Story Recap:
The forces of Candahar were saved from the Und’kal threat by the intervention of armies from The Whitelands, The Dragon Empire and Indus. In the aftermath of the fight, Ren mediated deeply rooted conflicts between these parties in an attempt to form alliances that were inevitably unstable.
Because the battle of Candahar left the city destroyed, Ren established a refugee camp, where she gathered people who had fled the Und’kal menace. She also housed the armies that had come to Candahar’s rescue. In preparation to counter the alien threat, she asked representatives to call their leaders for a meeting of nations.
Abasi fled the destruction of Kampalla with companions Imad, Hadi and Jamil. While on a journey to bring warning of the Und’kal threat to the Pharaoh, god-king of the Blacklands, the four found themselves waylaid at Candahar. Here, Abasi met with his old friend Omir, and learned how Abejide, one of the chiefs of Candahar had accepted white people into the city. Before the two could act, the Und’kal horde fell upon the city, and Abasi was dragged into battle.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ren fidgeted ceaselessly with her hair. Maybe the braids were too much…I should have tied it in a tail. But this is what the women of the Blacklands do. What if they think it’s rude of me to copy them? I should have just left it down...
“You look wonderful, my Queen.” Maria said.
“I don’t know…I should have worn that dress that the village chief from Boran gave me…” She said, pulling on her awkward leather jerkin. “But it was so big…I thought it would look strange. I used to have so many nice dresses…”
“This is a time of war, you need to show that you are ready to fight…”
“And the hair…maybe we shouldn’t have braided all of it…Or leave it straight…Or I don’t know…” Her voice was shaky.
Maria extended her arms to hold Ren’s shoulders. “My Queen. You will be fine, you need not worry about these things.”
“But it’s the first time they see me…”
“And they will love you, my Queen.”
“Brenda, Abejide is almost done.” Zammar’s booming voice spoke above her.
Ren’s fingers started numbing. With Maria, she had been hiding behind Zammar for the duration of the ceremony, trying to calm her nerves. Now she focused her hearing on the ethereal chanting that filled the dry desert air.
She peeked her head around Zammar’s arm. Abejide was standing on an improvised podium of dirt in front of a low mound. His arms were raised in the air as he crescendoed to a high note. The remnants of the Candaharan people, so few now, stood across the mound from him and imitated the chant.
The mass burial ceremony was taking place just beyond the blood stained ground where the battle had been fought. Behind the Candaharans, and as testament to their resolve, the remaining structures of their city were finally starting to materialize from rubble. In the distance, downwind to the south, a dark and thick plume of smoke rose to the sky. Ren had decreed that all Und’kal corpses be burned, not wanting to risk disease.
“It looks like the white people are finished as well.” Maria said.
The large gathering of soldiers from Lion’s Gate was walking slowly towards Abejide and his followers. Behind them, six horses rode to the north. They carried bodies wrapped in ornate cloth and were led by three armoured riders. The soldiers would be buried in their homeland, by ancient tradition.
“Why do they wear that heavy metal? Are they so afraid of us that they think we will attack them at such a time?” Maria said.
Minus their helmets, every soldier from the Lion’s Gate assembly was fully adorned for battle, regal in their golden plated armour. Moving as a group, they looked formidable. Ren had to squint against the sunlight that bounced off the wall of steel before she could make out Anderson proudly leading the men. I guess looking powerful is more important than being cooked alive...Even Ren, in her sleeveless jerkin, was sweating in the desert heat.
The chanting stopped suddenly, leaving behind an eerie and empty silence.
“Looks like all of the others are coming now.” Zammar said.
Skystorm Ashak and two other high ranking members from Kathman were approaching Abejide. The rest of the bird riders were either resting their birds in the mountains or patrolling on the lookout for stragglers and Und’kal. Azure Dragon Takahito had come early, and had spent the entire ceremony awkwardly standing to Abejide’s side. Now he perked up as his soldiers starting filing in from the refugee camp. Bare chested and displaying their extensive tattoos, they took up the space to the right of the Candaharans.
A long lineup followed the column from The Dragon Empire, as all of the other inhabitants of the campsite slowly made their way to the ceremony. The ground, which three weeks ago had been covered in bodies, was now choked below thousands of people. Slowly the silence was replaced by whispering, and soon by the loud ambiance that accompanies a crowd so large.
Abejide, Ashak, Anderson and Takahito gathered together and started walking back towards Zammar. Ren quickly stepped out from behind the large man and stood as tall as she could.
“Looks like there will be a large turnout.” Anderson said.
“Life has been confusing for the people. They want to know what’s going on and what our plan is.” Abejide replied.
“I am sorry for your losses. Those that died here were heroes that fought for the most just of causes.” Ren said, and embraced Abejide awkwardly. “And yours,” she looked at each of the other leaders.
“Thank you, Queen Ansari.” Abejide replied somberly. “It is a sad day, but their spirits will live on in us.”
“A sad day indeed. Will there be a ceremony for those lost at Torst?” Anderson asked, his blue eyes piercing into Ren.
“Someday…” She replied quietly.
“We must look forward. Lest their sacrifice be in vain.” Zammar said. “Sky-storm, any sight of the Und’kal? This would be an unfortunate time for them to attack.”
The short, bearded man shook his head. “Three weeks pass, and none are spotted. Not even in the mountains. But close to Torst, we dare not venture.”
“That’s okay. Let us hope that they stay within their caves.” Zammar said, but Ren could hear the worry in his voice.
“Perhaps we have scared them off with the victory at Candahar.” Takahito said.
“I doubt it.” Zammar replied.
Slowly the crowd exiting the refugee camp started to dwindle. Presently, inhabitants of the settlement covered the entire battlefield, and now even stretched back into the ruins of Candahar. They shuffled impatiently among one another, fighting for space at the front. And they whispered uneasily, confused, and anxious for answers.
“Queen Ansari, I think we should start.” Abejide said.
Ren, who had been whispering her speech to herself, jumped at his voice. “Y-yes…” She replied hurriedly.
Abejide stepped up to his podium, his dark and sweaty torso glistening in the sunlight, and raised his arms in the air. Slowly, but surely, the ambiance of the crowd started to die down. When it was replaced with tense silence, Abejide’s voice boomed across the gathering.
“Candaharans, allies from The Dragon Lands, Indus, The Whitelands, and my brethren of The Blacklands, I am Abejide, chief of Candahar. Behind you is the ruin of what used to be my home. In front of me lie the bodies of my people, my allies, and my friends. And there,” he pointed to the smoke rising in the distance, “burn the bodies of my enemies. Our enemies. Today we gather, because we have all lost the same, and our enemy is the same.”
“We have seen how powerful this enemy is. The Und’kal. Monsters from another world. Here at Candahar, we defeated them for the first time. Together, we were able to drive away the beasts. But friends, their horde is immense and they will be back. We must be ready. We have established this camp, and given refuge to all among you whose home was destroyed. We all seek to rebuild the lives we once had. But when the Und’kal return, they will come in force and our livelihood will again be threatened. This is a battle that we cannot win alone. Whether you are of The Whitelands or The Blacklands, our nations will not survive if we do not ally.”
“Do you think I lie? Do you think that the aliens have been defeated, that they will not return? Then let me tell you my friends, that the whisperings are true. When the Und’kal came to this world, they first laid their eyes on the city of Torst. Yes, Torst has fallen.” Abejide paused for emphasis, allowing his words to prompt shocked murmurs that spread like a wave across the gathering.
“Yes, the same city that stood for a thousand years against the might of all four nations, was destroyed in one night by the Und’kal. If we do not cease the feuds of our past and ally, our survival is at stake. Our children will never grow, for they will not have a world in which to grow. Our lineages, our histories, our cultures will be lost. We all will be lost.”
“I know that you wonder why I have allowed the white people, the dragons, and those from Indus into The Blacklands. It is sacrilege, I know. I will face the consequences. But I have done this because it is essential to our survival. They have come, because it is essential to their survival. And we have been brought together under a neutral banner. Yes, the other whisperings are true as well.”
“Before the city of Torst fell, the high council reinstated the city’s ancient monarchy. The throne was given to the youngest of the Adriatic line of Kings, and she was saved from the destruction of Torst. Yes, the Queen of Torst is still alive. As per the laws of The Blacklands pertaining to Torst’s monarch, I allowed her into Candahar. She fought with us in the battle, even when I told her to leave. In doing so, she showed me her strength and so, I trust her to lead a coalition of nations to counter the alien threat. She has started and administered this camp, as well as gathered representatives of the nations. If it weren’t for her, many of you would have died under the desert sun. If it weren’t for her, our inner and ancient conflicts would have taken over, and we would stand no chance against the Und’kal. I would like to introduce her to you, she is Queen Brenda Ansari of Torst.”
Ren didn’t move at once. Her legs felt wobbly, and she felt nauseous. It wasn’t until Zammar gave her an encouraging pat on the shoulder that she finally willed herself to walk up the podium. Okay, just like I rehearsed…Look at their foreheads, relax.
Abejide stepped aside and Ren took his position. She felt thousands of eyes staring at her, cold and silent in their judgement. To her left was the contingent from The Dragon Empire. Clearly separated by a small gap from these, the Candaharans standing in front of her were hard-faced and impassive. Behind them were all of the villagers that constituted the majority of the campsite, and to their left was Lion’s Gate. Every eye was on Ren.
Why don’t they at least smile? They really don’t look that happy. Well they did just bury their dead…But still…
She cleared her throat, “Hi.” No no, introductions…Dragon Empire.
“Hello, on behalf of Torst…” Someone coughed behind her. Oh! Louder! Look at the fire slingers.
Ren did look at the fire slingers from The Dragon Empire. They seemed so foreign to her. Yes, there had been many people from the Empire in Torst. But most had not fully embraced their ethnic culture. And Torst in and of itself was segregated enough that she was never truly exposed to them. They’ve come so far from home. What must it feel like to be in this desert? To be surrounded by people that your ancestors hated, and who hate you even now?
And Ren regarded all of the survivors from The Blacklands. They have suffered the most. Their homes, families, their lives were completely destroyed. Can I blame them for being unhappy with the campsite?
She remembered the diligence with which Ashak and his fellow bird tamers patrolled the skies. How they had gathered these people together, and given them a second chance at life.
She even acknowledged the soldiers from Lion’s Gate. They did save us. But why? I’ll have to find out. Still, they are such a powerful ally. And they have behaved so well, considering how much hate the natives send their way.
Ren had been standing for several minutes. And now the crowd, which had watched her so intently, began to shuffle and whisper. “Queen Ansari.” Abejide whispered behind her, and started walking to the podium. Ren held up her hand, stopping him. As she spoke, her voice felt external to herself; a simple rehearsal of words in a room on her own.
“To the fire slingers of the Dragon Empire, the bird riders of Kathman and the soldiers of Lion’s Gate, I extend my most heartfelt welcome. To Candahar, and the people of The Blacklands, I extend my sincere gratitude for providing us with a place of refuge. My name is Brenda Ansari, and as Chief Abejide has described, I am the last Torstian. My father, Commander Ansari, was the leader of Torst’s military. When he heard about the Und’kal threat, he decided that the city would stand alone. This was our undoing, because the forces of evil were far too powerful.”
“The Und’kal destroyed my home, and occupied the tunnels beneath it as their own. The size of their horde is immense. Yes, we defeated them, but the swarm that attacked Kampalla and Candahar was only a small portion of that which fell upon Torst. These monsters are intelligent and bloodthirsty. They will not sit back and accept defeat. We can only assume that they will be back.”
“To this end, I have, as the monarch of the neutral city state of Torst, called together a gathering of the nations. We will form a coalition, and provide a united front to strike back at this alien threat. I will also rebuild my home city of Torst. Any who wish to join me, are welcome to do so. We will be recruiting soldiers to fight the Und’kal under the Torstian banner. If you wish to fight, you will be armed and trained. All are welcome, regardless of ancestry or gender or colour of skin.”
“I know it is difficult, I know it sounds strange, but all four nations must ally. When I walked through this battlefield, the morning after the battle, I saw two things. The first was black and vile; the blood of the Und’kal. The second was red and tragic; the blood of my fellow soldiers. I realized that morning, that I could not tell apart the blood of a man from The Blacklands from that of a man from The Whitelands. The only thing I saw was us and them, us and the monsters. And I learned that we, all of us no matter the colour of our skin, we bleed the same.
“The leaders of all of your nations will come, and we will discuss how to proceed with this coalition. Together, we will defeat the Und’kal. But in the meanwhile, we must also look to our current livelihood. I thank you for putting up with the conditions in this refugee camp. I know it is hard; resources are scarce and space is little. But we are running the camp under the Torstian banner. It is neutral territory – everyone is welcome. I urge cooperation and unity. We have to learn to live together, and we cannot afford to lower ourselves to brawls and squabbles.”
“With the help of our friends from The Dragon Empire, Lion’s Gate and Candahar, we have tried our best to provide lodging and food for everyone. But this is not sufficient. I need you, I need everyone in this campsite. If we want to survive and thrive, to rebuild the lives we once had, we must all contribute. For this, I’d like to make some announcements about how the camp will be administered.”
Ren took a deep breath. Okay, here goes.
“We will be introducing a new currency for use within the campsite.” Almost instantly, the crowd, which had been latched to her every word, broke their silence by murmuring among one another. Ren continued undeterred. “Chips from the Candaharan wall will be the tokens of exchange. Working for the campsite will earn you chips. The crowd was getting louder. “There is lots of work to be done, and we could use all of the experience possible. You may register for work with the camp administration. Every merchant will have to register before selling. You will only be allowed to sell using the wooden chips. All trade will be done with the new currency.”
Ren’s last words prompted an eruption of noise. She instinctively stepped back as several of the camp inhabitants charged forward and were blocked by the Candaharans in front of them.
“Wait…” She whispered desperately, her voice lost in the cacophony.
“Who do you think you are?!” Someone shouted.
“Get out of The Blacklands!”
“The Pharaoh’s going to kill you!”
“What am I going to do with my Ran?”
“We can’t convert the money yet…We need to talk to the Pharaoh…” Ren cried to no avail. Soldiers from Candahar had formed a line to stop the rioting crowd, but the armies from Lion’s Gate and The Dragon Empire were watching impassively.
“Kill her!”
“Get rid of all of them!”
“Black Lands!” And a chant began. “Black! Lands! Black! Lands! Black! Lands!”
“No…” Ren whispered, her hands shaking. “No please…”
“Black! Lands! Black! Lands! Black! Lands!”
“Silence!” An immense voice boomed above Ren, overpowering and instantly quelling the uprising. Suddenly, Zammar was standing next to her, his eyes alight in fury. “Did you think this refugee camp was a charity? That you were entitled to lodging and protection? That you could sit back and be provided for by the efforts of others? Did you think that the Und’kal are someone else’s problem, even after they destroyed your home? Shame on you.”
“I hate to tell you, but we are in this fight together. They will be back, and if you are not ready, you will be killed. If each of us does not carry his own weight in this camp, none of us will survive. If you do not, if you disobey the instructions of the administration, and disrupt the life that Queen Ansari is trying to establish for everyone, I will remove you from this camp myself. So tell me, can you earn your place here, or do you think you have a better chance in the desert?”
The words from a man as awe-inspiring as Zammar were enough to cause many in the crowd to look at their feet in shame. Others glowered angrily in his direction, but were unable to meet his eyes. Much of the crowd hadn’t even been involved in the protests, but still they felt humiliated.
Ren’s hands were shaking, but she cleared her throat and spoke as loudly as she could. “Once we can talk to The Pharaoh and the other leaders, we will try to develop a way to convert the currency. Many came here with riches and goods to barter and trade. But many others came without anything. Resources are scarce, and work needs to be done. So we really need everyone to contribute. And if you contribute, you will be rewarded. This new currency will take place immediately. Everyone will be given ten chips to start with. You will be assigned work within the week. Merchants will receive lists of recommended pricing for different produce.”
“What produce?!” Someone shouted.
“There’s no more food!”
“I know!” Ren cried quickly. “We’re going to send people to check the fertile plains along the Arghan to the South-East…We don’t know how much of the year’s harvest was interrupted by the Und’kal, but it’s still growing season. So maybe we can salvage a lot of it.”
“The harvest won’t be ready for months!”
“All of the farmers ran away!”
“Also, we’re going to make boats to fish down river and in the Sea of Oppression. Soldiers are going to go to the mountains to hunt game, and investigate Kampalla to see if anything is left. We’ve already sent out messengers to every fortress nearby for resources. And when they come for the gathering of nations, the leaders of all the nations will bring food. We just have to hold on!” Ren talked loudly and quickly, but the rowdiness of the crowd continued. Soon the same chant started again.
“Black! Lands! Black! Lands!”
“No…Listen to me, please!” Ren cried.
“Black! Lands! Black! Lands!”
“Brenda, that’s enough.” Zammar said.
“But…”
“They’re not listening. But in time, they will learn.”
Zammar placed his hand on Ren’s shoulder, and guided her back to the other leaders. The chant continued behind them.
***
Abasi smiled broadly as the chanting surrounded him. His white teeth contrasted strongly with the deep black of his skin, and the scar where his left eye used to be added a sinister connotation to the expression. “Looks like it’ll be easier than we expected.” He said to Imad.
“Not everyone is joining in.” Imad observed calmly. He was tall, and his long braided hair swung as he looked about the mass of people around them.
Abasi spat on the ground. Imad was right. They were surrounded by people, pure black people that weren’t contributing to the chant. That stood dumbly, concerned for nothing but their own survival, unable to see the bigger picture. Does the Pharaohdom mean nothing to them?
Abejide, the traitor, had taken over from the self-proclaimed Queen, and was waving his hands in the air to quiet the crowd. Abasi scoffed. “Come on, let’s find Omir.”
Imad nodded obediently, and turned to lead the way through the crowd, shoving aside people without a care. The two broke free of the mass of bodies and its accompanying odour and walked across rope lain on the ground which marked the refugee camp’s boundary.
The camp looked to Abasi like desperation put into material form. Tents of all shapes and sizes had been erected sporadically, created from whatever material could be salvaged. Some were made from scraps of clothes stitched haphazardly together, held down by rocks and elevated by crudely made poles. Other people had taken more care, creating small mud buildings. The different villages and groups living in the camp had been allowed to build their own housing. Some chose to make large shelters that housed the entire village, others chose to live in smaller groups. The entire campsite looked like it would be blown over by a strong gust of wind, yet it had endured weeks of the harsh desert sand.
An aqueduct system had been improvised, redirecting the Arghan River to wells near the main pathways in the camp. The camp was usually a hub of activity, with children on the pathways and people trading and socialising constantly, especially near these wells. But now, with most inhabitants gone to watch the announcements, it seemed eerily empty. There were some who had stayed, older women and children mostly, but they presented a subdued state of apprehension and stayed quiet as Abasi and Imad passed.
Abasi looked to his right, where the Lion’s Gate flag waved over their territory and he shook his head sadly. To think they were allowed into the Pharaohdom so easily. Of all the villains in The Whitelands, the Lion! But this is a good opportunity. The Pharaoh will crush their Golden Brigade. They won’t have a chance to escape.
The two walked through the central section of the campsite, where the large command tent had been setup. Candaharan guards eyed the pair warily as they walked by, but Abasi ignored them. Fucking savages. And walked into the Candahar remnant’s portion of the campsite. He always hated coming here, being loath to see the primitive customs of the Candaharan people, and their heretical worship of the wrong gods. But today the silence in the camp was calming and he walked easily to a large tent by the river’s shore.
There was laughter coming from inside.
“Don’t worry Omir my friend, I’ll win her over!”
“Oi, she’s my daughter you little shit!”
Abasi entered the dimly lit tent, grateful for the shade, and observed as Omir and Hadi, who were sitting on a circular bench in the center, almost fell off backwards laughing. Then Hadi saw him, stiffened and stood up clumsily to offer a salute.
“Sir! I thought the ceremony wasn’t over yet!”
“Yeah whatever.” Abasi said, walking on a vibrant carpet past cushions, clothes, and other luxuries. “How are you Omir?” He asked, clasping his old friend’s hand.
Omir smiled, revealing his stained teeth. “Good good, what about your injuries?”
Abasi shrugged and took a seat next to Hadi. He accepted the bowl of hearty soup that Omir’s daughter, who had been stirring a pot in a corner of the square tent, offered him. “I see you’ve moved things over from Candahar.”
“Ah fuck it man, I lost so much that I had hidden away in that house.”
“But you’re still living like a king, while Imad and I have to sleep on dirt.”
Omir smiled wickedly. “You gotta know the market man. I always told ya, there’s no profit fighting in war.”
“Then why were you by my side when we raided Impasse?”
“I was young and stupid.” He grinned, pointing to the scar on Abasi’s face. “But at least I still have both eyes, and that lets me see things you miss.”
“I don’t need both eyes to serve the Pharaoh, to see the treason happening here.” Abasi said. “Why did you live in Candahar? With these savages.”
“I told ya man, ya gotta know the market.”
“The market eh? Looks like the new bitch queen has a few things to say about your market.”
Omir’s ever-smiling face stiffened. “What did she say?”
“Something about a new currency or whatever. You won’t be able to trade your old goods and Ran, you’ll need to get off that fat ass and do some actual work.”
Omir took a long sip of a drink in his clay cup, and looked thoughtful for a moment. “I see. Troublesome, but not a problem. People will always want things, Abasi, and I will always be there to provide.”
“Whatever. So you don’t have any obligations or friendships with the Candaharans right? Because if you do, I’ll wring your throat, doesn’t matter that we fought together once.”
Omir laughed lightheartedly. “Right down to business, eh? No, I don’t give a damn about these savages, and man I love the Pharaoh as much as you do.”
“Good, so what’s the situation?”
Omir reached into his pocket and took out a piece of papyrus with a crudely drawn map on it. He placed this on the round table that separated him and Abasi.
“That bitch, the Queen of Torst, Ansari or whatever, is playing pretty smart. She has the full support of the Candaharans. And many in the Blacklands respect Abejide enough to follow his lead. If he supports her, many of the villages that used to trade with Candahar will as well. Look, I took the liberty of figuring out which spaces the different villages and tribes have been assigned.”
“Bida, Omin, Kimba, Assi, Sampalok. You know them, they are loyal to the Pharaoh, they believe in our gods. Look at what this Queen has done, she’s split them up. Paired them off with villages she knows will be loyal to Candahar, and then separated them using the White People and those Dragons and Candaharans.”
“How many do you think will join us?” Abasi asked.
Omir contemplated for a minute. “I’d say half of the black people in the camp. The villages I just mentioned. They’ll join us.”
Abasi shook his head. “Not enough. We can’t take down the Lion and Dragon and Candahar if only half join us. We need all of the black to stay united and kill the trespassers.”
Omir nodded.
“I’m also worried about that man, Zammar that guards the bitch. We need to find a way to get rid of him.”
“There are rumours that he’s growing weaker, after his fight with that giant monster, that he was poisoned or something…” Omir said.
“Not good enough Omir, we need to be sure about this. We can’t fuck this up. They said they invited the leaders of the nations, so the when the Pharaoh arrives, he needs to see the dominance and unity of The Blacklands.”
“So he’s really coming then?” Omir asked, almost reverently.
“The bitch queen said she invited all of the leaders. Omir, this is an amazing opportunity! The Pharaoh will definitely bring soldiers; he will not stand for this treason. If we can take over this camp and neutralize the Lion and Dragon, we can set up an ambush for the other leaders. The pharaoh will crush the leadership of the other nations. Torst is gone now. The world will bow to the Black.”
Omir nodded sinisterly. “And no doubt the beloved will recognize our contribution.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Omir. We still need to take control here.”
The four sat in silence, Hadi and Omir sipping their drinks while Abasi stared hard at the map.
“Let’s start by gathering the village leaders we know will be loyal to the Pharaoh. We need to be discrete.”
“I can make that happen.” Omir said. “But what about the others?”
“You say that Abejide is the reason that the other villages will follow Candahar?”
“Yeah. I’d say so.”
“Good. How do you kill a snake without getting bit?”
“I dunno, step on it?”
“No. You cut off its head.”
***
“It is too much for them so suddenly, I am certain that they will realize the need. This is for the better.” Maria said.
“Yeah.” Ren replied absentmindedly. The two were walking through the refugee camp, on the way to the command tent. In the distance, voices and footsteps indicated that Abejide had finished his closing remarks and dismissed the crowd.
“In time, they will come to love you. Their anger exists for many reasons, but you are the victim of it. They will learn that their lives are owed to you. You will gain their allegiance.”
“I’m sure.” Ren stopped outside the command tent, and turned around to watch people streaming into the campsite in the distance. “Can you give me a moment, Maria?”
Her guide looked confused and startled at the request, but nodded and stood aside with the other two Candaharans that were guarding the tent. One of these guards began to speak, but Ren raised her hand to silence him and entered the tent. Once inside the roomy and carpeted shelter, she sighed and leaned tiredly against an old wooden cabinet, massaging her temple. Accessories such as this had been salvaged from the Candaharan ruin, and Ren had made good use of them, lining the tent walls with a variety of trunks, cabinets and other storage options for documents. She’d also managed to salvage a desk, and several chairs.
For a minute, and with her eyes closed, she listened to the footsteps and voices of the camp inhabitants growing closer and eventually surrounding the command tent as people all made their way back to their homes.
“Having a bad day?” The haughty voice startled Ren, and she cried out embarrassingly. There, sitting in her seat behind the desk that occupied the far end of the tent, a man in golden plated armour with long blonde hair and striking blue eyes was watching her loftily. He’d raised his feet, armoured in greaves, to rest on the table, and was casually leaning back in the chair. In his hand he held a half-eaten fruit of an exotic variety, one that the Golden Brigade had brought from The Whitelands.
“Major Henri Lancaster. To what do I owe this pleasure?” She said, clearing her throat and straightening her leather jerkin.
The man took another bite of his fruit and looked Ren up and down. “I just thought I should visit and see how you are faring after that fiasco of a speech.”
Ren’s eye twitched at his tone and accent, but she put on a smile. “Well, I do appreciate your concern, but I am faring perfectly fine.”
The man scoffed and took another bite of his fruit. He waved a finger in Ren’s direction. “You know, they will never listen. You are pleading with savages.”
“Really, Major? What would you rather have me do?”
“Leave this place. These people will not follow you; they do not respect authority. They do not know what is good for them.”
“Then you would have me abandon them all?”
“Abandon them? There is nothing to abandon! I am simply noting that you are wasting your time. People of the Blacklands are not pure, they do not deserve a savior. Let them rot. Your charity is wasted here.”
“On what basis do you make this claim? Who are you to say they are not pure?”
The major looked abashed. “Look at their dress, the savagery! Look at their burial customs, all that pointless screaming and grunting! Look at their gods! Not one god, but to worship so many. Heresy! And if that is not enough, you need not look further than the colour of their skin. That dirty complexion sickens me in the heart.”
Ren had walked forward so that she was standing across the desk from the Major, and looking down on him. “Blonde hair, fair skin and blue eyes. That’s Lion’s Gate’s idea of perfection isn’t it? Last I looked, I don’t exactly fit your criteria.”
“Indeed. And you are lesser for it.”
“Then, am I too not a savage?”
The major cocked an eyebrow. “Your skin is fair, a sign from god of purity. There are many like you in Lion’s Gate.”
“Right, you mean toiling away in the mines to support people like you. Tell me, if I walked your streets, will I see anyone that looks like me?”
“No. And rightfully so. We would not have the likes of you taint the streets of the holy city.”
Ren sighed in exasperation and took a seat across the table.
“You are welcome in Lion’s Gate. You will be given lodging, I’m sure. It will be in the mines of course. Your work will be hard, but you will be in your rightful place, serving those who are superior. If not the holy city, I’m sure Muska or Kaliningrad will both accept you. But there is no need to waste your life away trying to save barbarians.”
“Tell me something, major. Why are you here? In this land of barbarians?”
The major grinned dazzlingly. “I ask myself the same question. But alas, I will follow General Anderson to the ends of the world.”
“Then why is he here? Why did Lion’s Gate save us at the Battle of Candahar? Because, yes, you did save us. Why? Aren’t these people savages? Was it not better to let them die? Why risk losing men in combat to a new enemy?”
“I told you already, the Golden Brigade owed Zammar a debt. And we repaid it in full.”
“What debt? What did Zammar do for you?”
The major looked at Ren thoughtfully. “I will be honest. I do not know. This all happened before I joined the brigade.”
Ren exhaled in frustration. Zammar never tells me anything.
“Then if the debt is repaid in full, why is Lion’s Gate still here? What does Anderson want, why is he friendly to me?”
Laughter rang across the tent as Lancaster finished his fruit and tossed the pit on the ground. “Oh, you poor commoner girl. Did you think I would tell you? That I would betray my General?”
Ren ignored his laughter and thought for a moment. “Is it something to do with elections at home? I guess that time is coming isn’t it?”
The major looked surprised for a moment but quickly veiled it behind a thin smile.
“You can tell me, you know. It’s in my interest to have a friend that supports me in power. If I know, I can help.”
Lancaster sighed and relaxed. “Yes, it is well known that General Anderson will be running for the position of Magistrate.”
“I see.” And New Torst will make a precious ally in that campaign. After all, every nation wants to be on Torst’s good side.
“Then, by defeating the Und’kal threat, Anderson will strengthen his case and hopefully win this election.” Ren said carefully. “I assume you will be vying to replace him as the General-Brigadier of the Golden Brigade?”
Lancaster bit his lip and looked away from Ren’s eyes.
“No?” She asked after a moment of silence. “Are you not worthy?”
The major scoffed. “It is not your place to judge my worth, commoner.”
Ren sat back in her chair, crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow. “You’re not pure enough are you?”
Lancaster slammed his armored hand on the desk, denting it visibly. “That’s enough! I do not need this from someone like you.” He got up angrily and started thudding his way to the tent’s exit.
Ren rolled her eyes. “Is that why you always put on a fake accent?”
The major stopped and turned around slowly. “What do you mean?” The unnatural enunciations were missing from his voice, making it much less grating to hear. And, Ren thought, it actually sounded pretty attractive naturally.
“Your accent. You always put on a fake one.”
Lancaster cleared his throat. “That’s not true.” He coughed intentionally, and tried to loosen the plate around his neck.
“Yes it is.” Ren pivoted around in her chair and smiled innocently at the man. “But you know, I think you sound a lot better without that accent. Then again, I’m just a commoner so what do I know, right?”
Lancaster didn’t say anything for a moment, but stared deeply into Ren’s eyes. Finally, he shook his head and cleared his throat. “You’re lying…” As he turned around to walk out, Ren spoke again.
“You know, Major. In my nation, the one I will create, you won’t need to pretend to be someone you’re not to achieve your goals in life.”
Lancaster scoffed unconvincingly and strutted out of the tent. Edited by GB
Author's Note:
Hi everyone, I just wanted to clarify some things about the people living at the refugee camp that Ren has setup.
At the end of pt.11, I added a section with a bit of a "history lesson," which delved into some of the lore of the world and described several cities. Combined with the map, which I drew (very artistically mind you), and have attached to the side panel on my blog, I hope that one can get a good idea of the universe. Reading those will probably add some more detail to what I'm going to write here.
Ren was at Candahar, which lies on a river known as the Arghan river. The city was destroyed when the Und'kal lay siege, but survivors of the fight were saved by foreign forces. Since then, she established a refugee camp by the river's shore, next to Candahar. These are the people currently living at the camp:
The Golden Brigade of Lion's Gate: Lion's Gate is one of major cities in The Whitelands, and one built on an extreme ideology that prefers people of nordic ascent (fair skin, blue eyes, blonde hair ). The Golden Brigade is a cavalry formed by the city's most talented and accomplished soldiers. Brigadier General Anderson leads the brigade.
Bird Riders of Kathman: Kathman is a city of the Indus Commonwealth (the same land that Aitzaz and Khan hail from). However, the city is pretty far North and isolated from the rest of the Commonwealth. The people of this city tame birds, specifically giant falcons, hawks and eagles. Due to desert conditions being unfavourable for the mountain birds, Ren allowed the riders to rest in the Dragon Peaks. She relies on them to watch for Und'kal and stragglers. Sky-Storm Ashak is their leader.
Fire Slingers of the Dragon Empire: The Dragon Empire is the empire occupying land north of Torst. It is one of advanced technology, having developed rockets and explosives. The Fire Slingers are known for their fighting style that combines fire, explosions, fists and deadly kicks. A battalion of these Fire Slingers fought at Candahar, and are staying at the refugee camp. Azure Dragon Takahito is their leader.
Candaharans: Candahar was the odd city out in the Pharaohdom of The Blacklands. It is the only city in the empire where the Kairan religion, which was founded by the first pharaoh, is not practiced. As such, Candaharans are often looked at as heretics by others in The Blacklands. This is worsened by their traditions (such as cannibalism, gender equality and dressing very minimally). The majority of Candaharans perished in the battle to defend their city against Und'kal. Few remain now. Chiefs Abejide and Hirat are their leaders.
Refugees: This group composes the vast majority of the camp's population. While not shown on the map, the land between Candahar and Kampalla (direct distance ~250km), as well as all of the land around Candahar was studded with small villages and towns. The people living here were unable to fend off the invading Und'kals. But several villages fled before the aliens reached their homes. Ren had riders from Kathman redirect these people to the refugee camp. In all, eleven villages reside in the camp, and they are named on a map I drew (very artistically) and attached to pt.13. Each village is represented by their individual leaders, and their loyalties vary from supporting the Pharaoh to supporting Abejide and the Candaharans.
In addition to the above mentioned people, we have our own heroes and villains residing in the camp.
I hope that clears up any confusion. If not, feel free to shoot me any questions!
Thank you for reading! :)
No comments:
Post a Comment