The Peacock and the Manticore

Chapter 38: Loose Ends

Bayyah Radeyah* recording station, The Old City

Deklah sighed and stubbed out his cigarette as the recording light began to glow bright red. He had never been one for speaking, since the day he'd fled the slums his most valuable trait had been his size and his fists, yet here he was. He wondered briefly if Sahbrain would actually keep her promise or if he had been manipulated by yet another callous player who wanted to use him as a pawn.

'Too late for second thoughts now' he mused grimly

'To the menials of Astragon, to my brothers and sisters in the civil militia, My name is Jannah Deklah and I am speaking to you in the hopes that I can convince you to lay down your arms and save yourselves' he said trying to keep his voice calm and steady

His anxiety rose with each word, his voice felt clunky, crude and lacking in emotion and yet he had to keep speaking, this was the only way he could reach out to the countless menials in the militia.

'I have served Murza for two decades, I have done things I am not proud of and I have committed reprehensible acts on the admiral's behalf. I did what I did because Murza promised me a world where menials like myself would be free from neglect, violence, and cruelty. I did what I did because I believed him when he said he would make us free' Another pause as he struggled for breath

'But Murza has not given us freedom, just servitude by another name, he has armed us and sent us out to fight Kaiderin, he drafts us and orders us to die for the promise of freedom. I can no longer tolerate his deception, there was a time when I would have died for Murza but there comes a point at which loyalty without logic becomes untenable, I am begging all civil militia forces to surrender' he said in an imploring voice

Another pause 'will they listen? will they think me a pawn sent to fill their heads with lies?'

'Brothers and Sisters, freedom will come but we cannot achieve liberty by following a man who sacrifices our lives without care simply to further his own ambitions. Sabhrain Na Kevsha has promised amnesty to all who surrender, she is aware that the current system cannot continue. so please for your own sakes and the sake of your family, lay down your arms, Murza will meet his death but we need not join him' He finished and lay back in his chair as the radio went offline

'Broadcasting on all frequencies' an army technician in the control booth said as she set the antennae to transmit

'Will they believe me? or will I die a liar and a turncoat?' Deklah thought as he sat alone in the darkness of the recording room

*Bay Radio

**********************************************************************
Tyrooz New City, Prefect Corp Central Headquarters

Fazzah had spent his entire life training to be a greater persons shadow, that was what a good aide-de-camp was an extension of their commander's will. Years of training in diplomacy, intelligence and logistics had combined with Fazzahs innate analytical mind to create an adjutant perfectly suited to Sabhrain Na Kevshas bizarre mix of overt and covert strategy.

In the months since the death of kaskaran and the rise of Murza he had distinguished himself on and off the battlefield, personally driving Sabhrain to Debasha airbase, clearing a path through her would-be assassins and being her intermediary to thousands of officers high and small as she marched south.

He did not have any great love for adrenaline or adventure, Fazzah preferred the cold precision of a command center to the heart-pounding dangers of the field, but nonetheless, here he was once again staring death in the face. He pondered what he would do if he survived this final encounter, buy a house on the coast and write the memoirs he thought with an amused smile. The truth, of course, was that he was a man who could not truly be satisfied with life unless he was serving a commander, there would always be new tasks, he was counting on it.

And so when he had been ordered to issue the perfect commander of the entire capital region with an ultimatum of surrender, he had simply nodded and set about doing just that. Compared with the dangers of Debasha airbase, this seemed like a walk in the park. The familiar mix of anxiety and focus that had filled him as he drove with a white flag to the central headquarters was like a greeting from an old friend.

The guards had been more surprised than anything else, the sign of a Kaiderin with a white flag requested a parlay had left them too unsure of protocols to do anything but grant his audience.

The commander's office was located on the top floor of a multi-story headquarters. The prefects had been granted a shiny new upgrade of glass and steel to replace the aging station house in the old city. Fazzah wondered how many backhand deals and moral lapses had occurred to fund this gaudy structure.

Truth be told the interior of the office was less like a civil servant's workspace and more like a petty king's apartments. Paintings too expensive to have been gained honestly lined the walls, a cabinet filled with wines sat shamelessly displayed in the center of the room and jazz music played from a vintage record player as the commander sat with his feet up on the desk.

If it was possible for a man to reflect externally the inner corruption of their soul then Commander Na Mekonnen had surely achieved this feat. He was a bloated slug of a man, his uniform size having increased so frequently that he now required a personal tailors services, his eyes were bloodshot from overindulgence in wine and narcotics and every movement seemed a terrible effort. Fazzah wondered if the commander had ever done a day's honest police work or if his entire career had been spent lining his pockets and belly.

'I appreciate your visit Captain Fazzah, personal touches are so rare these days' Mekonnen said in a voice laced with false hospitality and pretention

'The Empress requests that you order your forces to stand down' Fazzah said bluntly

'Ha Empress now is it!? how quickly humility is abandoned by the powerful, the Regent has assured me of my position! can your 'Empress' do likewise' Mekonnen replied in a mocking tone

'OUR empress, commander, is advancing upon this city as we speak, the old city has already fallen and the new city will soon follow, I assure you that if you do not stand down you will be dead a few hours after I leave this building' Fazzah said in an icy voice

'And why should I allow you to leave, Murza would pay a fortune for your head!' Mekonnen said with a malevolent grin as he blew a cloud of smoke towards Fazzah

Fazzah straightened his glasses, grinned maliciously and leaned toward Mekonnen, grabbing the man by his collar and pulling him close 'There is a Squadron of Shrikes with orders to level this building should I fail to exit in the next half hour commander, My head would never reach Murza!' Fazzah said in a threatening voice before releasing his grip on the commander

Mekonnen rubbed his neck fearfully and stared at Fazzah with newfound fear in his eyes 'What do you want from me!?' he asked in a frightened voice, all false confidence gone

'Your men will stand down and cease aiding the traitor Murza, when the Empress takes the city you will present yourself to her and resign, you will be allowed to retire outside the capital with all the wealth you require to live comfortably, if you refuse this offer you will not live long, but you will live long enough to know regret' Fazzah said coldly

'Yes, yes it will be done!' Mekonnen said pitifully raising his hands in supplication

'See that it is!' Fazzah snapped before rising to leave

He stopped short of the door and stared up at the picture on the wall. An old Hegemon period picture depicting Shaddan's conquest of the city states that now made up the nation of Fuss. Soldiers cheered the warrior emperor before a broken gate as the peacock banner flowed aloft in the breeze, even the most common warrior in that painting would be a thousand times more endowed with nobility then the flesh bag slumped at the desk.

'By the way, the painting...fake! the real one sits in the palace' Fazzah said slamming the door behind him

'Maybe I should write bloody memoirs' Fazzah thought as he descended the stairs towards the exit
​

Chapter 39: The Fall of the New City
Bayyah Na Tyrooz, New Tyrooz City

'Against my holy will the strongest regiment cannot hold, with my favor even the lowest assemblage of men can conquer the known world'
-The Book of Edasha

It was raining glass, explosions tore through once glittering skyscrapers and sent deadly shards hurtling towards the streets below. Soldiers tied scarves around their mouths in a vain attempt to avoid the choking clouds of dust and smoke that were kicked up after every blast. Weeks prior the streets of the new city would have been filled with bustling crowds of businessmen and officials, the coffee shops and malls would have been awash with traffic as the capitals most affluent went about their extravagant business. The hum of city life had been replaced by the roar of shelling and the wail of sirens.

Tanks rolled down the gutted boulevards and processionals their turrets scanning the ornate buildings for would-be attackers, occasional shots from their main guns would tear into overhead balconies sending smoke and masonry spilling out. Thousands of Kaiderin advanced through streets filled with burnt-out shopfronts and smoke-stained monuments, their sand-colored fatigues blending in with the dust and chaos around them.

The 19th 'Silver Spears' Kaiderin had advanced deep into the new city leaving a trail of dead enemies and prisoners in their wake. Now in an abandoned coffee house, General Sedhain was planning the killing blow as she stared at an outstretched map. Lucian Vosges watched from the window as the endless columns of tanks and infantry advanced deeper into the city, behind them ragged lines of refugees and surrendered prisoners marched wearily towards the outskirts.

'Lucian! come we need to discuss the final push' Adasha said as she poured over the dog eared city map

Adasha had seemed renewed by their advance south, the hated leash Murza had forced around the Kaiderin was gone. Sabhrain willingly allowed Adasha the operational autonomy she craved and so while the general was not exactly devoted to the would-be empress, she still had more cause to remain loyal then she had under murza. Lucian suspected Adasha was not entirely free from the taint of opportunism, the chance to rebuild her house and name was likely as compelling a draw as any loyalty to Sabhrain. Lucian privately wondered how long it would be before Adasha began to strain against the looser bonds of her new leash as well.

'The new city is falling, sector by sector our forces are taking the city back' Adasha said her tone serious

'You don't seem pleased Ma'am' Lucian observed perceptively

'How could I be? house to house fighting, mass destruction of civilian property and life and perhaps worst of all spiraling casualties, we can do better than this' she replied in a determined voice

Adasha pointed to the city map with impatience 'We have been fighting for the better part of three days, hundreds of soldiers are dead and thousands more civilians. This house to house fighting could take months to end' She said grimly

'You suggest a more expedient path to victory ma'am?' Lucian asked

'I do' she replied pointing to a circle on the map, the imperial council buildings, the most important assembly outside of the Imperial palace itself.

'If we decapitate the head of this coup then the body will soon wither and die, we take the council buildings and Murza is finished' she said in a confident tone

'Hmmm intelligence indicates the remnants of Murza's forces are dug in around it, casualties would be high' Lucian cautioned

'It is a necessary thing, we either decapitate the coup's command structure now or doom our troops to more death by attrition' she replied grimly

'Frontal assault then' Lucian said with a slight grin

'Indeed, we will set up artillery in the buildings nearby to cover our assault, with any luck the barrage will keep the enemy occupied and give our men time to breach' Adasha replied as she marked locations and point to key locations

'Heres hoping, I've seen the satellite photo's those MG nests are well entrenched'Lucian said remembering the drone footage he had received hours earlier, the assembly more resembled a fortress

'We Kaiderin Lucian, there is no fortification or army that we cannot assail, we shall wipe the halls of power clean of the traitors and plant the Kevsha banner on the red dome!' Adasha said proudly before slamming her fist on the table for emphasis

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Bayyah Na Tyrooz, The Imperial Council Assembly

The red dome of the assembly buildings was bathed in the sickly green of night vision as the troops waited in the darkness. Above on abandoned office roofs, forward observers had begun triangulating fire solutions. The drone of radio chatter grew louder as the time to strike drew close.

Behind the line, artillery crews scrambled to load their guns, they worked with minimal illumination as they prepared their death bearing ordinance, soon they would have all the light they would ever need. One by one the countless field howitzer came to attention as they completed preparations.

'All ordinance primed and ready to fire on your command!' Fire direction chimed in over the comms

Adasha allowed herself to indulge in a moment of vanity as the report filled her ears, this would be the last great battle of the civil war. When the histories were written all the days to come would belong to Sabhrain, but this moment would be Adasha's alone for all the ages that were to come. When the historians filled their bloated tomes it would say how a Kevsha empress had gained her throne, but first, it would say how a trueborn scion of house Sedhain had won that throne for her.

She observed the enemy positions through her binoculars, the remnants of Murza's forces were dug in well. The vast courtyard in front of the assembly was filled with light tanks, tents and the pinpricks of light from patrolling marines, the poor fools had no idea that death was about to reign down upon them.

'This is General Sedhain, fire for effect!' she said suppressing the giddiness that threatened to overwhelm he

A cacophony of explosions filled the night air drowning out all other sounds, Adasha could make out the deafening boom of field guns and the smaller thump of mortar fire as the sky above was suddenly filled by hundreds of rounds of shrieking ordinance. The assembly courtyard vanished in a sea of deafening explosions as the earth shook with the impact of the blasts.

The second salvo filled the air as smoke was dropped on the courtyard, sirens rang out filling the air with their piercing wail. It seemed a wonder that anything could have survived such a bombardment.

Adasha drew her pistol from its holster and click the transmit button on her handheld radio

'All units advance! For the Empress For Astragon!' she roared before pocketing the radio and rushing forward with her men.

At her command, thousands of Kaiderin infantry rose and began to advance into the courtyard. They advanced in silence and were greeted by fire and corpses as they descended upon the stricken assembly buildings. In front a line of APCs and Kosh Koshads rolled across rubble and bodies, they smashed aside burning wrecks as they advanced upon the assembly. Fire from their guns lit the haze of smoke that obscured the assaulters.

The smoke began to clear, bullets ripped through the advancing infantry as the defenders blind fired into the darkness. Men were torn to pieces as machine-gun fire raked the front line, a soldier next to Adasha was struck his face exploding in a cloud of red mist which splashed Adasha as he fell. Men and women died, their comrades advanced unmoved. It was the Kaiderin way, a single warrior died but the regiment was eternal and relentless in its march forward.

They fanned out taking cover behind statues, in craters and protected by the armored shells of tanks. A rocket streamed past the infantry and exploded against the side of an APC, flames engulfed the armored vehicle as the ramp crashed to the ground and men fled screaming as they burned.

'Silver spear actual to broadsword one! flatten those MG nests!' Adasha roared into the radio as machine-gun fire leapt over her head

On her command dozens of Kosh Kosads began to advance, they fired their main guns and raked the assembly building with machine-gun fire, explosions ripped through the building as firing positions exploded. Men fell burning from their nests as incendiary rounds tore through the upper levels of the assembly.

'Kaiderin save your ammo!' A tankers voice barked over the comms

'Now while they are pinned! UP AND AT THEM!' Adasha roared raising her pistol and breaking cover

Now the men were roaring too, warcries older then Astragon filled the night air as they charged. Adasha could feel her heart pounding, but not from fear, it was a Kaiderin thing. They called it 'Imfathanda' or the joy of battle, every Kaiderin felt it at least once, the biological high of adrenaline filling the body and the mental euphoria that came with knowing that one was more alive in moments surrounded by death then at any other time. War was a drug to the warrior caste, all fear long since beaten out of them by brutal trials and years of indoctrination.

She would have preferred to have turned her wrath upon foreign enemies, Rafhazani, Skandan even Epiphanean, there was something distasteful about fighting one's own people. She pushed the thought from her mind as they advanced up the steps of the assembly building. These were not her own, they were traitors who had forsaken the true empress and nothing more. It sounded good when she repeated it like a mantra, but she knew deep down it was nonsense.

The men defending the assembly were just pawns in a game played by the powerful, played by people like Adasha, they fought to survive or because they believed they were on the right side. Adasha almost pitied them, but her warrior instinct blocked this feeling, it was kill or be killed on the battlefield and a moment of pity would see her felled by some opportunist with a bayonet.


They reached the top of the steps, ahead two huge timber doors awaited, the entrance to the assembly beckoned. Her men smashed windows as they hurled grenades into the assembly, they fired at would-be snipers on the balcony above and they regrouped now safely out of the sight of machine-gun nests. Adasha reached for her radio and set it to transmit.

'Lucian we have cleared the courtyard, what is your status?' she asked in a commanding voice

'Inbound 30 seconds ma'am' a buzzing voice replied over the radio

She grinned, the second phase of her plan was underway, the ground assault on the courtyard has been a prelude to the aerial one that now swooped towards the assembly roof. The pounding of countless rotor blades filled the air as gunships raced past the rooftops raining Gatling fire and rockets down on the surviving defenders. In their wake came the smaller and sleeker commando helicopters which deposited squads of elite troops who descended onto the building via rope.

'We are on the roof Ma'am, commencing assault!' Lucian radioed back his voice barely audible as the sound of gunfire filled the comms

She pointed to the door 'get ready to breach!' she commanded as her men stacked up either side of the door

Sappers armed with plastic explosives set the charges and pulled back to a safe distance, Sabhrain readied her pistol and reached counted

'1...2...3! Breach Now!' she yelled signalling for her men to take cover

The doors exploded and fell from their hinges as they crashed to the ground in splinters, the kaiderin hurled smoke and hand grenades into the entrance and waited for them to go off. A blast ripped through the air as the Kaiderin rushed inside.

The surprised marines in the hallway barely had time to raise their rifles, the Kaiderin fired with lethal accuracy their disciplined shots piercing heads, necks, and chests as they slaughtered the defenders with practiced ease. The entry hall floor was soon strewn with bullet-ridden corpses, Kaiderin moved through the room dead checking the bodies with single shots to the head.

'Murza does not deserve the sacrifices being made for him' Adasha thought in disgust

She had no compunction about killing her enemies, but she had always believed in the ancient Kaiderin values of honor and discipline. She may have sought to destroy her enemies but she also respected courage and honor when she saw it, these men served a man who possessed neither virtue.

Over the radio she could hear numerous squads reporting in, her operation to seize the gate was indeed vital but it was aided by countless other assaults occurring across the complex. The thought of thousands of battles playing out across the city was both daunting and stirring to her. Living and dead the victors of this day would bear its glory ever after.

They moved down the corridor and into the main audience chamber, machine-gun fire tore into the entrance as they rushed to take cover. Antique desks and chairs were reduced to splinters as the vast circular hall became a shooting gallery. A marine screamed as he rushed towards Adasha with a short sword raised, she raised her pistol and shot him with two precise shots to the head and heart, he fell back dead his blade clattering to the ground.

In the upper seats above marines tried to stem the advancing Kaiderin with a withering hail of fire, but with so little distance between them and the Kaiderin the advantage of being dug in was gone. Here the Kaiderin shined, their iron discipline ensuring that they returned fire with lethal precision. Marines died in droves as they were felled with the disciplined semi-auto bursts of Kaiderin marksmen.

A Kaiderin shouldering a grenade launcher stepped out of cover and fire at the upper stands. explosions and screams echoed through the vast chamber as splinters and chunks of viscera rained down on the chamber below. When the dust cleared the shooting had stopped, only dead silence remained to greet the victorious Kaiderin.

'Major Dembesha!' She said turning to a stocky man in a red beret who was presently dead checking marines with a combat shotgun

'Yes General!?' he said addressing her in an enthusiastic tone as he emptied a round into a wounded marine who had been trying to squeeze off a final shot

'Take a squad and clear the building of any stragglers that might have evaded us' She said

Dembesha slammed his fist against his chest and then yelled commands for the men around him to form up. As he left she gazed at the bullet-riddled chamber she had just seized. Her eye was drawn to the great obsidian throne in the center of the vast hall, the Exalt of Astragon sat there when presiding over the council. She gazed at it longingly, her eyes focusing on the rubies forming the sigil of the peacock above the Exalts throne. It took every ounce of will not to descend the steps and sit.

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

Their combat boots padded on the soft red carpet as they ascended the stairs towards the office of the speaker. Lucian scanned his surroundings, his rifle raised and ready to fire, Adasha marched a few feet ahead of him pistol at her hip. A panicked voice could be heard emanating from inside the room.

'We need reinforcements!' A terrified man's voice begged

'There's no one to send commodore!' An authoritative voiced replied over the radio

'Everyone is dead! the Kaiderin are inside the building! they have shelled the assembly building!' The terrified man yelled over the radio in hysterics

'Calm down Commodore!' The voice on the radio commanded

'I need Evacuation!' The man roared fearfully as Adasha kicked the door open

A wild-eyed older man in a commodore's uniform, wheeled around and raised a machine pistol in a shaking hand. Adasha's pistol kicked as she fired a shot point-blank, the commodore fell back blood streaming from his temple as he did.

'Commodore? Commodore?! What is happening!?' the voice on the radio demanded in increasingly urgent tones

Lucian shouldering his machine gun and reached for the radio

'He's dead idiot!' he said before dropping the radio and firing into it

Adasha regarded the dead man with a curious expression 'Commodore Nazul Tahdesh...Murza's primary field commander' she said noting the badge on the commodore's jacket

'It would appear you have literally decapitated the enemy command' Lucian said approvingly

'Indeed, that was quite the one-liner' Adasha said with a grin

'Spur of the moment Ma'am' Lucian replied enthusiastically

'Hmmm sounds like it's finished' Adasha said as noise filled the evening air

Cheers could be heard from outside, it was no mystery as to why, the battle was over, the manticore flew high on the red dome above.












​

Chapter 40: Coup de tuer Part I

'Blessed are they who in love of state and monarch act as the hand of retribution'
-From the Babashan Tracts

Bayyah Na Tyrooz, The Monument of Hailakaid Unity

It stands upon the tallest point in the city, perched upon the Adarian heights like a solitary titan. The monument of Hailakaid unity, built by my grandfather to celebrate the end of the Iterian war and the dawn of new age for Astragon. It's a polite fiction, of course, the truth is far less noble, the monument was yet another Exalt's vanity project built to stoke an aging monarch's colossal ego. I regard it with a mix of wonder and utter disgust.

The monument itself is an imposing one, a gigantic Hailakaid man and woman gaze to the heavens, the man holds one arm around the woman and in the crook of his other holds a child aloft who points to the sky, the child points to the bright future promised our nation. once again noble symbolism, until you realize that my grandfather Sakard I built the male statue to resemble his own features, a rather firm message of 'your future is mine to control' to anyone with insight.

I suppose the overt symbolism is still comforting in a way, a united nation emerging from its century of misery into a glorious new day. I look down at the city and wonder where that vaunted unity has gone. From this great elevation, I can see everything, the bay of Tyrooz stretching out before me like a vast canvas of steel and stone. I see the explosions gut once-proud structures, the tracer fire filling the night sky and the ruination of my home.

I wonder how many have died? hundreds? no, thousands most likely, Murza's stubborn refusal to surrender has been the altar upon which untold masses have been sacrificed. some three thousand years ago my ancestor Kayyvan I rode into this city a conquerer, but he did so bloodlessly, my arrival has drenched once pristine marble in the blood of myriad innocents.

In the past, my rage was of little use, an impotent response to a far off aggressor, but now I am at the tyrant's door. The Baishah Na Azrah* speaks of the divine sanction granted to the devout to punish the wicked, I intend to make full use of Kaidain's holy blessing. I turn my back to the silent bronze titans above and regard the source of the boot falls echoing off the stone steps.

'Veks...' i pause mid-sentence, this man has earned the right to be addressed by his true name 'Fashal Na Hazah' i say letting the strange Shahkaid last name roll off my tongue

He kneels, I can no longer be bothered to work up annoyance, I am the exalt and men and women alike shall always kneel before me. I gaze upon my worthy servant with an appraising eye, he is...unremarkable...utterly so in fact, he is the perfect spy. Fashal Na Hazah is a veritable grey man*, the finest the Shavashkaid has yet produced and I am about to ask one more service of him.

'My Empress...' he says surprised before pausing 'You address me by my true name' he says voice almost shaking with trepidation

'Yes' i answer calmy 'You have served me faithfully these many months, you have earned the right to be addressed without code or pseudonym' I reply with a slight smile

He gazed up in awe, not without reason either, ancient legends speak of the favour a man may receive when his name is praised by the Exalt, evidently, I have just given Fashal my blessing. Still, the kneeling won't do for what is to come next, I motion for him to stand.

'We are at the end now Fashal, this wretched coup is in its death throes and I must ask of you one final service before this is done' i say giving him a knowing look

'Anything Majesty!' he replies with sincere enthusiasm

'below this monument my loyal regiment awaits, the bloody skulls will carry me to the lair of the traitor, you will ride alongside me and when we arrive, you will bring me Murza's head!' i say in a tone not dissimilar from a briefing room presentation

'It will be done Majesty' he replies with a slight bow of his head

I nod approvingly, loyal to the last, I shall end Murza's coup at long last and then I am going to put the Tyrants head upon a spike for all to see the price of treason.

*The 'Book of the Sword' Kaidainism's Holy Book
*An assassin or spy whose appearance is so unremarkable as to render him/her invisible
​

Chapter 41: Coup de tuer Part II

Bayyah Na Tyrooz, The Government District

The government district had taken on the air of a sepulchre, soldiers advanced in silence past burnt-out ministry buildings and maimed statues that loomed over them like silent witnesses. This was no longer a battle, the coup forces fought like cornered animals, ammo and supplies running near expended. There was no mercy from either side any longer, the Bloody Skulls smashed aside all defenders like a hammer through battered masonry.

The last stubborn holdouts fought and died, buried beneath the rubble, burnt alive by incendiaries, crushed beneath the treads of advancing armour. At the heart of the gutted district stood the ministry of internal security, a glass and chrome abomination built to venerate the hubris of a bloated organisation. It was here in a fortified room beneath the ground the Murza now held court as the world above crumbled.

'Sir the enemy is within a block of us, you must evacuate!' A naval adjutant begged as Murza sat gazing at the city map as though it held all the answers

He was a pitiful sight, eyes sunken from weeks of exhaustive briefings and possessed of a look of utter exhaustion. His once pristine white uniform now looked grimey and lived in, the edges of his jacket greying with dirt. He looked up as though waking from a deep sleep, eyes twitching with fatigue, he regarded the officer with a vacant look.

'They will not succeed, the people are on my side' he said wearily

'Sir they will kill you if they breach this building!' the adjutant protested

'I may die...but they will make of me a martyr! my death will assure the rise of the republic!' Murza replied utterly certain

'Sir you must flee! the adjutant reiterated

'FLEE!? we still control the coast! the Grashah sits in the harbour awaiting my orders!' Murza yelled defiantly

It was lunacy, the loyalist fleet was mere hours from the capital, the Grashah would surrender or be reduced to burning debris. Any hope of regrouping around the coast was mere fantasy, the city would fall and anyone found to be a Murza loyalist would be dead or chains by the end.

'Sir what do I tell the men?' the adjutant asked nervously

'Tell them...that this is the first day of the republic, my death will spur the people to revolt! and when they rise and drag Sabhrain from her throne, those that followed me will lead the charge! scatter from here and carry our cause to Eras! Ugria, Cogoria! all the great republics who will support us!' Murza ranted

More delusions, the states he had mentioned had either condemned Murza openly or done so with their silence, no one would waste their time supporting the failed ambitions of a disgraced tyrant. As for the men, they had no desire to die for a doomed cause, they would melt away at the first chance.

'As you say, Admiral' the adjutant said mournfully, he saluted but Murza did not look up, utterly absorbed by his delusions

The Adjutant turned to leave, he would gather the survivors and they would flee through the underground, he would burn his uniform and melt back into the populace. Murza may have decided that his tomb would be here, but he would have to face internment alone.

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A dead marine lay slumped in the reception chair, blood-filled eyes looked up at the world with a glassy questioning expression as though asking why. The gun lay on the ground nearby, dropped when the killing shot was made. Fashal reached down and picked it up, the barrel of the Ukasha .9 was still warm*.

'Guess we don't need to book an appointment' Kazah said dryly

The building was silent, the expected resistance had all but melted away, now only corpses and shattered glass greeted the Kaiderin. Those that had not fled had taken their own lives rather than face the bloody skulls, as they moved deeper into the foyer they were greeted by countless scenes like the one at the main desk, a mass suicide.

behind them, squads of commandos fanned out as they entered the building only to be met with the same dead silence. A captain in black combat fatigues approached the two Shavashkaid and saluted.

'The building appears empty sir, if they are still here they are not above ground' the officer said concisely

'Secure the building captain, we will investigate the lower levels' Fashal said as he pocketed the Ukasha and motioned to Kazah to follow him

The two Shavashkaid moved through corridor after corridor, empty cubicles, hastily abandoned weapon posts and down countless flights of stairs. The internal security building had been the nexus of the coup, now it stood emptied and undefended, Fashal wondered if Murza had fled?


They came to an elevator, Fashal keyed in the security passcode that the traitor Deklah had provided, the elevator doors swung open in response and the two men entered. The elevator began its descent as the two men stood in ominous silence.

'Ready?' Kazah asked

'As much as ill ever be' Fashal replied trying to sound confident

This was it, the end of a long and difficult journey, Murza would die this day and his coup with him. In a sense, it was the wars last battle. The elevator came to a thudding stop shortly after, the doors swinging open to reveal a long grey corridor, strips of dim lighting flowed down either side of the floor doing little to ease the feeling that one had entered the netherworld.

Their boot falls echoed as they moved down the long snaking corridors, up ahead they heard the sound of multiple voices frantically arguing in the darkness.

'We need to leave now!'

'The exit into the sewers isn't far, it has to be close!'

'No, no, it can't end like this'

'Shut up Kosha and help me look for the bloody exit!'

Fashal pulled a grenade from his belt and nodded to Kazah who readied his weapon, the two agents concealed themselves in the doorways of offices either side of the corridor and waited for the voices to draw close.

'Hey, the shelling has stopped!'

'How do you know that! stop talking shit Kosha!'

'No Fazakh... I think he's right...no shakes anymore'

'What the hell is going on?'

'Shut up and find the exit'

Fashal pulled the pin on his grenade and counted 1...2...3

He hurled it towards the approaching figures and drew his rifle

'What the fuc...' the man known as Fazakh did not have time to finish his sentence, a loud wet thump followed as the explosion ripped through the corridor

Fully automatic fire raked the walls as someone emptied a magazine down the corridor, the aim was non-existant and the sound of screaming and curses was almost as loud as the gunfire.

'FUCKING BALKAID!!!' a survivor yelled

Kazah and Fashal waited for the shooter to run out of ammo and then broke cover with their weapons raised. A gory scene greeted them, three bodies were strewn about the floor, two were burnt and missing limbs. Kazah stepped over a leg and loomed over the survivor who was frantically trying to reload his rifle with his sole remaining hand, the man stared up his eyes terrified.

He was a short man, his features difficult to distinguish beneath the blood and burns, his naval fatigues were bloodied and torn from the grenade and one side of his face was mutilated with a missing ear. He began to crawl backwards in utter fear, Kazah raised his rifle and fired a single shot which took the man in the head.

'Corridor is clear' Kazah said coldly

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

Murza sat in utter silence, the door ajar, it would have done little delay his enemies. He stared intently at the eight-shot revolver in his hand, it had been a gift from Sakard, the first of many his patron had granted to him. the chrome had dulled with age and use but the inscription along the barrel remained

'Glory through action' the inlaid gold lettering read

'Only one action remains' he said in a resigned tone as he set the gun down and reached for the bottle of brandy resting on the desk

He regarded the tiny room around him, it was a cold place with a sterile white glow that combined with the metallic walls to make the room seem utterly devoid of warmth. The few comforts present seemed out of place, futile attempts to soften a room designed with only hard utilitarianism in mind.

He didn't bother trying to find a glass, he gulped the brandy from the open bottle and gasped as the potent liquor burned in his gullet. Drops of brandy left amber trails on his open jacket as he wiped his mouth and rose from his chair. He hoped the brandy would give him the alcohol-induced courage he needed to take the final step.

He rose and walked to a wooden cabinet, pistol tucked into his trousers and bottle in hand. An old gramophone rested inside, he opened the cabinet and placed a record on the wheel, the needle lowered onto the vinyl and a sombre tune began to play, an old sea shanty

'Westward From Skandan strait
A Sea route to Icenia!
For which so many died
Seeking gold and glory
Leaving broken, weathered bones
And an old cairn o' stones
To find the hand of Frashin
I'll take the southwest passage!'

He stepped back and let the music play ceasing to focus on the words, the gun beckoned in his hand, he gulped down the rest of the brandy and let the bottle fall the floor, it rolled to the corner noisily. He raised a shaking hand to his temple and pressed the pistol against his skull, he closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing, his heart was pounding as he did so. He tried to squeeze the trigger, but his hands would not move, paralysed by fear.

He lowered the gun and felt impotent rage rise as he did so, he couldn't do it! he needed to! they would parade him through the streets if they caught him. He raised the gun once more, breathing heavily as he readied himself, his finger found purchase on the trigger.

Two loud bangs rang out, he fell to the floor with burning pain in his stomach and his right arm. The music was abruptly silenced by another gunshot as he stared up at a man standing over him with a smoking pistol in his hand.

'Hmmm a last brandy and sea shanties aye?' the man said in a mocking voice

He was an average height, totally unremarkable looking, there didn't seem to be anything remotely distinctive about his attacker. He felt rage fill his voice as he forced words from pained lips

'She...sends you to do her dirty work for her!' he snarled

The man smiled in amusement and kneeled in front of him 'doesn't seem fair, does it? you had everything planned out, a poetic death that would make you a martyr, but this is no Thomas Nielson moment, instead, you will die unmourned and be forgotten, Talesh Murza shall become nothing more than a footnote in the ramblings of historians to come' the man said his tone barbed, every word stung

Murza tried to speak but the stranger raised a gloved hand silencing him 'No words now, you have already wasted enough' the said icily

Murza gazed up at the ceiling light and felt everything begin to grow dark, he thought he could hear laughter in the distance. The sound of a pistol being cocked barely registered as he lay on the ground bleeding. A shadow engulfed his fading vision, a loud bang, darkness.

**********************************************************************************
Kazah entered the room and regarded the scene in front of him Fashal stood with his pistol raised over the body of Murza. The admiral lay on the ground in a pool of his own blood and urine, his white uniform was stained by both fluids as the crimson puddle flowed across the cold floor.

'It's done' Fashal said with a nod

'Almost' Kazah replied slamming his pack on the admiral's desk and retrieving a large metal canister from inside. One last grim duty fell to the two men.

'Ah, I admit I had almost forgotten about the head' Fashal said in a casual voice as Kazah passed him a field axe

'The empress will have it displayed on a pike, a warning to anyone who might want to emulate the late admiral' Kazah said in a serious tone

Fashal raised the axe and let it fall, it hacked through bone and tendon with practised ease, one strong tug and the entire head came off with a sickly tearing sound. Fashal held the decapitated Murza aloft, the admiral's mouth was agape and blood oozed from his severed neck. Fashal lowered the head into the canister and closed it with a click of the lock.

'Now we're done here' Kazah said with an approving look

The two men left the room and strode back towards the elevator and the light of the sky above, the corpse lay there, abandoned and unmourned.



*the standard navy sidearm of the Astragonese Navy, Ukasha translates to 'Shark' in Mercanti.

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Chapter 42: Ascent

'Looming high above the city of Bayyah Na Tyrooz the palace of the exalt stands apart from the worldly chaos below. The mountainous home of the exalt is not one palace but rather a vast multitude of imperial domains that have over millennia formed an enormous private city, from this rarified view the powerful hold court and decide the fate of millions'

-Lex Astragonis

Bayyah Na Tyrooz, Palace Heights

The column advances through ever more ornate districts, modern high rises giving way to the ancient estates of the nobility. Tanks and armored vehicles still dirtied by a week of battle roll past gilded statues and silken banners that have remained pristine for untold centuries. More time passes and soon we are journeying upwards.

An old saying claims that all power in Astragon is vertical, it would appear the ancients were correct in this calculation. We leave the glittering noble districts behind and rise on snaking roads ever higher, the mountain Palace of the Exalt awaits perched upon the highest point of mount Koshan.

Countless checkpoints await any approaching visitor to the palace, I expect to be stopped but to my surprise, the barriers swing open and the red kaiderin stand heads bowed. The ancient sentinels of the palace have remained apolitical throughout the entire conflict as is tradition....have they been watching the war unfold? waiting for a victor to emerge?

We arrive at last at the summit of the great mount, rocky protrusions giving way to smooth walls. The bridge of Negasha awaits, built by an ancestor millennia ago it is the final approach before arrival at the palace gates. It is a vast avenue flanked on either side by immense walls, it has been said you can march armies up and down its length. The armored personnel carrier halts suddenly.

'Why have we stopped!?' i ask apprehensively

Fazzah who has been staring out the viewing port turns to me with a look of amazement upon his face and instructs the driver to lower the APC ramp. he beckons for me to follow him and we emerge into blinding sunlight and a sight that words cannot convey.

The sun glitters in the morning air, a flock of deep indigo crested seeker birds swoops overhead, a cool breeze drifts past like hands caressing a face. Banners of crimson and gold flow in the dawn winds held aloft by standard-bearers girded in the bronze plate and blood-red livery of the imperial guard. The 10,000 stands in two great rows either side of the processional, the red kaiderin arrayed in perfect drill order.

It is chilling, the awe indescribable, for 3 millennia the red kaiderin have stood watch over my ancestors, and now, they stand before me in perfect silence. A party of horsemen approaches down the long processional, one of their number carries the reins of a white stallion, I recognize the white mane of Vaishalan.

'Your Exalted Majesty!' A captain of the red kaiderin declares raising his sword to his face in a royal salute

'What is going on?' i ask dumbfounded

'You have arrived to take your throne and we shall bear you there in glory my lady!' The captain replies in a proud voice motioning toward Vaishalan

I look to Fazzah who nods and mouths the words 'go' I turn back to Vaishalan who snorts as though amused, I pull myself into his saddle for the first time in months and silently promise myself that I will never be parted from my uncle's horse again. With surprising ease, I turn the horse to face the processional, the mounted escort forms up behind me.

'Kaiderin! BAPASHE IZIKAZRHA*!!!' The captain roars, on his command ten thousand blades and standards are raised in response

We ride past the sea of crimson, towards the emerald gate where destiny awaits.

*Present arms in Hailesha

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Hushen felt his heart pound frantically in his chest, he worried it might leap from his throat and desert him so great was his terror. Behind him, the hastily blocked door heaved and strained as armored bodies crashed against its weakening mass. He was a dead man, the news of Murza's end had come mere hours earlier, Astragon had a new ruler and she had no cause for mercy towards her rivals right hand.

He raced on shaky legs towards the stairs as the door began to crack and splinter behind him, it was lunacy the only exit was through the very arch he now fled. A final heaving creek ended in the door behind him flying open with a spray of splintered wood. He did not look back as he ran for the rampart, had he done so the armored form of Exalt-Captain Ashan Na Mazzah would have greeted him.

'HUSHEN NA THAMBA! YOU ARE TO BE SENTENCED!!!' Ashan's booming voice roared as the minister ran screaming towards the waiting ramparts

Madness drove his steps, logic having fled in place of the sheer animal instinct to survive, there was nowhere to run and the walls would merely grant him a final view of the world before he was taken from it. He rushed up into the light of the morning and stopped just short of the nauseating drop that awaited at the end of the rampart, the only way left was down.

Red kaiderin in crimson livery blocked both sides of the walkway, their blades and rifles were drawn and pointed squarely at him. They parted briefly as a stern-faced Ashan strode towards Hushen, he might as well have been the avatar of Dain Na Balesh*, he had a grim expressionless look upon his unhelmeted face, an executioner come to finish his appointed task.

Hushen felt his knees buckle as he knelt on the ground sobbing, it wasn't supposed to end like this! he had been promised the greatest heights of power and wealth, but now those poisonous entreaties would be his undoing. He cursed Murza with every shred of anger he had left to give, he wondered if he would meet the would-be autocrat in the netherworld that awaited.

'Hushen Na Thamba!' Ashan began his tone piercing like knives to flesh

Hushen stared up at his executioner through eyes resigned to their fate, he was going to die and it was this man who would end his life. He thought briefly of his uncle, the nepotist had promised him a position that would make him comfortable and powerful, fleeting jewels all too quickly snatched away by the hand of life.

'You have committed the heinous crime of treason against Astragon and her noble Exalt, you are hereby sentenced to death by descent' Ashan said reached with a single armoured hand and grasping Hushen by the neck

He felt himself rise from his feet, the grip around his neck was suffocating, it felt like his entire body was being crushed and squeezed of all air. Then, falling, the screech of chill winds and the deafening roar of his own screams as he fell from that terrible height.

*The Astragonse aspect of death, Kaidain as Psychopomp.

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Chapter 43: Purge

'The Wise Exalt shall cast out the sycophantic and treacherous with sword and rod'
-Edashan Tracts


Bayyah Na Tyrooz, The Palace of the Exalt

'Send in the council!' i say with barely concealed disgust

From my throne I gaze out over a cavernous audience hall, obsidian pillars and high red marble ceilings give the impression of a room unending. Everything in the Razadi keep was built to be imposing, it is precisely why I have chosen it for my meeting. I sit on a throne of ebony, shaped into the image of a vast peacock, the feathers are studded with emeralds and extend out in every direction. It is the head that is most impressive though, ruby inlaid eyes glare at the room below, like some inanimate guardian watching over the exalt beneath it.

I am flanked either side by loyal officers, to my left Fazzah and to my right Exalt-Captain Ashan, together we await the entrance of the council. The sounds of shuffling robes and complaining voices soon begin to echo from outside. The vast baobab doors are heaved open by servants allowing me to glimpse the would-be movers and shakers of the empire for the first time. I am not impressed by the bloated mass of silken robes and pudgy jewelled faces that greet my sight.

The council was once the right hand of my uncle, a meritous assembly of the empire's finest minds and voices. My uncle's tragedies and subsequent retreat from matters of state allowed less worthy souls to occupy the thrones of the council. Stagnancy, nepotism and corruption have flourished in the absence of a strong exalt, these gilded parasites have feasted upon Astragon's lifeblood for too long.

'Shaddai, Kaidain and Yeshana be praised!' an ebullient voice beams

'Jabulasha Na Edani, speaker of the imperial council!' a herald announces

A more grotesque display I would struggle to find in the bowels of a rotting elephant corpse, Edani rests two swollen fingers upon a belt that wraps tightly around a golden silk agbada, everything seems to strain against bloat. He has spoken for the imperial assembly for as long as I can remember, an eternal obstruction to any motion seeking to reform our top-heavy society. Izrah despised this man, called him a waste of breath and skin, I could not agree more with the late Vizier.

Behind him men and women scrape and bow in mock displays of devotion, they might as well be clones of the speaker, all extravagantly garbed and similarly bloated. I look upon them and see a collection of silk wrapped leeches looking for their next meal, I have no intention of feeding their hunger.

'The Traitor Murza is dead! all hail our soon to be empress!' he continues obliviously

He is not wrong though, the late admiral's head is being paraded on a pike by my forces, every rebel who looks upon that gruesome sight seems far more amenable to surrender. But his jovial declaration reeks of hypocrisy, none of the council stood in Murza's way and more then a few benefited from his ransacking of state funds.

'Soon to be? Explain your comment speaker!' i reply with a raised eyebrow

He seems taken aback by my challenge, I wonder who he was expecting to meet today?

'A mere formality your grace! I assure you the council will happily endorse your campaign for the title of Empress and the whole process will take a few months at most!' he replies trying to laugh off my words, such arrogance

'The fool really thinks I'm just some dumb soldier he can dance rings around...oh lord speaker...you are in the manticore's lair now' i think with a sadistic grin

'My lord speaker, you clearly do not understand why I have called you here' I say coldly

'Would you care to enlighten us, your grace?' Edani asks in a condescending tone

I smile venomously 'with pleasure' i say rising from my throne and descending to the lower steps 'Murza is dead, his coup is ended, but the grand admiral was no anomaly, his coup bloomed like a weed in a cesspool of corruption' I announce in a loud voice that fills the halls

'My lady, what is the meanin...' i raise a hand to silence the speaker

'When my imperial predecessor retreated from court life it was the council's responsibility to rule in his name, but look upon you all! can any of you claim to have honoured your charge? Sports ministers who send agents to arrest soccer coaches for losing matches, armaments ministers who grow rich off the delays in military projects, security heads who turn over our nations apparatus to tyrants! Speakers who act only to secure their own wealth!' I am nearly roaring by this point, my disgust on full display

protesting voices begin to rise in incensed cacophony I nod to Ashan who draws his sword

'Silence!' he roars cowing the room

'You are a cancerous growth upon my beloved Astragon, a collection of parasites who have carved up this nation like scavengers upon a corpse, I have wrested this land free from the hands of a tyrant, I will not allow it to fall into the grasp of hyena's and vultures!' I yell as Ashan advances his sword raised

'Your Grace! this is unfounde...' Edani's protests are cut short as I draw my sword and point it mere inches from his face

'This council is hereby dissolved! I sentence you all to punishment for treason and corruption! take them!' i command in a stern voice

Red Kaiderin descend upon the council, armoured hands grabbing and hauling wailing and protesting ministers out of the room. only two souls from the assembly remain, they are more conservatively dressed than their former colleagues and I regard them with a look of sympathy I would never grant the parasites about the thrown from the walls. An aged woman in traditional Mondaba headdress and blue robe leans heavily upon a cane her face apprehensive. Her companion is a younger man, a Toruba* noble judging from his scarred face and the green agbada he wears.

Sorgulon Na Kaisha and Olon Na Ade, ministers of agriculture and transport respectively, the only honest souls to be found in that repugnant gathering.

'I must apologise' i say sincerely 'Their crimes against this state could no longer be ignored' i say watching as my ministers become calm

'You are the Exalt of Astragon!' Sorgulon says in a cracked voice, her age lending her surprising gravitas 'You apologise to no one' She says firmly her voice almost a whisper

'Even so, you are both to be commended, Sorgulon, your diligent labour has seen our fields and vineyards flourish and Olon, your plans for infrastructure development are nothing short of inspired, when I finalise appointments to the soon to be vacant council chairs, I shall be proud to see you both take your usual places in the council chamber' i reply with a warm smile

'Your Exalt is wise and merciful! I shall praise your actions before the Ini upon my return home!' Olon says in a relieved voice

I nod 'If you will excuse me, ministers, I have much work to do before the day is through, go in peace' i say with a respectful nod, they bow low and slowly exit the room never raising their heads

Outside the screams of the punished fill the air only for their descent to extinguish them all too quickly. Do you think me a monster dear reader? perhaps you would be right to, but Astragon is not a state that allows mercy towards one's enemies. I cannot allow the nobility to think they can carve up private fiefdoms as the council did. Sometimes the decapitating swing is the wisest as well as the most expedient course of action.

'What do we do now your Exalt' Fazzah asks calmy

'Send word to the cities leaders, they will meet me here and we shall commence the hard task of repairing the damage Murza has inflicted' I say as I lower myself back into the throne

Fazzah nods and gives a last salute before leaving, alone in my domain of marble and obsidian my mind turns to plotting my next move.


*One of the twelve major ethnic groups of Astragon, the Toruba are a Hailakaid tribe hailing from the countries east, their traditional ruler is the Ini of Ise

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Chapter 44: A New Day Dawns

'We Stand Sentinel!'
-Motto of House Kevsha

Bayyah Na Tyrooz, The Old City

The boat pulled into the harbour, the sky was still a murky grey at this hour with the sun still yet to rise from its place of rest. Kirah Na Vesha waited on the beach in fearful silence, she had fled her home in the early hours with nothing save the clothes on her back and the valuables necessary to pay for passage.

Three shadowy figures waded ashore, a tall scarred woman stood in front her arms folded as Kirah approached meekly. A week ago Kirah had been CEO of one of the most powerful oil companies in Eras, now she was trading jewellery for safe passage on an ageing tugboat. How quickly her fortunes had changed.

'You have the payment?' the scarred woman asked

Kirah held out a bag filled with pearls, emeralds and gold jewellery, there was a small fortune in that pouch. She had hoarded money in countless offshore accounts for fear of the coup failing, it seemed she had been the only one smart enough to prepare for this eventuality. Murza's head was being paraded around Tyrooz on a spike and by all accounts, Hushen had attempted to fly and failed. Kirah was now the last remaining member of the triad that had sought to rule Astragon.

'How did you get past the navy?' she asked nervously

'They are busy, Your Empress has seized the city and her loyalist admirals are preoccupied with disarming the rebels and impounding their vessels...they are not going to be looking for one small boat' the woman replied in a tone that seemed half playful and half nonchalant

'I suppose I have nothing to lose by fleeing then' Kirah said with an inward sigh

She would miss her estate in red palms* with its elegant red marble floor and a vast collection of ivory sculptures. She had spent a lifetime cultivating her private home only to have to abandon it in mere hours, she doubted she would ever be able to return. Iteria was no longer safe, Sabhrain would have her thrown from the highest rampart, the Iraelians would shoot her on sight and none of the other league nations would take in a fugitive liable to create a diplomatic crisis.

'Where do you want to go, we need to leave soon, daylight is not far off' the woman replied her tone containing a hint of urgency

'Where indeed' Kirah thought grimly

The options were not comforting if she fled to Demescia Sabhrains agents would have her head returned to the empress in mere months, Kian was close enough to Astragonese shipping lanes that there would be plenty of imperial agents snooping about...Icenia, cold and dark little Icenia...that would have to do

'Take me to Icenia' she said in a resigned voice

She knew her exile would be one of misery and hardship, Icenia was a cold place and the food was bland, she would live but it would be a shadow of the extravagance she had enjoyed in Astragon, still she would cling to the scrawny joyless remnants of life even in their most miserable form. The captain nodded and they pushed the boat out to sea. Exile and cold obscurity awaited.

* Red Palms, Korruz Palmya in Hailesha is one of Bayyah Na Tyrooz's most wealthy and exclusive neighbourhoods

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

We stand alone in the rebuilt halls of the Imperial assembly, the bullet holes have been filled in and the scars of battle covered. The roar of cheering crowds grows more immense with each passing moment, it can be heard even here behind the newly restored doors.

'They grow impatient my Empress' Sarakhaid says with a broad grin

The prince of Domos* stands before me in the black and gold uniform of the Vizier of Estates, he wears it well as though he was born to it. Izrah's old political ally shall now be my right hand, together we shall once more bring order to the lands I now govern.

'Why do they cheer I wonder? thousands died and tens of thousands more were left homeless because of the war, surely they should be cursing my name not praising it' i say grimly

Sarakhaid frowns 'They cheer because cheering is all they have ever known because their fathers and mothers cheered before them, they cheer because a strong Exalt means full bellies and a life undisturbed by bombs and death, most of all though, they cheer because this is Astragon and for three millennia men have lived and died in the shadow of your ancestors, they cheer because we know no master save the one who sits the peacock throne' Sarakhaid says in utter sincerity

Three Millennia, a sea of time which leaves even the greatest individuals nothing more then drops in the vast expanse. The Exalt of Astragon is as a navigator, guiding their people through the uncertain darkness into the light of a greater destiny. And so I shall be their dictator, their autocrat, their god made flesh.

'Eloquent Sarakhaid, Izrah was right to think you a worthy successor' i reply approvingly

'Your Exalt is too kind, though there is much work to do before I can claim to be even half the Vizier Izrah and your father were' he said in a self-abasing tone

The war was mercifully short and left the majority of the empire unscathed, the capital is another story, whole districts lie battered and gutted by fire and war, I shall rebuild these great edifices of my nation and return to my subjects their dignity in the process.

'I've already set the army to work clearing rubble and repairing battle damage, occupied soldiers are well-behaved ones after all' i say confidently

'In time the scars will heal and close over, the city will return to its old rhythms and citizens will forget the days they hid from shells and bullets, but first my lady, they must meet their Exalt' Sarakhaid says motioning to the stairs with a ringed hand

I ascend the stairs and walk down the long corridor leading to the balcony that overlooks the assembly courtyard. Red Kaiderin line the path and they stand to attention and raise their swords in salute as I pass. The doors to the balcony are pulled open and the glow of sunlight is blinding white for a moment. I walk through and find myself standing on the balcony of the assembly building, overlooking a courtyard filled with thousands of cheering citizens.

'MAINAH KAIDSHAH*!' thousands of voices roar

'MAINAH KAIDSHAH' the crowd repeats in near-deafening unison

I gaze down at their faces, they are a sea of anonymous souls to me, but each one is here cheering because they believe I can make their lives better. That is the truth of it, Sakard and Murza were half right when they said action ennobles us...it is also the belief we inspire in others, I am Exalted because my citizens have chosen to raise me to that rarified height. I will not disappoint them, I shall be what they require.

I am Sabhrain Na Kevsha, Exalt-Empress of Astragon, I am the Shepard of the faithful and the sentinel of the Hailakaid, I am the scion of Kevsha and the legacy of the Valdishah. I am the Peacock, I am the Manticore.

*Domos, Astragons Second City.
*Imperial Mother in Hailesha, an honorific reserved for the Exalt

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