The Fallen Realm [attn: LOP]

[Darussalam]

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Authorised by His Imperial Majesty Zahir-ud-Din Muhammad Jahanbakhsh Alamshah, Sovereign of the House Qarawand, by the grace of Allah Almighty, the Padishah of Darussian realm, the Commander of the Faithful, Imam of the Great Mosque, Protector of the Muslims and the Dhimmis, Sovereign of the Eleven Realms, glory be He who seated upon Peacock Throne.

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As it's known to our esteemed neighbours in the Land of Power, the fiery thrice-damned Iblis and his minions within the darkest depth of Jahannam has sent a curse upon the entire world of living, the plague of the Undead. The Holy Empire has fought the hardest, the remnants of its living resisted and struggled tirelessly. By yesterday, the one-hundred seventh day of the reign of our majestic Padishah we have successfully cull the Undead plague and ended their horde's domination. Of course, this blessing could not happen without the coordination effort between the Imperial Army, the Commonwealth's Sky Guards, and a multitude of assistance from honourable barbarian nations, of which the Holy Empire owe eternal gratitude.

This is not to said that it was the end of concerns faced by the Holy Empire. The plague has sacrificed many—our friends and family, all have martyred their lives and die a haunting, uncomfortable death. The plague also brought to the surviving horror and sorrows, and the mourning for the fallen within the Holy Empire assuredly shall last for aeons for we never forget. Regrettably the Plague has wrought destruction more than merely disturbing the sleep of the Dead, as I wrote this letter roads are destroyed, the poor common folk are looting as their fields turn into piles of ashes and rotting harvest.

Therefore, the Holy Empire of Darussalam plead to our brethren to assist ourselves to rebuild the once great nation. May God bless those who are kind and grant upon them glory, and for those who are willing to heed our request likewise that we are willing to discuss some terms to strengthen our relationship.

Sardar Khashayar Mukhrazade of House Spandyari,
Head to the Bureau of Barbarian Affairs

[New Nexon]

The Celestial Empire of New Nexon shall provide US $10 million in food aidaid and US $50 billion to rebuild Darussalam's infrastructure. We will provide 25,000 workers and 3,000 construction machines to the Holy Empire as well.

[Comrade Commisar]

It was not even the season of harvest when the region of the Land of Power was thrown out from the calm seas into the raging tsunamis of death and destruction. In the North Lands, the incredibly volatile War of Steel was taking its toll, with thousands upon thousands of pounds of resources dedicated to engaging the most radical and bloodiest war currently imaginable. In the South Lands, revolutions within Mackonia and Turtleshroom were reshaping national governments, sometimes through the will of the people, and sometimes with the upmost unparalleled violence. Of course, for those uninvolved within the conflicts of the major powers, they were to suffer from much more horrid fate - pandemic. Infection and death quickly swept through the land, expanding exponentially in hours, ravaging entire societies and decimating their populations with swift, unbound furiousity. War, disease, and pestilence laid claim to the region, with famine surely to follow as the harvest season came to pass with lesser and lesser men to bring in the harvest.

The Commonwealth of Asahina was one of the more fortunate nations to avoid the most horrid effects of the plague, with the preparation of military endeavors for the War of Steel allowing for more immediate responses within the nation. The Sky Guard mobilized to contain the situation within other lands, many of whom were overrun with plague-bearers, asking - gasping - for foreign aid and intervention. Darussalam, often long considered a 'North Lands' nation, was one of the fortunate nations lended the military strength of the Commonwealth Navy. Throughout many sleepless days and countless hours, the Sky Guard dealt with the plague alongside a coalition of other foreign nations, and although many infected individuals were eradicated, the damage was quite immensive. Infrastructure was thoroughly destroyed, the population was absolutely decimated, and those of whom were left were without homes nor food. One struggle ended to bring a dozen more struggles, and it was evidently clear that this winter would not favor the Darussians.

Speeding throughout the faded roads and throughout the hundreds of smoldering neighbors, a lone Sky Guard messenger rushed directly to the capital of Khormakash, a submachine gun dangling within its leather straps to his hip, his motorbike sounding itself throughout the land with its constant unmuffled engine. Infected hordes within the way were met with quick bursts of submachine gun fire, the skilled Sky Guard operating his motorbike as professional as a steppe rider to his horse, following his route directly to Khormakash as his orders stated, or in some cases, forging his own. Arriving within the city, the messenger continued on his way to the remnants of the Darussalam government and authority, maintaining his firearm not too far from his hand, knowing that the wake of the pandemic could easily turn formerly rational men desperate and former upstanding citizens into rabid criminals. Slowing his motorbike to a halt, the Sky Guard messenger offered his Imperial Guard counterparts a friendly salute, removing a sealed envelope from his leather satchel, swiftly passing it to the guards.

"To Sardar Khashayar Mukhrazade. From High Admiral Winters." The Sky Guard stated, slipping a few additional silver pieces into the guard's hands, "Deliver it to him immediately. The High Admiral wants a response in less than three day's time."

ADDRESSED TO: BUREAU OF BARBARIAN AFFAIRS, KHORMKAKASH, DARUSSALAM
ORIGIN OF: COMMONWEALTH NAVY HQ, GRANDSTAND, ASAHINAN COMMONWEALTH
INTENT OF: FOREIGN AID, FINANCIAL AND RECONSTRUCTION AID OF DARUSSALAM
OTHER: TO BE ADDRESSED IN THREE DAYS AT TIME OF DELIVERY, TO BE SENT BY MESSENGER

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If this message has been delivered to you, Sardar Khashayar Mukhrazade, it means that your god is looking over you at this time, and that your request for foreign aid and intervention have been answered. If it is not that of Sardar Khashayar Mukhrazade or any other individual of the Darussian government reading this message, then it is requested that you turn over this document to your local authority immediately, least the reader of this message wishes malice on his nation, and to be run through like the plague that has brought so many in Darussalam to death.

I understand that the officials of the Darussian government may be undergoing quite the amount of stress, and that the discontent of the local populace may be weighing in heavily upon you, so I shall keep these terms brief and explicit so that you may continue with whatever endeavors you were pursuing before the arrival of his document. The Commonwealth Navy is willing to support Darussalam by upholding the necessary civil order needed for governance, offering financial and material aid, the training of personel to aid in the upholding of over, the preservation and expansion of agricultural assets for food production, the supplying of food aid and nutrition to the Darussian population, and the organization of Darussalam's resources and assets to utilize them at their maximum efficiency. Of course, in return for such a magnitude of support, the Commonwealth Navy would like the authorization and influence to enact such endeavors, as well as the permission to utilize Darussian resources and manpower to supply the Commonwealth Navy when the reconstruction efforts are completed. The Commonwealth Navy is willing to surpress instigators and other detriments to reconstruction, but for them to have the support of the populace, we request your official support and address of such efforts.

Considering that the Commonwealth is currently engaged within conflict against Lynxcia, we would like to request your immediate response, least the situation swiftly change and we are forced to address other endeavors. The Commonwealth Navy is offering such support in good faith, but we must know that such action is accepted by Darussalam, and with the tides of conflict throughout the region, that information must be projected swiftly and surely. The Sky Guard are already mobilized to act within Darussalam with confirmation from Grandstand, and we can begin supplying aid immediately, but we require the express permission of Darussalam to enact such efforts.

Signed,
Amelia Winters,
High Admiral of the Commonwealth Navy
High Admiral of the Sky Guard

[Darussalam]

Thick morning mist descended from the sacred Surush Mountain to Khormakash, enveloping the majestic city and river that gracefully divided it into mysterious layers of white curtains. It was an early morning, the sun was only barely rising, nobles and commoners alike were still curled up in their bed and dreamed of massive celebrations held last night for the Imperial victory against the dreaded horde of the Undead. Only a few, among them were the most pious of the Prophet's followers, were seen on the streets, walking back to their homes after the Subh prayer ended few minutes ago in the Great Mosque.

Khashayar Mukhrazade wasn't one of the most pious men in Khormakash, but he was one of the few awakened anyway. There was he, seated uncomfortably on the backseat of his car, his corpulent body shook as his driver raced his car on the Imperial streets to the heart of Khormakash. The minister's car, just as every-other in the Holy Empire, was a nineteenth-century monstrosity. It was very noisy and stinky with gray smokes endlessly wafted. The automobile was almost impossibly expensive within the Holy Empire and resented among the commoners—the receiving end of the smokes—and the reactionary nobility, but very popular among the ultra-rich who prefer to flaunt their wealth rather than dutifully hiding it and helping the poor.

After adjusted himself in his seat for a few minutes (cursed this safety bel—aargh this vile thing want to snap my neck!), the Minister glanced to scenery from the car window. It was already the halfway, the car has passed the still-closed Grand Bazaar, thousands of shops in narrow alleys and tunnels that marked the end of commoners' place in Khormakash. By God, it was scum all around, the Minister thought to himself. Even when covered by mist, the remains of last night's celebration were still could be seen. The sidewalks were littered by food wrappers, wine bags, vomits, and a snoring refugee, one of those that have flooded into Khormakash from the east since the Undead overrun their homes. I cannot bear seeing these filth—but that was not a problem at all. Just a turn to the right from the Monument of the Martyrs, passed the Old Mellah, and I'd be—wait, this isn't the way!

“This isn't the way to the Bureau.” the Spandyari noble voiced the obvious. “Did you forgot it or something?”

The driver was silent.

The Minister began to conclude that it wasn't due to his bad memory. “Where are you going? I order you to stop and turn back. Listen to me! Speak something! You'll be fired if you refused to comply to my order. I say, turn away, by the names of wives and children of the Great Prophet beyond the Ocean! What are you trying to do? Turn back! Turn back!” he shook the car's door handle, but it was locked.

The minister panicked. “You lowly commoner! A shame of a kidnapper! How dare—how dare you, to take an Imperial Courtier, better, a Minister, the one that His Imperial Majesty endowed to administrate the affairs of the realms in his name?” he looked around, but he carried no dagger today. And had he did, no doubt that the kidnapper could avoid his swinging old, sweating swollen hand and a rusting dagger wrongly lay in it. All of other things than the seat and him, it appears, were already moved into the baggage. “I—I vow, in the name of Allah the Great, that I shall kill you. I will track your family and they'll suffer as I burn their goods, your and your children's balls would be taken away and you all will serve as the Imperial eunuchs.”

The driver didn't flinch, not even barely, to the Minister's threat. The car started to slowed down and veered to a seemingly abandoned building, perhaps previously a small mosque before the wakf land was mysteriously claimed. The car parked in front of it, and the driver, for the first time, turned to the Minister.

“We're here.” he said flatly.

“Where? You damned son of a Christian priest, where? Are you bringing me to some of the little uppity cult that you happen to be its faithful congregate?” the Minister spat. Then he begged. “Turn back, Vermin, and I will give mercy to you. I would gave you all of my wealth, I would marry my daughters and wives to you, I would rain you slaves and pleasure-boys, I shall gave you anything that you desire.”

The driver seemingly was amused, though he hardly smile. “A loud mouth you have, O traitor. I suppose this is how you managed to gain a good office to sold the Imperial realms? Shouting to His Imperial Majesty meaningless words until the Splendid Light gave up to your demands? Tongues do wonder indeed.” he looked to a man stood behind the car window. “He's yours.”

The door was forcibly opened, revealing three cloaked men to the startled Minister. One of them surged forward with an elaborate Tughran dagger raised high, yelling “Allahu Akbar” before stabbed the Minister thrice, two fatally impaled the heart. He retreated and another man grabbed the bleeding, barely breathing Minister to the outside, again called the name of God before decapitating him with a sword.

Fresh blood dripped into the sidewalk. There were no one others but the driver and the three men around them, no witnesses from bystanders. The driver walked out from the car and watched the Minister's corpse. He clearly attempted to be gallant and calm, but there was a faint of disgust and fear in his face. He coughed. “I thought—I thought I ruined my job for this, you see, and jobs are hard to acquire today. I could return to my family's land and farm there, but I'd require some travel cost..”

“The debt will be paid.” the dagger-carrying man retorted. “Debts will always be paid by us.”

The driver nodded in satisfaction.

-----*----

The heavy wooden doors croaked open, and the Chief Eunuch without many words entered the Hall of Private Assembly. His appearance was one of a prosperous commoner, a black overcoat and trousers with kalpak made of fur perched on his head. It was a contrast with the nobility that had came before him and currently gathered around with their elaborately decorated dolman robes and tarboush, the dresses denied for him as a landless lowborn. However this did not make him any less confident, his head still raised upward and his wary but polite face remain. After all he was no Chief Eunuch for nothing, one of the richest man in the Imperial Realm and the custodian of the King of Kings himself.

The Chief Eunuch knelt before a child figure not older than fifteen, sitting on an elegant dark mahogany chair while absent-mindedly chew his pen. On the child's side was a tall man with robust graying beard and arrogant eyes, dressed very much similar with the Eunuch except more richly ornated with embroideries and medals.

“My King of Kings, I beg you your sincere forgiveness for my late arrival, there was a fire-breathing lizard stuck in our sewer and I looked for the Imperial Guards for all day to get rid of it and decapitate its head. Then I bought the head to the butchers to be skinned and told the diamond-refiners to smoothen it and decorate it with some good gemstones. Now a good news O the Shadow of God, for the skull of Ramsagig-Galzothkar the Fierce now lay in your Throne Room.”

The arrogant-eyed man softly nudged the child-King-of-Kings, who stopped chewed the pen. “...ah.” he said doubtly. “Well, I don't know there are dragons here, I thought they were extinct here... anyway, no, no, not a problem, Lord Eunuch. I suppose that you are here, we shall start from now?”

The King of Kings glanced to the arrogant-eyed man, his Lord-Regent, and he nodded. “Gentlemen, please take a seat, we're starting now.” and everyone did but the Chief Eunuch, for an eunuch always stood. “Guards, close the door. After that you may tell the unfortunate news we had today, Lord-Eunuch.”

The Chief-Eunuch bowed. “Your wish is my command, milord.” he took three disheveled pieces of paper from his coat-pocket and recited it. “His Excellency Khashayar Mukhrazade, brother to the Shahrdar of Khalestan and Patriarch of House Spandyari, Tahmasp Salih-ud-Din Khan, and the Head of the Bureau of Barbarian Affairs, have passed away today's morning. His body was founded on a sidewalk in southern district of Khormakash a few hours ago.”

The noblemen—the Imperial advisers, secretaries, administrators and ministers—around the Chief-Eunuch were silent, despite their expressions are clearly astounded. One of them stood and said to the Eunuch, “He was dead by morning...and founded a few hours ago? Where were the City Watch?”

“The district was infamously abandoned, the place for folk ghost stories.” the Lord-Regent answered. “And obviously our good City Watch was too drunk to awaken before the sun shone right to their eyes after the long celebrations we ostentatiously held last night, and when they did they threatened our citizens, looted their wealth and raped their daughters—which is why sixty-four of them lay below us, in the dungeons.”

“What was it?” a secretary questioned. “Murder, suicide, or accidental death? Or something else?”

“He was founded with his head separated from the rest of his body, blood splattered all over the ground, and his car abandoned. It's almost certain that he was murdered, either directly by his driver or at least he was associated with it—his colleagues or family, perhaps.” the Chief Eunuch read the rest of the paper. “A guard of the Bureau, when he was informed of the ill-fated Khashayar, gave us this.” he handed a paper to the child-King-of-Kings. “A message from the Sky Guards.”

The standing noblemen spat. “Barbarians.” he murmured. “We would be better off without them, believe me, O the King of Kings and the Exact of the Noblest Judgment. They were responsible for the deaths of thousands innocents and destruction of our realm, making ourselves depended of them, all in the name of their extermination operation against the Undead.”

“And I remind you, good sir, that without these barbarians we may not be triumphal, there would be no celebrations last night and you would still cower at night mentioning the names of God and Prophets and Saints and Sufis and every Shaikhs-ul-Islam.” the King of Kings replied. He frowned. “Three days... we still have time, we must arrange an answer now. Order one of your men to deliver the letter, Lord Eunuch.”

-----*----

Authorised by His Imperial Majesty Zahir-ud-Din Muhammad Jahanbakhsh Alamshah, Sovereign of the House Qarawand, by the grace of Allah Almighty, the King of Kings of Darussian realm, the Commander of the Faithful, Imam of the Great Mosque, Protector of the Muslims and the Dhimmis, Sovereign of the Eleven Realms, glory be He who seated upon Peacock Throne.

Words alone cannot express our gratitude for your kindness. The Holy Empire hereby permits the Commonwealth to deliver their assistance to our Realm, nay, we also shall ensure that the Commonwealth nationals participated in the rebuilding shall not be harmed, and by approval of the Commonwealth they are to be guarded by the Imperial Guards under the Derafsh-e Koresh. The Holy Empire also shall back the rebuilding effort with its resources and manpower, for further discussion regarding it we cordially invite the representative of the Commonwealth into our Imperial Court by the next week.

For the beginning we request the low-scaled deployment of forces to ensure security of our citizens in the city of Khormakash, the safety here has admittedly worsened by the inefficiency of the City Watch, for the example the Head of the Bureau of Barbarian Affairs has been mysteriously murdered.

May God grant unto thee further glory and triumphs,
Abbas Khurramzad,
the Physician and Lord-Regent of the Imperial Realm.