In the Hall of the Mountain King [Semi-Closed]

[Darussalam]

(OOC: For non-Stachelimfleisch TG for entrance...or alternatively if you are confident enough in your understanding of storyline then just post straight away)

Hall of Private Audience, the Imperial Palace

"A new king?" The Emperor repeated. His brown eyes curiously flickered, observing the rather nervous stature of Lord-Physician in front of him. Next to him ten record-machines, each maintained by an Imperial Scribe, impatiently whirled to record all kinds of conversation from indifferent remarks to Imperial decrees.

"Yes, Your Majesty. It appears that the Mountain-Tribes have been united under the leadership of an outsider who proclaim himself as the new king over the Tribesmen. Who is this outsider I do not know, however considering that the Tribesmen are recently armed by more advanced weaponry I can say that he enjoyed a significant backing from a certain power. I have a likely guess about--"

"Your Majesty, I can provide you with the information in regard of this stranger-king's identity." A fair prince in his twenties, no older than the Lord-Physician, interjected. "May I?"

The Emperor looked at him. "As you wish, Uncle Tahmasp."

"Many thanks." Tahmasp-shahzadeh stood with satisfied expression. "Well, fortunately it is not only our good Lord-Physician," He mockingly nodded to Abbas, which was replied by a brief death-glare, "or our Grand Wazir who has planted network of spies around the Khalash Mountains. Indeed that as the member of the Imperial House I have reserved for myself twenty-four informants, a quarter of whom have been dispatched among the Tribesmen. The information acquired, while very brief in consideration of the informants' safety, is potentially very valuable, as one of them has entered into the Temple of the Old Gods itself and briefly made audience with the very king we are currently discussing."

A long, heavy silence hung on the air. The Prince dramatically stopped as his audience impatiently held their breath, awaiting for his next words.

"It appears that this new king is the Nazarene son of the traitor-Sultan of Khopesh, an usurper of the Throne of Swords."

The same silence still hung, but it was filled with dread. The Sultan of Khopesh used to be the 'second among equals' in the hierarchy of Darussian nine monarchs, that is second to the Shah of Khadeshâr, the most sublime Emperor. After a brief Islamic Revolution staged by the Sultan himself he cowardly fled to the Nazarene Kingdom of Turtleshroom, presumably later dying in piles of Nazarene excrement. The current Emperor's father wasted no further time as the Khopeshi Monarchy fell into instability, the Imperial mammoths quickly marched into the capital to incorporate the Khopeshi territory fully as the direct Imperial domain. Islamist collaborators were hung on the gallows and so were the remnants of the Sultan's family. The Throne of the Swords was no more, the Nine Monarchies dwindled into Eight Monarchies. The Shah of Khadeshâr now ruled indisputably as the Emperor of Darussalam, other seven monarchs being lords of small fiefs exist as puppets to the Emperor's whim.

Even in the Revolution era there were rumors, rumors that one of the Sultan's son escaped, a swine Nazarene one no less, and he plotted to reign among the Tribesmen of the Mountains. Such rumors were laughed off in Khadeshâr as drunken talks. However today a Prince brought it alive in the Durbar, not as an urban legend, but as a realistic threat looming over them.

The Lord-Physician coughed. "Could you verify the man's statement, Lord Prince? After all it could be a lie made up in some coffeehouses or taverns. None such news arrive to my spies, and I suppose likewise for the Grand Wazir's."

"That's correct." Yusuf Qoldasht, the elderly Grand Wazir replied.

Prince Tahmasp extended his hands. "With all due respect, gentlemen, your spies concentrate themselves primarily on Darussian cities and villages. They dared not to venture outside of the Civilization -- and for good reasons. But news can lay for thousands years inside the Mountains' womb. The Tribesmen spoke in languages barely comprehensible for the Civilized ear, and by spreading carefully conceived lies they concealed their new king's identity. Although being barbarians, certainly they were unable to conceal it for much long." He snickered. "Anyway, that is not to say that I did not double-check. Three other men have been sent to the Mountains and they have testified the truth. This king of the Tribesmen is the Nazarene son of the Sultan of Khopesh."

"Which means that Our possession of the fallen Monarchy will be endangered as long as this man lived. Although it was a rather curious move for the Tribes to accept outsiders, let alone hail one of them as the new king." The Emperor said.

"Indeed. And this person, Your Majesty, I knew him. Mohammad is his name." The Grand Wazir said. "He has no proper qualifications to be a Sultan in the Harem of Khopesh, let alone among the Chieftains of the Tribes."

Prince Tahmasp's expression suddenly turned nervous. "Well, for that -- it was another bad news brought by my informant. The king, being a typical fool of a Nazarene, was unable to mobilize support for some time. His great-grandfather was quite kind to the Mountain-Tribes and they used to swear fealty to him, but they denied the Nazarene. That is, until he made a pilgrimage into the Temple deep in the Surush Mountain, where the Grand Oracle resided."

Murmurs of understanding were heard. "Is it the Witch?" The Emperor inquired.

"Yes, Your Majesty, it appears that the Grand Oracle of the Surush Mountain is still Djale the Witch."

"Allah's one thousand curses be upon her." Yusuf Qoldasht muttered. "Why won't she just die?"

"So the Witch is still alive, clever as the Iblis, and she certainly facilitated Prince Mohammad's ascension into the overlord of the Mountain-Tribesmen." Abbas ben-Elias concluded. "I will not be surprised if she kindled that old legend about the Savior of the Mountain, the Irghul-mahdi."

"She did." Prince Tahmasp replied grimly.

The Emperor shook his head. "The united Banners of the Tribesmen will command millions of warriors under its whim. With their savagery ignited and equipped by advanced weaponry they may lay waste further into the lowlands, and -- Allah forbid -- reaching Khadeshâr. Now, do your spies have any information in regard of this power that backed the Tribesmen? The origin of their funding and weapons?"

The Emperor glanced to Prince Tahmasp, who shook his head. Likewise the Grand Wazir and the Lord-Physician merely shrugged.

"It should be a priority after the Durbar ended. Write to your spies immediately. Spread the news across the realm. Use as many pigeons or trains as you may afford, you have the Imperial backing."

Three voices spoke in the same time, "Your wish is our command, Your Majesty."

"General Vahram." The Emperor spoke, and an Armenian man stood. "I want you to dispatch seven thousand Immortals to the Mountains immediately. Protect the cities, villages, and mines. There are some mines under the possession of barbarian private companies and governments as the part of our reformation deal. It is our interest to protect them from any dangers. Upon order fifteen thousand Imperial Soldiers will be sent to the Mountains and we will begin the Expedition."

"Your Majesty," The Lord-Physician interjected. "It would not be wise to act in such a hurry. The previous Imperial expeditions into the Khalash Mountains have almost always ended in failure. We must have a pacesetter or some sort, an early smaller expedition to observe the Mountains' climate, terrain, populace."

"Any objections?" The Emperor glanced to the rest of the Durbar. "Very well, then. Lord-Physician, you will lead this Expedition. You will depart tomorrow."

Prince Tahmasp almost laughed. The Jew Physician shot another death glare to him before continued. "I, Your Majesty? Why -- my greatest pardon, but I am not experienced in regard of outdoor activities--" Prince Tahmasp audibly held his laugh again. "Why, certainly Lord Tahmasp-shahzadeh will be a more solid choice than I!"

"We require Uncle Tahmasp within Khadeshâr. He, along with the Grand Wazir, will continue to observe the current events in Turtleshroom. Sending him to the Mountains means he will go east, while his affairs is at the west." The Emperor clapped his hand. "Well! I probably will hear further of your protests tomorrow, Lord-Physician, or maybe I will not." His eyes flickered once again. "Worry not for me, Physician, there are thousands of healers within the Inner Chamber that will be deployed in your absence. Now we will move to another topic. Minister Ishak ed-Dowleh has brought upon us the news in regard of our opiate trade within the Nazarene Kingdom..."

[Darussalam]

"You'll be accompanied by four philosophers from the House of Wisdom, five Immortal Guards, and three scribes." Thus the young Emperor, Iskandar I, decreed from the Peacock Throne. "The travel will be done through the Great Eastern Imperial Railway, passing six Imperial Subahs, and the Grand Wazir recommend that I request you to make a visit to each of the Subahdar. For this purpose I shall grant you with the Imperial Warrant. Guardsman Bayrak, please hand it over to him."

The Emperor grinned upon watching the Chief-Physician's astonished expression. "With the Warrant you're hereby permitted to act as Our voice, the extension of Our command. Observe the Subahs and act as you may deem fit. I am aware of at least one Subahdar whom you probably should dispose with your own hand. As you may have heard, the Mountain Subahs are quite well-known for their banditry, now I want you to restore Order for once again within the former Khopeshi realm. The replacement for each Subahdar and accused corrupt official have been arranged, you will see the list upon your departure. Study it and judge by your own."

"Your wish is my command." Abbas ben-Elias bowed.

"Now you can see, hakim-bashi, that this is not a simple mountain hiking death-trip. Oh, and speaking about the death-trip, it appears that some local landowners...decided to have some good fun of unauthorized attack against the Tribesmen. Normally this wouldn't be much a problem -- however there were rumors that they raided the Tribes' villages and kidnapped their children and wives. I would prefer that you exercise some restraint for these wild people." Iskandar I sighed. "I've yet to formulate a certain judgment regarding the new Irghul-mahdi. Likewise observe him, whether he should be spared or disposed is entirely your choice. The Imperial Army and several Muslim tribal confederations will assist you in delivering Justice against the Khalashi barbarians." He yawned. "So this is basically your 'I-am-the-Emperor' week. You're going to have a lot of fun outside, while I'm languishing inside the Harem and receiving the endless procession of musicians and diplomats."

"I certainly hope that boredom does not put you in another sickness, Your Majesty, may you live for ten thousand years." Abbas said, smiling.

The child-Emperor's shrill laugh reverberated across the empty chamber. "Worry not, I'm as healthy as a young lamb -- although honestly I'm not really sure if that's the correct expression, and I'm certain that I won't live for ten thousand years. But anyway it doesn't matter. We should worry more about the health of our good Uncle-Prince, for example, or some of those troublesome Harem-eunuchs." He chuckled. "The Grand Wazir would have missed you greatly. I hope that you will temporarily entrust your...recipes for your apprentices, they could do some field tests when you're away."

The Chief Physician shivered. "By the Prophet's lock of hair, no, no, never. They're still unruly brats, and not a single of them ever managed to create a potion right. Allah knows how I will teach them to handle Prince Tah -- a cadaver, I mean. They're still young and inexperienced..."

"They're almost my age." The child-Emperor pointed out.

"...and may you be always showered with wisdom and eternal knowledge, Your Majesty."

Iskandar laughed again. "Were you not blessed with your healing knowledge, hakim-bashi, you will certainly make a good Court Jester. That, or an impaled corpse hung on the Imperial Square, if we're going old-fashioned. Don't construe that as a threat -- I assure you that I am not old-fashioned."

"Your praises truly flatter me, Your Majesty. I suppose now it's too late to delegate my task to another Courtier?"

The Emperor nodded immediately. "And what Courtier anyway? I don't trust Uncle Tahmasp, he will rally support from the unwashed masses along his way, nonchalantly ignore my request and shower the Subahdars with more Imperial wealth. The ministers are busy, and so are their secretaries. The Imperial Astrologers and Theologians...well, forget them. I'm relying on you, hakim-bashi."

"It's my honour to burden the weight of the Peacock Throne." The Physician murmured.

"Well, well, now certainly you must go! Otherwise I will be forced to blind you, cut your limbs, and leaving you for the rest of your miserable life in a pigpen for the crime of Imperial blasphemy." The child-Emperor threw himself to soft cushions behind him and took a pile of candy. "It's four hours left until the damned delegate for Children of the Sands to arrive, and I must hoard as much sweets as possible before listening to their tedious rant of 'ancient wealth' and 'glory long-lost'. Don't lecture me about teeth health for now -- you're hereby dismissed. I bid you farewell, Poison-Master, hopefully your endeavour will bless the Imperial realm with greater prosperity and glory."

[Comrade Commisar]

Port Emine, Khek Territories

"The lands of the Whelp Emperor? The cowards in the towns and the fools in the mountains? What nonsense is this?"
"It's true. Afterall, I have some mining operations in those lands, not to mention that the word I hear is usually good."

In a small general store, located upon the edge of the marketplace, two robed individuals were enjoying some small talk, having finished their business dealings several minutes prior. The little shop itself was unremarkable, containing several pieces of aged wooden furniture, with many items simply gathering dust, while small shimmer of lights barely managed to illuminated the room. It was not particularly an attractive store, and if anything, it received very little customers in comparison to the colorful markets only a short distance away. However, the allure of the small building was not what it contained, but rather, who owned it, and the unique goods that they dealt with.

Soleil the Crow, or more infamously referred to as, Soleil the Slaver. Formerly a Shi who fled prior to the War of Red, Soleil became a significant member of the criminal underworld within the North Lands, dealing with information, slaves, and working with all types of individuals that requested their services. Growing in wealth and influence, Soleil settled within Emine, continuing to negotiate with the most unscrupulous individuals, eventually earning the title of the 'Crow', for the misfortune and intellegence associated with them. However, 'Slaver' became a more favorable term to describe the young Shi, who typically bought any prisoners who could not be ransomed, and then sent them away to places unknown. Sometimes, bands of mercenaries would not even dare attempt to ransom their prisoners, and merely sold them straight to Soleil for lucrative amounts of coin. Of course, some rumors regarding Soleil the Crow had been greatly exaggerated, and like many Kheks, it was difficult to determine how deeply involved they were in such illicit endeavors, but popular opinion maintained itself nonetheless.

Opposite of Soleil, was another prominent individual, Fenek the Jackal, a frequent business acquaintance. Fenek represented the interests of Warlord Yusuf the Vulture, one of the more significant members of the Khek Territories, and one that provided Soleil with a seemingly endless supply of various treasures. Like Soleil, Fenek was not a native to these lands, hailing from the Far North, and who had reportedly been exiled from the Yue Territories after her own misfortunes. Now, she lived amongst the Kheks, profitting upon the misfortune of others, just another mercenary wandering the North Lands. It was not an uncommon tale, but considering that the Jackal hailed from a line of prominent Far Northerners, most notably Fiona the Grey Fang, it was somewhat depressing to hear how far she had fallen.

Regardless of where they hailed from, and who they since had become, the two were busy discussing current events, most notably those within the distant lands of Darussalam. Geographically, the Khek Territories and Darussalam shared little differences, and attracted some interest to the foreign lands, but culturally, the two lands were drastically different. The Kheks, mostly illiterate, lead by warlords, and who were seemingly ignorant of the morals which dictated other civilized nations, merely saw Darussalam as a weak nation lead by equally weak leaders. Despite the obvious wealth and prosperity of the Darussians, many Kheks believed this wealth was misplaced, with the nobles deemed a little more than mere fools, and the emperor frequently being addressed as a mere whelp with power. In fact, if the two peoples had not been seperated by a great expanse of land, it was likely that the Kheks would have taken the sword to Darussalam, stealing the riches they proclaimed to be the rights of the strong.

Of course, considering that the two peoples were indeed seperated by a large expanse of land, most of which was difficult to traverse even under adequete conditions, Darussalam was merely an infrequent legend amongst the Kheks. Thus, when Soleil the Crow began discussing of Darussalam, and the vast wealth that had made itself recently available, Fenek the Jackal was obviously rather skeptical.

"It's not hard to get a grasp on the idea, Jackal. The Whelp Emperor who leads the towns is fighting against the Usurper of the mountains, and within the conflict, there are plenty of people willing to part with their purses." Soleil noted smugly, "The mountain dwellers will undoubtably have wealth stashed away in their little hideouts, and the townsfolk will certainly have some spare coin lying in their coffers, all kindly laid out for us to fill our own purses. If I may offer an estimate, I would say that we would make away with at least twenty thousand silver worth of wealth before anyone would notice, and that is a fairly conservative estimate - we would certainly leave with much more."

"Is that what you wish to do, conduct raids upon the mountain dwellers and townsfolk? This is the best idea you could come up with? I would have expected better from Soleil the Crow, but I suppose that even if you are intellegent, they still named you after a mere bird." Fenek mocked, "Even if I humor you, what would you do once you disembarked in the lands of the Whelp Emperor? Attempt to pillage from the nearest settlement you could find? Bah. You would not have any better luck that those weaklings scattered throughout the mountains. Perhaps you are an even bigger fool than they are, would that not be something?"

"Fine, fine, you have me there. However, there are opportunities for wealth throughout the lands of the Whelp Emperor. Like I stated earlier, I have mining operations in those lands, and of course, I have negotiated with enough slavers to have an ample supply of labor. Even if we do not make that much coin, this is our opportunity to establish our presense, and I am sure that the Vulture would be pleased to hear that he is known even amongst those fools and their whelp." Soleil said, offering a gentle smile, "Look, I need a small band of mercenaries to protect me while I examine the situation myself, and I am supposing that you would like to make a little coin before the end of the season. If you agree, I will even offer five hundred silver up front. Afterall, I would not be telling you about these rumors, unless I was completely confident that there is a fat purse at the end of our efforts."

The Crow opened a small drawer, removing a modestly-sized purse that sounded with the clinking of silver, before throwing it upon the desk before the Jackal. Opening the bag, the Crow revealed a number of shining coins, seemingly freshly-minted, and glimmering within the limited sunlight in the room.

"Do not attempt to flatter me, Crow. The only reason you are hiring me instead of setting out on your own is because the War of Steel has made mercenaries sparse, and any hired guns who have not went to go fight in Lynxia are now prohibitively expensive, even for a notably wealthy slaver such as yourself. Selim the Owl shall not negotiate with you, for he viciously opposes your profession, and you fear dealing with Assad the Scorpion, for that would be considered weakness, especially after you have previously worked with the Vulture." Fenek stated, brandishing an almost murderous grin, "You are not speaking from a position of strength, but rather from one of weakness, and merely attempting to maintain the facade long enough to form a contract. You are desperate, otherwise, you would still be dealing with slaves in Emine, rather than travelling to these foreign lands in pursuit of coin, correct?"

"Ahh, well, if that is what you wish to believe." Soleil continued to grin, seemingly unfazed at the accusations, "The only one attempting to flatter you, Jackal, is you. I found it merely convenient to have a mercenary walk into my shop to discuss business terms, especially during a time when I have some endeavors I wish to pursue, and wish to hire some mercenaries for my protection. I will relent, in that I am indeed expanding my operations, but it is not an immediate priority, and just one that I am undertaking in my leisure. Afterall, it is not like some moral busybody is going to kick down my door, and demand that I stand trial for my crimes in the upcoming days, right? Please, don't mistake me for your usual band of Khek rabble, Jackal, we are both much better than that."

Fenek merely stared at Soleil in contempt, attempting to distinguish whether they were speaking the truth, or attempting to deceive her with more cleverly-crafted lies. After a few moments, the Jackal sighed, reluctantly taking the purse of silver off the table, and placing it with the rest of her belongings.

"Ahh, I am glad we've come to a reasonable agreement, Jackal. Certainly, it's an honor to have the daughter of Grey Fang behind me." Soleil said, "It should not be too long of an adventure. I merely wish to examine the situation, appraise the value of my mines, and perhaps make away with any loose coin that might be present. Hopefully, your services won't be necessary, but if they are needed, then I am sure those fools will find the wrath of your cold steel to be like no other. I'll make preparations for a ship to the South Lands, for now, you should get some rest, Jackal."

"My home is your home, and soon, we will be wealthier beyond our wildest dreams, together."

[TURTLESHROOM II]

Tagged!

Don't think I have forgotten you!

[Darussalam]

A small girl, certainly no older than nine, crouched behind a thick layer of colorful curtains. At another side of the curtain were two plump, bald men dressed in crimson robe. The chamber was filled with burning candles and fragrant incense of numerous flowers and leaves, apparently to held off a faint stench of rotten flesh that hung from somewhere. Behind the girl was a monstrous shadow, many-limbed and many-winged, although still constantly changing in appearance. The shadow, although certainly belonged to the girl, neither followed her movement nor to the lighting's. Instead it circled the chamber at its own whim, elongating itself and grinned to the crimson-robed men.

"Things didn't go as well as I planned." The girl sighed, her fingers ran on her long hair. "This Khan -- I was wrong about him. He was a fool, worst fool to befell this Mountain's existence, worst fool to ever tread on its holy soil, let alone seating upon its Throne. Even the Emperor and the cockroaches of Khadeshâr are cleverer than him. Even the true cockroaches themselves and the stones they lived above are cleverer than him. How could he possibly conceive cooperating with the Peacock Throne? How could he sent sweet-letters to the sworn enemies of the Old Gods? How could he become so ignorant? Does he not understand -- but no, alas, calm down! This is my fault."

The girl approached the curtain, and she reached out her hand to the curtain's another side. "Please hand me my cloak."
Immediately the stench broke out, storming the men's senses. The stench of rotten bird carcass emanated out of her hand, as if her flesh were already rotting inside, despite the clean fair skin of the girl, despite her living expression, despite her beating heart. One of the men hurriedly grabbed a goatskin-cloak -- at the same time he suspected that she intentionally tormented them, otherwise why would she hung her cloak at another side of the curtain? Disgruntled, yet fearful of this girl, for he knew very well her infamy, he threw it to the reaching out hand.

"Many thanks." The hand duly receded. The stench disappeared, replaced by the fragrant smell of burning incense. However the dread still linger on the crimson-robed men. Just who is she? They silently wondered. They never dealt with creatures like her before, not even in years of their service within the empty Anushwarya Palace, serving their nonexistent master before this lowland-prince came and the Oracle proclaimed him as the Great Khan.

"...My fault, yes." The girl continued. "I'm a fool, I was deceived by chance -- but how could you blame me for that? I have waited for almost three centuries, and the chance of vengeance just presented itself right in front of me. Of course it is normal, natural, to be expected of me to immediately grab up the chance, isn't it? But still, what a fool." She giggled again. The men looked at each other in confusion. "But of course I wouldn't let this chance vanish -- not even the Emperor's schemes, not even the Khan's foolishness will rid me! Yes, don't worry about that, dear! Listen to me -- I will succeed! I will bring you into the Loka again, and the light of the Gods will once again shine! Well, I suppose I should pay a visit to the good Mountain-King."

The girl stepped out of the curtain, now completely cloaked. The stench was stronger, however it was certainly more tolerable. She smiled, a childish and adorable smile, however still rather unnerving for the men that they stepped back once. The shadow, still many-limbed and many-winged, lurked behind the girl, now apparently calmed by the Oracle's words.

"Ah! With the snowstorm outside, I can't really get out alone." The dark-haired girl stared at them, her unnaturally golden eyes widened. "Could you bring me to the Palace, please? I want to meet Uncle Moe."

[TURTLESHROOM II]

News travelled fast amongst Khan Moe's loyalists, and word quickly reached the ruler's palace. He quickly took his calligraphy pen and began writing to address both events.

Using his knowledge of Arabic calligraphy, he first composed a letter to the Peacock Throne. If there's one thing Moe knew how to do, it was kissing a lot of bottom.

TO THE ESTEEMED AND HONORABLE EMPEROR OF DARUSSALEM, HE WHO SITS ON THE PEACOCK THRONE, GUARDIAN OF DARUSSALEMITE MEN, SLAYER OF THE ENEMIES OF THE STATE, PROTECTOR OF THE HOLY SITES, SAYYID OVER ALL SAYYID:

Merry Christmas, Emperor of Darussalem; may you rule forever!

As you no doubt am aware of, by the grace of God, I have successfully united the pagan, Christian, and minority religion tribal nations in the outskirts of your demense. I convinced them of the need to band together in order to withstand any encroachments on their fundamental human rights of their sovereignty, their culture, and their freedom of religion.
Although they were first reluctant, they understand the neccesity of this letter and have agreed to the terms I will set out.

We, living within the borders of your nation, your glorious Empire, as recognized by all of NationStates, remain your subjects and hold no aspirations of independence from your enlightened rule. Rather, we seek greater autonomy and recognition of the tribemen's rights to practice their religion freely, to engage in their culture and lifestyle, and to ensure they have a voice in their local affairs and in Darussalem as a whole.

None of these things are in violoation or infringement of your enlightened rule and our autonomy does not exclude us from being your subjects.

As the tribesmen agreed in their council, along with both the Pagan Church and their Great Oracle, and the Christian Churches of the region, we reaffirm and reiterate our submission to the Peacock Throne.
As my people, my friends, have requested, I am prepared to negotiate with you a means of dispatching Letters of Marque to the tribesmen to raid and plunder adversaries and threats to your majestic Empire, on the condition that the men keep a fair share of the booty, so to speak. Indeed, a share of any income our Khanate so makes, naturally, will be rendered unto you as tribute for your blessing of our autonomy.

I look forward to standing in the presence of a man so noble as yourself very soon. As all lesser rulers in your Empire, I will personally stand before the Peacock Throne and swear my fealty to you, as my liege.

All we ask for in return is the right to live our lives in accordance with both the law and the natural rights of man and sentient beast. We make the humble requests of religious freedom, cultural sovereignty, and set borders between the tribes under my authority and the tribes following the Imperial Daru-Shiite faith. My people, my friends, also request your authorization of letters of marque for them to plunder and raid wealthy adversaries of your great lands.

God bless you and God bless Darussalem.
-HIS MOST SOBER GRACE, KHAN MUHAMMED, SON OF THE FORMER SULTAN OF THE DARUSSALEMITE KINGDOM, SON OF THE PRINCESS OF THE KHANS OF ANCIENT DARUSSALEM, UNITER AND DEFENDER OF THE TRIBES OF THE MOUNTAINS, CHOSEN, SAYYID.

Then, using his basic, but rapidly growing understanding of the traditional language and writings of the Darussalem Pagan religion, he wrote to the Great Oracle and spiritual leader of the Pagans.

TO HER EMINENCE, THE GREAT AND RIGHTEOUS SUPREME ORACLE OF THE DARUSSALEMITE PAGAN CHURCH OF THE OLD GODS, HIGH PRIESTESS OF THE CHURCH, SPEAKER TO THE SPIRITS, DIVINER OF DESTINY, VICTOR AT THE BATTLE OF THE BLOODY ALTAR, KINGMAKER, AND THE ONE WHO SO CHOSE ME:

Merry Christmas; may your power never fade!

Every day, I am humbled and honored by your wise and blessed choice to declare me the Khan of these noble and fantastic peoples I am so blessed to call friends and constituents.

As the annointed Khan of these tribesmen, I understand that it is my fundamental duty to protect their way of life, including their religion and their culture. I understand that you sought violence and direct vengeance on the ancestors of the current Emperor for what they did to your people, but you must understand that this cannot be done because of our manpower and organization, compared to a vast demense as the Emperor's.

You may feel betrayed that I swore to the Emperor, but I assure you that had I not, he would have run us over with his military forces and scattered the very worshippers you represent and, possibly, led to their extermination and yours, too!

You must understand that all I do as the Khan, I do with my constituents' ascent! I assured them that I would be their representative before the Peacock Throne and their guarentor of their sovereignty, their freedom, and their faith.
As you were concerned that I would harm their way of life, do not fret. Of course, that I have taken steps to guarentee their most beloved pastime: the raiding and plundering of distant men.

Rather than raiding nearby villages and pits, I have used my connections to secure letters of marque for the tribesmen to raid adversaries of Darussalem and her neighbors. These adversaries are extremely wealthy and are in possession of riches far greater than the leftover gems sneaked out from mines and jewelry chests. I have equipped the raiders with better, modern weaponry and better, modern charts and maps for location of the plunder. I have even guarenteed them half of the booty after tribute is rendered!

I understand your concerns and assure you that I have not and will not fail you, for I am in your debt. Your kindness and just decision is what got me here today. Never think that I will forsake you.

I must note, though, that your messages and decrees have been sent by heralds, by letter, and by lesser clergy. I have never met you in person, your Eminence! Surely, as Khan of the tribesmen, you would grace me with your enlightened presence, for you have done so much for me already!

May you always tend to the needs of your flock,
-HIS MOST SOBER GRACE, KHAN MUHAMMED, SON OF THE FORMER SULTAN OF THE DARUSSALEMITE KINGDOM, SON OF THE PRINCESS OF THE KHANS OF ANCIENT DARUSSALEM, UNITER AND DEFENDER OF THE TRIBES OF THE MOUNTAINS, CHOSEN, SAYYID.

[Darussalam]

"Good evening, Uncle!"

The Khan's merry court suddenly fell silent. Musicians ceased to play their instruments, court-calligraphers spilled their ink, dancers and wives of the courtiers shrieked, eunuchs retreated to their chamber, the Chieftains stopped their conversation with the Khan and glanced warily to the newcomer.

"Well, well," She giggled. "It appears that I am greatly undesirable here. My apologies then."

A strong stench of rotten flesh hung on the stagnant air, replacing the fragrances and bitter ink-scent of the Court, choking the Khan and his Court's audience. For a second, the courtiers froze in their place, their eyes locked at the cloaked newcomer, her golden eyes and curt smile.
Then, one-by-one, without even a single voice, they hurriedly took their belongings and left.

"Now there are only three of us, Uncle." The newcomer bowed as the last person scuttled away at her sight and closed the Royal Chamber's door. "Ah, that's right, I haven't introduced myself! My full name -- If I remembered it correctly -- is Djalehawasarentanagiranjaya. I am more well-known as the Oracle, the Sorcerer, or the Witch, but call me Djale!" She blinked her golden eyes.

-So this is the Oracle, The Khan thought to himself. The string-puller behind the scene, the lady that commanded respect and fear from even the mightiest of Mountain-Tribesmen, whose power has elevated him as the King of the Mountain, the listener of the divine, most despised sorcerer in the lowlands, mass-slaughterer and bane of any worshiper of the Prophet beyond the Ocean. Surely it was such a great fortune for him to ally with such magnificent, legendary figure, but he kind of imagined her as a female Pope -- elegant, gracious, maybe somewhat old, dressed in a white robe and carrying maybe a crystal ball. He...certainly didn't expect her to appear as a giggling nine-year old child inside a goatskin cloak that speak to her own shadow. If only he didn't smell the rotten stench, or see the courtiers' reaction to her, or her twinkling golden eyes, or the grinning bird shadow that now joyfully circled around the Royal Chamber, he would be inclined to believe that he was deceived all along.

"Ah, Your Eminence!" The Khan said pleasantly. "What a --"

"As I said, just call me Djale."

"...Djale. What a great honor to receive your audience. So you have received my letter, then?"

"Mmm!" Djale pulled from her cloak a piece of paper. Fresh blood still dripped on the paper's end. "But sorry Uncle, I can't read. I don't think many people outside can -- we prefer to speak instead of write. At the very least, we could retract our words if we speak. Isn't it true?" She grinned wider. "But I can guess the content, though, and that's why I come to Uncle's place here.
"It's about the lowland-barbarians, isn't it?"

She sighed and threw the paper. "I suppose we need to talk, then." She glanced to the Chamber's door. "It's not a wise thing to do to ally yourself with a regime as rotten as the peacock-tyrants, you see. It is purposeless, foolish, and will be repaid...with grave consequences.

"Uncle Mohammad, you underestimated the Tribesmen. I brought you unto the Throne as the Savior of the Mountain, not as the Merchant of the Mountain. Why, why, surely now we must be frank, Uncle, that your enthronement is naught but deception? That you acquired the Throne and the Palace only because I proclaim upon all Tribes that you have been anointed by Gods as their new warrior-king, when Gods said no such thing? Indeed that the Gods now has said nothing but lamentations of the fallen and mad cackles of the insane. You ascend to the throne by lies, and then you wish to make the Mountains as a garden for your personal ambition? A gateway for lowland-barbarians to flood? How the tribesmen would react to that, I wonder? From experience, Uncle, I say that a reverse-impalement is a mercy for these people. What would you do to convince them?

"And how about the Gods? The Gods spoke to me, Uncle, they express their disapproval. Otherwise I would just leave you alone." Djale giggled. "Because I liked you so much, I assure you. But they're here, one of them is here -- " She pointed to the circling shadow. "They whisper, they weep, they scream to me to avenge their fall. And they did that for centuries inside me. The Old Gods and the Peacock Throne are sworn enemies, Uncle Mohammad, one could not make peace when another still stand. You are the guardian of the Mountains now, therefore you are subject to the Gods, yes, even if you do not worship Them. And the Gods greatly disapproved of your sweet-letter to the Peacock Throne. It displays weakness and submission, and the Gods don't like it. The Gods wished for strength, for victorious glory, you see? The Gods want the Emperor's head to be on a pike, not his feet to be kissed by another petty-king.

"But don't worry!" The Witch approached the Khan, her expression returned bright as ever. The stench choked the Khan even more, but in diplomatic spirit he held back his vomit. "I wish to help you. The only solution is definitely to compromise, Uncle. Compromise not for the gold-lovers of the Peacock Throne, but for the brave warriors of the Khalashis. Is not the Prophet beyond the Ocean your enemy? Did the Emperor's father not march upon the kingdom that should belong to yours, proclaim the end of your lineage, and hang your family on the same gallows as the fanatics of the One God? Then why would you show leniency to them?" The shadow now surrounded the Khan completely, the grinning six-armed bird, climbing his shoulders and caressing his face. "Uncle, the Tribesmen are not weaklings, I assure you. They will slaughter those who betray your father. Is not it Justice? And shall Justice not be delivered, lest the Gods judge us? Uncle, I too will help! We should resist the Emperor, we should denounce him, else we shall betray millions of Nazarenes and Old Believers that suffer under his crushing Throne. Only after the Empire crumbled the Old Gods may find peace, the Nazarenes may find peace."

The shadow receded, returning back to beneath Djale's feet. She tilted her head, her golden eyes widened for once more. "Now, Uncle, what will be your final saying? Would you reconsider your decision? Would you to pull your hands away from the rotten feet of the Peacock Throne?"
She finally went silent, awaiting for the Khan's answer.

[TURTLESHROOM II]

She made her speech and waited for his reply.

"Merry Christmas, Your Emin- Oracle Djale."

The Khan was startled by the entrance of the Oracle and her smell, but he did not make any hint that he was. These people expected a resolute man, and so far, he had delivered. This woman was not at all like what he had imagined; he imagined an old crone with white hair possessing staves of goat skulls (at least he got that part right) and, though he correctly guessed her to be fiery, he didn't expect her to look so young. Still, the Haiz never reach puberty either.

"You're illiterate? Gah!"

Khan Moe groaned as he smacked his hand upon his forehead. "How could I forget her faith was one of an oral tradition?" was his scolding thought.
He regained his composure quickly.

"Since you can't read, before I say anything else, please allow me to read out the letter I wrote to you. It explains why I did what I did and, remember, the tribesmen voted in approval of my decision."

An eunuch, refusing to make eye contact with the Oracle, handed the Khan the letter, which he read from start to finish, first in the language the tribesmen said was used by the Pagan clergy, then in English.

"Oracle Djale," he began, laying the letter aside, "I understand the hardships your people have faced for centuries. Kebabs are no friend of mine, either, but the fact of the matter is that they have more guns and more power than we do. If we were to break free from the Empire, we would be crushed by the Imperial armies who would not hesitate to murder each and every tribesmen in the Khanate."

Khan Moe crossed his arms.

"Now, I must remind you, as I said at the beginning, that I am not a prince of the great Darussalemite Sultanate or a pretender to the honored Sultan's throne, the throne of my father. I was conceived in illegitimacy by a surviving female of the ancient Khans' dynasty; as such, I am ineligible to sit on the Peacock Throne, nor do I want to. Remember that I was removed from Darussalem as a young boy and, at my father's expense, was educated on the matters of diplomacy, geopolitics, and as much of your religion as my host country was able to give me."

He nodded.

"What the Emperor did to my father has not been forgotten. My grandparents, my uncles and aunts, my cousins, and even some of my half-brothers and half-sisters were put to death by both the Shariah madman who tried to ruin the country and by the Emperor, who at least has more legitimacy than the one he replaced. My father, his wives, and about half of his immediate family are in exile in TurtleShroom and he has renounced his claims to the Peacock Throne. The sword of the kebabs has cut me too; do you not think I care for your plight? It's a travesty that cannot be rectified at this time."

The Khan looked away for a moment as he continued.

"Oracle Djale, one of the first things I learned in college abroad was the practice of diplomacy. Diplomacy is 'the art of saying nice doggie until you find a rock'. I have not lied to you or to my constituents. I laid out my plan full and clear to the tribesmen, and they gave me their approval. I have guarenteed their raiding privileges and am implementing a technological modernization and electrification operation that they may become wealthier and more powerful than ever before."

He looked the Oracle in the eyes.

"Oracle Djale, as the Khan of the Mountain Tribes, I have the solemn duty to protect the cultural, religious, and national sovereignty of my constituents from encroachments by the occupant of the Peacock Throne. One reason I am over them yet under the Emperor is to be the liason and guardian of the tribesmen's sovereignty. Instead of intimidating the chieftans of my costituents and the Pagan Church of the old gods, they will instead communicate with me. I'll shield them and you from their wrath. They do not intimidate me, just as they do not intimidate you."

Khan Moe made some hand gestures as he continued.

"Consider this before you accuse me of cowardice. The Emperor will be fearful of an united mountainous region and he is going to monitor us to see if we will attempt rebellion. He wants that. If we do so rebel, we will be walking right into his trap. The Emperor, the Shariah madman, and even those who reigned before my father accepted your people have all wanted us dead. They will use any excuse in NationStates to attack us, and we must stay determined not to retaliate."

Khan Moe smiled.

"I have already lined up foreign and domestic contacts to hire tribal raiders to plunder adversaries abroad, both to mercenaries and even to the Peacock Throne's occupant. Your people will be wealthier than before, as I said in the letter! Sharing a small portion of the booty as 'tribute' to the Emperor will convince him that we are not a visible threat to his rule and, accordingly, he will grant us the autonomy we so deserve and need to become great. I have secured foreign guns, tanks, bombs, and artillery to guard the region and I am instructing the tribesmen on how to use them. Already, I have commissioned the construction of new forts, bases, and watchtowers in the mountains and am bringing in officers from TurtleShroom, whose army, may I add, is trained in guerilla warfare and skirmish tactics that your people are masters of. They do not need to learn how to fight, for your people are among the greats warriors I have seen! -but they do need to learn to fight with guns and tanks, and not just horses and swords! Only then can we defend our territory!"

He looked at the small Oracle again.

"What the Empire has done to your people and to the mighty beasts that you communicate with daily has not and will not be forgotten. The tribesmen were in disunity and disarray, infighting and squandering wealth on tomfoolery against themselves. This was by design and all a part of the Emperor's scheme. Your choosing of me was not in vain and I urge you to convey this to your fellow clergy."

He sighed.

"A clergyman need not concern themselves with the secular affairs of state, but if you wish, I will keep you informed as much as possible."

Khan Moe called an eunuch over, who handed him a bright red telephone with a numerical keypad.

"This is a telephone. It's a special telephone called a 'hotline'. You speak into it and I hear it instantly. Many nations maintain these encrypted, autonomous lines for rulers to contact their fellow workers and servants at a moment's notice. Simply pick up the phone and press the key that looks like a star and you'll dial in this throne room immediately."

The eunuch brought in two other telephones; one was red and the other white.

"As part of my electrification plan, I would like to offer you a phone line and this hotline to me, to be installed in the temple, cavern, or home you so wish, so that you may call me whenever you need to speak to me. I understand that you may oppose this modernization, but if you do, be aware that while these phones are instant, messengers take hours, if not days."

Khan Moe outstretched his hand as he concluded with a metaphor.

"Oracle Djale, we cannot become prosperous and safe without you on board. These tribesmen believe in you, believe in me. Neither you nor your spirits chose me in error. I envision a day where the believers of my faith and yours live in harmony, unity, equality, and glory, a day where your people and the mighty beasts that walk these mountains are no longer opressed, hunted down, and killed. If you join me, as you did before, together we can lead the tribesmen to autonomy, sovereignty, freedom, peace, prosperity, and wealth."

He smiled warmly.

"Won't you join me?"

[Darussalam]

Djale giggled -- a longer giggle than usual. She even rolled on the floor, which quickly generated Khan Moe's mental note to ask a full Chamber-cleaning after she left.

"Uncle, Uncle, but you are mistaken. I am fully aware on the concept of Diplomacy, otherwise I would never receive your presence in the Mountains, nor the presence of your barbarian-benefactors. I might look like an unwashed barbarian, but know that I am still a Darussian. It is not that I oppose petty talks and schemes, but I oppose petty talks and schemes to the peacocks. These haughty birds are to be exterminated, not to be talked to. Speaking from experience!

"You said within the letter that you proclaim loyalty to the Peacock Throne to protect us, to protect me, the Tribes, your Kingdom, to protect the Nazarenes and Worshipers of the Old Gods, to spare them from the Emperor's wrath." She grinned. "Oh, Uncle, but this is a great misunderstanding upon the nature of the Peacock Throne. Surely as a lowlander prince who has been betrayed by Khadeshar you're supposed to know too -- that the Emperor is never wrathful. All of the Peacock Throne's moves have been greatly calculated to anticipate any possible event that hinder their benefit. Including this one. Now, even if you have tamed the Chieftains to accept your peace offer -- cannot blame them, human life is so short to learn anything meaningful -- and likewise you have tamed the Old Gods to be so complacent and weak, you can never truly tame the peacocks.

"Say," The Witch now walked too close to the Khan's comfort, her face was only a few inches from the Khan's, her hands gripped his shoulder. "Do you genuinely think that you will be spared even if you flatter the Emperor with good titles and praises? Flattery is the daily activities of the Durbar! The life of the peacocks! Now to acquire a honorable position in the Durbar you do not flatter the Emperor, you provide Him with high knowledge and wealthy new source of income, ready to be squeezed whenever the Sublime Porte saw it fit. Likewise for you. Maybe there's a chance for your redemption, for you to maintain this Palace and good titles, but only by selling your own people, the Tribesmen, into slave-labor in Imperial and foreign mines. Are you prepared to do that?"

Djale released her grip and returned to her place. "Ah, but no need to take my words, Uncle! No need to believe me! No need to trust me! No need to worry about my loyalty! After all, what am I but a lying little Witch? All you need is to see it with your own eyes. The Emperor will send His delegates, however they shall carry for you a poisoned dagger of Dzu'l-Khanjah and a box of opium*. However they would not negotiate before a little display of power -- maybe some Tribesmen attacked, some families killed and their corpses paraded in front of your eyes. Maybe your Palace will be bombarded with transmuting-Cannons. Anyway, it doesn't matter now, nothing would change it. Just observe. After then you will sell your subjects to labor, or be killed and your subjects will be expulsed from their lands. The Empire, or so I heard, is hungry for untapped resources lay inside the Mountains. If you still insist to continue in this regard, then I shall suggest that you use these resources as a way to negotiate. Probably -- very, very unlikely, but probably, the peacocks will be softened."

Djale was rather interested with the telephone, and happily accepted it. "We are not as opposed to progress as you would expect, Uncle. The Old Gods, after all, were patrons of technological advancement for thousand of years. We are the remnants of a proud civilization, and we still remember it very well. Also no, alas, you are a kind man, I certainly am not mistaken in bequeathing upon you the title Savior of the Mountain." She giggled. "I am never mistaken, to be more exact -- but let's hope that you fulfill your role in the way that all we desired."

"Oh, and make no mistake, Uncle, hundreds of tribal banners still believe in you as their savior. I am merely a child in their eyes, a frightening child whose words are to be heed in her sight, but a child nonetheless. Meanwhile you are a holy warrior-king, you have couriers to send royal decrees and ministers to discuss the more complex matter pertaining an united governance. You may rally the Tribes under one banner, but me? I can only shatter them, destroy them with bloodbath. I can lit the endless flames of War, but never the Eternal Fire of peace." She chuckled.

"Well then, my business is certainly done here, Uncle! I shall wait for further developments within my Temple. I will support you -- insofar as you supported the interest of the Tribesmen and destruction of the Mohammadans. My offer of warfare and glory stands and will always be open, for there still are many banners that stand before me. For now, however, I should take a rest. Farewell Uncle," She bowed. "'Merry Christmas', and may the Gods of the Mountains never abandon you."

The goatskin-cloaked Grand Oracle walked away, exiting the Royal Chamber in rather excited steps and jumps. Khan Moe finally breathed in relief -- and then he realized that much of the Royal Chamber was covered in rotting bird flesh, with maggots happily munching and crawling out.

[Comrade Commisar]

When the ship containing Soleil the Crow and Fenek the Jackal finally moored itself within one of the Darussian harbors, it became strikingly obvious that Darussalam was far different from what it was commonly portrayed as within the North Lands. In the North Lands, Darussalam was seen as no different from a settlement like Emine or Market Pass, relatively backwards, but otherwise bustling with people. Likewise, the Kheks expected to see architecture similar to their homeland, with buildings no larger than two stories, constructed of rammed earth, and perhaps flourishing marketplaces and bazaars. Instead, they were met with a large coastal city with many tall buildings, built with some of the finest materials available, and many privately-owned shops and businesses. It rivaled other great coastal cities such as Asahina and Grandstand, and for the Kheks, this was something of a shocking revelation.

After disembarking and unloading the vessel, Soleil began asking for the directions of the mountains with the local merchants, who while suspicious of the large group of foreigners, were easily persuaded from the hard coin in their purses. The Crow certainly had a way with words, and eventually, the company had enough information to travel through Darussalam, while also acquiring enough supplies to last for a few weeks as well. Some concerned merchants warned the Crow about the recent activity of the mountain tribes, and while this was appreciated, it was simply waived off as an unnecessary worry. Soleil was well aware of the dangers in ascending the mountains, from the resistance of nature itself to the raiders who would gladly steal wealth from a few 'barbarians', but Soleil lived amongst the Kheks, where this kind of behavior was not only frequent, but practically a daily occurance.

Soon leaving the coastal city, and travelling deeper into Darussalam, the Kheks marched on. Mounted upon horseback, Soleil expected to reach the mines within a few days if conditions permitted, while Fenek was more skepticle, worried that a modestly large company of foreigners in the deepest parts of Darussalam would attract the attention of the wrong people. Even if the company numbered slightly larger than a hundred men, half those men were unarmed slaves allowed to ride with the mercenaries for the sake of convenience, and the amount of goods carried in the group would tempt any opportunist brigand in the area. Addressing Soleil with these concerns, the Crow simply laughed it off, seemingly unphased by the possibilities ahead.

"What are you worried about, Jackal? We might fight a few bandits, perhaps some mountain dwellers, but they're no issue for us, correct? Afterall, we are accompanied by the finest mercenaries underneath the Vulture, and even more fortunately, the finest mencenaries underneath the command of the daughter of Grey Fang." Soleil smiled, the clacking of hooves partially deafening their words, "If anything, I'd be more worried for them than I'd be worried for us."

"That is not what I am worried about, Crow. Do you think word will not spread about a foreign company of mercenaries? What do you think would happen if we were intercepted by any faction in these lands? We would have knives at our throats from every direction." Fenek grumbled, "I do not fear a few mountain dwellers, they are but mere lambs to the slaughter. I fear that we will be always assumed as an enemy, and that if the whelp or his merry band of fools find out about us, we might find ourselves with more problems than a few mountain dwellers. I fear that we will be stranded in the South Lands, paired with some greedy slaver, surrounded by enemies upon all sides, and left to rot on some damned mountain."

"Hahaha, dramatic as always, Jackal. What makes you think that we aren't already being watched? Do you think that we fit in with these South Landers? Wrapped in tattered cloaks and ragged turbans, swords at our sides, rifles slung over our shoulder? Most of this company cannot even read, much less understand cultural queues and mannerisms. What makes you think that the Kheks know anything about subtlety?" Soleil laughed, almost mockingly, "Ahh, relax, Jackal, I am sure that we are fine. There are few that can't be persuaded with the charismatic charm of Soleil the Crow! Well, I suppose that would be mostly flattery on my part, but it is true that there are very few people I can't persuade."

"I hope you are correct, Crow. If I am going to be damned to die in the South Lands for your endeavors, know that I will definitely drag you to hell with me." Fenek stated, exchanging glances with Soleil, "That much is certain."

"I wasn't lying when I said you were dramatic, Jackal, but if it makes you feel better, I won't hold anything against you if it should come to that. Of course, I say that knowing that it won't, but whatever makes you calm down, right?" Soleil sighed, looking at the long road ahead, "Actually, we have a pretty long way to go before we reach the mountains, so it might be better if you keep talking. It'll give us something to do while we're travelling."

"Bah. I swear that the Vulture is far less annoying than you." Fenek grunted, riding off ahead of the group.

"What? Was it something I said?" Soleil asked, following the Jackal as she rode off ahead. It was sure to be a lengthy journey for the Kheks.

[Minroz]

Hi! Darussalam allowed me to join in~.

Darussalam, a country considered by the Minrozians to be an exotic yet mysterious land but ‘backwards’ in many ways, just like the Middle Kingdom viewed most nations in the universe. But for daring adventurers and merchants from the Middle Kingdom, Darussalam is a land of opportunity.

Whatsoever the case, relations between Qing Minroz and Darussalam were officially neutral on the international stage. As a matter of fact, the two empires are actually favourable between each other despite the cultural differences, more or less on mutual basis. It helped that the Minrozians took great efforts in respecting the Darussian culture as the Middle Kingdom has it own significant portion of her Muslim citizens and furthermore certain Iclamian countries allying with Minroz were predominantly Muslim. Benefiting from these good relations, shrewd diplomacy and bilateral free-trade agreements being made, there is a number of prominent Minrozian companies’ conducting business in Darussalam, thanks to the Khadeshar’s recent reformation policies.

Among these companies is the Dongling Group, one of the biggest industrial conglomerates in Minroz. And this company happens to be mining in the Khalash Mountains, not to mention the home of the maraudering mountain tribes who’re currently opposing the Khadeshar’s government.

Worrying about the losses of resources and profits gained from mining in the mountain, combining with doubts in the Darussian Armed Force’s capacity to act, the Dongling Group resorted to hiring mercenaries from their homeworld of Iclamia for security. Particularly they hired the Green Moons - Minroz’s famous private security company known for their strong professionalism and cutting-edge technology. It helped the fact the Green Moons were primarily ex-military from the Celestial Army to the armed forces of Middle-Eastern and Yazhou nations who’re close allies of Minroz. There’re about over hundred strong Green Moon personnel serving in Darussalam at the moment, equipped with state-of-the-art equipment the Middle Kingdom can offer. All in all, Dongling Group’s assests is pretty much safe for now.

The Minrozian mining presence is lead by the head of Dongling Group’s Darussian branch is Manager Shan Ling, a graduate of the prestigious University of Yenking and proven to be a talented businesswoman in her mid-thirties. For three years, she had helped supported the company’s business in Darussalam.

However, meanwhile at her office building in the Dongling Group’s Khalash Mountain complex, she’s not happy.

“I’m going to say this again. My politeness is stretching thin to the limit and I don’t think I have enough time for a mere chat as I am a very busy woman. What did you want?” Shan Ling spoke, looking at another woman. The woman in question, dressed in her summer clothes, is Yao Taohua, an Minrozian army colonel. As for the reasons of her presence in Darussalam, she’s on off-duty…‘officially’.

“Oh nothing much, Manager Shan Ling. I’m here for a business visit with you. Don’t worry, it won’t take much long. Let’s try keeping it civil like ladies. It won’t look good if we start lashing like two tigers.” Taohua smiled.

Despite her assurances, her innocent appearance are not who she seems to be. The Iclamian workers mercenaries especially the Minrozian members knew her true face. Taohua is a vicious, conniving woman who craved positions of powers for her own benefits. As well as amusements at her leisure. In certain circles of Minrozian Celestial Army, she’s notoriously known for her sadistic cruelty. It’s no surprising that the mercenaries hated her very much. But there’s little they can do about it, Taohua happens to be working for her employers – the Kuomintang, the ruling Neo-fascist political party of the Minrozian Empire. In other words, she has higher authority above them in the hierarchy. Needless to say, Shan Ling isn’t buying her assurances. She didn’t like Taohua one bit as well as extending her dislike to the Kuomintang.

“I’ve heard it yesterday…and the day before in Khadeshar. I assume you’re not here for vacation.” The manager retorted politely, getting herself to the point.

Taohua’s eyebrow raised with amused curiosity, her mouth made a malicious smirk. “Perhaps, I shall humour you. Don’t you remember the ‘requests’ from the Kurultai (Minrozian parliament)?”

“I do not forget,” Shan Ling replied. “I have top bachelor in economics from the University of Yenking to know. Of course I didn’t forget. But what your Kuomintang requests are preposterous. From what I see, they’re asking to work my staff to death, raised the profits too high and that’s not all…no wages for local Darussian workers in contracts of Dongling group! Since when the government dictated on how corporations do!?”

“That’s irrelevant. It’s for the good of our country. No one in our great empire will have any thoughts about the dead Darussians as long as we get better profits. After all, Darrusalam is a hopeless backwater, barely united as one country.”

“That’s the way of the barbarian. You meant we take everything, they get nothing. It’s wrong.” Shan Ling glared.

“What’s wrong about it? Don’t tell me you got too attached with these ragheads.” Taohua said uncaringly, not without some sadistic glee in her voice. The two then engaged into a little glaring contest. They did this for good few minutes until a Middle-Eastern man who’ve just already knocked and entered in the office.

“Assalamu alaykum ma’ams, I must apologize for my rudeness, did I interrupt something?” he spoke with Persian accent.

The women glanced at him, the man in question is Heydar Rahimi, leader of the Green Moon forces in Darussalam and former Ishvarian colonel. Also a devout Muslim, he’s made sure he had flexible time for his sholat prayers as well as for Muslim members of his men commanded under him. Despite his religious beliefs, Heydar tolerated the ‘pagan’ elements of his soldiers partly due to his military pragmatism and the fact is most Green Moon soldiers are Minrozians. Though, it’s more like he’s a friendly man who prefers to be a father to his men than his faith.

“Ah, oh no Colonel. No, you haven’t.” Shan Ling smiled in response. She’s glad Heydar is here.

“Colonel Rahimi, but I’m honoured by your presence.” Taohua spoke to him with her masked disgust. It’s not unknown to the Minrozians and the Green Moons mercenaries that she and Heydar don’t like each other. Considering her attitude and cruelty, it’s no surprising.

“The same to you, Miss Yao. I hope everything bodes well for you.” The Ishvarian replied. Despite his polite response, Shan Ling can tell he has strong distaste for Taohua.

The pink-haired woman snorted before looking back at Shan Ling. The female manager spoke, “In any case, I’ll see what I can do to generate more revenues for the motherland. But this doesn’t mean I’ll abide everything by your Kuomintang ludicrous requests. I’ll let you know once I finalised this year’s reports.”

“Very well. I’ll be right back. I expect results by the time I came back. Please do not forget it. Oh by the way, Merry Christmas as the Westerners says at their New Years.” She spoke with her veiled arrogance. Taohua eventually left the room.

Watching her leave, Heydar turned to the manageress. “Inshallah, we shall hope she didn’t come back any time soon. Allah will judge the wicked eventually. It would be nice if she’ll go straight to Heaven. Nay, more like hell.” He spoke with disparaging sarcasm in regards to Taohua. Shan Ling gave a look of silent agreement and a mirth amile. Tomorrow would be a big day for lack of better word for anyone working in the Mining Companies in Khalash Mountains. Both held no illusions that there’ll be inevitable conflicts with the Mountain tribes.

“Well, better get back to work. We cannot dawdle, won’t we? Oh, Mr Rahimi, is there something you want to talk about?” Shan Ling asked.

“It’s about security arrangements; I do believe we need to reorganize security forces again…and more equipment from the Mainland. Have you heard about the mountain-tribes recently? I have a feeling there’s going to be a war approaching.”

[Darussalam]

"Over a hundred Kheks were sighted in the Imperial port of Bandar-Khat, Your Majesty. They have not...involved themselves in trouble so far, however it appears according to observers that they also carry some slaves along with them, a practice I am afraid this Civilization does not tolerate."

"The Kheks, hmm? How troublesome." The Emperor sighed. "Ants will flock to a lump of sugar, I presume. I do recall that the Daghat-Qar Mine is under control of a certain mercenary 'from the Commonwealth', so these Kheks certainly are here to inspect their pit of wealth...and perhaps acquiring some other."

"What shall we do for these Slavers, Your Majesty?"

"What shall we do -- why, Lord Bayrak, we certainly wouldn't be able to do anything. We have no proof that they carry slaves, for example, not to mention that their visit might be actually desirable for us, after all of these miserable affairs of the Tribesmen. For now we shall merely monitor them, if they keep their business within Daghat-Qar then surely it should be not a problem and we all may return to mind our own. Order the caravanserais and road-watchers to inform their movement. I truly hope the Kheks bring enough silver coin within their purse, though." He chuckled. "Passing the Imperial Road without official permit to the Mountains might be quite...exhausting for the economically minded. Now, Lord Vizier, could you draft a short message to the Chief-Physician? Send it to the Residence of the Subah of Sankar. I will dictate it, here..."

-----*----

"Adjourn your control-visit to the Subahs, now we deem the Khalash as a more pressing issue. Depart immediately to the Station after you received this message, bring no one else but two Scribes and three Immortals. Some translators and spies will meet you in Qashjand to inform you regarding the situation. Imperial Soldiers nearby have been mobilized. May God always be with you. Signed - Grand Wazir Yusuf Qoldasht, authorized by His Majesty the Emperor"

-----*----

"Greetings, the Nazarene Usurper,

I am Abbas ben-Elias Khurramzad, Chief-Physician of the Durbar and Spokesperson of His Majesty the Emperor. As the Holder of the Imperial Warrant, I represent His interest to the Khalash Mountains, and thus I wrote this letter by personal authorization of the Emperor. Unfortunately I am unable to convey much here due to the brevity of time, the full answer to your declaration shall be delivered with my arrival in Khalash for open negotiation on your vassaldom to the Peacock Throne. Note that you are not yet the vassal of the Emperor, and we may sought to remove you either peacefully or by arms if we saw it fit, a possibility which will be discussed further during the negotiation. Here I will note a few things that may be discussed in further detail later.

First allow me to emphasize that the Peacock Throne and the Old Gods are sworn enemies, this is not merely a question of Religious Tolerance as we held tradition of diversity and tolerance in high regard to people of all faiths, we are talking about open hostilities of both side. The Old Gods I am afraid are not civilized beings and thus negotiating with them will be pointless, just as how negotiating with cephalopod monsters from Stachelimfleisch Ocean is pointless. Therefore the only solution is to wage war against them, this is Light against Dark, Good against Evil, we afraid we may not allow you to keep the Old Gods alive or the despicable worship that sustain them to remain. Converting the Idolaters to Nazarene faith might be another alternative, if you negotiated so to the Peacock Throne then we may be willing to provide assistance if necessary.

Secondly the Empire wished to open road of modernity and prosperity into the Mountains, and detailed plans for it have been formed for years. Once again, if you are willing to cooperate then the Empire will see it fit to discuss with you. Bear in mind however that it necessitates few things: that you will agree in setting up modern infrastructure as provided by the Empire, that you will also agree in the mobility of Muslim tribal-confederations as well as Imperial engineers and experts, as both are necessary in our planned development, and that you are willing to lease natural resources lay within your land under complete control of the Peacock Throne and not interfering in the current ongoing Mountains' economical extractions by the Empire and barbarian powers alike. Further information will be explained later.

Lastly we have noted of recent raids against us which we truly do not appreciate in the slightest. I shall specify my compensation demand during the negotiation meeting, likewise I also demand you to order the Tribes to cease such activities or the mobilized Imperial Soldiers will exterminate your people on sight. 'Letter of Marque' regretfully is not necessary now, the only 'adversary' against the Peacock Throne within the Mountains is you, the noble houses are always loyal -- indeed that they assisted us in occupying the Sultanate of Khopesh -- and likewise the Muslim tribal confederations. Once again, I call you to cease the hostility and end the raid, in the name of the Peacock Throne.
I propose the village of Daghat-Qar to be a neutral zone for the negotiation process. Other than your final decision regarding the negotiation's place please do not send another letter, a hearing will be held for your reply within said meeting.

That is all, may you have pleasant days and may the Emperor live for ten thousand Years."

The letter was delivered by an illiterate Tribesman immediately to Khan Moe, written in Darussian Arabic script readable and translatable by him only, intentional on the Darussian side to prevent other less friendly chieftains from interfering with the Khan's decision, if he didn't notified these rabble-chieftains at all - so thought the Chief-Physician cynically.

But grim news continued to enter the Khan's court. Now it came under the reports from faraway Chieftains that swore their loyalty to the Khan, they have personally requested to Moe to use "the vassaldom contract" to send warning letters to the Mountains' mining companies, or at least pressure the Peacock Throne into ensuring higher working standard of the Pagans of the Mountains. Reports came that working condition has been harsher than ever in Minrozian mine, and working condition is obviously always harsh in Khek mine. The workers were former-tribesmen, worshipers of the Old Gods no less, and thus unlike other Darussians, who are ensured to work relatively comfortably by the Sublime Porte, the latter made a special exception on these formerly hostile warriors, subjugating them and offering them to corporations and governments abroad. Regarding their treatment, the Peacocks happily let them under the purview of the barbarians -- such was the fate befitting for the enemies of the Emperor.

-And within this times of Khan's uncertainty, Djale the Witch waited patiently behind the curtains inside her chamber. A telephone has just been installed on the Temple, but it has never rang. Yet. Instead chieftains of numerous banners paid their visit to the Oracle, requesting anointment for a new battle -- only to be politely rejected by her.

Yet, she thought. She should listen to the Khan's reply first before starting the bloodshed.

-----*----

Authorized by His Imperial Majesty Iskandar I Hayân, by Grace of the Glorious God of Gods, Emperor of Darussalam and rightly of all Universe, the Maker of Peace and Order, eternal praise to the Great King, may He rule for ten thousand year onward, the Second Lord of the Auspicious Conjunction, Patriarch of Mankind, Centre of the Orientation of the Universe, whose extensive power reacheth to the fifteen oceans, unto whom God granted all of His desires, and over whom no evil spirits, even the Dreaded Iblis himself, may exert their influence, to whom the Heavenly Host, Jibril, Mika'il, Izra'il, Israfil, Munkar, Nakir, Malik, Ridwan, and our auspicious ancestors chant their dhikr and prayers to the Throne of the Worlds for the forgiveness of His sins, He who rides upon the Pivot of the Universe, whose left hand holds the Key to the Jannat al-Firdaus and the right hand holds the Flaming Sword that shall vanquish the Infidels, glory and splendour to His Imperial Majesty, blessed with profound wisdom, righteousness and charity, the Fatherly Shadow of God, KING OF THE MOUNTAIN.

To the respectable business enterprises and managers of the Foreign Mining Projects,

First and foremost the Peacock Throne profoundly apologized for our failure in handling the most recent disruptions of our prosperous deal. To amend this, we have seen it is fit to inform you the current situation ongoing within the Mountains. Thus fair it appears that a Nazarene prince has proclaimed himself as 'Khan of the Mountains', backed by seventy-two Nazarene and Pagan tribes whose domain occupy the Surush, Mika'il, and Simurgh Mountain. As these mountains are also the ones included within our Economic Cooperation deal, and as the deal included the civilizing process and incorporation of over thirteen Pagan tribal banners as workforce within your mines that might rather displease the tribes-under-the-Khan's-banner, it has been ascertained that the tribal chieftains will pressure the Nazarene Khan to act against you or independent attacks will occur against your mines. This is our grave concern as the Tribes are recently equipped by newer weaponry acquired from unknown foreign donation, however worry not as the Empire is superior in firepower and might! Over twenty thousand Imperial Soldiers have been dispatched to foreign and Imperial mines alike, and for security reasons we advise you to triple your security and supervise the labor force in case of possible incitements of rebellion. We shall assure you that the Empire will always consider our economic interest as our main priority.

Lord Yusuf Qoldasht,
Grand Wazir of the Eternal State

[ENCRYPTED & CLOSED MESSAGE]

[TURTLESHROOM II]

I might look like an unwashed barbarian, but know that I am still a Darussian.

"I have seen your people firsthand. I've watched your customs, your beautiful culture, and admired the devotion of your faithful. You are not barbarians."

Surely as a lowlander prince who has been betrayed by Khadeshar you're supposed to know too -- that the Emperor is never wrathful. All of the Peacock Throne's moves have been greatly calculated to anticipate any possible event that hinder their benefit. Including this one. Now, even if you have tamed the Chieftains to accept your peace offer -- cannot blame them, human life is so short to learn anything meaningful -- and likewise you have tamed the Old Gods to be so complacent and weak, you can never truly tame the peacocks.

"Hold on," Moe interjected. "Are you telling me the rumor mill is on to something. My constituents have long floated rumors that the current Emperor, while a brilliant administrator and economist, is very soft and weak in matters of war and peace. They've called him 'frail' and 'sickly'; folks have deemed him as ineffective in using force, saying he prefers talking, tradition, and the bureaucracy over gunpowder and lead. I dismissed it, naturally. My father- the blessed Sultan -as well as the terrorist Imam, was tossed out by the merciless Emperor, who apparently had been reduced to a powerless figurehead during my father's reign. Wouldn't that be proof positive that the Peacock Throne is capable of crushing even the best organized minority movements?"

"Say," The Witch now walked too close to the Khan's comfort, her face was only a few inches from the Khan's, her hands gripped his shoulder. "Do you genuinely think that you will be spared even if you flatter the Emperor with good titles and praises? Flattery is the daily activities of the Durbar! The life of the peacocks! Now to acquire a honorable position in the Durbar you do not flatter the Emperor, you provide Him with high knowledge and wealthy new source of income, ready to be squeezed whenever the Sublime Porte saw it fit.

"You think that flattery was done out of some acknowledgement of the Emperor's right to opress your people? You cannot talk to people with that kind of power without kissing a little bottom. It's a sad fact, but a neccesity I do not plan to prolong more than I have to."

Khan Moe rubbed the Fu-Manchu mustache he was growing.

"My plans to develop and modernize the infrastructure, technology, and resources of my constituents will greatly increase production, efficiency, health, and quality of life in the region. This means more tribue to the Emperor. My guess was that it's the reason he doesn't seem too opposed to my operations here."

"Likewise for you. Maybe there's a chance for your redemption, for you to maintain this Palace and good titles, but only by selling your own people, the Tribesmen, into slave-labor in Imperial and foreign mines. Are you prepared to do that?"

Gripped by his mantle in his throne by Djale's hand, Khan Moe stood up and made a sweeping motion with his arms, failing to dislodge her.

"NO!" he snapped. "My constituents are my friends, like family, and I am both their protector and their guide, by your own blessing! I will NEVER let them be placed into bondage! I will NEVER let their pride, their dignity, their wives, sons, their daughters, no, they will NEVER be opressed and persecuted so long as I draw breath! So help me, I'd sooner be led in chains to the guilliotine than suffer even one Tribesman being forced into slave labor!"

He made a fist.

"Paying taxes and tribute are a fact of life, but we're keeping our share too. Why else am I engaging in letters of marque for raiders? What is the modernization and development for? To serve the Throne without benefiting us at all?!"

Djale released her grip and returned to her place. "Ah, but no need to take my words, Uncle! No need to believe me! No need to trust me! No need to worry about my loyalty! After all, what am I but a lying little Witch? All you need is to see it with your own eyes.

"I trust you utterly, Oracle Djale! You are certainly not lying here! The matter is that I, we, have our plans and our ideas, and if push comes to shove, I'd rather die to protect my constituents than ever simply let what weve built, the freedoms we have, be terminated! I trust my constituents, too, and they say they are ready to defend if they must! The raiders are in top form, and the levies are being given artillery and God knows what other tanks and items TurtleShroom and other nations are funneling here."

"The Emperor will send His delegates, however they shall carry for you a poisoned dagger of Dzu'l-Khanjah and a box of opium*. However they would not negotiate before a little display of power -- maybe some Tribesmen attacked, some families killed and their corpses paraded in front of your eyes. Maybe your Palace will be bombarded with transmuting-Cannons. Anyway, it doesn't matter now, nothing would change it. Just observe. After then you will sell your subjects to labor, or be killed and your subjects will be expulsed from their lands.'

"I reiterate that I'd fight to my last breath before a single constituent is enslaved or otherwise oppressed by the Peacock Throne! We may not maintain supernatural artillery, but no human sorcerer is fully immune to bullets, and there are certainly allies, mercenaries, and foreign backers fully willing to aid us to at least get us a fair deal. If my constituents do not fear the Peacock Throne, and you yourself seem to buy the rumors that the boy Emperor is soft, why do you fear them?"

"The Empire, or so I heard, is hungry for untapped resources lay inside the Mountains. If you still insist to continue in this regard, then I shall suggest that you use these resources as a way to negotiate. Probably -- very, very unlikely, but probably, the peacocks will be softened."

"Darussalem imports much of its non-magical technology, including natural resources like oil, coal, uranium, and fuel. TurtleShroom is one of the greatest producers in the region of oil, if not the greatest, and they're willing to cut, raise prices, or even embargo the country if we're threatened. -and the TurtleShroomers aren't the only allies I've got."

Djale was rather interested with the telephone, and happily accepted it. "We are not as opposed to progress as you would expect, Uncle. The Old Gods, after all, were patrons of technological advancement for thousand of years. We are the remnants of a proud civilization, and we still remember it very well. Also no, alas, you are a kind man, I certainly am not mistaken in bequeathing upon you the title Savior of the Mountain." She giggled. "I am never mistaken, to be more exact -- but let's hope that you fulfill your role in the way that all we desired."

The Khan smiled and handed Djale the telephone.

"I am sorry if I came off as painting you as ignorant or backwards. You are not; my tours of the region have proved your brilliance. -but that doesn't equate to the fact that the Empire's neglect of our region and their abuse of our infrastructure has rendered large swaths of our realm without electricity or even running water and indoor plumbing. Your people's minds are sharp and their capabilities boundless. The only reason there aren't telephones in your lair is that the Peacock Throne has literally kept you in the dark to make you- make us -weak. You are right when you say the Emperor fears us."

He nodded.

"Well then, my business is certainly done here, Uncle! I shall wait for further developments within my Temple. I will support you -- insofar as you supported the interest of the Tribesmen and destruction of the Mohammadans. My offer of warfare and glory stands and will always be open, for there still are many banners that stand before me.

"My ultimate goal is to use societal engineering to weaken the grip of Imperial Shiite Daruslam by raising up the children in an environment praising both Darussalemite Paganism and other religions present in these lands, including my own. This subtle process will take most of my lifetime, but its ultimate goal is exactly what you want: the weakening of the kebab in our realm. Make no mistake that I share that goal with you, wholeheartedly. I'm a patient Khan, and while I know you wanted swift justice, my plan for my constituents takes a long time, but it works!"

For now, however, I should take a rest. Farewell Uncle," She bowed. "'Merry Christmas', and may the Gods of the Mountains never abandon you."

"-and you likewise. Oracle Djale, you are truly a patriot and a blessing to this realm. Your people, and myself, all look up to your wisdom and just foresight in the affairs of state. Never forget that I am always available on that hotline."

[Minroz]

OOC: Sorry for the short post. :x

To the respectable business enterprises and managers of the Foreign Mining Projects,

First and foremost the Peacock Throne profoundly apologized for our failure in handling the most recent disruptions of our prosperous deal. To amend this, we have seen it is fit to inform you the current situation ongoing within the Mountains. Thus fair it appears that a Nazarene prince has proclaimed himself as 'Khan of the Mountains', backed by seventy-two Nazarene and Pagan tribes whose domain occupy the Surush, Mika'il, and Simurgh Mountain. As these mountains are also the ones included within our Economic Cooperation deal, and as the deal included the civilizing process and incorporation of over thirteen Pagan tribal banners as workforce within your mines that might rather displease the tribes-under-the-Khan's-banner, it has been ascertained that the tribal chieftains will pressure the Nazarene Khan to act against you or independent attacks will occur against your mines. This is our grave concern as the Tribes are recently equipped by newer weaponry acquired from unknown foreign donation, however worry not as the Empire is superior in firepower and might! Over twenty thousand Imperial Soldiers have been dispatched to foreign and Imperial mines alike, and for security reasons we advise you to triple your security and supervise the labor force in case of possible incitements of rebellion. We shall assure you that the Empire will always consider our economic interest as our main priority.

Lord Yusuf Qoldasht,
Grand Wazir of the Eternal State

[ENCRYPTED & CLOSED MESSAGE]

Head Office, Dongling Mining Complex, Khalash Mountains

“Hmm, that’s very assuring from the Darussian government.” Shan Ling muses over the message after reading it. Knowing the differences between the Darussian Armed Forces and the Celestial Army, she’s not fully convinced the problem of the mountain tribes will be resolved that easily.

She began to fully understand that Rahimi is right about increasing the security of the Green Moon forces. Knowing he was a former soldier from the Ishvarian military, Shan Ling decided to trust him to do his job. Aside from the piety of his Muslim faith, Rahimi is an honourable man who looked after his subordinates very well and a man of reasoning with the distaste for bloodsheds.

On the other hand, Shan Ling didn’t like following commands from the pompous Yao Taohua who is working for the Kuomintang. As of result, this action made the local employees’ life hard. But she always made sure to pay generous compensations for the heavy workload imposed on the tribesmen working under Dongling Corporation’s employ. She’d even gone further to paying the welfare bills for families of the tribal workers, whatever her budgets can allow.

Nevertheless, she had paperwork to do in the meantime. Shan Ling hoped and prayed to the Heavens that the conflict won’t erupt anytime now.

---

Somewhere in the roadsides of Khalash Mountains, a Green Moon convoy of three Ural Typhoon trucks and four GAZ Tigr jeeps is on its way to one of the mines which is owned and operated by the Dongling Corporation. Flying over the convoy is a flight of Green Moon Strike Witches, equipped with MiG-35 striker packs and armed with their PKH machine guns - an extremely reliable and rugged weapon, very popular with the Armed Forces of Iclamian countries allied with Minroz.

As for the Green Moon mercenary soldiers, they’re riding in the back of the truck. Apparently, they’re sent to reinforce the security of the mines in the recent light of events concerning the possible attacks by the mountain tribes. They’ve arrived at the Mining site which is owned by the Dongling Mining Company; the site is already guarded and supervised by the Green Moon mercenaries. There are also Security battle robots, from infantry models to heavy mechs, patrolling the area.

The Green Moon soldiers exited their vehicles while their witch comrades landed. Some head for their assigned guard duties as briefed. The others went to the site barracks for recuperation. Nonetheless, some chatted among each other to pass time. They don’t seem to be worried about the possible attacks from the tribes allied with the so-called Khan of the Mountains.

“Thank gods for a warm meal and bed. Nothing beats it than sleeping on the ground.” One merc boasted.

“I agree, brother. I’m kind of itching for some action.” Another said.

“We will. Probably. I’ve heard there’s trouble caused by the tribes of the mountains. I can see why Colonel (Rahimi) is cautious recently.” The third spoke.

“Hey, we got better guns than whatever they have. And training too. Don’t worry too much, this isn’t like Heljmenistan or Khaydaristan whatsoever. My army buddies stationed over there used to tell me stories about them fending off rebel insurgents. Darussalam seems to be too civilized for that.” The fourth said.

“Heh, you’re right. What could go wrong? No one is attacking us.” The first merc quipped, exhibiting his overconfidence.

“Please don’t jinx us, you’re giving some nasty ideas to the Gods of luck that way.” His friend said half-jokingly, mock punching him in the shoulder.

“If that comes to that, at least we won’t get bored.”

[TURTLESHROOM II]

GRAND KHANATE OF THE CONFEDERATED TRIBESMEN
FORMAL DISPATCH

Greetings to the Noble Oriental Gentlemen of the Manchurian Empire of Minroz:

We have been notified that you fear for your safety in your mining operations within the Khanate. We assure you that you should not fear us if you recognize our sovereignty and the rights of my constituents.

Although I support the mining personally, as the Khan, I cannot endorse or condemn your mining operations with state power, because I am a servant of the tribesmen and it is they, and they alone, who will decide on the validity and justness of your resource extraction operations. I have heard much support and opposition for your projects, and right now, we are wrestling control of the mines away from the direct administration of the Darussalemite Empire and into autonomous control of the Khanate.

If I can convince my constituents on the merits of the mines, you should not have to fear anything. This move will not justify your private property rights if the tribesmen agree to your presence.

We are aware that you pay wages that are far more generous than the Darussalemite and TurtleShroomer mines in the region and provide great benefits, pensions, and health benefits to your workers. Indeed, most grievances against the mines are directed to the Empire because of their attempt to destroy tribal culture and my constituents' way of life. Your mines have done nothing of the sort and I personally commend your respect of my constituents.

Certainly, we are willing to open talks ensuring your control and profit of your current mining operations. You are invited to dispatch one of your Manchurian delegates to have an audience before either me or the Assembly of the Tribesmen and pitch your case before us.

We look forward to your reply.
-KHAN MOE, SERVANT OF THE TRIBESMEN, THE CHOSEN ONE

P.S.: I have always been envious of the Cue- the Manchurian hairstyle -and am personally electing to wear it while I serve as Khan. You have really good fashion sense.

Do you like the flag? I didn't know what colors represented the tribesmen, so I used generic terms. Purple symbolizes royalty, the Khan, and Christianity, while red represents the sacrifice of the tribesmen in defense of their sovereignty, as well as the blood of animal sacrifices in Darussalemite Paganism.

The "X" is a traditional symbol of decentralization and confederation in TurtleShroom, which is a major backer of the Khanate.

The blue represents the sky and the boundless future of the Khanate and its people, a future that is just over the horizon.

[The Brand New Salvatagard Republic]

(OOC: For non-Stachelimfleisch TG for entrance...or alternatively if you are confident enough in your understanding of storyline then just post straight away)

Are you talking about the song?

[Darussalam]

Khansarai, Kashjand, Autonomous Tribal Provinces, Empire of Darussalam
"And that is all, honorable lords! The Peacock Throne expects your full understanding and cooperation in this matter." Abbas Khorramzadeh concluded his monologue swiftly. He poured black chai into his cup and calmly observed the other men's reaction -- they were less pleased than he expected, but he couldn't care any less. Despite being the youngest of those present, he far outranked any of them, being the Emperor's trusted advisor in the inner Peacock Court itself. Surely even these bothersome tribal half-barbarians would concede to his most humble request...by a little persuasion and reminder of his position if necessary.

Interrupting the awkward silence was a cough from Khan Bahadur Tikku Khan Chaswar, the patriarch of the eponymous Chaswar Tribe and likewise chief executive of the eponymous Chaswar Carpet Company, a stunningly-bearded and physically imposing man. After blowing the khat-scented smoke into the Chief Physician's face, intentionally or otherwise, he stored his cigarette on an ash tray and glanced to Khorramzadeh, his thick brown eyebrows raised.
"Well, of course our gratitude to the lords and ladies of Khadeshâr -- foremost the very Lord of the Peacock Throne and Holder of Auspicious Conjunction himself, may he live forever! -- shall bloom for ten thousand years, and indeed that we are greatly indebted to their generosity in restoring order and harmony into our lands. However, lord, we shall remind you that, with all due respect, likewise the lords of Khadeshâr would not stand without us, for it is with the blood and sweat of our clansmen that the army of the Emperor marched into Khopesh, and verily likewise with our hands the sons and daughters of the traitorous monarch were justly slain."

Khorramzadeh nodded. "Evidently, one of the Sultan's children is very much alive today, Khan Bahadur, and the chief cause of our troubles. Would you also claim it as your confederation's mistake -- as the supposed slayers of the children of traitors?" He was replied with silence. "...no? Excellent. Fortunately, the past has nothing to do with our current situation. I do not comprehend your objection, Khan Bahadur..."

"But I have not objected!" Tikku Khan interrupted.

"Objection is objection, honorable lord!" Khorramzadeh laughed. "Even a deaf-mute executioner would know it. I simply do not comprehend it, that is all." He motioned to the empty corners of the Khansarai's hall. "All of the ancient treasures of the Khansarai have been looted by this pretender. The peace of the mountains that you have gallantly established and the fabrics of your authority is under threat by some uppity non-person from the decadent palace of Khopesh -- who aligned himself with the infidel-savages of hinterland, no less! Surely you would not allow him to rule unquestioned?"

"And yet, Lisan as-Saltanat," Sibghatullah Wosir-Aung Jang, the elderly spokesman of the Tribal Provinces' legislature, said in a screeching voice. "The Oracle of the Mountain is not a woman to be trifled, not even an entire tribe will survive standing against her, not even the Emperor's own Kizilbashi Guards! And if the Oracle is behind the Khan of the Mountain, then he will be truly untouchable."

"Surely that it is a wise counsel from honorable Lord-Prince Tahmasp Khan, that we shall enter into a peaceful negotiation with the Khan? Allow him to rule in his little fiefdom with a few concessions, provide he does not intrude us. We shall not bother him -- he will be none in our eyes, a spectre that hangs on the mountain hinterland."

"As much as I agree with my humble colleague the Lord-Prince, he unfortunately neglected one thing: that negotiation is impossible with the demonic shadow of the Oracle looming. She must be removed by all means necessary, and this requires your help. This is, of course, a mere simple pleading from the Peacock Throne." Khorramzadeh smiled as the elders' expressions darkened upon the mention of the Throne -- it is a demand, to be done, or else. "The Peacock Throne, of course, is very generous on its tidings. We shall oust the Khan from his throne or bring him under the grip of our hands, and regardless, the fiefdom he ruled will be yours -- effectively. The lands, the people, the resources, the negotiation, by sword or otherwise, will concede them to your 'modern development'. On the other hand, if you object..." Khorramzadeh leaned back to his chair, watching his audience that now reclined in silence. "Well, after all it is by the Peacock's favor that all of you, honorable gentlemen, may sit here, and we are willing to reconsider our favor."

There was an unanimous consensus.
"We shall depart next Saturday, esteemed lords!" Khorramzadeh stood in satisfaction. "The Oracle shall be no more, and the Khan of the Mountain will kneel to us and the Peacock Throne. For today, I bid you a good day -- may God be watchful over your endeavor."

[TURTLESHROOM II]

(I apologize for not noting that I've read this sooner. I don't know what I should be writing here, though, so I'll wait for you to confront the good Khan.)

[Darussalam]

The Oracle of the Mountain

The patriarch screamed and fell down to his knees. His fellow clansmen merely froze in terror as the little girl nonchalantly played with his body and mind, tainting his soul with the dark magic of the gods. A rotten odor hung inside the clan's ancestral hall. "This is unnecessary," said the girl, giggling to her doll. "I am fully under awareness that this is unnecessary. Yet, at the same time, you are playing with my patience. Perhaps I should make one thing clear: I am the Oracle of the Mountain. I am the sole voice of the great Gods of Kartaloka, for within my ecstasy I reveal the workings of the sky and the mountains, the great weavers of Fate that lurked behind the stars and valleys. It is by my assistance that your clan thrived, that every single body of the Ang-Sii'yan has been reduced into ashes, that none of ther possession was left unburnt. And those who commit themselves to the sacred oath to the Greater Being in turn should fulfill the oath, am I correct?"

The patriarch groaned. "Impossible! You force us to betray our brethren -- we have forged our oath under the tree of sacred peaches, much earlier than the daemonic pact of yours! Worse, you force us to betray our Khan, he who reigns within the Palace of Fragrant Pomegranates! I shall not for once will dishonor to corrupt our house, the house that stood for five hundred years and will stand for another five hundred years!"

"Betray? Honor? Such weakness, unexpected from the children of Khotai!" the Oracle cackled. "Your great ancestor led his horde to betray the Imperial Court and slay her great mammoths. Yet you became so complacent, so pathetic, when you retreated into the mists of the Kalash, that you speak the words familiar, I suppose, in the harem of Khopesh. And it is amusing that the clan that prospered upon the slaughter of another dares to speak of honor. But it doesn't matter, for you will betray no one. If you fulfill your oath, the worshipers of One God will be driven away, like pests they are. The Khan will reign not in the Palace of Fragrant Pomegranates, but the very Hall of the Peacock Throne itself."

"Then, why do you not speak to him?" The Patriarch almost vomited as the odor grew stronger, and he slowly hallucinated -- a grinning carcass in the Oracle's place, surrounded by limbs of deranged gods.

"Ah! Well, you see, I believe his upbringing has brought him a savage, false faith with convictions that would repulse him away from my assistance. The Nestorians in his court has already half-convinced him that I am a hideous monster and conjurer of devilish tricks. Not that they're wrong in that regard, but still, soon I desire to see their bowels exposed open to the midday sun. Anyway, I desire your affirmation, and that is what I shall receive. Some other clans will also assist you, too." The little girl turned away and opened the door, revealing the shining sun that barely brought warmth to this hidden fiefdom. "No whispers to our beloved Khan, or all of you will be the first to suffer a grisly death. I bid you a good day!"

The Expedition

Abbas Khorramzadeb disliked Them. Even with the Oracle's infamy looming ahead, he still hesitated greatly dealing with Them. Maybe one would say that was a reasonable prejudice, as none in the Imperial Court liked each other beyond political and carnal pragmatism. But he still disliked Them of all other factions, even compared to the Imperial Harem, Southern Amazones, Imperial Committee of Anti-Alcoholic Lifestyle, and the Worshipful Guild of Soup-makers, such horrid and despicable lobbyists they were.

"Ahead here," one of Them pointed to a certain place, somewhere in the map. He then retreated to his blanket, shivering and coughing. "We have...observed the surrounding area. Such concentration of the collective psyche, emanation of archetypal authority appears there only. The Palace of Fragrant Pomegranates and the surrounding villages, there."

"I have heard legends that the Palace might disappears overnight, and appears at another pl-" the Physician started.

"Then, quite assured, we have taken those into account," another of Them interrupted. "The palace will be there by the time we arrived. Tomorrow morning, God willing. I'm also uncertain whether such legends are true, although indeed that ordinary navigation may be very difficult here. But it's not Divine presence, unlike the Hall of the Peacock Throne, it's something...much more sinister. Not the powers of the sky, but the monstrosity that sleeps under Earth itself, and awakened upon the heavenly sparks and intellect of man. This monstrosity feeds upon man."

"Yes, certainly," the Physician replied in a hurry. He was tired of listening to Their mysticisms, Their adoration to their own sciences. The Physician himself was proudly disinterested with his science, as it was to every Darussian scholars of the Material.

"I would expect that you have prepared a grand spectacle, Lisan as-Saltanat," the mocking sneer was heard once again. "Otherwise our fellows here would be greatly disappointed."

"Oh, I assure you I have," Abbas Khorramzadeh replied in poisonous courtesy. "The first thing the subjects of the Khan of the Mountain will hear upon sunrise will be their return to adoration to the Peacock Throne and worship to the Divine Essence, God willing."

[TURTLESHROOM II]

Khan Moe stood with his non-human aids and with the patriarchs of the tribes he loved and oversaw. It was dress rehearsal time, where he wore his full regalia and the Khanate's heaviest crown- the Pomegranate Crown -in place of the lighter crown he wore every day. He had to practice wearing the thing for the past several days to keep it steady.
(TurtleShroomer tradition, adopted by the Khanate, stated that the heads of state should wear their principle royal regalia at all times, but the Khanate couldn't enforce that role due to the sheer weight of the Pomegranate Crown.)

He wore the tribes' finest available garments, a brown base with thick white fur and beige, fur-trimmed cape. The heavy Pomegranate Crown, made of iron and sacred bones rumored to be from the great Pagan monsters, with golden pendilias on wool chains, shaped alternatingly like turtles and pomegranates, topped his head. In his right hand, he held his long staff topped with a goat's skull.

Khan Moe ran a dark brown hand through his thick black hair and took a deep breath as he practiced his Glamor. It was difficult to balance the Pomegranate Crown and the Goat Staff while he habitually raised his left hand (he's left handed) to project it, but he had come to master this with time.

The Khan's connection to the Christian faith was becoming somewhat syncretized with the faith of the Darussalemite Pagan rituals, though to be honest, faith was not really the good Khan's strong suit. It was wishy-washy at best.
However, the Nestorians among his court and his loyal river cooter turtle sidekick, Timmy Dareau, certainly kept him on the straight and narrow. Still, the appeal and devotion of the Pagans seemed to speak to him. He's seen the Oracle's black magic and has a general idea of the Darussalemite Pagan beasts, which he has been assured exist.

"My lord," Timmy said, "The expedition from the Darussalemite Empire will be here at sunset. The Great Oracle is expected to arrive as well, to witness the events and protect you with her powers if neccesary. The very souls of sinful Darussalemites can be melted by her mind. Only non-Pagans who are pure and truly devoted to their religion can resist them."

One of the minor patriarchs nodded.

"My lord, the animal is right. When the Mussulmen stormed the ancient palaces of the pre-Islamic empire, the last Khagan's gave his soul to the Old Gods for them to come to us. They consumed his flesh and soul to reveal their presence on our mortal coil. The Mussulmen blew the sacred beast to smithereens all the same, and we've been driven back ever since."

Khan Moe smiled as he tried to give a speech to his fellow leaders. He held back tears as he looked at all these clansmen who were here to supprt him. Since he assumed power, he had become a lot more humble and a lot less shy.

"Elders of my constituents, I can't thank you enough for your loyalty, compassion, and trust in me. I am not worthy to oversee nations so mighty, so noble as yours, and yet here I am. My policies of religious tolerance have allowed your faiths and mine to prosper, and, God or your beasts' willing, we will prosper for a thousand years hence. Our legislature, the Kuraltai, is directly elected by the common man and you serve as the upper house and by Cabinet. Our elections are stable and free of the decadence and corruption that plagues the government under the Peacock Throne."

All he could do is smile.

"As your Khan, I continue my oath to protect your sovereignty and defend you from any aggresssion. I may be under the Emperor's thumb, but you will never be. By the grace of God, I am the middleman, your guardian, your defender and friend! I am your Khan, and you are my people. I serve you, and never the way around!
Today, you are gathered here to stand with me in the face of the Peacock Throne. We will negotiate terms of our sovereignty and our security. We will likely have to render Tribute to the Throne, but to me, paying them to keep us safe is worth it. We can always raid to recover any wealth lost and, of course, my connections to the Nazarene Kingdom of TurtleShroom will ensure we will have the arms and the funds to stay indefinitely, should push come to shove."

Khan Moe looked to each one of the Patriarchs and thanked each of them by name. He stepped forward to the mouth of the holy cavern he had been practicing in, and looked to the breathtaking landscape of peaks and valleys he never got tired of beholding.

"Today is the day we stand up for ourselves. Though they can take our Tribute, though they can claim to be our boss, we will always endure as an independent, sovereign, united nation. We are destined to be free. One day, we will not only be free, but subject to no other crown or republic. I see nothing but hope and optimism for all of us. I only hope I can count on you to join me."

The elders of the tribesmen shouted in affirmation and cheered the leader that had done so much for them. A Darussalemite Nestorian priest, a TurtleShroomer Old Believer Orthodox priest, and a Darussalemite Pagan shaman all stepped forward together. Each one began their invocation.

"Let us pray..."

[Darussalam]

Good news, the ongoing plot is basically pulled out gradually from my arse! It feels like a shounen series, except it's not even that long ;_;
The events in this thread ended somewhere at late July 2016.

Sorry for the godmod. >_>

"Wonderful! Wonderful! This is absolutely brilliant!" The Witch circled her own chamber in utter glee, chuckling and jumping. The looming, giant avian shadow remained unmoving in its place. "Three hundred years, and we shall be relieved! Shall we not?" Djale glanced to the silent figures across her, blocked by the colorful curtains. The unusually strong scent lingered in the chamber. "Of course we shall! Listen, listen, the Khan will set us free! Khan, uh, Khan Moe will set us free! He most certainly will! Haha, this is wonderful!"

Djale paused and observed the figures for a moment, her lips pursed as if she listened to an unheard monologue. "Well, of course at first I think it'd be pretty bad. Terrible, in fact. But sooner or later the peacocks will come anyway, he's that unreliable. Also look, yesterday, the eunuchs whispered me yet another bad news. They said some chieftains openly expressed displeasure on my personal conduct to the Khan himself! Lord Erkhay even gave me false reports, would you believe that? ...You would? Ah, he is a crook. But back then I expected he would fear the whole threat of dying-or-worse. No, I can't kill him now! The Khan's authority balances me out now. I have the gods, he has the chieftains. Well, most of them." She grinned and raised two feathers, one dipped in crimson and one in orange. "But you know how weak are the gods under these husks. I mean, of course you do!"

The shadow grimaced, and likewise all the figures twitched and grumbled. Djale duly ignored them. "I wonder...back then, the Throne was inaccessible for me. I'm pretty certain it still is -- oddities work by their own rules, after all. How unfortunate, what a sick fairy tale we live in! I can't defy my role, the Oracle is foremost an Oracle and shall only be an Oracle. I was quite grateful and wary by the poor stranger's arrival, honestly! But all he required is me, only me, a writer of the tale, gifter of roles! I need only to grant him a 'role' and suddenly he's the Khan of the Tribes. Bizarre, no? After these years, I'm still unable to comprehend the arts of sorcery and their laws."

She fell into silence once again, listening intently. "Exactly! So you do understand after all! I think the peacocks would be informed enough to send at least five...or hell, six fun, squishy meat-walls. Protection, they will say! Haha! What a load of nonsense. As I said, we'll have lots of fun. But first, we must ensure that our good Khan...will do the right thing." With one jump, the Witch landed in front of the newly installed telephone. "Let's figure out how to get this thing work. What did the Khan say back then?"

"H-Hello? Is this a right way to use it? And you are...? Oh, right, good evening, Uncle! What? I don't sleep at night -- ah, you do. Right. Uh, I spent last three hours figuring how th -- nevermind. Sorry for disturbing your slumber, but a king should not abandon his duty for earthly pleasures, correct? Well, this is a duty-time!

I have reconsidered your proposal. As much as I utterly loathe shaking hands with Peacocks, I have decided that I will, for, uh, the greater good of all us, very half-heartedly concede that you have points. That is, as long as I'm not required to dirt my hand with theirs. Yes, I'm aware Darussians wouldn't shake hands with little immortal girls. Alright. But I wouldn't dirt every single thread of my cloth and skin and hair with them. I recommend you shouldn't either. They're disgusting.

So, feel free to open up a negotiation with the Peacock Throne! -- you already do, but consider this an official endorsement. However, their presence is a concern to my safety and vice versa. I will depart from this place tomorrow morning. I don't want Khadeshâri dogs to track me down and slaughter me, so...I trust you are able to make some stories to explain my disappearance? Tell them I got a conflict with you or something. That would make you a 'radiant savior and rightful lord of the mountains' in their myopic eyes.

Well, I suppose that is all I'm going to say. Wish me luck -- ah, be careful of the evil sorcerers! The peacocks may send lots and lots of them, perhaps to intimidate you into submission. They are different from the normal folk in that...uh, I think you can feel them glowing somewhat. That is all, and may you save the Mountains, Great Khan! Farewell."

"Did I sound hesitant enough?" She glanced to her shadow. "But I love the glowing part! Well, that's not really important. Sleep well, Master." Under the oil lamp's glimmer, her half-obscured grin appeared ominous. "Because you're going to awake in a short, short time."

---

Qala Gholghola, Sok-Sahar, Kharâm-pura. The City of Screams, so the superstitious villagers and their elders called the ancient ruins scattered around the slopes of Simurgh Mountain. Its actual name vanished a long time ago, spoken only by the highest of priests within the numerous isolated cave-monasteries and decaying temples within the city itself. One of the last sanctuary for the Old Gods during their worshipers' downfall, it was dedicated entirely for endless routine of ritual worship to maintain the last breath of the dying gods. Highly skilled artists sculpted the temples and statues, adorning the walls with reliefs of grotesque deities, white lotuses, and god-kings. These temples persisted until today and so did the worshipers, discreetly, away from the watchful gaze of the Lords of the Peacock Throne under the protection of the Oracle of the Gods herself.

And now, under the rule of the Khan of the Mountains. Until this morning, at least.

For centuries, the Peacock Throne has permitted the pagans of the Mountains a free, if barbaric life lacking the Freedoms of the Empire, for purely pragmatic reasons. Expeditions to Kalash, while most of the time proven to be effective, were highly expensive. The cost far outweighed the benefit, as the warring pagan clans will immediately abandon their fight to face their absolute enemy that marched under the banner of the Emperor's light. After short battle and defeat, the remnants of the tribes would disperse like cockroaches to more secluded parts of the Mountains, continuing the guerrila warfare. The entire war, to put it succinctly, was a logistical nightmare and definitely undesirable to the Divankhana and the assembling Imperial Court before the Peacock Throne.

Now, if anything, while the Khan certainly was far large a threat to the Imperial authority to be ignored, in many ways he had also balanced the cost and the benefit.

And thus, for the first time after two centuries, the Imperial Army marched beyond the traditional frontiers of the Empire. And for the first time after five centuries, Mohammadan believers were sighted from the towers and balconies of the City of Screams. Gone has the era of musketeers, of gunpowder cannons, of scimitars. More secrets of ancient Darussalam were unraveled by the scholars and librarians in the House of Wisdom, more arts of sorcery and occult mastered, more advancements invented or adopted from foreign barbarians. At the very least, technology had gone haywire in this birthland of mad demons and ancient gods. Reports from the digital positioning system continuously produced absurd, inconsistent results, especially in regard of altitude. Satellite signals were nonexistent. The less talented Darussians also felt their glamor to be near uncontrollable, chaotic, although thankfully not to harmful extents.

"This is why only a few corporations accepted our deal," Abbas Khan Khorramzadeh, the Chief Physician and the Third Lord of the Privy Council, grumbled. "We should establish aetheral control when this petty 'Khan' has been subjugated. Why do I feel like he sent here for a death sentence?"

"Maybe because that was indeed the case," one of Them noted dryly. Now that the sun has appeared from the horizon, his appearance and that of his compatriots were clear. All were males, all were young, none older than late twenties.They reminded Khorramzadeh of snow-demons that once roamed the more civilized parts of the Mountains, Qashjand included, before Imperial exorcists banished them to another realm and preserved their relics in the ever expanding Archives of the Otherworldly Affairs, long buried beneath the even more vigorously ever expanding libraries of the House of Wisdom. These relics were allegedly also used by Them for a certain unknown goal. The Physician's impression, obviously, was not without reason, as they dressed entirely in white, with the exception of a red cap that gave them their actual name, and their glamor was unnervingly white and cold.

Glamor was usually vibrant, lively, joyful -- benevolent or otherwise. The Emperor's glamor was always golden. This was not a hereditary thing. Glamor was not inherited, it was something you acquired and mastered. First at the third month of pregnancy, at which point the fetus was said to be bestowed soul, the divine essence blown from the mouth of Gabriel himself, an elaborate ritual was conducted. For the Emperor's offsprings, this involves thousands of holy men from countless mosques, shrines, monasteries, and madrasas, whom danced in ecstasy after inhaled the fumes of certain narcotic, its recipe known only to the Physician and his closest disciples, and whispered frantic prayer for the unborn child's wisdom and health. Likewise for the seventh month, the birth, and finally, the largest of all, when the coming of age. This was said to be derived from pagan rituals of the past, the same pagans, of course, that the Physician currently attempted to subjugate.

But it didn't matter in the slightest. What mattered, as Physician knew exactly, was not the favors of the spirits. Such was the foolish mistake of the pagans, relying upon the happiness of the indifferent chaos that is the Old Gods, the unnatural monsters that defiled causality. What mattered was the Order, the harmony, the balance. Not the gods, but the Absolute spirit, many yet one, the Spirit that revealed and ordered the world as it is and as it shall be, the one that drove His Believers into triumph and led the worshipers of false idols into pits of slaughter. The great one that breathes unto every human soul, and along with it the magic that follows, the one that many Darussians refer as 'glamor', yet it was more complex than mere cosmetics, hiding much more power.

And this power was expressed, among others, by Them. The white-glamored, icy-cold living corpses, no longer man but mere spirits moved by knowledge of the occult and worship of the Emperor. The Kizilbashi Guards. Whereas the Dowager Empress' own private army of sorceresses, the urdubegis, whom currently dispatched en masse to reestablish Imperial hegemony in Pherdistan, were granted raw power, the Kizilbashi, the Emperor's own esoteric order of scholar-warriors, were granted raw knowledge. Both, for obvious reasons, were feared by every segments of Darussian society aware of their existence and forced to interact with them, from the Grand Wazir, the attendants of the Seraglio, the kuttabs, to the princes of the Imperial Clan.

But these were not world-conquering soldiers. Their icy cold, deathly white glamor can attest that. Their age depleted quickly, hence they abandoned their power in the end of their blossoming youth -- that, or die in Emperor's service. A martyrdom, shuhada as a Darussian would put it. Their number was few, and the Imperial scholars continuously studied them, looking for more and more weaknesses.

Some, as the Oracle thought to herself in satisfaction, would soon be evident.

But for now, even this few a number was sufficient. Only a dozen of them in this campaign of thousands.

"Don't insult me, filth," the Physician said. "I am the third lord of the Privy Council, I answer directly to the Padishah of the Peacock Throne, may he live for ten thousand years."

"So do we," one of Them answered.

"I suppose we should start now, Lord. This is a valuable momentum," another of Them interrupted. "I sense no presence of the Oracle, bizarrely enough."

"You don't?" Khorramzadeh raised his eyebrow. "Well, this is suspicious. Shall I order a halt to the campaign?"

"This isn't," he said. "We will demand the Khan to surrender the Oracle to us. Under the laws of the Old Gods, only he may do so. God willing, the Oracle is aware of this and she already fled somewhere else. It's simply what it is -- we simply do not detect her, hence she does not exist here. She was incredibly powerful, if she was here our equipments would act in an even more chaotic and...malevolent manner." He shrugged. "But we may verify it through the Khan."

"So...we will start." Khorramzadeh turned towards the commander of the expedition, General Kutlushah. "Order the assault now!"

Darussians did not intend a secret infiltration. Immediately war trumpets and drums thundered, waking up at least a quarter of the denizens of the City of Screams. If that did not suffice, twenty thousand soldiers, be they Imperial Soldiers or bannermen from allying tribal clans, marched as they cried the ancient Darussian war cry, ululating across the slopes of the Mountains. If that did not suffice, then the first attack came -- the city's old stone gate was shattered like glass on a single bombardment.

Literally like glass, in fact.

The soldiers passed the gate's ruins.

Another calculated shot was fired to the Altar of Triumphal Sacrifices, a small ceremonial temple constructed upon the skulls of Muslims slaughtered centuries ago. The Altar was shattered, and there was the smell of melting glasses. There was not a single remnant of priests within, all were burning silicon.

The attack ended quickly as it started. Not a single shot was fired from the soldiers, who now besieged the city from all sides. It was clear that those were intended as ritualistic humiliations as opposed to outright assault. The peacocks had known very well that all they required was a modest display of power.

"I think that experimental cannon they tried was a success," the Physician commented upon seeing the gate. "I suppose it's your turn now," he said to the Kizilbashi Guards. One immediately approached to the Palace of Fragrant Pomegranates, now that its Eldritch construction, nauseating to the sane mind unfamiliar with the bizarre ways of the Mountains, was apparent to all those present.

"No more fire now! Those were merely warning shots. We intend the Khan to surrender himself before the Peacock Throne and his auspicious representatives present. If all our demands are complied, then you all will be enjoined peace and prosperity under the benevolent light of the Emperor. But if there is a single shot fired, a single attack, then all of you will be subjugated and treated by the Peacock Throne as her enemy."

[TURTLESHROOM II]

Khan Moe was discussing the arrival of the Darussalemites with his court when the thunder of the cannon and the shattering of stones and bones rung out. Adjusting his glasses and placing the heavy Pomegranate Crown on his head, the Khan grabbed his staff and stood up.

"It's showtime."

---

Khan Moe was horrified to learn that the Darussalemites had shattered one of the holiest altars in the Screaming City, but Timmy quickly affirmed the claims of the other elders that it was an attempt to bait them into attacking. They had prepared for any potential shellings, and so some Pagan clergymen had already taken some skulls from fallen Darussalemite soldiers and were in the process of quietly rebuilding it.

He was more confident about his earleir decision than ever. The arrival of the Khan and the people of the Khanate was going to be equally intimidating.

The first thing the sieging Darussalemites were going to hear was the deafening sound of ancient war horns. From all across the mountains and all around the Screaming City, the simultaneous blast was enough to shake the very armor of the Peacock assembly.

With an even greater shout, the roars of twenty thousand Tribesmen, of all religions and creeds echoed in a sound befitting any sports stadium in NationStates. This sound was coming away from the city. Suddenly, hordes of Tribesmen rushed down from all sides of the mountains, screaming and cheering until their own circle encircled that of the Peacocks.
The Tribesmen were dressed in a modified version of their ancient war garments. Painted and bedecked in feathers and bone, the Tribemen stood proudly, wearing their leather garments and warrior dress. What was not seen, though, was the military-grade body armor underneath these proud warriors' gear. In the hands of each of the Tribesmen were weapons new and old. Some held great swords, others held spears, but all held fully loaded AK-74 automated rifles. They were prepared to use both.

Like a great rally, the cheering Tribesmen had large incarnations of the Khanate's national flag on poles being waved throughout the crowds.

If being surrounded by heavilly armed pagans wasn't enough to startle the Darussalemites, the roaring of seven Tsao Emperor-class TurtleShroomian tanks bursting through the already broken walls of the City of Screams, with their barrels pointed right at the leaders of delegation, would have hopefully soiled the pants of even the magical white beings they had hauled out into the mountains.

Surrounded by these men and these tanks, a final shout was given as the great mass parted ways. Garments were spread on the newfound path. In the distance, a black pickup truck, bedecked in bronze, bones, jewels, and covered in Pagan runes drove slowly over the rocky terrain. This truck, obviously, was for security purposes. The Khan and his people were taking no chances at the risk of assassins. The truck pulled forward over the garments as pomegranate leaves and palm branches were waved over the vehicle's chassis.

To anyone familiar with the Sultanate of Rum and the Greeks it crushed, this was a Triumph procession.

The cheers of the crowd subsidided as the truck pulled to a stop. Timmy stepped out of the passenger seat along with a retainer of the Khan's guard in the driver's seat. As they went to the driver's side, facing the Darussalemites, they suddenly stopped.

-and all was quiet. The Tribesmen were completely quiet.

---

Suddenly, a great wind rushed around the truck as the driver's door flung open on its own accord. A light- about as strong as a simple flashlight -shone out of the truck and Khan Moe stepped out of the vehicle, left hand outstretched, basic Glamor deployed. The heavy Pomegranate Crown balanced perfectly on the Khan's head as he clutched the Goat Staff. Over his usual glasses were sunglasses, and he smiled a sly grin. He stepped forward while maintaining his Glamor's composure.

He removed his sunglasses as Timmy stepped forward.

"ANNOUNCING HIS MOST SOBER EMINENCE, KHAN MUHAMMED, DJALE'S ANNOINTED, HE WHO SERVES AND IS NOT TO BE SERVED, SON OF THE SULTAN OF DARUSSALEM, OF THE PRE-ISLAMIC KHANATE, EMIR OF SILENCE, SERVANT OF THE TRIBES, BLESSED BY THE HOLY BEASTS OF THE TRIBES, TURTLESHROOM'S ANNOINTED, PROTECTOR OF THE MOUNTAINS, LORD OF THE FRAGRANT POMEGRANTES, GRANDMASTER OF THE ARMORIES OF THE POMEGRANATE, FRIEND TO ALL, PRESIDENT OF THE KURALTAI, GUARDIAN OF THE FREE BALLOT, UNITER OF MAN, THE BLESSED, LAWGIVER OF HARMONY, LORD OF THE MOUNTAINS AND JUNGLES, MIDDLEMAN OF THE FREE TRIBES, THE CONFEDERATE, HE WHO ARMS THE HOLY WARRIORS, CUSTODIAN OF THE SCREAMING SHRINES, DEFENDER OF THE CHRISTIAN FAITH, DEFENDER OF THE OLD GODS, APPRENTICE OF THE DJALE... -and my hero, mentor, and best friend." the tortoise grinned.

The Tribesmen all shouted in one voice, on perfect cue.

"THE CHOSEN ONE!!"

-and they again let lose with thunderous cheers and shouts of joy and pride. After about ten minutes of this, they again returned to normal levels of volume.

Finally, after this spectacular shideshow, the Khan himself spoke in a calm, regulated tone.

"Greetings." he could barely suppress a grin. "What brings you here today, gentlemen?"

[Darussalam]

The chitchat went as casual as ever in the Imperial tent.

"So, we're under siege now."
"You can sound a lot less thrilled about it, please, General Kutlushah."
"I was under impression that the Kizilbashi Guards would be able to anticipate their presence."
"How about the reinforcements, General?"
"We have difficulty in communication attempt, but if we need one, we'll get one."
'And are we still superior in arms?"
"Superior in arms."
"Then we still have the upper hand," Khorramzadeh said in an annoyed tone. "Make more concessions, cross several things in our list of demands, please. We'll continue as it shall be."

=============================================

"All praises and prayers! All blessings and fortitude! All glory and victory to our most sublime and august Padishah, His Imperial Majesty Iskandar I Hayân, by Grace of the Glorious God of Gods, Emperor of Darussalam and rightly of all Universe, the Maker of Peace and Order, eternal praise to the Great King, may He rule for ten thousand year onward, the Second Lord of the Auspicious Conjunction, Patriarch and Guardian of Mankind, Center of the Orientation of the Universe, whose extensive power reacheth to the fifteen oceans, unto whom God granted all of His desires, and over whom no evil spirits, even the Dreaded Iblis himself, may exert their influence, to whom the Heavenly Host, Jibril, Mika'il, Izra'il, Israfil, Munkar, Nakir, Malik, Ridwan, and our auspicious ancestors chant their dhikr and prayers to the Throne of the Worlds for the forgiveness of His sins, He who rides upon the Pivot of the Universe, whose left hand holds the Key to the Jannat al-Firdaus and the right hand holds the Flaming Sword that shall vanquish the Infidels, glory and splendour to His Imperial Majesty, blessed with profound wisdom, righteousness and charity, the Fatherly Shadow of God, the rightful, one and only, KING OF THE MOUNTAIN!"

A cry of 'ten thousand years' erupted from the soldiers. Two Kizilbashi Guards walked to the Khan, bowing and motioning to him to enter a newly erected 'Tent of Neutrality'. "Only with two other guards," one of the Kizilbashi disclaimed. "The delegates will be disarmed when they enter the tent, including ours."

"Aaaaaaaaaaand," so the speaker continued in the hammiest tone as ever, while Khorramzadeh left wondering on his astounding lung capacity, "in his absence, as decreed by the forty-sixth law in the second year of his most resplendent rule, all honor to the Third Lord of the Grand Council of Heavenly Brilliance, unto whom has been bestowed the golden seal of the Peacock Throne, upon whose tongue the Emperor's command be done on the Mountains, His esteemed and august excellency Lord Abbas Khorramzadeh, Lisan as-Saltanat Kalashshahi, the Imperial Apothecary and Court Physician, Attendant of the 1st Line to the Peacock Throne, may the ancestors give him good health as always, may God and His angels preserve his tongue and mind from erring, may he serve the EMPEROR! FOR! TEN! THOUSAND! YEEEAAAARRRSSSS!"

"Ten thousand years! Ten thousand years!"

=============================================

A well-refined young man, dressed in furcoat to withstand the mountains' cold, with a tall kalpak perched atop his head adorned by a peacock feather and a glistening jade that signified his high status in the Eternal State, entered the Tent of Neutrality. He smiled and nodded to the Khan, though per the Imperial customs he did not bow, for bowing was reserved only to servants and warriors. Flanking him were the aforementioned Kizilbashis, in white cloak ornamented with silver peacocks and red cap as befitting to their name. Following him was a translator and scribe who recorded and translated the Physician's words as necessary to the Khan's mother-language. A seat with golden arms was brought to the Physician by a maidservant.

The Physician took a seat, and he started.
"Excellent display of bravery and authority, there, honored princeling," said the Physician in a genuinely approving tone. From here on he referred the Khan neither by his name, nor his official title, but instead a certain archaic Darussian word referring the unconquered small lords and princes that governed fiefdoms in the outskirts of the Empire, roughly translated to 'chieftains of close lands to the center'. This name was typically used in tributary rituals, and the implication was quite evident. "Surely the one that the Peacock Throne would appreciate. Bravery and authority, law and order, they have been lacking from the Tribes of the Mountains since....one hundred and thirty four years ago, when the last mountain-king was slain, his warriors trampled and slaughtered, and the residence of gods tore open and set asunder by our army. Allow me to personally introduce myself: I am Lord Abbas ibn Ilyas, of the Khorramzadeh Clan in Northern part of the Empire. I here speak in the name of the Padishah, and in my writ that the Padishah's will shall be done."

Khorramzadeh shook his head. "Regardless, surely that such reckless act will be undesirable for both of us. The Padishah, after all, is the patriarch of all-mankind, and the Empire the roof that unites the family under one house. It is his desire to see peace in this earthly world and for all men to be freed from harm and suffering. Not even a single drop of blood is lawful to be shed on his abode, unless absolutely necessary. Such is the state of the universe as ordained by the Padishah. Likewise, he wishes no harm for the Tribesmen of the Mountains, nor for your personal well-being, honored princeling. As God has revealed to the Prophet beyond the Oceans, to kill one man is as if to kill all mankind, to give life to one man is as if to cherish all mankind. To shun violence and favor knowing each other is virtuous. Battlefield is surely the incarnation of the Shaytan's infernal machinations on earth.

"And yet," Khorramzadeh added with an emphasis, "it has been ordained since Time Immemorial that the mountains of the Kalash belong as the Emperor's own center of abode. His realm is the entire world, and his seat the entirety of the Imperial proper, including the Kalash. Such was decreed since the Fourth Dynasty of the Caliph-Shahs, whose divine mandate passed until today to the Sixth Dynasty. And thus it is the birthright of the Padishah to defend his abode as he sees it necessary from the intruders and law-breakers. Surely as the princeling of the Simurgh, the Surush, and the Mika'il," referring to the three mountains under the Khan's personal dominion, "you know very well the value of law, of order, and of divine mandate that guides us all. That the Oracle dwells still within your residence is certainly an evidence of imbalance in harmony and law, as the Peacock Throne and the Oracle will always stand against each other. That your tribes have looted the Khansarai and took away the prizes, holy relics that long guided the city and showered it with blessings from the Angels, is another evidence."

The Physician clasped his hand. "Make no mistake, other than these faults, the Peacock Throne appreciates your restoration of order and harmony to the Mountains. You have united so many under your banner, and much of the past barbarism eschewed. The Padishah looks favorably upon you, as a loving father looks upon his son. And yet, is it not true that a family should live together under one roof? Is it not true, that a son should pay respect to his father? In turn, the father will nourish the son with wisdom and guide him gently into a bright future. Such is the rule under Peacock Throne, peace and prosperity for all his subjects for all eternity in turn of reverence. No longer will the Tribes be forfeit of the Freedoms: Freedom from Pestilence, from Hunger, from Fear, from Ignorance, from Destitution. Your rule will be incorporated in our project to modernize the Mountains. Hundreds of scholars, engineers, and experts sanctioned by the Empire will assist your rule. The Armed Forces and the Imperial Watch will enforce order along with your tribal patrols. Schools and hospitals will be sponsored by the Empress Mother, with curriculum set in equal terms with other provinces by our education board. Hundreds of educated workers from the neighboring Muslim tribal confederations will be relocated to temporarily replenish human resources. After much deliberation, we will respect your religious freedoms also, although," he raised his finger, "limited only to private sponsorship of shrines and temples, without the direct funding from the Empire. We will forbid the erection of any idols that blaspheme Imperial authority, such as the Altar that we have destroyed. In turn, we will acknowledge your throne as legitimate, and your rule as the Khan of the Mountain sacrosanct, lawful, and forbidden to be violated. You will gain a honorable seat in the Great Jirga of Kalash Tribes, and gain voting rights in every of its decision.

"As we know, within a family comes also duties and responsibilities. But worry not! The Padishah is a lenient father, and the Empire a benign family. Swear your oath, offer your filial piety to the Peacock Throne. Take our hands, and in turn disown the Oracle of the Mountains. She is not your friend. She will trample you down like a doll. If you deny our generosity..." he glanced to the soldiers, "we will die in the Padishah's name, and many others will come after us. The Mountains will be a place of bloodshed and slaughter, just as she has always desired."

[TURTLESHROOM II]

The gaze behind the Khan's slanted eyes was stoic and his poker face was immaculate. He had long removed his sunglasses because he- like the Darussalemites -believed in the importance and dignity of eye contact. Even his head, though bearing the heavy Pomegranate Crown, was not caught up in shaking. He listened to the propositions in silence, paying careful attention to the terms and conditions and attempting to be respectful. That said, unable to focus on both the conversation and his own weak powers, the Khan had no choice but to shut off his Glamor after he entered the tent.

The two disarmed guards, plus Timmy the tortoise and a scribe- who had both an old camera and a pen and paper -stood at attention to monitor, witness, and record the meeting in real time. This was to ensure that both an audio and written copy of the meeting was present, to ensure accountability should deception be employed. Like the Darussalemites, this meeting was of paramount importance to the Tribesmen and to the Khan's foreign backers.

The Khan was impressed at the "good" doctor's command of English.
Khan Moe was working to become multilingual: he already knew Arabic fluently since childhood, but his command of the Tribesmen's language and of Darussian was grade school level at best. In a similar fashion to the TurtleShroomers, Khan Moe believed the most improtant duty of a creature going to live permanently in a foreign land was to learn their language.

The discussion began in earnest.

"Good tidings, Doctor, and blessings upon Emperor Isaksandar and Darussalem. I will be representing my constituents, the elected Kuraltai legislature, and all creatures within the Khanate. Likewise, I will be representing and acting on behalf of the foreign interests invested in my land. Thank you for coming on such short notice."

Regardless, surely that such reckless act will be undesirable for both of us. The Padishah, after all, is the patriarch of all-mankind, and the Empire the roof that unites the family under one house... *snip*

"The display of force was a retribution, not an offense. We feared that you would come with weapons, and so we armed ourselves for our protection. As long as you are not hostile to us, you have no need to fear our armed patriots."

It has been ordained since Time Immemorial that the mountains of the Kalash belong as the Emperor's own center of abode. His realm is the entire world, and his seat the entirety of the Imperial proper, including the Kalash. Such was decreed since the Fourth Dynasty of the Caliph-Shahs, whose divine mandate passed until today to the Sixth Dynasty. And thus it is the birthright of the Padishah to defend his abode as he sees it necessary from the intruders and law-breakers.

The Khan knew where this was going.

"If you ask what my ambitions are, it is not to sit on the Peacock Throne. That honor belongs solely to the holy Emperor Isaksandar, the Badshah*, the Baddest-of-Shahs, and master of Darussalem. My ambition, my one desire, is independence and peace- or at least autonomy -for my constituents. I have had the blessed honor to work with these outstanding and righteous men and women every day. I wish to stress that my constituents are neither primitive nor barbarians.

That the Oracle dwells still within your residence is certainly an evidence of imbalance in harmony and law, as the Peacock Throne and the Oracle will always stand against each other.

"The holy Oracle is the very reason I am Khan. She says I am the Chosen One, and while we disagree on how to advance the Khanate, we are one in our drive to free the Tribesmen from oppression. The Oracle Djale's passion and patriotism for the realm and for my constituents is the lifeblood of the pagan populace and the joy of my court. I am honored to call the Oracle my friend and closest advisor. She stole away at your arrival because she foresaw that you sought to capture her and neutralize her awesome, though smelly, power."

Here, he leaned forward and spoke calmly.

"Let me be very clear, Doctor. I will not, now or ever, surrender Oracle Djale to the forces of Darussalem. To betray the Oracle would be to bertray my constituents. I swore before both the Judeo-Christian God and the almighty beasts the Pagans worship that I would protect all Tribesmen and pluralistically guarentee the clergy and faithful of all religions in the realm an absolute protection. Emperor Isaksandar is a honest, upstanding gentleman who rules Darussalem with intelligence and virtue. You understand the importance of oaths and integrity, for your esteemed Emperor lives that creed every day."

The Khan leaned back to his normal posture.

"As a servant of an august and noble ruler, surely you should understand why I cannot surrender the very legitimization of my rule and the highest clerical authority of the largest religion in the Khanate. The Oracle is the hope of this nation and the hero even to those who do not follow the pagan faith."

They continued from there.

That your tribes have looted the Khansarai and took away the prizes, holy relics that long guided the city and showered it with blessings from the Angels, is another evidence.

"I have imposed regulations and rules on plundering and raiding on this culture, but you must understand that a dose of raiding is essential to the survival and livelihood of my constituents. In exchange for not capturing or violating civilians or destroying civilian buildings, I have opened up contacts with foreign realms to hire my constituents as mercenary forces. In exchange for service to foreign states, they are allowed to plunder the hostile forces for loot and receive the fees to hire mercenaries. They are very happy with this arrangement because the wealth that generates far trumps what they received simply by storming the valleys."

Khan Moe looked to the side of the tent for a moment as he thought of what to say next.

"Those relics were once Pagan artifacts and sacred tools of worship and power. Many of them were forged in the presence of the mighty Beasts the Pagans worship. Sure, some Darussalemite Islamic Mystic relics were also taken, but how is that any different from your destruction of our artifacts and high places?"

He raised his hands and shrugged.

"Besides, the return of plunder is not my decision to make. It is the decision of the duly elected Kuraltai, but I assure you that I will have them vote on this matter to return Darussalemite Islamic Mystic artifacts. The Pagan relics stay. I cannot abide my constituents' holiest of relics and sacred bones being taken and disrespected by unbelievers unwilling to protect the religious liberty that those sacred relics represent. Surely you understand this reasoning? I am sure my constituents will happily return your relics if they keep ours."

Make no mistake, other than these faults, the Peacock Throne appreciates your restoration of order and harmony to the Mountains. You have united so many under your banner, and much of the past barbarism eschewed. The Padishah looks favorably upon you, as a loving father looks upon his son. And yet, is it not true that a family should live together under one roof? Is it not true, that a son should pay respect to his father? In turn, the father will nourish the son with wisdom and guide him gently into a bright future. Such is the rule under Peacock Throne, peace and prosperity for all his subjects for all eternity in turn of reverence.
No longer will the Tribes be forfeit of the Freedoms: Freedom from Pestilence, from Hunger, from Fear, from Ignorance, from Destitution.

"I entered into this tent fully aware of the need for rendering tribute unto the Peacock Throne. We are willing to render tribute in exchance for preservation of our way of life. We are willing to present gold, oil, precious gems, and weaponry to the Empire, as well as traditional donations such as wine and offerings. We will not, however, contribute men for the Imperial armies."

Your rule will be incorporated in our project to modernize the Mountains. Hundreds of scholars, engineers, and experts sanctioned by the Empire will assist your rule. The Armed Forces and the Imperial Watch will enforce order along with your tribal patrols. Schools and hospitals will be sponsored by the Empress Mother, with curriculum set in equal terms with other provinces by our education board. Hundreds of educated workers from the neighboring Muslim tribal confederations will be relocated to temporarily replenish human resources."

Khan Moe cocked an eyebrow. This was exactly what the Oracle warned him about. This was not a stimulis package. It was a subtle infiltration and indoctrination of the youth of the Khanate.

"Doctor, our plans to modernize the Mountains and advance the Tribal cause does not need the assistance of the Peacock Throne. I have foreign investors and corporations lined up to build here. Hospitals, schoolhouses, roads, and infrastructure are being erected as I speak. I am the controller and arbitrator of educational curricula in the Khanate, and I am the Royal Superintendant of all boards of education under me. He who controls the youth controls the future. My curricula is written with the advice and consent of the Kuraltai and the cultural influence of the Tribal Elders who predate me and know their society.
I, and all schools in the realm, reflect the values, traditions, and social structure of the Tribesmen. Even my foreign backers know very well that they are to keep their hands away from education, that is the duty of the Tribes alone."

The Physician was about to speak, but Khan Moe continued.

"The Darussalemite Islamic Mystic faith has always been hostile to my constituents. We have and are willing to continue to make peace with them, but know that we still fear what they will do to us. There are few believers of that faith in the realm, aside from the villages and townships in the valleys on the edge of the realm. We cannot afford to settle Darussalemite Muslims in the region, even temporarily. We have already contracted and imported labor and skilled workers from the foreign backers of this Khanate. All resources you have offered have already been donated or sold by generous foreign powers."

He smiled.

"As such, the Khanate will unfortunately have to reject your generous offer. However, we thank you for your selflessness and compassion for my people. Truly, Emperor Isaksander cares about all citizens in his Empire, and its neighbors! We are willing to maintain full trade with Darussalem in addition to our tribute to the Peacock Throne. We hope that our mutual investments will benefit our peoples directly."

"After much deliberation, we will respect your religious freedoms also, although," he raised his finger, "limited only to private sponsorship of shrines and temples, without the direct funding from the Empire. We will forbid the erection of any idols that blaspheme Imperial authority, such as the Altar that we have destroyed. In turn, we will acknowledge your throne as legitimate, and your rule as the Khan of the Mountain sacrosanct, lawful, and forbidden to be violated. You will gain a honorable seat in the Great Jirga of Kalash Tribes, and gain voting rights in every of its decision."

"We were not going to ask for taxpayer funding for our shrines and temples, nor for our churches and cathedrals. We will be keeping those affairs within the realm and to the private sector."

He crossed his arms.

"Do you not understand that the Altar you destroyed was a high place and holy site to the Pagan Faith? It symbolizes patriotism and overcoming of aggression from foreign conquerers. It predates the Empire and is thus not uniformly consistent with the skulls of the Imperial army."

He held out his left hand and began to count, holding up one finger.

"First, the lowest and largest table on the altar consists of skulls of Darussalemite Islamic Mystic raiders who attacked the pagan populace for not following their faith. These were not Imperial forces, but rather, forces of the Darussalemite Islamic Mystic Church, that is, its clergy and followers. Unless you are willing to insinuate that your religion is the Empire and that your church and state are one, I don't see how I blaspheme the Peacock Throne."

He held up two fingers.

"Second, the the middle table are the skulls of both the conquering armies that ended the ancient Pagan Khanate AND the skulls of the patriots and royal guardsmen that fended them off to the end. The Darussalemite Islamic Mystics, on the eve of the fall of the last Pagan Khan, stormed the Palace of Fragrent Pomegranates and killed the greatest of the mighty Beasts the Pagans worship. The last Pagan Khan forefeited his soul and offered his flesh as a a sacrifice to call the Beast to life. Which leads to the biggest part."

He held up three fingers.

"Third, the top and smallest table, and the one with skulls coated in gold and precious jewels, consists of a layer of the final skulls of the officers of those conquerors, but on top, is the giant skull of the Beast the last Pagan Khan called and the skull of the last Pagan Khan himself. Thankfully, neither of those skulls were destroyed. We have them safely kept elsewhere."

He decided not to mention the rebuilding of the altar.

"The Altar is not just a place to mock the Empire, for it does not mock the Empire. We maintain that Altar as a shrine to my constituents' ancestors, who fought to the last breath defending their Khan. The skulls of the conquerers sit side by side with the skulls of my constituents' ancestors, representing the overcoming of imperialism and the sacrifice of blood from both sides of the battle. It is a commemoration of a great battle and a legacy of the last Khan, not a middle finger to the Peacock Throne."

The Khan paused.

"I do not doubt that there are shrines, altars, icons, and paraphenalia that are decisively against the Peacock Throne and defying its legitimacy. If those exist, I truly am unaware of them. Those are the property of the Darussalemite Pagan Church, and as such, they are not my business, for I do not worship the Beasts."

The Khan wasn't lying. This was a deliberate case of Plausible Deniability. The locations of decisively anti-Empire shrines were kept secret from the Khan so that he wouldn't have to lie of their existence. The Darussalemites were smart enough to see that Plausible Deniability was in play.

"-but rest assured, if I see any altars in violation, I will let you know!"

"As we know, within a family comes also duties and responsibilities. But worry not! The Padishah is a lenient father, and the Empire a benign family. Swear your oath, offer your filial piety to the Peacock Throne. Take our hands, and in turn disown the Oracle of the Mountains. She is not your friend. She will trample you down like a doll. If you deny our generosity..." he glanced to the soldiers, "we will die in the Padishah's name, and many others will come after us. The Mountains will be a place of bloodshed and slaughter, just as she has always desired."

Khan Moe quickly stood up and shook the hand of the Doctor with an iron, somewhat irritated grip. He had bristled at the threat. He gestured with his other hand to Timmy, the guards, and the scribe/cameraman to exit the Tent of Neutrality. They did.

"Doctor, we thank you for coming today. I will make hasty travel to the Peacock Throne to perform the ceremony of fealty and, in the Palace of Darussalem, I will work out the treaties and negotiations of. I will restate what I said at the beginning of this. I do not know where the holy Oracle is, and even if I did know where she was, I will not compromise the ecclesiastical hiearchy of the Darussalemite Pagan Church by betraying their holiest and highest clergyman. I swore an oath to her and my people to protect them and their faith."

He nodded.

"Now, as I said earlier, Emperor Isaksandar is an august man of integrity, purity, and honor. He is truly worthy to sit on the Peacock Throne, for he does not betray the values and dignity it comes with. Your Emperor would never betray his subjects and would never harm the integrity of a religion he loves or approves of. I, as Khan, like your Emperor, will not compromise my integrity and the trust of my constituents by damaging the structure of any religion in my realm. Both the Pomegranate Crown and the Peacock Throne stress the virtues of integrity and honor, and I hope you will understand this matter. The Oracle would never betray her Chosen One. She loves this country and its people."

He adjusted the Pomegranate Crown on his head and pushed his thin glasses up his nose.

"Do you wish to take me to the Peacock Throne to swear fealty, or am I to arrange travel?"


--------------

* = "Badshah" is an Arabian corruption of the term "Padshah" or "Padisha", an imperial title above the rank of Shah. It doubles as the pun I mentioned. When the Khan refers to the Emperor as "Badshah", he is not calling him a bad Shah, and when he says "the baddest of Shahs", he's referring to the good sense of the term, as in "cool" or "respectable", that he is bad-A.

[Darussalam]

“The Oracle, honorable princeling, is a criminal,” said Khorramzadeh with a kind smile. “No, worse than it, she is an active belligerent force. And you surely know very well that she is highly capable of becoming one. I will accept your explanation, that is, that the Oracle has departed from this city, as truth, as it is consistent with the currently available data, but the Kizilbashi will hold a...fact-check after our session. I hope you don't mind. About her, have you heard of the tales of the Mountain kings? I presume you have, but I will tell it anyway.”

Khorramzadeh leaned back to his chair. “There are rumors, common in bazaars and hammams of Qashjand and other civilized slope-cities. It is said that the darkest depth of the Mountains is governed not by the physical laws of our world. It was the natural conclusion drawn from many disrepancies and bizarre events many have witnessed – the eruption of Kush, wailing screams of Najash-nehir, and numerous tomes stolen from the cavern-monasteries and circulated among the hands of the unfortunate and the curious. In place of the true ordinations of God instead are not quite true laws, not more so than corruption of malignant daemons and chaotic stars that interferes in balance of the cosmos. The heights of Kalash Mountains are governed by a great Oddity known as the Laws of the Stories.

“No one is certain on what it is, of course, including myself. But if I may create a comparison...well, there are people who theorized that human psyche is governed by desire of procreation and conflict towards sexual maturity. Others disagree, and posit instead that the soul is governed by certain primordial powers, or instincts. The Archetypes. The Archetypes are ancient symbols or stories, hidden underneath human consciousness, occasionally manifesting in dreams and recorded myths.” He folded his hands. “As a comparison, again, perhaps we can imagine the Kalash, as perceived in popular rumor, as the place where the primitive thoughts manifest, the oldest and most powerful of all oddities in this world. Here we may only act as the whim of fairy-tales, and you may imagine the Oracle as the Story-teller—or at least, someone directly tied to the role.

“For certain reasons I wish not to disclose, I am inclined to believe that the Laws of the Stories, or a similar entity, is real, or at least they compose a certain part or reality here specifically. I will leave it to you to conclude, but remember: the Laws of the Stories are not benign, nor will they serve your interest. When you and I enter the sacred gate of the Screaming City, we are their pawns. They created the myth of the Mountain-king, and legitimizing it by a physical manifestation.” Khorramzadeh gestured to the Khan. “The Oracle did so for an ulterior motive – but what is it, neither I nor you can figure.

“Now, back to other things.” He chuckled. “My, my, foreign benefactors, isn't it? Good princeling, did you just admit that you are actively collaborating with foreign authority to destabilize the Emperor's holy abode? This is not acceptable – I am willing to make concessions about it, of course, but as honesty must be replied with honesty, we are quite curious by the admirable quality of your weaponry and technology, and have wondered of its origins. Of course, we will overlook it if you agree to incorporate your...goods to the Emperor's service. I have no trouble with mercenary service, of course, and the Emperor might be honored to use the excellent ability of your warriors some time later. But forgive us for being quite careful and averse to the notion of independent foreign backers here. They will simply not exist, not without the greenlight from Khadeshâr.”

Khorramzadeh checked the deals. “Now, now, princeling, please do not be mistaken. There is no intention from the Imperial authority to undermine your rule or threaten the traditions of your ancestors. Thousands of petty sultans, emirs, shahs, beys, satraps, and walis have offered their humility themselves before the Peacock Throne, and they are not wiped out – instead, we accept them. The Eternal State absorbs, it does not eat. It is only reasonable, surely, that the Imperial Army desires to establish its presence here, a frontier with unknown dangers beyond. So will the Imperial Watch. They will cooperate with the preexisting security and defense apparatus. This is not the humiliating occupation of the defeated.”

“Regarding education, we allow local authorities to establish a local curriculum category designated in accordance of the region's tradition and conditions. This should not be a problem, the education advisers will merely advise regarding implementation of natural and social sciences and mathematics education and setting them on equal standard with other subjects of the Empire. The workers from Muslim tribal confederations are temporary replenishment until suitably educated human resources have been produced. Say, a fifteen-years contract? As subjects of the Peacock Throne, unfortunately, I should say that they need to coexist with each other. All human beings are slave to God, and equal before the Peacock Throne and Scales of Justice. This is also per the request of the partners of the Peacock Throne, of the respectable mining companies and those who expressed their interest for investment in the frontier territory.”

The Physician was unimpressed by the Khan’s half-baked defense of the temple. “We request that those that we have destroyed, to not be rebuilt. The Eternal State is founded upon the blood of the martyrs, the ink of the scholars, and the laws of the divine. Such is written on the Scales of Justice. We do not accept excuses, it is an insult to saints, to Imperial tradition. Further attempt of repair will be met with force. And worry not regarding the relics and temples: we have composed a list!” Khorramzadeh gave a short memorandum to Moe. “Quite short, few and far in between, I know. But that's all we have gathered. We ask that these temples to be removed in two months' time and the relics given tomorrow, for the official ceremony.

“And for the official ceremony... you are bound to the Laws of the Stories.” He smiled. “So we would honor you here, in the Palace of the Fragrant Pomegranates. God willing, tomorrow morning, you will be enthroned under the Emperor's auspices as the King of the Mountain.”