OOC
“When King Albors turned his gaze to Attica he observed, he queried — he sent diplomats.”
Dyson, Odyniri
“A pouch of dirt and their crest of power, this is their offer of submission.”
These were the words spoken by King Albors I to his diplomats on their departure. Fourteen men who abide the word of their king as if it were divine mandate. His wish was there command, and their command was that they head west over the seas to the lands known as Attica. They would then present his mandate to the cities of Attica; kneel to their superior and be rewarded a place among his kingdom, or defy and die. Each diplomat was sent with a large satchel on their shoulder and six soldiers at their back. The satchel contained three items; a map showing the extent of the Quasyrid empire, a great banner bearing the crest of Albors which was to be hung over the gates of the respective city, and a wineskin of Khazmere’s sweetest red wine. In return for this simple gift and their allowance to exist Albors demanded two items from each city. A pouch of dirt, which would symbolize the surrender of their land. And secondly, their cities’ symbol of sovereignty, be that a crown, a scepter, parchment, or a sword. All would surrender their land and their sovereignty.
The kings’ emissaries rode for the coast with their entourages, and then were sallied over the Archanean Sea by the west wind. Even as they went under a banner of peace Albors readied his armies for war. The Atticans were a prideful and independent people and he knew that war was inevitable. The delicacy of diplomacy would determine the extent of the war to come. That and subterfuge. For while his diplomats journeyed across the countryside on horseback, his spies and assassins weaved their way into Attica’s cities, preparing to strike like snakes.
King Albors himself would be leading the campaign. A hundred thousand Quasyrid warriors and three of his finest generals at his back as he sailed over the horizon, preparing to further expand his empire and subjugate yet another profligate people. The Atticans would kneel, or they would die. All who defied Albors, king of kings, would be shown no consideration nor mercy. This he told himself as his ships sailed west over the Archanean, like a pack of lions stalking through the bush towards a herd of antelope.