narkhad, became Towedrah I the founder of the Valdishah Dynasty
********************************************************************

Bayyah Na Tyrooz, The Old City

A layer of dust flowed down from the ceiling, dislodged by the impact of a nearby explosion. Fashal brushed it from his shoulder nonchalantly and continued polishing his weapons. Kazah had already finished and was presently strapping on a bulletproof vest, Deklah the would-be turncoat watched both men with a resigned look in his eyes.

'It will be good to fight in the open once more! no more hiding!' Kazah said enthusiastically as he shouldered his rifle and holstered his blade and pistols

It was true, both men had been undercover for weeks, months in Fashal's case, the old Kaiderin lust for battle was becoming unbearable. There would be no more need for hiding now that the empress had come to take her throne, soon they would kill her enemies in the light of day.

'True brother very true, but first' Fashal said pointing to Deklah 'First we take our friend to see the Empress' he said finally holstering his weapon and grinning mischievously at Deklah

"And how do you propose to do that?' Deklah asked with a questioning look

The city was in chaos, streets awash with running battles and fleeing traitors, whole neighborhoods were inaccessible, but they were close enough to imperial forces that it would not matter.

'The Empress is closer then you think, her forces are massing not far from here for the final push which will seize the old town, we will rendezvous with an escort and have you in front of her Exalt in no time, let's hope she's in a good mood' Fashal replied in an ominous tone

Outside the world shook as a missile exploded dangerously close to the apartment, windows shattered across the street and car alarms rang incessantly.

'Time to leave' Fashal muttered rising

The three men headed for the door as the world outside burned.

**************************************************************
Inkatha square, Imperial Staging Area, The Old City

The world reeks of smoke, dust, and fire, the old city is bathed in a sickening pall that sends unguarded mouths into fits of choking and stings and blinds uncovered eyes. Tanks and infantry roll past, above assault helicopters and shrikes engage in lethal aerial ballet as they strike the enemy with death-bringing weapons. It may as well be the apocalypse.

inside the field tent, we pour over a map of the city, it is a vast beast. Twenty million souls call the capital their home, two great cities stretch across the exapanse of the bay and we must take both if we wish to deliver the killing blow.

'Malik, I want you to take the 33rd and seize the old government house from the enemy' i say tapping the map

'Ma'am!' he says saluting and heading for his regiment

'Adasha, you will take the 19th and seize the new city' I say authoritatively

'I'll have the yuppies bending their knees to you in no time!' Adasha replies with a grin before leaving

'Fazzah, I want you to negotiate with the Prefect-Commander, the police are a nuisance we could do without and when this is over we will need a stable law enforcement body to keep order' i explain calmly

Not an easy errand by any stretch of the imagination, but if anyone can pull it off it is Fazzah, the prefects may be corrupt and ineffectual, but the coming days will need all able-bodied souls on my side.

Fazzah nods 'and you Ma'am?' he asks

I stare at the map casting my eye to the red circle around the zone marked 'government district' i grin wolfishly

'I will take the bloody skulls and pay Murza one final visit' i say in an amused voice

'Your old regiment, fitting they should be the ones to finish this' he replies approvingly

The bloody skulls, my loyal 15th, with them at my side I will drag murza kicking and screaming from his hiding spot and mount his head upon a spike.

"Your Exalt!' a soldier yells as she enters the tent and kneels

'Rise' i say trying to hide my irritation at such formality

'There are three men here to see you, they say they are Shavashkaid' She says

Oh, well this should be interesting.







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Chapter 37: The Battle for the Old City III

Inkatha Square, Imperial Army Staging Zone

Three men enter my tent, the first I recognize as loyal Kazah one of my trusted agents. The other man is wholly unremarkable, a shaven-headed man of average height who could just as easily be found stacking shelves as soldiering, the perfect spy Vekshah.

'good the see you Kazah and I presume this is Vekshah, in the flesh at last!' i say in a pleased tone, both men kneel as I address them and I roll my eyes involuntarily

I am about to tell them to rise when I see the third man, his face a mass of burn marks and scars one of which is suspiciously fresh and marking his right cheek with what could only be an exit wound from a gunshot. I narrow my eyes in disgust.

'I see Murza's serpents are resilient' i say as my hand strays to the knife at my side which I draw slowly from the scabbard

'You!? Deklah yes? you were in Quaresha leading the assassins the night of their attempt' i say my voice accusing

Deklah steps forward and without saying a word, kneels and offers his neck forward.

'What you say is true your majesty, I was at Quaresha' he says in a resigned voice

The memory fills my thoughts, the stink of blood in the car as we crashed, gunfire, men dying and him standing on that roof leading the massacre. I'm standing over him now, blade hovering above his head as I grapple with choice, he deserves to die, raising a hand against a prime marshal...let alone an Exalt is an unforgivable crime...but he clearly knows this. Why has he come here? sheathe the blade and lean back on the table

'I could kill you' i say coldly 'honestly I probably should'

'I deserve that and far worse if that is what you choose so be it, but please save my people' he says in a tone that is utter deference

'Your people?' i ask taken aback by his willingness to die

'The menials of this city, downtrodden, used and then cast aside, pawns in the games of the powerful, they don't deserve to die simply because Murza wants to go out fighting'

The menials, the descendants of criminals, deserters, and slaves...Astragons forgotten children. My uncle had hoped to free them from their miserable state, only for tragedy to end his noble work before it began. Murza has armed them in the thousands, promised them freedom if they will only shed blood in his name and in their desperation they have accepted.

The cruel nature of our caste system has forced this conflict, Murza fed off the misery in our society like a parasite. Hmmm, I can feel myself once again on the precipice of a decision, if I choose to aid the menials...to emancipate them I risk everything, my throne and live perhaps. However if I seize the throne and do nothing, will this all repeat again?

I sigh and gaze down at Deklah, he kneels on the ground awaiting my killing blow. He knows in all likelihood he will die here and yet still he comes, all because he believes there is a chance to save his people. There is nobility in such an act, I find myself strangely moved.

'I don't have a democratic bone in my body Deklah, truth be told I have known nothing but absolute authority since childhood, but I do believe in fairness, our society has functioned as it is for so long we have forgotten why we banish people to those wretched slums...perhaps this practice has outlived its usefulness' i say my tone softening

'Murza promised us a better life, a world where we would be free of hateful gazes and indentured labour...but Murza saw us as a means to an end...and now I wonder if he ever truly believed in what he promised us'

'That's the problem with men like Murza, they believe absolutely that their perfect utopia is just around the corner and so they kill, lie and plot without remorse all because the perfect world will justify any action no matter how vile. I cannot promise you a utopia Deklah, I deal in reality alone with all its cold disappointment, but I will tell you this, your people have more chance of a better life with me then they do with Murza'

'Then I place my life in your hands Exalt and the fate of my people as well'

There it is, a choice is made and I am forever bound by it. I wonder whether I have doomed myself before pushing the thought from my mind. Kaidain and Shaddai will decide my fate now as always.

'Hmmm, good, Fashal and Kazah will escort you to a nearby radio station, my forces liberated it this morning, tell your people to lay down their arms and I promise you I will see them emancipated' i say the enormity of my promise hitting me as I make it

He rises and bows, his mauled face awash with a look of surprise, awe even, then they are gone out the door and off into the dust and chaos outside. I find myself pondering the words of my father's shade

'You have the chance to do what we could not, to make Astragon a better place'

Is this what he wanted me to do? Kaidain help me, I do not know.

************************************************************************
Government House, The Old City

'30 Seconds!!! READY YOURSELVES!' the sergeant's voice bellowed over the intercom

Thabo felt his stomach churn and his heart race as the APC rumbled towards its target, it was dark inside the belly of the metal beast and the heat was sweltering. The hard tap of bullets rang along the hull of the vehicle continuously as they drew closer. A loud crunching thud shook the front of the tank, then blinding daylight flowed into the dark as the APCs ramp fell.

'MOVE! EVERYONE OUT!!!' Sergeant Mbeki roared as they poured out of the vehicle

Thabo was panting loudly as they raced for cover, the old palace was now a veritable fortress and sniper fire and machine guns met their every move. This was it if they could seize this aging building the old city would fall.

A kaiderin in front of Thabo attempted to raise his launcher only to be spotted and riddled with bullets, the man fell backward little more than a mass of bloody chunks. Sergeant Mbeki grabbed Thabo and pulled them both behind the cover of a nearby pillar.

The government house was a tall square building with a vast courtyard in its center, a Killzone for unwitting soldiers. They needed to take out the gunners in the window, Mbeki turned to the surviving men in his squad.

'We need to clear out those nests! Thabo grab the other launcher and Nashad...make sure the bastards keep their heads down!' Mbeki said with a murderous grin on his face

Nashad, the only Badhari*in the entire section, was a giant of a man, he carried the light machine gun as though it were a child's toy and his prominent beard and black turban lent him a fierce appearance, he nodded wordlessly and took up his weapon.

'SHAR HALAD!!! BAILAIFA!!!!' Nashad roared firing disciplined volleys from his gun that tore into the ancient stonework above

As the Badhari roared his challenges and battle prayers Thabo armed his rocket launcher and took careful aim at the balcony, he breathed and lined up his sights. A breath pause followed as he held his breath and squeezed the trigger. A missile shrieked free from the tube and exploded as it smashed into the balcony sending glass and stone spraying across the courtyard.

'The nests down! Up and at them!' Mbeki roared

Thabo and the others were up and charging before he had finished, racing for the door, they stacked up on the door and Thabo prepared a grenade. Mbeki counted 1...2..3! They kicked the door open and Thabo hurled the grenade inside. It landed at the feet of a group of marines guarding the door and exploded turning them into a pulpy red mist, the machine gunners on the stairs began to fire as the Kaiderin charged them.

The man next to Thabo fell screaming as a bullet ripped through his chest, another Kaiderin on the far side fell to the ground with half his face missing. Thabo raised his rifle and fired a three-round burst that ripped into the stair gunner killing him instantly, behind them more sections were flooding through the breached entrance.

Mbeki's squad ascended the stairs, their target the roof was close they spread out and began clearing rooms. Thabo and two other Kaiderin found themselves in front of the door to an office they stacked up either side.

'Your count Corporal' the kaiderin behind Thabo whispered

Thabo breathed deeply 1...2..3...he kicked the door in and entered with his weapon raised, two marines pointed their own weapons back, a man in naval uniform stood at the desk, he tossed his gun aside and motioned for the marines to do the same.

'Guns down and hands up!' Thabo roared, the first marine complied, the second moved to fire

Thabo pulled the trigger and his assault rifle kicked as he fired a burst of semi-automatic fire into the marine who flew back and slump on the ground. Blood flowed across the ornate wooden floor, Thabo moved forward and dead checked the marine by firing a single shot into his head. He turned and regarded his prisoners.

'You the commander?' he asked weapon still raised

'Lieutenant-Commander Ashanda, Astragonese navy' the uniformed man replied

He was an older man, possibly in his late 50's, he looked to be the sort of man more used to stamping papers and attending parades then leading men in battle. Was Murza desperate enough to draft the old and the very young? Thabo had heard rumors but this seemed to prove them the truth.

'Order your men to surrender, this battle has gone on long enough' Thabo said wearily

It had been a long day, the approach to the government house had been a bloody one, street to street and house to house fighting had claimed dozens of men in the first few hours. Thabo wondered how many men this uniformed old prune had sent to die.

'What guarantee do I have you won't just shoot us all the moment I give the order?' Ashanda replied skeptically

'Because the empress still wants a navy when this is all done, now give the damn order!' Thabo growled

Ashanda sighed and nodded, he reached slowly for his radio and spoke 'This is commander Ashanda, men of the 12th Naval detachment, you have served your country admirably, but now I must ask one final sacrifice, for your sake and the sake of our beloved Astragon, stand down and surrender' he said in an emotional voice before setting down the radio

****************************************************************************

Two flags rose above the smoke and chaos as the naval ensign was lowered from government house, one the golden leopard of the 33rd Kaiderin regiment and the other the red and gold manticore of house Kevsha. Malik Korshad stood before cameras and journalists and uttered a single sentence

'Ladies and Gentlemen, the old city is now under imperial control once more, long live the Empress!' he said in a proud voice

Cheers and roars of approval filled the fire choked air as the scene was broadcast for all of Eras to see.







*Desert dwelling tribes on the border between Astragon and Rafhazan, fierce warriors.





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