New Civilizations ( IC, Open )

[Biwolfia]

Segment 1, Chapter the First: The Landing

June 21
Darkness. Silence. Then noise. And light.

What is going on?

I opened my eyes. And I panicked.

Just the moment before, I had been in my bedroom at home, working on an essay for Physics, then everything went black. I think I might have fallen asleep. But now that I've woken up, I have no idea where I am.

I scream and try to stand up, move my hands to pick me up. But I can't. I'm tied to the ground. I try to wiggle my way free, but the knots are tied tight. I look around to see where I am, but there's no indication of where I could be.

I hear footsteps echoing through the room. Despite myself, I shriek, not knowing what's happening. Three people, two males, one female, walk up to me. They grab some spears off the wall and point them at me. I look around in fear, trying to find anything to protect me, but there's nothing.

The female, still pointing her spear at me, speaks. "Who are you? What are you doing in our village?" I stutter out an answer. "I-I'm Jonas. I have n-no idea why I'm h-here. P-please don't hurt me." The three of them look at each other, then back at me. They're silent for a moment. Then they burst out laughing. "Wh-what? What's so funny?" The taller male wipes tears from his eyes. "You think we're going to hurt you? Please, we don't hurt people just because they're strangers! We're not barbarians." I breathe a sigh of relief. The shorter male straightens up, spear pointing in the air. "However, we can't let you stay here, after injuring our brother when you... fell. That's right. You fell from the sky, unconscious." I stifled a small gasp. "I am so sorry for hurting your brother. I- I don't know how I can repay you, but whatever it takes I'm willing to-" The female stopped me. "You don't need to repay us. All we're looking for is you leaving us alone. Understood?" I nodded quickly. "Good."

The taller male walked over to me and untied me. I stood up, carefully, as to not hurt anyone. I opened the door, ready to walk out and leave, but then, the sight of what was in front of me stopped me in my tracks.

[Suriyanakhon]

Kinoshita Grace

Hanamura

Tamazawa entered the palace hall and bowed reverently to the Mikoto and shogun, while the courtiers and warrior clans watched intently. Her sister started to play the shamisen. Tamazawa took a breath before she delivered the recital to calm her nerves and started.

“In the beginning, the five elements were compressed together like the yolk inside an egg, and heaven and earth did not start yet. Then with the Great Mystery, the egg-like unity burst open and the five elements emerged and formed the universe. The subtle elements formed the heavens, the gross elements formed the earth.”

Thus started the Hanafumi, the imperial chronicle intended to establish a consistent national mythology, organize temples and shrines, and instruct tributaries from foreign lands on the imperial system. The court listened enraptured by the narration by Tamazawa, her aesthetic prose capturing the mood that balanced the sacred, melancholic, and awe-inspiring.

The chronicle then delved into the origination of the solar systems through atomism, and then the origination of life on earth, from which humans would evolve from the ape kingdom. “Thus we can see that there is no Creator and that the universe has come into existence through the law of cause and effect.” perhaps intended to be the final rebuttal of those who considered Brahma to be the creator.

The narration then described the life of the Shakyamuni Buddha, from his birth to death, and the core tenets of the Dharmic religion which were followed in Hanajima. “The lord of the ten trillion trichiliocosm, born in the faraway land of Tenjiku, thus established the Way in that land, and when his body on earth passed away, entered the Pure Land.”

Some of the Wagaku were annoyed with the inclusion of a religious legend, wanting the chronicle to be purely secular, but their will had been overruled by the shogun. It seemed that despite the goal of secularized education being achieved, the shogun was not prepared to accept their appeal for a fully secularized state centered around their philosophy.

The narrative then described the Buddha Dainichi creating the twenty eight headed bodhisattva of the sun disc and charging her with establishing the heavenly kingdom that would rule the universe. For each heaven that the bodhisattva passed through she would lose herself and frolic for a thousand years before being reminded by the crowing of the garuda. For disobeying the divine command, one of her heads would break into seven pieces. These pieces fell onto the earth and produced the people who lived in the land of the reed plain. Finally when she arrived, the left head (yin) and the right head (yang) produced the heavenly third Mikoto.

The account described the cultivation of the land and establishment of farming under the first and second Tennō. The second Tennō was killed in a battle against the barbarians and the first lived in grief until going away into the land of the barbarians to leave power to the third Mikoto. “For six generations, our imperial dynasty has reigned uninterrupted.” The chronicle then described six generations of rulers up to the tenth (Ruyanpe), and her two children, one of whom passed away after being enthroned and the second being the currently crowned Tennō.

An appendix to the work established the court genealogy of the royal family and the aristocratic houses who supported them, tracing their lineage from the gods into the mortal world. The Awaji house descended from Vishnu, the Kyoto house descended from Indra, etc. Significantly the work included the genealogy trees of the Chinese migrant clans, establishing they too were descended from the gods.

As Tamazawa finished reciting the Hanafumi, the shamisen slowly stopped and she bowed again to the court. “This book is dedicated in the hope that I Tamazawa will achieve Buddhahood in the future.”

---

Okayama Military Camp

A woman at the head of the formation raised her sword in the air. “March!” she shouted, and our procession dutifully obeyed. There was a tall man in front of me (well, only 5'7"...) preventing me from seeing anything in front of us, but that did not matter. My only duty at the moment was to march when they told me to, halt when they told me to, steady my spear when they told me to.

I never realized how much I would despise army life. I had lead armies before, as their commander, but now I was just one of the recruits, and slept in the same barracks they did, ate from the same bowls they did, and sweated in the same exercises they did.

There were perks however, the girl next to me winked and I blushed bright red remembering our night before in the barrack. The army really was rife with homosexuality. It didn't matter if you were married, unmarried, or even a nun at a monastery. The military command didn't care either, for all I knew, the captains and drill sergeants were also bedding each other every night.

We marched for several miles through the wilderness before the captain lead us back around to the camp and allowed us to eat. I sat down next to the girl I'd met the previous night, and started devouring the fish and rice we had been served. Some more venison would be nice, but it wasn't the season now. Why couldn't I have been recruited when the army had better cuisine in the year? We finished eating and returned to the camp square.

The camp commander then informed us that our disembarkment would be in a few days and to be prepared in mind and spirit to risk our lives in defense of the empire. Despite the disciplined atmosphere, most of the troops seemed rather happy. Many of them were farm boys and girls who had rarely left their village, or city-dwellers who wanted to see the outside world. “Banzai! Banzai! Banzai!” we shouted and raised our weapons in the air.

[Orostan]

Aaron Dawson's Story

Year 14 Month 10 Chinese Imperial Calendar - 2964 BC

Korea

The Chinese despite their limited resources had given the Koreans copper armor and promised them the techniques to make iron at a later date. The confederacy the Chinese were creating only encompassed a small area around the mouth of a river called the "White Horse" by the people that lived around it. The "Confederacy of the White Horse" as it was called had its first tests in combat in fighting the Shen (even though its real enemy would be the Japanese) with some success. The Koreans, drilled and organized in the Chinese way, could make good soldiers. They also had something to fight for far closer to them than any god or spirit - their own prosperity. Each Chinese mission to Korea was accompanied by more examples of Chinese technology. Aaron's men had tried to convince the Koreans that they were on the boundaries of the civilized world and that the Central State across the sea had much to offer them, but that it was also attacked from all sides by the worst barbarians. The Japanese at the other side of the peninsula who the White Horse confederacy Koreans had some awareness of were cast as a particular tribe of these barbarians, which was what the Chinese thought they were. One of the most frequent things the Chinese said to the Koreans was that "No stories about foreign gods or spirits can feed a man, and no faith in any religion will stop disease. But the empire could."

Sometimes to convince the Koreans the Chinese offered to take an ambassador from them back to China, though one could not selected until the confederacy was well established. A chieftain of a minor tribe had been chosen to go to the China, and returning on the first day of the tenth month people could hardly believe what they told him. The Chinese had not tried to hide that they were attacked on all sides by the most brutal barbarians, but the reason they were in such a situation was because their empire was unimaginably wealthy compared to anything he probably any other Korean had ever seen. He was shown the massive furnaces that created the hardest metal from rocks, and the way machines were used to make the labor of people easier and more productive. He had also taken something other than stories home with him - a critical element of the Chinese world view.

In the yellow river valley and beyond Aaron had tried to introduce an idea of historical dialectics by integrating it with local myths and culture. The common belief in China was that the universe was characterized by a constant battle behind progress and regression, the Chinese empire obviously symbolizing progress and the barbarian bandits being a force of regression. To overcome the forces pulling back history, it was said, the force of progress adopted characteristics from its opposite that made it stronger. When it won out it would again divide into its progressive element and the regressive elements and begin another struggle. The victory of evil in this system could only be temporary, as it was not possible to turn back history and keep things eternally stagnant. Change was always occurring and even if the empire was obliterated tomorrow and its people spread out the conditions that led to its creation and rise would still exist, and when the empire came back it would not be so easily destroyed again.

The Chinese Emperor in this view was only an accelerator of this natural process. Rather than his accomplishments being stressed by the state and the government revolving around him he was cast as this special servant of history, and this was how the Koreans began to think of themselves. The Chinese had made many mistakes and their victories over evil had been costly. The chief of the To tribe that lived near the mouth of the White Horse river, a man named Hyonu, had absorbed all the information the Chinese would tell him and their ambassador could relay of his visit to China. The Chinese were not masters of nature like they liked to portray themselves, and instead were fumbling around like blind men as they tried to build their empire. Before this Hyonu had doubted that a vision of a great tribe that encompassed all was possible but now that he had seen the Chinese he could articulate his vision much more clearly. He did not want a great tribe, he wanted a great empire and the Chinese were giving him the tools to build one that might one day exceed even their own. The seed of the Chinese empire-building worldview that was brought over by the ambassador had started to grow in him and many others.

China

Over the course of the war the people had been forced to part with their "iron obsession" and use other materials. Wood armor that took time to make even with the use of machines that could make many sets at once and was now used alongside copper armor, which did not fit as well but could be made with much cruder techniques, namely a big stamping machine that bent copper plates into the same shape every time. Iron became reserved for only weapons, and damaged iron armor was not repaired or replaced but instead recycled into something that was more cost effective, like a few halberd heads.

This meant that more iron could be freed up for the construction of steam engines which were also built using the minimum of iron. The pipes for example were commonly made of copper although the use of lead in any capacity was strictly forbidden. Instead, lead was used instead to make ammunition for slings which increasing numbers of Chinese troops had begun to carry as a way to hit their enemies at range. When bandits charged at a Chinese army they could be met with a hail of lead that could blunt any charge along with the arrows that usually rained on them when they did something like that. Combat using the sling had already shown much promise and although the provincial armies were usually not so accurate with it accuracy did not matter so much when there were a lot of men shooting towards a closely packed enemy. The central government armies had already developed a method for firing in volleys that was aimed at ensuring a constant number of shots were flying towards the enemy at all times.

The Chinese had also begun using fire to try and win the war faster. Although it would have to wait until the summer to be truly effective it was possible to light entire forests on fire to force the enemy out of them. Chinese cities and towns were usually ringed with cleared land and as such were not in as much danger as they could have been. The water systems of a town were usually prepared anyways for fire when the army did this. Unprepared bandits had in several situations been forced to flee the forest in a disorganized rout when they found fires advancing from multiple directions around them. Usually the Chinese would try and force the enemy to flee the forest in the direction the wind was blowing to maximize the effectiveness of the fires in forcing them out. The smoke of a burning forest had become a sign of victory in some provinces and a vision of hell for bandit tribes that told them the forest was no longer the safe haven from which to raid China.

The increasing number of bandit captives had necessitated new ways of keeping them from revolting or rioting. It was increasingly common to keep the families of a captured man separate from him with a man and his family never able to meet more than once a week, and never having every bandit meet their families all at once. This was done so that if the captives rioted their families could be killed before they had the chance to free them and it had a great effect on captured bandits - especially because those that behaved well would be rewarded with living arrangements that allowed more contact with their families, better housing, and access to goods like soap and textiles. Giving captive bandits easy access to anything and trying to integrate them into society was wildly unpopular but the people went along with it for the most part and the central government would not tolerate open discrimination. "The state is here to build up society, not decimate sections of it." was a commonly repeated phrase when people asked why bandits had to be treated like men and not animals. It did not satisfy them, but Aaron doubted anything would. It was mostly out of a sense of debt to the state for protecting them and a respect for the insitution of the empire that the people followed the orders - although some of the more long term thinkers among them could see the benefit of the central government's orders.

[Saxony-Brandenburg]

Doctor's Orders
Khadija bint Ulima

Khadija looked over her shoulder as the door to her hovel swung open. Her hands were filthy, covered in a thick yellow paste from the previous patient. She looked around helplessly, blurting out: “Just a minute”, towards the two. In resignation, she wiped the paste upon the skirt of her dress, smearing a thick blot of yellow stain across the front of it with a sigh. She looked up and gave the two a tired smile, a long-haired teenage boy and his father, how cute.

“What can I do you for Sir?” She asked the man, she assumed to be the father. “Something wrong with your son?”

With a grunt and a sigh, the older man sat down on a stool by the door, the young boy sheepishly moving away from him, leaning against the wall with arms crossed defensively. “Yes, actually. I can’t fucking stand it anymore. My son - he must be possessed by a jinn or something. I caught him - god help me - dressed in his sister’s dress. I wouldn’t think too of it, siblings often share clothes, but then he told me he didn’t want to be a man? I do not know what that could mean at all, of course he’ll be a man - he’s a boy!”

Khadija’s eyes shot open, her eyebrows raised as the father explained his situation. She frowned, and looked between the parent and child as she tried to process the situation, nodding along the way. “I can see how that would be concerning…” She said to the father, yet her eyes stayed transfixed on the boy. “Would you mind if I could be alone with your son for a bit? I would like to check his vitals.”

“Go right ahead - just get his head on straight, whatever that means witch! I already lost his brother to war, and my latest infant to disease. I’m not losing another boy!” Khadija could see the tears in his eyes. He was more grief-stricken than angry. With a final nod and a glance to the child, he left from the room, leaving the two of them alone together.

“Alright then.” Khadija sighed, looking to the child. “Strip. So I may check for blemishes.”

The boy shook his head, and tugged at the hem of his tunic’s skirt.

“What do you mean, no? I need to check you for possession!”

“I- I mean, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t like people seeing my body.”

Khadija’s expression softened at that, as she looked at the boy’s expression of honest shame and discomfort.

“Alright then.” She started, looking around the room. “I’ll just ask you some questions. Come, sit with me and we’ll try and understand what’s going on, hm?”

She waved the child over towards the center of the room, where a small rug was kept for them to sit on, far better than the roughly packed dirt of her floor. Sheepishly, the teen sat down across from her, still holding their arms close to their chest, eyes darting across the room.

“What’s your name?” She began, following the child’s gaze behind her. They seemed to land nowhere in particular, just trying to flee her gaze.

“Nazim.” He said quietly.

“Alright Nazim, and how old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

“Fifteen? Wow, old enough to take a wife soon, no?”

The child shook their head, and looked down at the floor, before saying with trembling voice. “I.. don’t like girls.”

She raised an eyebrow, and didn’t quite know what to say. “Don’t like girls? Well uh… that’s not entirely uncommon. Plenty of…” She though back to the weeks she spent studying in Yanbu. Certainly, she caught heated moments between the girls around the halls of the temple, and men upon the wrestling fields being a little too handsy with eachother for pure sportsmanship, but it never was in the context of not liking the opposite sex. “... Plenty of people like that.” She finished, completing the sentence after a substantial pause, before asking. “Do you like men?”

“I guess.” They answered, their eyes not leaving the ground.

“Well, that’s useful to know. Your father said, well, you know what he said. Is that true, do you not feel like a man?”

They only nodded, cracked lips sealed tightly shut from fear.

“I see…” Her voice trailed off once more as she looked around for a moment. “Excuse me.” She muttered over to them, getting up and walking over to a small shelf of tablets and scrolls. Over the heaps of information, there was a specific scroll she remembered reading dealing with this very subject. Worn and dirty papyrus, cracked and flakey clay, finally revealed beneath them the correct one. It was written on strangely high-quality papyrus, she remembered being handed it by the Sheikha Olifia herself before she left to tend to the people of her home village.

It read:

“Bodily incongruence: Symptoms include feelings of not belonging to one’s own sex, or the desire to appear, dress, or act in the manner of the opposite sex.”

She turned back to the child, nervously watching her from across the room. “You say that you don’t feel like a man, would you like to be a woman?”

The teen seemed to be rather flustered by the question, breath growing heavier, muscles tightening, eyes darting back away from her. She walked back over to them, dropping the paper to the floor and kneeling beside them. She placed a hand on the child’s shoulder, and forced them to look into her eyes. “It’s okay my child, you may speak with my countenance. I will not judge you for what you say.”

Several quiet moments went by between the two, as the poor child struggled to say a word before suddenly blurting out: “I want to be a woman. I don’t want to be like my father, I don’t want a wife, I don’t want to work men’s work - I want to weave cloth with my sisters. I want a husband, I want children! I can’t stand this miss- please, please!”

Before she could react, the poor thing snatched up the hem of her dress, tugging on it pleadingly, begging at her feet. “Shhhh…. Shhhh…” She whispered, reaching down to stroke their hair. “Be still, be still my child.

“Please ma’am. Please, I cannot live like this!”

“I know baby, I know.” She cooed, reaching over to pull the child into a hug. This poor thing - lost and scared. They needed care and understanding and surely had never gotten any.

It seemed like several minutes had gone by before she could pry the teen off her lap, and to re-read what exactly the temple’s recommendation was for the situation. But holding it up, it read:

“Caused by an imbalance between the body and the soul due to innumerable factors during the pregnancy and birth such as food temperature, the presence of Jinn, and divine intervention: Treatment requires the realignment of both the bodily sex and the sex of the soul. The soul and body are interconnected, yet physical remedies may only affect the body, which then may heal the soul. It is prescribed by the wise-ones of the temple that the preferred sex of the patient be made evident.

Remedy: The patient ought to be given a new name with the anointing of blessed oil, to correspond with the traditions of their preferred sex. They are to be dressed in the clothing of their preferred sex, and their hair cut or fashioned in the style customary for their people. Have the patient thus named and clothed pray to the weaver goddess Manat overnight and meditate on this new-self, that the sex of the soul may be revealed and confirmed. If the soul is confirmed to be of the other sex, then castration is recommended for newly named women, and the binding of the chest for newly named men.“

They looked at her as she read the text, her face no doubt giving away her impression on the matter. It seemed awfully unorthodox, that such a radical alteration of the body was the cure to the situation. And yet, she considered to herself what it may be like, should she have been in this young person’s shoes. Would she be comfortable in such a body? Surely not, because she herself felt just as strongly as a woman as the person before her did, though she was born with a body which was conveniently aligned. She trusted in the Sheikha, she had seen all the good that had come from her knowledge. She heard rumors Olifia herself was of the same condition, born of a male’s body, before becoming a woman through the aid of the gods, thus explaining her more androgynous figure. Nobody had explicitly stated if or not it was truth, and it seemed rather rude for her to inquire, but… It made her wonder.

“What… does it say?” They asked, looking up at the paper. They probably couldn’t read, she reckoned, so she would have to put it as plainly as possible.

“Well.” She said, looking between their red-stained eyes and the text of the paper. “The text says that you are going to be a woman.”

[The Hierophancy]

Fall

Blinking bleary eyes, Alexander rolled over and sat up in bed, bending awkwardly to grope for his cellphone in the morning gloom. Only - he frowned - his phone wasn't anywhere to be found. Nor, he realized, was his pillow - or bed. In fact, he slowly realized, it wasn't even morning - and, with belated alarm, he was entirely naked. He stumbled to his feet, felt something crunch beneath him, near tripped over something hard buried in snow and, open mouthed, tried to make sense of the scene before him: bare, spindly trees, a few inches of snow, a rocky slope, and a dark, dark sky, filled to bursting with more stars than he had ever seen, slashed across by what must've been the Milky Way. It was beautiful, and cold, and terrifying, the stars so clear and so many. He reached up, rubbing his eyes and numbly noting the lack of glasses there before allowing his arms to fall back to his sides...

Abruptly, his reverie was broken by a rustling in the forest before him, and an approaching light. How long he'd been standing, staring dumbly, he wasn't sure, though his feet, hands and nose now felt uncomfortably chill, and the light-bearing figure trudging their way uphill seemed alarmingly close. The idea of somebody walking into his bedroom unannounced and unexpected managed to provide the shock Alexander's mind needed to pick up the pieces and set into something resembling motion, regardless of the fact that his bedroom was nowhere nearby. Out of the fog, another, more mundane fear broke through, and he moved to cover himself up with his hands - even if this was a dream, as a thin sort of screeching in his head was insisting, he couldn't help but feel embarrassed.

"W-who's -" the words felt strange on Alexander's tongue, "- there? Where..." he shut his mouth, though he felt like screaming - the movements of his jaw, his cheeks, the air in his throat - it was all wrong, terribly wrong and totally unfamiliar. He again pawed at his face, shame temporarily forgotten, feeling around his lips and the inside of his mouth, panic building. "W-w-wh..."

The figure, half-forgotten in his body's betrayal, resolved itself from the darkness, young, tired features illuminated by a flickering torch. He - the person seemed a man, if a slight one - wore leather and fur, dangling metal plates, an orangish skullcap reflecting dully the torchlight. In the hand not holding up a torch, he clutched a wood cudgel - overall, not a reassuring sight. He stopped a few paces from Alexander, puzzlement warring with exhausted indifference on his face.

"Er..." the man said, "drop your weapons?" Alexander stammered out something incomprehensible, full of questions and unsure of what to ask, belatedly recognizing that what the young man before him had said wasn't quite the same as the impression he'd received - an unhelpful layer of confusion to an already nonsensical request. The tired man frowned.

"Do you understand? Can you speak?" He brandished his cudgel, waving it around, pointing it at Alexander, himself and the way he'd come, speaking slowly. "Follow me back?" Alexander barely heard him now, and, head buzzing, was preoccupied with folding himself up on the ground in as tight a ball as possible. The torchbearer stared, glancing towards his cudgel, then the sky, and then back towards Alexander. His conflicted expression resolving into haggard exhaustion, he lifted his club, muttering something about "resistance", and with a sharp crack, Alexander returned to peaceful oblivion.

[Joohan]

INTO THE DARK

" Pick up dung with your bare hands, no problem at all! Birth a screaming slime covered calf, you'll suck the mucus from it's very nose! By mistake, tear open an antelopes gut bag and you'll not even gag. This though, this Dote, makes you reel? "

Dote was hunched over, fists on the ground, face scrunched together in disgust, and heaving to barely keep back his vomit. It wasn't often you saw a nomad shy away of something in disgust, so I was careful to take in as much of this moment as I possibly could. Crouching down next to him and resting a hand on his back, I didn't even try and hide the glee in my voice as I reassured him,

" Go ahead bud, let it out. " A strong hand shoved directly into my chest was his only response, and as I fell back on my rear I couldn't help but crack a wild laugh at him. Too bad though, letting my guard down for a moment, because just as I started to giggle, I too caught a whiff of the fetid flesh of the hide resting near by, and by then we were both gagging. To Dote's credit, there was nothing quite as disgusting as the first stages of hide making - that material which was ubiquitous to life on the plateau.

After his brief heaving fit, Dote stood himself up, offering me a hand in turn. He'd taken a deep breath and turned his face from sour to stone, his voice filled with resignation. " Let us do this quickly then. "

Near to us, resting upon the ground, was the pelt of a recently butchered yak, the fur side toward the earth and it's fleshy bottom layer facing up toward the sun. It had been sitting there two whole days, made to be soaking wet, and exposed to the elements. What had made Dote fall over gagging was not merely the smell ( which was itself quite foul ) but the sight inside. With the pelts edges folded in ward, creating a kind of bowl, a white soupy mixture made from the rotted flesh and fatty lawyer floated about, oil deposits glistening in the sun. We turned our heads away from having to look at the rancid soup as we lifted the soaking pelt up off the ground and dumped it's rank contents.

Not every day was a hunting day - least not for us. The Ana had enough hunters to satisfy her daily need for game, and so a hunter could often go a week at a time without having to trek out into the wilderness again. That of course didn't mean we were excused from taking part the tribe's daily chores. Privileged class though we were, no one was exempt from the tedium of daily chores. Today, Dote and I were sent to help in the making of hide. The actual full process of making a proper hide took several days to complete, something I often thought could have been improved upon if only I'd access to the necessary chemical compounds and industrial process's. Sadly though, I was still stuck in the stone age, and so I had to relegate myself to cutting holes in the pelt with a knife made from antelope bones. The first step of the hide making process was the soaking, the next, was the stretching.

For a little less than an hour, Dote and I were careful to cut sufficient sized holes around the outer edges of the massive yak pelt, before dragging the massive thing over to a stretching rack. With it's soaking wet fur, and fatty underlayer still attached to about eleven square feet of skin, a yak pelt weighed at this stage about sixty pounds still, and so it was with some effort that we lopped all the ropes through the holes we'd cut into the thing before raising it up and tightening till the whole thing was taunt as a drum. With the fleshy side facing out toward us, it reminded me of how gum looked after you been chewing it for a while, and then threw it into the dirt. The soaking had done it's job, helping to break apart much of the fatty tissue and other bits of flesh, which would make the third step much easier for us - Fleshing.

with the sharpened lower ends of camel leg bones, I and Dote sat at the bottom of the stretched hide and began the slow, slimy, process of peeling the flesh off from the pelt. Skin was pretty strong, and you could beat it up for a while without too much to worry about in terms of tearing. A thin cut along the flesh, and then you'd wedge your fleshing tool between the fat and skin, slowly peeling the two apart. The process was slow, sometimes taking hours, so, we had time to kill, and time to talk.

" What was it you did for your people, before coming into ours? " I'd heard Dote ask non-chalantly, as he raked down another bit of flesh, revealing a milky white skin beneath.

" Hmm? " I pretended not to understand the question, making him glance up toward me and gesticulate mildly.

" You know of what I mean... your role. What labor was allotted to you among your people before you had been... before you left? " He'd bit his tongue not to say banished, something which many among the Ana had insinuated of my past, as an explanation for my having come upon them so suddenly. I looked sidelong at him as I talked, continuing to my work and sheering.

" My role... well, i'd had a few. Among my people it was common for one to change his work - more so than here, for a man decided his work very seldom with approval of elders, but by his own wants and desires. " To that point, Dote had quickly interjected,

" Who then did the most wretched of tasks? Surely no man or women would desire to skin hide or collect dung by his own volition, but are tasks which must be done nevertheless? " His question, very insightfully put, actually made me think for a moment on how it was jobs worked in the 21st century. After taking a moment to find my words, I gave as good an explanation as I could in that moment.

" Men were hampered in their desires by many things. Just as we had to prove our ability to become hunters, many of our roles required the showing of a minimum of skill to attain. Other times, certain tasks only existed in distant places, and so a man might have to content himself to what labor was present where he resided. A man could pursue any role he wanted, but that did not mean he was entitled to it. As chores of daily living were the most common in our home, men could always count on their ability to acquire such roles, as need be. "

" That does not sound too very different from how we live. I am free to try at any profession which is available to men, and I too am limited by skill in attaining it. How then did your people act differently to us? " A fair point he'd made, one which I didn't have an immediate answer for.

" I don't have the words to describe how - but were you to be immersed by it, as I was, you'd know that it was different. " I dug my ungloved fingers down behind a roll of flesh which I'd been working on for while, and carefully, I pulled the excess fat clean from the moist white skin below. Plopping the fat and vainy tissue into a bowl which sat between I and Dote, I continued on in my explanation.

" In any matter, my roles! I've had three in my life, not counting the chores which were normally expected of me at the home. The first two, believe it or not, happened to be in preparing food! " Dote raised an eyebrow toward me and gave a small smirk, in amused suprised.

" Like a woman? " Among the Ana, and as far as I was aware among most tribes descended from Kester, food preparation was and had always been a woman's duty. I smiled at his amusement while continuing on,

" Among my people, we, men and women, prepared food together, more or less equally. "

" And was this by the men's choice? Or was it a fate pushed upon them? " His insinuation was marked by a self-satisfied smile which made me roll my eyes before answering.

" That's another story entirely. "

" Very well then - but you had said you'd worked three roles prior. What of this third role then? More womanly duties? " Now it was my turn to smile in self satisfaction. I faced back toward the fleshy hide, not wanting to reveal my surprise by the smugness on my face.

" I was a warrior. " Dote went silent then for a moment, apparently contemplating my answer before responding,

' I can believe it. " He completely disarmed me. I shot my head toward him, my smug expression replaced by genuine surprise.

" Really?! I would have expected you of all people to raise doubts! " But Dote merely shook his head, still sheering down the flesh of the hide and pulling it's bits off into our shared bowl.

" Well, you came to us without any reasonable skills in the taking care of ones self - obviously, it had seemed you'd led a life of privilege. Your great size and eagerness to brawl me so soon spoke something of your vigor, and perhaps innate, if hidden, ferocity. I could see how your people perhaps used you as a special tool, not often used, only for one purpose, but very good at it's set task. "

He'd managed both to praise and grievously insult me all in the same breath; I chuckled sardonically at his observation.

" You're not entirely wrong. I was very privileged, never having to work as miserable filthy a job as we content ourselves to now- " I said as I flung a strand of fatty tissue over towards Dote, the bit of flesh sticking itself to his coat and causing the disgruntled nomad to jump back in disgust before quickly flicking the thing off his cloths.

" Thankfully, though a warrior, never had I been made to make use of my skills. Never, in all my days of having been sworn to defend my people and land, had I been called to battle - and for that I count myself very lucky. "

I heard something in Dote's throat, almost like a humming but more subtle than that. His sheering down of the pelt barely had any force behind it, like he wasn't really giving it much effort. When he did speak again, he started off slowly,

" A warrior who knew not war, but only the privilege which came with such a possession. Having honor without need of having proven it through feats. So... why then did you leave? " He looked over toward me, and in his eyes I saw some uncharacteristic weakness - and it was then that I finally understood the question he was trying to answer. I sighed,

" I didn't leave. "

" So then- "

" I wasn't banished either! " I was quick to squash his insinuation before he could say it, before continuing on.

" What I have told you, grandfather and grandmother, and all your kin for years has been the truth. I do not know how I arrived here. One morning I awoke from sleep and found myself alone in your lands. I have seen no trace of my people since, and before my coming I had had no indication of the fate that would come to befall me. To this very day, my presence here is still a mystery. I did not abandon my people, nor was I pushed out - I simply vanished. "

We both grew silent then, and we stayed that way for a long while. No one ever really believed me or my story, most thinking I was simply mad in some regard, while those less generous thought me a liar. For Dote, now that he was certain that I was neither of those things, his mind knew even less rest. His question hadn't been about me, none of them had been - he was asking for himself. Some part of him had been hoping that I had in fact been banished. If I had been banished, then my present situation would be proof that a prosperous life would be possible for him once he and his clan were banished.

As we shore flesh from hide, elsewhere in the village, the very fate of the Michewa was being discussed between elders and the new patriarch of the Kester-Ana, Hazugual the Proud of Perma. Things had changed since he'd taken the leopard pelt, and his vendetta against all Michewa was being enacted with grievous vigor. Every transgression by Dote's kin was met by the leopard claws, no matter how minor. Even I, for in Hazu's eye's I was as good as Michewa, had had my own hands torn by those claws. When it was that our proud leader had tried to exile one of Dote's aunts for allegedly stealing, it was then that Dote's father protested his patriarchs demand - putting his entire clan at risk of being banished to the desolate plain.

...

Though not agrarian by any measure, one would be incorrect in assuming that the Ana didn't know about fermentation. Give man enough free time and he'll always find a way to invent his favorite beverage. For the nomadic peoples of ancient Tibet, the alcoholic drink of choice was fermented mare's milk. Personally, back in my army days, I was more a Malibu and Dr. Pepper kind of guy, but beggars couldn't be choosers and I certainly wasn't one to turn down a drink.

kanu, as the drink was called, smelled sweeter than what you would have assumed. Tasted absolutely awful, but it got you drunk and that was the important thing. lying on the ground inside a Michewa tent, I felt a warmness on my face that wasn't just because of the fire. I smiled like the buzzed fool I was, amusing myself with a game i'd invented. There were about ten other people in the tent, Dote's most immediate family. On occasion they'd bring out the mare's milk and make an event of the night, playing games, telling stories, laughing the night away. When I started to feel a buzz I'd start my game, I called it, tuning out. If you purposefully try not to understand what someone is saying, even if it's your native language, it'll sound like gibberish being spoken in the background. Speaking Kesterian-Ana every day for the last five years, I kind of grew numb to my miraculous abilities, and I forgot that i was speaking a completely alien tongue. When tuning out though, laying on the ground like a buzzed idiot, I could almost hear what Kesterian really sounded like... total gibberish!

I took another sip from my pouch, swallowing the mixture quickly before the taste could make me gag. I tried to let my mind trail off, think on fanciful things made unusually wonderful by inebriation, letting the white noise of my peers put me at ease, but I kept failing at my game of tuning out . Words like, Hazu, and, bastard kept jumping out at me. I realized that the conversation must have spilled over into politics while I was out of it, and as I happened to be somewhat invested in the current affair, I decided to listen in.

" ... His boldness isn't unprecedented. During the youth of grandfather, there had been another clan banished for refusing to obey their elders command. Their refusal though had been in protest to their kin being put to death. The pettiness of his actions is what is unprecedented. "

" To cow to his demands would be the same as letting a petulant child run the family. That you, Tsengu, have placed your foot down and shown him that we will not be treated as his inferiors was a most needed step. "

" As only a matter of curiosity, where about did aunt Myerlagi come from? I forget her father's tribe? "

" ... Er, she had been given to us at Phobalhan many years ago from the, Atun-see. But, that is of little matter now - she is a mother of Michewa, and to have shared in our blood binds her to our protection. "

" Oh, of course, it is that I was only curious. "

" Well, as I see it fit, what you have done Tsengu is show old Hazu the limits to which he may pursue his petty vengeance. Would I be bold in proposing that we might even be able to push back on his most liberal use of the claws on our innocent kin? "

It was the kind of talk and blustering you expected to hear from men speaking in the comfort of friends. Much bravado on their parts and a pitying for an enemy that was nowhere to be seen. Hey, maybe they actually meant it, but in my experience this was all just good natured chest thumping. I joined in nodding my head tsking that bastard, inbetween more liberal sips of Kanu. I couldn't help but notice however, that the supposed man of the hour, Tsengu, was not joining in on that banter.

The Michewa patriarch, a stocky man in his early fifties, with a salt and pepper beard, and a puffy pale face which spoke of an oncoming illness sat silently near the end of the tent. Tsengu was Dote's father, and his son sat silently next to him. It had been Tsengu who first protested against Hazu's attempt at banishing aunt Myerlagi, and who in subsequent days has been the one to represent the whole of the Michewa in their case before Hazu. If anyone would have had anything to say about the entire matter, surely it would have been him; but tonight he remained largely silent. His voice had grown horse the last few days, a symptom of the plague which had been killing so many of our peers, and so no one thought it odd that he should refrain from speaking tonight. I couldn't help but stare over at him though, straining my eyes in the fire light and the generally blurriness brought on by my half drunken state. To me, it looked as though he wasn't enjoying the conversation, despite his clansmen, who all universally praised his bravery and conviction. The sickly patriarch kept his eyes lowered, gazing somberly into the fire which sat in the center of the room. His deathly stillness contrasted to the almost literal chest beating of his neighbors.

Next to him, Dote's eyes moved uncomfortably between all the speaking parties, and in less than a minute he's shifted himself upon the ground. He'd not lost that look of nervousness since earlier that day, or if anything, he appeared now more anxious to me. It was as he took another long drink from his pouch that we finally met eyes. He looked surprised for a moment, like i'd caught him doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing, and then looked away quickly. Fear, he'd been scarred of my look, as though my looking into his eyes might reveal some terrible secret.

Dote brushed at his beard a few times, starring aimlessly into the fire, before looking over at his sickly father. His eyelids hung low, either terribly sleepy or deep in some thought. When Dote offered his father a drink from his pouch by touching his arm, Tsengu didn't even move to respond.

" ... All Tsengu needs to do his place his foot in ole' Hazu's ass one more time and he'll be the one hanging a leopard pelt outside his home soon after! "

A round of laughter rang out from everyone, except for Tsengu and Dote, who just sat in their own anxious quiet corner of the room. Looking over at those two, I think I understood-

There wasn't going to be anymore meetings.

...

The next day, the news was broken to us all. For refusing to let Myerlagi be banished alone, Hazugual had claimed he was left with no choice: if the Michewa would not let her go alone, then they would all be banished. Sixty men, women, and children, given two days to pack their belongings and leave. No longer Kester-Ana, but Kester-Michewa. When the announcement had been made, Hazugual had wrapped himself in the ceremonial pelt, and made sure that Grandmother stood next to him. What, if anything she had to say on the matter, we never heard, as she hardly spoke since the passing Dorjee. She merely stood, decrepit, and silent as Hazu banished her children and grandchildren. I'd never particularly had any strong feelings for the woman, but her silence and standing there while allowing this travesty to occur made me hate her with a passion, even more than Hazu.

When the annoucement had been made, there was nothing like a verbal outcry, or even an angry mob ( as I thought there should have rightly been ), but instead it was like a cloud had washed itself over us all. Pang of fear and cold uncertainty shot through us all. A vague threat which no one had considered distinct a possibility now had become our precarious reality, and no one knew what tomorrow would hold. The Michewa were given two days to gather their things and prepare to leave. There was no, or else, added to that - it wasn't an ultimatum, it was a statement of fact. There was no real threat of war between Michewa and Perma or any other Ana clan, not even from those proud fools who'd been blustering in the tent only the night before. There may be war in the future, but not now - no one had the spirit for such conflict, not in such dark days as these.

They would not be sent out alone, the Michewa - for to do so surely would have meant death for them, and this sentence was not intended to look so outwardly cruel as the one which had been placed on Boshay some years ago. The banished would be sent off with six camels ( Dote had made sure to select the ones tamed members of the herd ), four yak, one stallion, two mares, ten sheep, two and a half bags of rock salt, and a fifth of all the stored hides. No lumber would be handed over however, as the Ana's own stores were running low, and it would not be till next Phobalhan that they would have an opportunity to gather wood en masse.

Where they would go, no one really knew. The lands of Tibet were vast, but harsh and not always suited for living, with some places not even suitable for herding. Phobalhan ensured that every tribe would have their own designated grounds from which to feed their herds and care for their people, that the resources of the plateau were reasonably distributed among all the cousin clans. The Michewa had not been their own entity at the last Phobalhan, however, and so no lands had been allotted to them; no matter where they went, they would be trespassing on another tribes claim. Outwardly, this was a mere banishment, but everyone knew that it practically was a death sentence - either by starvation, or by battle.

The night before the official eviction was a hard one. Kesterian nomads didn't show weakness often, their lives were hard and their home unforgiving, it never helped to show tears. As many a man and woman packed their belongings, preparing to leave home for the final time though, they couldn't help it, and among many of the proud tears fell freely. That was the scene I had walked into as I entered Tsengu's tent. A low firelight illuminating a dozen or more figures huddled over various packs, going over their belongings one final time, to make sure that they would leave nothing important behind. Though I towered everyone in the tribe, not a single head raised itself up to notice, all to focused on their own somber task. I adjusted a pack of my own further up along my back before slowly walking myself across the floor, passed the various people and items splayed across the ground, searching for the ones i'd come to see.

Their movements looked slow, cinematic like in the orange firelight, their fingers dancing over barely illuminated trinkets of their lives. The room was filled with the sound of hushed whispers and gentle sobbing. It reminded me of something - the first and only phone call I made at basic training, nearly a decade ago. After finally being handed off to your training unit, having not spoken to our family in over a week, we were given cell phones and script to read from. We were told to call our families and read from the script, to tell them that we'd arrived safely and were beginning our training. It was a really simple thing to do, but I'd been surprised at how many people broke out in tears mid script.

" Itzhag, what are you doing here? " I looked down to my right and I saw Dote looking up at me, he and a few of his siblings hunched over a pack of their own. Though it was relatively dark in the room, I saw the long white outline of Dote's bow stretched against the hide of the pack, and that brought a warm feeling to my chest. I turned my back some to show him my own knapsack, as my answer. Dote looked at my knapsack, then back toward me, his face full of confusion. He shook his head as he slowly stood up from the ground,

" No, no, you are not being banished with us. Only we Michewa are being sent out. You are free to stay among the Ana. " I surprised him then when I nodded in understanding,

" Yes, and I am free to leave them as well. " He blinked a few a times at my statement, before shaking his head once again and putting his hands to my shoulders.

" No, Itzhag, you don't want to go with us. We go out into the wild with no lands to call our own. No field we tread upon will be safe, and no game caught can truly be called ours. Our journey to come will be full of suffering- " Taking hold of his wrists and lowering his hands off my shoulders, I cut him off,

" And so you will need all the help you can get. " We were the only ones talking in the tent, whispers and sobbing stopped so that they might ease drop better.

" There is no place for me here now. No fireside here to warm me. Before I had been accepted by the Ana, I was first taken in by the Michewa, and before even them, you brother. " A figure rose behind Dote in the dark, and by his height I recognized Jampa.

" He is right brother. " Dote turned to face his younger sibling, who'd spoken softly behind him.

" Did he not save our cousin when she had been taken by the current at Namtso? And... when I brought dishonor upon our family, was it not he who went with you to aid Boshay? He has saved our blood and our honor before, how could we deny him now? "

" It is because we... we go into the dark, Jampa! " Dote turned back toward me, his face now full of pleading.

" It holds misery for us all, and I will not drag a friend in to share in our suffering. "

" I mean... it hasn't stopped any of you so far. " I motioned my arms out, gesturing to everyone in the tent. After a few moments, tepid giggles began to emerge from the omce silently listening figures, exposing their own eavesdropping ways. A few chuckles from behind him made Dote turn to face his younger siblings, though when he turned back I could see much of the fear that had been on his face had left, and almost a smile had returned.

" If you wont drag me into the dark with you, then I'll charge in after you lot; and there isn't a damn thing you can do to stop me. I come to you offering my services - take me as a warrior, a hunter, a herder. Please! "

For a moment, the only sound in the dark tent was the crackling of the fire. No one spoke, no one moved, no one even breathed. The world outside those hide walls faded away, as all eyes and ears rested upon Dote's stoic face. When he did finally speak, his soft words were like a thunder clap breaking the calm of night.

" We have no need for any more hunters, or warriors, or herders. " My heart jumped up into my throat, and for a moment I could feel a sense of panic rise up into the place behind my eyes. My body was set right though when Dote placed a hand onto my shoulder, and spoke once more.

" But you can join us as a friend. " Before I could say anything, Dote stepped forward and wrapped his arms around my back and hugged me. Behind him, Jampa stepped forward too and added to the hug, and soon everyone of Dote's siblings rose and did the same.

Five years ago, I had awoken alone and afraid, out there on the desolate plain. Tomorrow, I would go back out there, into the unknown - but this time, I wasn't going alone. I was going with my family.

[Endem]

Aleksander Śliwecki

The War Council

Aleksander looked at the liquid poured into his cup, the smell he could recognize anywhere, and the tasting of it proved his suspicions. It was coffee, horrible in taste, naturally then, after five years of not tasting it, he drew from the cup all he could, before asking for more. For better or worse, his time to write that day had ended, and the time for statecraft started.

They were in Ali's tent, just outside of Tarout proper, waiting for the tribal leaders, chieftains of the tribes which swore fealty to their nation, enjoying one of the finest imports from Yanbu. One by one, the chieftains arrived, and slowly the round tablet was being filled, with each one having been served a drink of their choosing.

When the last leader arrived, Aleksander stood up, and began what was effectively a war council. "Brothers and sisters in blood, great leaders of your tribes, faithful. I have been informed your tribes have gone restless, and that you call for war. And it is my pleasure to inform you, where you shall fight in the following months."

Immediately the table erupted in lively speculation and suggestions.

"Sumer!" Some cried excitedly.

"Elam!" Shouted others

A few more names were thrown around, before Aleksander with a flick of his hand silenced them. "Our target is Magan, the time for Sumer and Elam is not yet nigh."

There were some sighs of disappointment and some expressions of excitement, Aleksander did not heed these signals, instead, he pointed at a map laying on the table.

"Your first target will be the settlements of Ras Abrouq and Al Da'asa, from there we sha-"

"These places do not belong to the 32 lords of Magan!" Shouted one of the chiefs.

"No, they belonged to the princes of Dilmun, and now they belong to our brothers in blood of the Qatari peninsula, but these lands are incredibly important for staging further conquest into Magan." He overheard some grumbling, but apparently, some chiefs, who most likely had a bone to pick with Qatari chiefs had become swayed by the concept.

"Continuing, we shall use this land as a staging ground for the invasion of Magan and dethroning of the 32 lords. In the meantime the tribes of the peninsula will be converted and brought into the fold, their blades shall join ours."

"Yes, that is all well and good, but what about Magan proper?" Asked one of the chiefs, famed for both his tactical skill, staging several raids on Sumer, and for greed. He no doubt wanted to already part the Magan lords with their wealth.

"First, we shall sabotage their navy. Aft-" yet another interruption, this was starting to get tiresome.

"Sabotage? I don't think the tribes have the resources to perform such a thing, besides, we would stand out like fish out of water." Yet another chief objected.

"The tribesmen will not be the ones to perform this sabotage, that task will be relegated to the Kahin Shabun." Some grumbles about lost glory were heard from those who lusted the most for it, but most chiefs seemed pleased they would not need to send men for that.

"After that sabotage, the navy of Ishtarut and Bahrain will institute a naval blockade, the Magan navy would be disunited, and need repairs, while our navy, while fresh, would be essentially shooting at defenseless targets."

"Yes, and when do we come in?" The chief from earlier asked.

"I was just getting to that Zaaher, you won't have to worry about your share of the spoils. Your first task will be to split the nation, take over land on the feet of the mountains, the lords of Magan from there must not come to aid their southwestern brethren. Ali will command that front." He turned to his friend. "I true you already know what to do?"

"Yes, Prophet." Ali nodded respectfully. "If there do come soldiers, we are to disappear, make it appear as if we left, and then when they leave their fortresses in the mountains, strike at them without mercy." Ali explained to the chiefs.

"Zaaher, you will take command of the second part of the force, your task will be to besiege cities along the coast, and take them, not one city must be left without our banner on its walls, you will hopefully see little opposition, as the sabotage and the starved from trade, they will be weak and poised for rebellion inside of them."

"I like the sound of that." Zaaher smiled deviously.

"After taking the city, you will leave a garrison force adequate for upholding peace there, until at least the Kahin have constructed their monasteries. Your main army group will meanwhile link up with Ali, and you two will make preparations for storming the mountains. However you do it, I leave to you, but know that on your command, Kahin Shabun there will stage a distraction that should divert forces away from that."

Suddenly silenced stretched over the council, Aleksander tried to make his plan leave little wiggle room for the lords of Magan, but it still remained to see if the chiefs would support it. Then a young chief named Abyan took out his blade and laid it on the table.

"I join my blade to yours and will follow your command." Zaheer and a couple others followed suit, until the chiefs all joined.

And the blades rattled and bows were strung, for riches not seen in the desert will be granted upon His followers who shall cast down tyrants who oppressed His people.

---

The Mayors of Cities

"All in favor?" Aleksander asked

"Aye!' An agreement was heard from the council.

In so far, Aleksander was pleased with how this proto-parliament worked, one day he thought, he will commission a grand hall for them, when the states become plentiful, and cities spring up like desert plants after rain.

They have just instituted a new tax, specifically meant in preparation for the war with Magan, any pagan living in their lands would have to pay a small, flat rate, per capita tax. Naturally, there were some exceptions, those too poor to pay were exempt, and those that wed themselves into faithful families, sick, elderly, underaged, visitors that were staying for less than three months, and their brothers in Yanbu were further exempt, finally, one could earn exemption by serving in the armies of the faithful and risked their lives for them. Naturally, those who were richer would also be taxed more, with the poorer farmer and craftsmen needing to pay 1% of their income, while wealthy merchants and landowners would have to pay 5%. In his mind, Aleksander likened it to the Jizya tax

"I understand this tax was not the only agenda of this council session?" Asked Basir, one of the few non-priests serving in the council, he was the chosen representative, and thus governor, of Bahrain, and thus was an influential figure.

"No, naturally not, I believe the word has already reached your ears?"

"What good is a governor who does not know his country. And what is the latest news inside of it."

"As we all know, this council has control of the navy of our movement, and I must ask of it to mobilize it."

"What is your plan then!" Someone from the back shouted, other representatives, nodded.

"The ships will first assist in capturing Ras Abrouq, if any damage is sustained, it will be repaired there, after that sail around the peninsula and lie in wait near the islands on the other side. When your spotters will see a signal of flaming arrows shot at night into the air, sail towards Magan and-"

Why did people keep interrupting him?

"Magan?! Have you lost your mind, they'll crush us, destroy us before we can even say any prayers!" Some other representative objected.

"I just wanted to say, that their navy will be sabotaged by Kahin Shabun, they will be too busy repairing to stop us from finishing the job and destroying and capturing whatever was left. After that, a naval blockade will be put in place, Magan depends on trade from Sumer, Elam, and Indus, by denying them that trade, we will cause civil unrest leaving them weak to our ground forces."

There were whispers, nervous whispers but no overt declaration of support. Clearly, everyone had been worried, Magan was famed for its sailors and ships. Then came applause from one person, Basir.

"You really did think this through, destroy their advantage before they can use it? Nicely done Prophet." Basir commented, before adding. "I join my blade to yours, you have my support."

After this declaration, some other representatives joined him, not all, but a majority.

"I trust you have some experience at sea." He asked Basir, in truth, it was a question only so he can gauge some more information, mainly, the reason for the support given.

"I am a merchant by trade, and have naturally some experience, however, I have established recently a very lucrative trade agreement with Yanba'awi merchants." That's the reason, Aleksander thought. "And have been impressed by their maritime capabilities, mainly of their pirate captains, I am certain, for the right price, someone more competent will join us." Basir continued.

"Then I will send letters for a captain, in the meantime, is the council in favor?" He turned towards the council

And the majority said: "Aye!"

And the ships sailed forward, and they were loaded with arrows, and in His wisdom, He made the winds go towards those who defied him and the rights which He made for all.

---

The Priest.

"Naturally Nafsi, whatever it is you're proposing, you will always have my full backing behind you." Mufid answered his past tutor, and his Prophet. "If I may just inquire about but one thing. I understand you will need several dozen Kahin Shabun for this action, but I will need to know about the plan."

At least he didn't need to convince one person holding some modicum of power in Dilmun. "I was going to do that, though, first I must thank you for accepting this, I had to deal with councils all day. In a similar vein, please don't inte-"

"-rupt you while you speak? I will not, from now on." What was it with everybody?! Aleksander thought to himself, was this an interrupt-a-prophet day he heard nothing about.

"Yes, please." Aleksander answered, his tone of voice making it clear he did not enjoy Mufid's joke. "Getting into the plan itself, you will dispatch members of Kahin Shabun, disguised as poorer merchants, beggars, weary travelers, blind and deaf, and of any other person who does not draw attention to themselves, they will be sent to most, but not all, of the cities, the 32 lords of Magan hold sway over. They must smuggle with themselves a blade, and a bow with arrows at least.

"And once there?" Mufid asked.

"Chaos, they will need to cause chaos, political assassination exploiting pre-existing rivalries between the cities to frame each other for crimes, they will start fighting each other. In that state of chaos sabotage the navy of the lords of Magan, set it to fire, and shoot arrows lit aflame into the sky, our navy will come and mop up the stragglers."

"I understand you will try to take them by surprise, though, will our navy blocking their ports not put an end to petty rivarlies for a common cause?"

"Some will, some don't, which is why the next task of the Kahin will be the organization and inciting of as many slave revolts as possible, that will provide yet another front for the lords of Magan to deal with."

"Hmm, sounds reasonable enough, there are some exceptionally well-trained Kahin's who I think will be fit to lead during this operation."

"Your most skilled must be sent as the leader over the mountains, there nothing of the plan ai detailed applies, all of their time is to be spent on accumulating followers and organizing the biggest revolt possible, when a signal from the tribal army comes, they will need to start the fires of rebellion, to draw soldiers to defend the mountain crossings.

"Very well Nafsi, it shall be done."

And Abu Sahra' smiled, for He will be granted new, capable souls, and the slaves of Magan will be free to follow their liberator onto the next city, to set free other slaves as per His kindness.

[Joohan]

KOREA - SHOW YOUR COMMITTMENT

The envoy's declaration had to battle for prominence against the sound of autumn winds screeching along the panels of Sugedai's earthen hall, chief of the Alusegedi, and leader by fame of those northern tribes the southerners called " Shen ". Many a fur and hide clad warrior sat about the room, weapons proudly laid across their laps as they listened to the traitorous chinaman deliver the message of his new masters. Silently milling in-between them were women, ghostly white, and fear in their eyes, not making a sound as they carried pitchers of beer and ale between the warriors. They were the spoils of many a raid down into the peninsula, beautiful women to adorn their courts and hearths. The same women who the proud and naive Hana sought to deprive them their right of.

Few in the room understood the bureaucratic language spoken in the stately depots of China, so it was only after the traitorous envoy had finished that one of their own translated for all. The call to arms against the southerners was not met with as much derision as it would have been only a short while ago. Recent battles against the Chinese had jaded many a heart among the Shen, and for many of the proud warriors assembled, the clink of copper did not wring so purely as it had only a few weeks ago. What good faith this call had elicited though, was quickly dashed when he'd had the gall to demand the release of their rightly won spoils, and to forgo their right to raid as far into the peninsula as they so pleased. Between sneers and scorn filled laughter, weapons were gripped ever more tightly as they stared at the now silent Chinaman.

Sugedai, sat half hidden upon his wooden throne, made no noise or movement at any of the envoy's pronouncements. For a moments, as his own court grumbled with both agitation and excitement at the foreigners offer, Sugedai contemplated with grim machinations. He was the figurehead for many a people upon the northern plain, not for his bloodline or popularity, but by the great fame of his deeds. During the war against the southerners, he had been among the few warlords to go undefeated and unopposed in cutting a bloody swath through the chinese countryside, bringing with him untold glory and loot. Since the days of the great rebellion, he has made many a ally among the tribes who raise their arms against the Yellow king, and adorned his forces with the iron arms looted from southern battlefields. Cunning and menace had made him leader, nothing more benign.

A small gavel at his side was used to bring quiet to the room, and all the warriors turned in silence to face their shadowed lord. He spoke aloud, first in the language of his fathers, and though the Chinaman did not know exactly what had been said, by the snickering laughter of the barbarians around him, he knew it couldn't have been good. Then, the warrior who had first translated the envoy's demands spoke,

" Your master's demands are filled with hubris. To try and make us relinquish our right to plunder and conquer as far as we see, is to clip the wings of a hawk. But, your hubris pales in comparison to that of the bastard Aaron and his court - who even today would rob us of more. Sugedai, the undefeated, would entertain an alliance against our common enemy - but only if you show that you are committed to this path. We will not surrender what we, by right of victory, have taken. These women are not your subjects, they are our wives and concubines, and they have bore our sons. We will abandon our hunting grounds south the place of Seoul - but for this, for our loss of future plunder, you must compensate us. North the place of Seoul are many villages, places where we must now draw from more heavily than ever. If you desire an alliance against Aaron, and you are committed to your word, then aid us in this endeavor. Offer to us 100 slaves, taken from the villages north Seoul. 80 women, 20 men. "

[Orostan]

Aaron Dawson's Story

Year 14 Month 11 Chinese Imperial Calendar - 2964 BC

Most Chinese cities had constantly burning blast furnaces within their walls, be they small or large. Some smaller cities had sprung up around furnaces that were originally built in open fields and their main streets had grooves in them so that large carts loaded with iron ore could be easily guided into the furnaces if there was no water route directly to them. Other towns had sprung up around the points where the product of iron mines was loaded on to river barges which frequently transferred their contents to an even larger Yellow or Yangtze river barge at another town. Improvements in the technology used to smash iron ore had made the loading process easier and more similar to unloading and loading powder than rocks. This iron ore was then transported down these rivers in what was probably some of the largest ships in the world to larger cities where the ore would be unloaded and sent to storage areas before being put in furnaces, or to another town where the large barge would be unloaded into a storage area or into a waiting fleet of small barges. Every barge was accounted for and every shipment was organized by the Ministry of the Public Stock's metal division, which was the largest out of all of its divisions. The furnaces across China that were kept burning constantly by these shipments were both small and large. In smaller cities they had rows of many small furnaces that were each identical copies of one another, and in other more developed cities like Luoyang there were fewer much more massive furnaces made of thick and carefully shaped bricks with a lining made of well selected material. These towers threw smoke into the atmosphere all day and since the war had began, all night. They had gained a sort of supernatural reputation among the bandit tribes that sometime sent their scouts to watch Chinese cities for troop movements, the burning particles they threw into the air being something that even Aaron liked to watch at night.

Smaller cities did not have such great furnaces and instead only thin columns of smoke rose from their industrial areas. The furnaces they had were much less developed and their labor was less skilled. Their furnaces had been constructed with the oversight of only a few skilled engineers who moved from city to city in the early days of the People's Government. This had meant that the furnaces usually wore out quickly, and every few months new furnaces were constructed right next to the old ones to replace them. Each time this happened though the new furnaces were slightly better and sometimes slightly larger, burning with more heat and operated with more skill. The people had been learning by doing much like the rest of China and even through the worst of the war iron productivity had been increasing at a (very) slow but steady rate. The smoke of the furnaces was sometimes joined by those from steam engines, although there weren't many of them with the water shortage going on. They had been distributed to inland cities and towns which lacked access to water wheels or developed cities which required pumping machines. The city of Jimo was one of the few developed cities to have more than two steam engines and they were used apart from pumping fresh water for powering the city's many semi-industrial workshops which were producing silk textiles that could be traded for iron ore from neighboring countries - namely the Empire of the Shen and Yue city states. Extra steam engines had been allocated to the city specifically for the purpose of increasing iron ore imports which were still the bottleneck on Chinese iron production, though with increased availability of iron ore and non-stop smelting the flaws of older blast furnace designs had begun to show themselves and the furnaces required more frequent replacement.

As the wheels of China's industry turned, its war machine did too. For the war production of iron tools had been slowed in favor of building larger farming equipment that could do the same labor as many farmers with many tools much more efficiently. There had also been a shift to using wood or less important metal wherever possible on that equipment, with iron being reserved only for plows and the blades of harvesting machines as opposed to the large masses of tools that required replacement more often. Some tools were still required of course, but the Chinese had been doing everything they could do to minimize the amount of iron that went into anything that wasn't weapons, armor, or machines that freed up men for working on producing either of those things.

Korea

In Korea the Confederacy of the White Horse had begun slowly expanding in much the same way the Chinese had expanded their empire in its early days. Villages entered the confederacy as part of a grain insurance scheme where the would consent to giving up part of their surplus grain every year in exchange for protection and the promise of help if famine struck. This alone could not entice these villages to enter into this strange alliance and the incentive of trade was another powerful factor. Korean agricultural equipment was of low quality (especially because the Koreans had no experience making it), but a harvesting machine with wheels of wood and blades of copper could still do the work of an entire small village harvesting grain with what few stone or crude copper tools they had before. Villages connected by tribal ties were also being organized into larger farming communities where irrigation could be made more available if they consented (which they often did).

The Confederacy had also begun flying a blue banner with a white hammer and sickle on it - just like China's red hammer and sickle banner. While in China the red symbolized the people, in Korea the blue symbolized the blue rivers that provided life in the form of water. This was also done because Chief Hyonu of the To tribe that was quickly becoming the de-facto leading tribe in the confederacy wanted a more peaceful method of expansion than the Chinese had enjoyed. Chief Hyonu preferred to avoid conflict, and whenever possible he would have his envoys enter into trading relationships with villages rather than work towards coercing their incorporation into the confederacy like the Chinese once did to settlements on the Yellow River. This was especially the case when it came to some villages in semi-regular contact with the priests of Hanajima, where instead of offering spiritual salvation he offered them material salvation. No foreign religion could save them any trouble - only the Confederacy of the White Horse could show them real progress the envoys would say with a gift of textiles or tools behind them and the blue flag above them.

[Suriyanakhon]

Kinoshita Grace

The Great Campaign

The imperial court had started receiving reports of the Kouga navy assaulting and destroying cargo ships in the Sea of Japan, concerning them about the risk of losing troops in the sea before they could even reach the peninsula. After deliberation, the shogun decided to halt transport of reinforcement to the theater, while developing ways to maintain supply lines. Countermeasures started to be taken, more scouting boats were sent to watch the routes that ships would go, sometimes decoy ships were sent instead or the routes alternated randomly. Another tactic started to be used based on the idea of a crazy alchemist, the construction of fireships, small and cheaply made ships filled with flammable substances that were driven into enemy ships and set ablaze.

The intent of these actions were obvious to the court and to the bakufu, despite the hope of the former that the two kingdoms would return to their previously amicable relations, the war was still ongoing between the two regional powers. The Yellow River did not intend to stop until the future suzerain of East Asia had been decided, and Fujimoto was not prepared to relinquish that role.

In many ways, the shogun preferred the military meetings to the court's, there was more discipline, less show, none of the theoretical philosophy or pretentious prose of the courtiers who believed in the magical power of words. Fujimoto believed in the physical world, not words, to her the nation's spirit was best exemplified by the strength of arms of the youth, and not the pretty poetry of the aristocrats. When the time came, those enfeebled sops would be put in their place and scattered to the wind.

The council was composed of the generals, governors, and other officers, sitting in the shogun's meeting room around a table. The commander of the western region of Honshu was the first to deliver a report. “At the present moment, Uesama, a thousand of our troops are dispersed in southern Korea and Jeju Island and we are unable to send reinforcements without risking them being sunk by barbarians.” she said, looking over a register of the different regiments. “Although commander Araki is trustworthy and will be able to take command of the forces there, she's limited to the eight hundred original troops in Korea, and not to the forces in Jeju or Jindo.”

A second officer, the one in charge of naval communications, spoke in turn. “Kougaban activities in the peninsula have also been detected. A chieftain of Ungjin reported they've been trading north of Seoul, trying to convince villages not to cooperate with our imperial sovereignty, and forming a counter-kingdom there to combat us.” she looked nervous, as though she worried that the news would disturb Fujimoto, but the shogun did not betray a reaction. “If they attempt to attack us, things could become very difficult for us to maintain our position.”

“We have the advantage when it comes to morale,” Fujimoto replied, carving an apple with a knife while she spoke, an annoying habit of hers that made everyone suspect she was not really taking them seriously. “The Koreans are, for the most part, illiterate, they barely know how to use or operate any new weapons that the Kouga have given them, if they have even been that charitable. We need to continue studying and developing ways to replicate the weapons that our friends from the continent have been nice enough to bring with them.”

She looked at the head of the imperial court's smith guild who informed her that iron was still being studied and worked on in an attempt to make weapons as good as the barbarians used. “Ah, very good.” Fujimoto took the apple peel and ate it before continuing. “It occurred to me that we have been like the madame of a brothel house who, being so concerned with attracting clientele from across the street, has not even bothered to keep an eye on clients at the back door. We have not even tried to secure our natural borders before we started the Great Korean Campaign.”

The crassness of the analogy surprised many of the officers. “Hashimoto,” the shogun announced, and the officer bowed her head. “Instead of sending the troops across the sea into Korea, I have a different intention for them. I desire that you conquer the last vestige of the barbarians on Kyushu with the Western forces. Ueshida will lead the Eastern forces gathering in Kyoto to conquer the east. If we should lose Korea, I don't desire for us to be caught with our trousers half-down.”

---

Okayama

“Have you ever seen Korea?” Oshima asked me cheerfully as we ate our breakfast at the camp. I shook my head. “My grandmother was from there, I think. Her father traded for many decades and then she fell in love with my grandfather. They settled in the city and became silkweavers for the court.” oh, did I know them? I thought to myself, trying to think how many families I'd known during my time when Toyooka was the capital. I hadn't really been the most social, even as Tenno. Not a very good Tenno at all really.

“I almost went... once.” I said, trying to remember when I was a little girl. How many years ago was that. 40? 50? 60? However many years, it didn't really matter, but the image was still crystal clear. “My father and mother wanted to visit Seoul for some reason, maybe business. I just remember crying and throwing a tantrum about how I wanted to stay in Tokyo, and we never really went.”

“Tokyo?” Oshima hung her head in curiosity.

Oh damn, another anachronistic slip. “You wouldn't know it.” I replied truthfully.

The commander walked in the center of the encampment and addressed the camp. “I've been informed by General Hashimoto that we will not be entering Korea, but that we will be marching west.” she announced, and there were side glances and confusion as soldiers wondered if maybe they had heard things wrong. “Her Majesty intends that we establish a permanent base in Kyushu and that we fortify the coast in case of future invasion.”

Oshima looked extremely disappointed, but I didn't feel that badly about the change of events. It was less distance from home, and less risk of becoming a ghost in a foreign land. This new shogun must've been the one making the decision, Ruyanpe always bit off more than she could chew, she would never have realized that Kyushu was a more important location than Korea. I thought more to myself, but the shout from the commander roused my speculating mind as we were ordered to begin marching.

Dammit, more trekking, as if I hadn't done enough of that for several months.

---

Hanamura

The entrance of the self-proclaimed alchemists into the city of Hanamura had raised several eyebrows, these brewers claimed to have journeyed as far as the Yellow River Kingdom, or conversed with the immortal first empress and learned her craft. They experimented and practiced a litany of new concoctions, mixing the scientific with the pseudo-scientific and the ridiculous in the hopes of making some discovery that could help them achieve imperial favor.

Some of them were ethnically Chinese herbalists trying to make a living in their new home, while others were less savory and more interested in shocking new inventions that would net them a fortune. Ou Lin, despite his name, was not a Japanized immigrant, but was in fact a small town man from the eastern regions of the kingdom who had tried mixing reactive substances together for as long as he could remember. When he was ten, he managed to shill a whole village out of all their earnings by claiming he had extracted the essence of yin-yang and made an elixir of immortality, only for them to all end up sick and him to be long gone to the next village.

This new invention competed with the wildest of Ou's concoctions, but he was convinced if he could sell it anywhere, it would be Hanamura. The city was filled with pretty boys who looked and spoke indistinguishable from girls and were constantly thinking of ways to remain pretty. The shiny new blue banners with elegant hentaigana on them beckoned the streetgoers to come see his new invention, what he called the Essence of Yin, or in other words, pregnant mare urine that could feminize the drinker's appearance if drunken consistently.

The elixir was an astounding success, to Ou Lin's surprise, as he received multiple times more customers than what he expected, from both burghers and noblemen. Boys in their early twenties who desired to remain feminine, boys who were jealous that their sisters were more successful with girls than they were, even some girls who wanted to feel more feminine, filled with the store and bought out Ou's supply in the first few days.

How many mares did he have back in the village, Ou kept wondering to himself. He was going to need more, significantly more, if he intended to continue supplying the demand.

The next few weeks, the substance became a staple around the city, with many being much more enthusiastic about drinking it in public and showing off their purchase to their friends than one would expect given the ingredient. But Ou wasn't one to judge, he was raking in the rin's, expanding his shop, investing in enterprises, buying more mares for the supply chain. He knew eventually that too much of a good thing would spell trouble, but by that time he would have invested enough in merchant ships that it would be smooth sailing anywhere he desired.

---

Korea
Daejeon

With the news from the imperial court that there would be no more reinforcements at the present time, Araki received her commission as head of all the peninsular expeditionary forces. The new marshal made the decision to centralize the camp around the center of the south in order to be better able to defend the region in the event of an assault.

Many of the southern Korean villages, hearing about the atrocities that the Yellow River committed in China and Japan, and being assured that slavery was abolished forever under the benevolent imperial rule of the Tenno, had been swearing allegiance to the expeditionary force and placing statues of the Buddha in their villages along with other Buddhist deities. To them, these figures were not transcendental beings who would deliver them from the world. They were the ancestral spirits of the Tenno who provided them peace and prosperity and prevented them from being attacked by barbarians. The statues were revered as a living force that affected the external world and could cause rain or sun based on whether they were appeased.

The village of Kim and their related tribes in the east had started to significantly expand as they were no longer under threat of reiving and had received an influx of constructors from the Hanajima camp who helped construct walls, irrigation, plows, etc. The chieftain of Kim had started to see himself as an imperial man, not just a provincial one, and would constantly wear the ceremonial robes of the imperial court and light incense as the Hanafumi was recited for his edification.

Araki read over the report of what the Shen lord had said to the messenger as she sat in her tent. “So, that is our answer.” she murmured, unsure how to respond. There was no way that she intended to accept the terms of the agreement, it would betray not only her principles, but the faith that the villages had in her forces, which had promised to do their best to free their sisters and daughters.

The general wasn't sure whether she should feel relieved to receive such terms or not, no one would fault her for not accepting the offer, even the imperial court. To do so would violate the peace treaty between the monasteries and the state which established the universal principle that slavery was an abomination and could never be practiced or promoted anywhere in the empire except for criminals.

“Fetch my coat,” Araki told her servant who bowed and went to get it. “I'm going north.”

[The Hierophancy]

Fall - 2 Weeks

Alexander shuffled onto the other side of the big stone and, with a grunt from his partner, began the arduous process of dislodging it from the mostly-frozen dirt, shifting and twisting and pushing and turning cold hard rock with hands rubbed red raw. Already, he was despairing the inevitable hoisting of the thing, the shuffling march to the field's edge and the ache in his arms - his bones - which had, a few days prior and only hours in, gone from being an almost refreshing challenge to unbearable burden. Standing across from his work-pair - a slight, short Asian man, just like nearly everybody else he'd seen lately - he felt ashamed of his weakness, and ashamed of complaining, even if it was under-breath and to himself.

But he was tired - tired of his itchy, coarse tunic, of the dirt floor he slept on, of the disgusting feeling of sweat trickling through filth and into cold, cold air, of grease in his hair and his face, of sleeping 6 hours a night, of the guards and the throbbing in his head, of being out of breath, and of being tired and sleep-deprived and tired. He was - funnily enough - tired of being a slave.

Some days ago - a week, maybe, or two - he'd woken up on the cold dirt floor of a smoky sort of longhouse, an elongated single room with walls of something reedy, a high peaked roof of the same and doors - holes in the walls - perfectly positioned to let in a freezing, howling breeze. The man introducing him to his new home - an act he accomplished by poking with some savagery at the welt on Alexander's head - had stood up from where he was crouching upon seeing his captives eyes open and promptly kicked him in the ribs. He was similar enough to the boy who'd found Alexander in the woods that - in his throbbing head - he'd mistaken one for the other. While both wore leather and fur and copper, this one had seemed a deal older, harder, and - from the hard dirt floor - much, much taller.

"That -" his voice had been deep, Alexander remembered, joyless and alien, a hammering in his skull - "was for wasting my time. This -" he'd kicked again, harder, "is for running away. Thank our raiders -" a sour word "- for it's mercy. Can't afford to hobble a slave - for now." He'd thrown a ratty, blanket looking thing - what Alexander wore now - on the dirt floor beside him, and without another word turned about and left Alexander to writhe and cough bile.

Later, he'd learn that the man's name was Elu, and that among the guards who prowled the compound he now found himself, he was neither remarkably important nor remarkably unimportant, neither especially cruel nor kind - in short, so far as the slaves knew, he was just another of the men who prowled their little cluster of primitive mud-and-reed barracks and storehouses. Still, Alexander made a point of avoiding his hard face, tired eyes and unimpressive frame - not that he particularly needed to. Despite the job description, the nameless settlement's guards weren't exactly slave drivers. Mostly they grumbled amongst themselves, moped, and stared - bored - from the edges of the fields, or the doors of their dormitory, fondling copper-headed spears or cudgels. Stories - and scars - had proven more than enough to keep everybody, including Alexander, hard at work clearing the land. All the warriors had to do was be present.

Alexander's mental wandering was abruptly cut off by the feeling of give beneath his chapped palms - a slight turning of the rock. Sighing, he moved to place his hands under it, his partner doing the same.

"On the count of three -" Alex somehow knew the man- and his sort - didn't speak the same language as the guards did, though they would've been indistinguishable to him, before. Most of the slaves spoke different languages, in fact, segregated from eachother - and the guards - in sad little linguistic bands of a few dozen or less. A sorry few were entirely isolated, unable to speak any of the compounds languages. Alexander, apparently "fluent" in every one of the disparate dialects for reasons he made a point of not trying to think too hard about, had ended up in the camp of the unaffiliates, unclaimed. No tribal comrades for him, he thought, grunting under the weight of the rock as he and his anonymous partner lifted it up to waist-height, hands stinging. It wasn't anything he wasn't used to, he supposed.

Still, he'd managed to ask around - indeed, he'd probably spoken to strangers more in this past week than in the last two months combined. Trading stories - and gossip - was one of the few means of entertaining oneself on this barren hillside, the other being scant portions of a thin gruel the other slaves, baffled, had told him was millet grain. Asking and answering questions took up what time wasn't occupied by sleeping, working and eating, but - despite having an endless list of questions - Alexander had rarely walked away from a whispered, hearth-side conversation any less confused.

"Where am I?" had been met with such responses as "North", "South", "Across the river", "West", "East", "the country of Sugedai", "Shen", and "by the Gorindahu", a river. Questions about countries - China, America, Japan, Mexico, France, Ethiopia, India - had been met with about as much success as one's about geography. Nobody knew where - or what - Asia was, or Europe, or the Pacific Ocean or Mississippi, and most got tired - quickly - of Alexander stuttering out an increasingly desperate string of nonsense-words. Asking questions about the nearest train station, or airport, or telephone, had - predictably - yielded similar results, and gossip had proven of even less use. Murmurs of an imminent war on the great peninsula were meaningless without knowing what the great peninsula was, especially when it was accompanied by, in equal measure, the rumor that there would soon be peace on the great peninsula. After a few minutes of this talking past eachother, though, Alexander would inevitably be pushed from questioner to questioned. Unfortunately, he'd proven about as unsatisfactory in answering questions as asking them.

"Where are you from? Who do you belong to?" had proven impossible to satisfactorily answer, "America" inevitably leading to an inquiry as to it's location, which led to an admission of not knowing, and to increasingly vague and useless attempts at description. "Between a great lake and an eastern coast" was the best Alexander had managed to do. "How did you end up as a slave?" and "How did you learn so many tongues?" had similarly unsatisfying answers - "I don't know" - as did "How did you get so big?" ('Eating' hadn't proven specific enough). In the absence of proper information, his fellows - the handful who much cared, at least - had come up with a few theories of their own, the incredible ignorance (who doesn't know what millet tastes like?), nonsense speak, strange eyes, clumsy demeanor and long, now-unkempt hair leading to a common consensus that Alexander was some sort of forest person, raised no doubt by some animal and, for unknown reasons, gifted the art of speech by the spirits or gods.

For the first day or two, that strangeness had led to him becoming something of a curiosity, and, even afraid and confused and with a killer headache, the attention had proved a nice change of pace. Now he was more a tool for relaying the interesting stories and gossip between groups of slaves, though his lack of talent as a storyteller and lackluster memory supplied him with constant assurances that he was asked only because there was no alternative. A few had a more sustained interest - Zaor, who "led" a group of some ten slaves hailing from a tribe they and the rest called the Further Simuke - had especially kept his eye on Alexander, asking him about the limits of his newfound ability, his life prior to becoming a slave ("Full time student" proved a somewhat confusing concept) and making sure he didn't stumble into pissing anybody off. When Alexander had, uneasy, demanded an explanation for the continued attention, Zaor'd responded simply that "People don't move without reason, nor do they receive miracles without purpose." Alexander, not wanting to dwell too much on what was happening to his body and mind himself, had shut up and nodded his acquiescence.

For his part, Alex had been doing some thinking - and assuming - himself. The appearances of his fellows, the weather, the direction of the sea (On that, at least, most everyone agreed - it was south-east) and his only surefire geographical lead so far (One of the members of the large cohort of "Southerners" had responded to "Yellow River" - apparently, it was from even further south than he.) he'd been pretty sure that he was somewhere in north-eastern Asia, probably, he thought, Siberia. But, of course, that was impossible - there were no uncontacted tribes, he was confident, in Siberia, or even anywhere near it. Certainly, there were not so many as to assemble a festering polyglot plantation such as this, and double-certainly, if there somehow were, they would not be metalworkers. To his mind, this left three options - either he was in the distant future of Earth, the distant future of somewhere that wasn't Earth, or a never-ending, shockingly vivid dream.

Despite being the most plausible, he chose to reject the idea that he was trapped in his own mind, comatose in some bed somewhere - it was the most uncomfortable of the three. Between the other two, he'd really no idea - everything looked terrestrial enough, from the sky to the plants to the dirt he slept on, but he'd seen none of the relics of the past media had raised him to expect from the apocalypse - not a smidge of plastic was anywhere to be found, and nothing satellite-like was to be seen blinking through the terrifyingly full night sky. And so, he chose to believe that - despite the biota - he was on another world. Perhaps he was some cryonic or cloning experiment gone wrong, tossed onto a backwater planet somewhere on the edge of human space. Implants or genetic engineering or something of the like seemed to explain his suddenly improved vision and language comprehension, too.

Imagining human life - with civilized human lives - filling the sky above him was something of a comforting thought to accompany his lifting up and putting back down of rocks, as was imagining the brilliant ethnography on this regressed colony he'd soon write, and someday seeing his family again - immortal clones or digital uploads or popsicle people like himself, no doubt. Trying to explain any of that to his fellow slaves, or pursue the extraterrestrial line of questioning generally, had proven about as fruitful as prior interrogations, and had spread further the impression that he was a bit touched, but he was well on his way to being past much caring.

Grunting and sweating under the weight, Alexander and his partner finally reached the compound and let their child-sized boulder fall to the ground between them. Other slaves would add it to the low wall slowly snaking it's way about the little clearing of ramshackle buildings - but their struggle wasn't his problem. Falling to his knees, Alexander gulped at the painfully cold air, vainly trying to catch his breath before a hard stare sent him and his comrade back to the field.

Apparently, this pit of dust and mud and half-melted snow would, someday, be a fortress, guarding the lands of it's - his - owner from the Southerners and, it was whispered, fellow warlords, or even the Sugedai himself. The slaves would be long gone by then, though - after they finished clearing the fields and raising the first wall, they'd be shuffled out and the Lord - accompanied by his retinue and a cohort of "free" settlers - would set to work ploughing the fields, sowing the millet and making the place livable.

It had only been about two weeks, and a particularly awful two weeks at that, but Alexander already feared that inevitable end to the routine he'd found himself in. It was late autumn - just like back home - and he was dreading what new labors - and weather - waited for him in winter. As he knelt coughing, he couldn't help but suspect that things were going to get worse before they got better.

[Biwolfia]

Segment One, Chapter the Second: The Attack - Part One

June 28

One week after I had landed in this town, I had already settled down. The people here were extremely kind. My three original captors introduced themselves after a day. The female, who seemed to be the leader of the town, was named Elekta. The taller male was named Zakis. The shorter male was Kali. The name of the town was Sinthos. After landing completely naked, and then fixing a major drought they had, I was given a house and specially made and fitted clothes.

Kali and I were talking in the town square. Zakis was sharpening his spear in the armory. Elekta was sparring with another citizen, Alatika.

Suddenly, the ground began to shake. Dust clouds were forming in the distance, and everybody panicked. Kali pulled me under our picnic table. "What's going on?" I whispered. Kali looked nervous. He leaned over and whispered back, "Scavengers."

I was confused. "What are Scavengers?" I asked. "They're vicious dog-like creatures. They run on their hind legs and hold kofdis in their jaws. Their forearms are used for slashing and tearing things apart."

I was now terrified. I started to hyperventilate, and then a sudden force flipped the table from above us. I looked up and instantly regretted it. Why, you ask? Because looking me directly in the face was a mangy, grotesque face with a sharp stick in its mouth.

[Orostan]

Aaron Dawson's Story

Year 14 Month 12 Chinese Imperial Calendar - 2964 BC

On the sea Chinese raiding had succeeded in stopping the regular flow of Hanajima's reinforcements and supplies to Korea, but the enemy was adapting to them. Chinese raiders found themselves attacking decoy ships or scouts, and real traffic became harder to tell from the fake. The ships also found themselves attacked by smaller fire ships, though at a distance the Chinese could tell the difference between those and normal enemy ships. To avoid them the Chinese would frequently wait for the fire ships to leave the enemy transport they were protecting before turning around and forcing the fire ships to follow or retreat again - in both cases receiving crossbow fire that was frequently flaming bolts aimed at destroying the ships or forcing the crew off before they could do harm. When the fire ships had been distracted or left behind the Chinese ship would come back again and try to destroy the transports. Smart commanders would keep some of their fire ships in reserve, but as long as the Chinese could continue coming in to attack them and then turning away as soon as they were in range the Chinese could use their superior speed to avoid the fire ships. However, this would mean that it would take more time to destroy enemy shipping and potentially more ships if the enemy was moving in large convoys.

The changing nature of the enemy's routes was more difficult to deal with but there were a few ways of reducing the effect of that. Ships had begun to stay closer to landing spots in Korea and attacks began to take place in coastal water near Korea or sometimes near Japan's coast, where the presence of a Chinese ship might discourage the Japanese from leaving their ports at all.

At the same time through Korean intermediaries a message written in the common written language of Hanajima would be relayed to the enemy. The message was written on parchment and its legitimacy was confirmed by the Chinese state's official stamp - an intricate (and hard to copy) circular design divided into two halves with a hammer and sickle in the center.

The message read;

"To the commanding officer of Hanajima's army on the peninsula we call Korea,

Our expedition against you on your own land was aimed at securing our own borders and punishing bandits, who have committed the worst crimes against our people, and similar to that our own support of a counter to you on the peninsula is aimed at securing our own borders. Every step you take across the peninsula is a step closer to our empire and a step against us. We do not want continued conflict between our countries which benefits neither of us. However, we are prepared to win a conflict if necessary and our country which is large and rich will defeat yours in time if a conflict is fought out. We have already interrupted your shipping at sea and sunk many ships with our much larger and faster vessels. If you withdraw from Korea there will be no more attacks on your ships and the movement of your monks and traders on the peninsula itself will not be stopped.

If you have not already you will soon experience difficulty supplying your army from your country, replacing lost men, or gathering tribes to your flag. We are in a position of strength and have offered you a fair offer despite our ability to force you to accept a much less fair one. If you must send this message over the sea for your government to review we request that you notify us of the time when you will have a response. If you have the authority to make this decision alone, we request a physical meeting at a neutral settlement.

Regards, the People and Government of the central country.

China

The culture of an empire as vast as the one Aaron had built was bound to have regional variations, however through the government's effort certain commonalities began to emerge. The Chinese educational system beyond its primary purpose of creating literate people able to learn how to do other jobs had also been instilling certain philosophical values into its people. The reverence of nature that the people of the Yellow River once shared with the people of the Yangtze River or the multitude of other peoples was replaced with a view of nature as a resource that existed to serve man. This was less an intentional effort and more the result of the state trying to base part of its legitimacy off of the tools it provided but it had the effect of breaking down a number of old superstitions. Towns with dams no longer feared flooding in the same way they did before, Cities with great furnaces no longer respected the stone and ore that before couldn't be melted or broken without immense effort, and the entire empire now believed that the forces of nature were ultimately like an animal that could be tamed. The concept of a centralized and democratic state that was unheard of before also influenced how people thought. A state that did not serve the people would become a slaving tyranny like the Shen to the north, and a state that served the people but was not centralized would devolve into barbaric gangs of bandits like those that attacked China now. Only an empire that served the people within a geographical area and put all authority into the hands of one command structure could win. An army with three generals would divide into three armies, and an army with no generals at all was a bandit horde. The definition of the people had also been more deliberately made to mean the people in general, not all specific individuals. It was the case that sometimes individuals would have to make sacrifices for everyone or serve everyone else, and this was a necessity. The liberal conception of the individual as a person born with certain rights outside of a social context of those rights did not exist and even would have seemed absurd to many people in China. The benefits a person enjoyed by being in society such as China's were part of the structure of that society. Even an iron scythe could not be made without the work of miners in far off provinces and smiths in another and the omnipresent Ministry of the Public Stock to move everything around and keep people coordinated. The right to criticize bad leadership was only possible when there was governing to begin with just as the right to have a harvesting machine for a village was only possible with that machine's production in the first place. Furthermore, even the right to participate in government required an efficient economic system that allowed labor to become productive enough so that citizens had free time to do so. Without it in a place where nearly all waking hours had to be devoted to the hardest labor there could be no such thing as participation in government, the administrators of society would be a separate class of people and would ultimately become parasitic warlords as they had in the Shen. The freedom of the people from warlordism, slavery, and famine was something that depended on the development of all society. The basis for a Marxist understanding of politics and civilization had been created in the minds of many Chinese people and served as a strong ideological justification for conscription and other unpopular measures the state took to defend itself.

This also had an effect on the view of religion. Marxism took the angle that there is the strong force of class struggle moving history forwards, which was an understanding that was being built in the minds of the people as the development of society advancing through it's own contradictions which to them manifested primarily as a struggle of man against his capacity to use nature. That struggle would always result in the new destroying the old while still being held back by its legacy which was further eroded when the new once again outgrew itself and had to destroy the old again. Each time through this cycle the world would be further 'purified' and the remnants of the old would be swept away. This was the law of the universe to many of the Chinese and this idea of a single force driving everything forward came into religion as a view of a single god driving forward everything. This god was not a man or some individual being of immense power but instead its body was the entire universe, of which men were only parts of. The laws of the universe demanded that the empire win its wars against bandits and the natural forces that held it back, and therefore the universe itself demanded that. This spirit of the world was engaged in its own development through humanity and the minds of men, although that idea was only understood among few in China although that number was growing. Many priests across the country had embraced this wave of religious reform and regarded the gods they once spirits as only sections of the one spirit that was engaged in literally everything. For them and the people that believed them when they preached, the concept of the central state was not only a government but also a religion that all men had to follow. They didn't force their faith on anyone however, as it was believed that by advancing the empire they'd make the victory and propagation of their faith inevitable. It was only reasonable, after all. These priests who said that the empire's development was part of the universe's process of self development gained followers among the most educated in China and quickly integrated themselves in the education and ideological apparatus of the state. They became the preachers of the empire, and the men they brought in became some of the best soldiers in China's army. Drawing from the multitude of cultures they belonged to they were able to spread the word of the empire far better than had ever been possible before. The culture of China was becoming more homogeneous and in an age where philosophy was inseparable from religion a unified system of philosophical beliefs meant a unified system of religious beliefs - it was inevitable that one should create the other.

There were however priests that fought for the other side of this conflict, both figuratively and literally. The old ways had served men for innumerable years and the historical progress of the empire was the type of progress a landslide or river overflowing its banks made. It destroyed everything in its path and even if it did create fertile land no men would live on it at the end of the day. The bandits viewed themselves as fighting for their own survival as a people as the idea of the contradictions of society advancing history was interpreted by the bandits as the contradictions of men, as the bandits did not have a society like China did and could not easily understand the idea of social class or even distinct social groups with their own interests in many cases. Only social roles could be understood. The tribes sought balance with the universe according to the "preachers of banditry", where nature and man were held as equals and men did not intrude on nature and in return nature did not intrude on men. A forest of only hunters would cause there to be no deer and the hunters would starve, and a forest of only deer would eat all the food and cause starvation. The idea of improving productivity and the improving development of society's productive forces did not exist or could not be understood by the bandits who had no idea of the industrial society that China was building behind the walls of its towns and cities. Some of these bandit preachers concluded from this that the human population must be limited. Nature was not limitless it was said, and therefore man could not be. If Aaron could hear what they said he'd call these beliefs fundamentally anti-human, and he would be right. The bandits rejected the feature of humanity that made it unique; the ability to know the universe through reason. They believed humanity was only one animal among many, and that the tools men used were no different from the horn a rhino used or the beak a bird had essentially. Tools were not seen in the context of increasing man's productive power, only in the context of his ecological niche. Men were only the most important animal because they could fill many parts of the food chain, harvesting plants with some tools and hunting deer with others. There was no concept of improving productivity or the ability to stand above nature to the bandits who had been the most primitive of farmers or hunter gatherers before. Humans were not even above the category of animals - they didn't stand above nature, but instead were part of it. This set of ideas integrated well with the animal and nature worshiping religions of bandit tribes that had not been swept away or changed by the empire.

The bandit war had very much become a war of a fundamentally pro-human philosophy that maintained the development of man was the development of the universe against a fundamentally anti-human philosophy that maintained the development of man was an uncontrolled force of nature that acted against the universe which kept all animals and forces in balance. One could promise a better tomorrow while the other wanted to promise a better today, and one could promise stability where another could give prosperity.

[Saxony-Brandenburg]

Olifia al Yanba’awi
ʿām al-fīl

The marketplace by the docks has always been a busy place, filled with the wonders of the outside world. Exotic spices, fruits, jewels, beasts, and furs- all could be found, laid-out enticingly for all to see. Yet never had I heard a noise like the sound of hundreds of voices, screaming out in delight from across the city. I abandoned my work out of pure curiosity, for out my window I saw dozens more running towards the docks.

“What on earth must it be?” I asked myself, and left the page abandoned on the desk, to be returned to after my appetite was sated. Through the streets I could hear snippets of conversations, exclamations of joy, wonder, and fear.

“It’s an animal!” “It’s a beast!” “It’s a god!”

Their responses fueled my wonder- what on earth had been brought into my city to cause such a stir? For the closer I got, the thicker the crowds became- until I had to push bodies aside just to get through. Laughter and screams of children, held aloft on their monther’s shoulders, just for a glimpse! Shocked widows fanning themselves in fear. Child-like awe in the eyes of grown men. That’s when I heard it: the trumpeting, unmistakable cry. When I emerged past the sea of bodies I could finally see it; Two beautiful, beastial creatures stood before me. Elephants.

I quickly realized that I was in fact one of the only person who had seen these creatures before, in all of Hejaz.

“By the gods, who has brought such wonderful things to my city?” I asked, looking around as the creatures handlers try desperately to keep them calm.

“Ah! That would be me, Sheikha!” I heard a deep, barreled voice call. Looking over, a fat bearded man dressed in the most colorful of clothes calme towards me, with his arms outstretched. “I must introduce myself- I am Quasim al Taymi! I see you have a fondness for my wares?”

I looked between him and the elephants, wide-eyed and delighted. A childlike thrill filled my heart as well, like going to the zoo for the first time in years. “Gods above, yes! They’re delightful! Where on earth did you get them?”

“Ah, that is a story alright! Hah hah hah!” He laughed, thick fingers grasping to contain his bulging stomach beneath his queer red robes. “But I will save that for another day. I am glad you like them, I have heard the people from whom I bought these beasts worship them like gods. Can you believe that?”

I snorted with laughter at the thought. “That I can though, why it must be the size of two men!”

“That it is- eleven arms in fact! The larger one is the male, and the smaller one is the female.”

I reached over to touch the beasts heaving, wrinkled gray skin. I gave its rear a little pat, feeling it’s hundreds of thin little hairs beneath my palm. “Why on earth is it here then?” I raised an eyebrow to this man, curiouser now than I ever was before.

“Ah! What a question, what a question! Is it not good enough for a man to desire his home country to see that which is foreign? To bring wonderful things to his family, and have his sons eyes grow wide with delight? Ah, well it isn’t just that- actually, I ended up getting them as a sort of recompense for a massive debt a Siwan owed me. Their ship sank, so I took their elephants. Transporting them back here was like hell- but! I reckon I could get a good price for them here, or I can trot them around next festival collecting coin to feed the thing, no?”

“Good Price for their flesh or for them whole?” I asked, as a pang of guilt ran over me.

“Eh, either one.” He shrugged, looking back at the animals. “Though it would have been damn easier to carry their hides than to tie them to the deck, so I’d prefer to see them sold whole and alive.”

“How much for them?!” I asked, the words blurting out of my mouth. Why I was so passionate about these creatures I did not know, yet I needed to have them more than I had wanted anything before.

“What a question to ask, what a question to ask…” He stroked his beard, furrowing his brow at the thought. “Surely this was no cheap thing to acquire. Yet, I would not dare offend such a noble institution as the temple with gouging. Why not discuss it over at my home, yes? We can sort out some deal with you there- perhaps you can pay me in something other than mere coin?…”

That thing other than coin, was in fact, corruption. Well- perhaps to my former self. Patronage was a better term. But for two entire elephants? It could hardly be faux pas.

What do you name an elephant? I had that question circling in my head the day after - whenever I was handed the girl’s reins. I liked her far more than the male, far more tame, far more passive. In those large black eyes I saw an anxious kind of fear, not the aggression I saw in the male. She had no place at the head of Hannibal’s army, and the idea of someone killing her for her ivory tusks made my heart sink. I placed a hand on her forehead, and gave her a little rub. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you? It’s okay, momma is gonna take good care of you.”

She was delicate, delicate like a little butterfly. I loved her- the way she walked behind me so gently on her big feet as I led her through the streets and towards the temple. “Farasha.” I whispered to myself. “Her name will be Farasha.”

The climb up the small hill upon which the temple was placed was always crowded and dirty- it was hard to carve solid steps into the sandy soil, so nobody really tried. More of a winding path up towards the earthy stone walls, an imposing castle of ritual and study. Yet the seas of visitors seemed to part as the beast from the day before. People stepped off the path and into the rocks to make way, mixtures of fear and wonder once again captivating their minds at the sight. I looked back, and perhaps because of my recognition, I couldn’t imagine what they must feel. She was beautiful to me, even if she was large.

The doors to the Temple quickly threw themselves open, as whispering and giggling girls pointed and stared at us, I wondered if it was me, or the elephant, or both. Perhaps she even outshined me- after all, while I may have power, she takes up more of the spotlight.

It suddenly occurred to me that though there was an awful lack of space within the walls of the temple, much of it was filled with the crowds of hustling students. To keep as large an animal as an elephant inside would be a crime. I looked back to her, and wondered what kind of pen would actually work for a needy creature like her. “Perhaps I’ll build a barn for you, close to the temple, where the gods can look upon you and smile, just like I do.” I gave her a reassuring pat, those powerful eyes looking so calm, so mild despite her large frame.

The crowd quickly followed us into the courtyard, where dozens of students made way for the beast to tread, anxiously looking around at the dozens of peering eyes upon it. With clasped hands and held breaths, they kept their distance. A voice shouted out from the crowd.

“Sheikha! What have you brought into this place?”

I looked around for its source, a young man with a barely-there beard and an expression of horror stamped onto his lips. I raised my eyebrows, for some reason I had not imagined anyone could be repulsed by her.

“Her name is Farasha, and she will be living here from now on.”

More gasps. People looked to eachother in confusion at the idea of an elephant making this holy space it’s home.

“This is a Temple, not a stable!” The young man shouted back. I wondered what insolence should push him to question me. What ambition did he have to make a fuss over her? I felt my skin already burning with anger.

“Stupid boy! Do you not know what you see before you?!” The words seemed to flow from my lips, as I did not know what I said at first. I held my breath for a moment, before the realization of what had been throbbing in my skull drew out into articulated words. “You see and pray to your idols of stone and cloth, kiss the jeweled feet of your ancestors gods- yet you do not see the image of your god when it moves?! Shame upon you then, foolish boy, and pipe down! For before you is a living idol to Al-Ilat! Do you not know the mother, who grows our corn and raises our sheep? Who fills our she-camels with milk and flowers the palms with fruit? The goddess of powerful motherhood, who strikes down those who seek to harm her young? You react in horror, as you should, to gaze upon a goddess! Such a powerful being cannot merely take woman’s form, yet in the flesh of as noble a beast as Farasha and you will know her awe. Now bow to her, or leave my temple dog!”

The crowd looked upon him now, as the seriousness of the accusation pointed judgement of dozens now upon him. He stammered- unable to find his words. “I- I…”

“That’s what I thought.” I spoke softly, walking up to him. “You’re a stupid boy who thought he could one-up Umm Kharuf, is that it? You thought you were better than your teacher?” I reached out a hand to touch his hair. He started at me in shock and confusion as I tenderly touched it, stroking his head as I looked down on the short man. “You thought you were so smart, telling your prophet about what belongs in her temple?” I began to whimper and tear up- my fingers tracing down his cheek and towards his chin. “Don’t worry child- you can repent. You can say you’re sorry, and all is forgiven. Okay?”

Perhaps it was my condescension, mixed with the eyes of an eager to shame crowd which cracked a man proud enough to condemn me to cry in mere moments. His lip quivered for a moment, before bursting out into tears! His lips fell down to my feet, kissing them over and over again. “I am sorry mother! I was being selfish!”

I smirked for a moment, seeing a grown man grovel at my feet was exhilarating. That smile changed into a cold scowel, as my hand raised and struck his face down below me. I heard a cry of pain as the shock hit him. He shook, looking up at me. “Do you cry?” I asked, looking down to grab his face. “Do you weep for penance?”

“I do!” He begged, snot dripping down his nose and onto my hand. “I weep in sorrow!”

“Good. Now beg your goddess Al-Ilat for forgiveness.” I pointed towards the elephant he shamed. For a moment he stood there confused, before crawling towards the beast, kissing its large and fat legs.

“I am sorry Al-Ilat, for denying your living idol. Forgive me, I did not know!” As he wept, he grabbed hold of the beast’s leg, who eyed him nervously.

“Now let go you sap, before she crushes you.” I spat down at him, before looking towards the crowd. “What are you standing here waiting for? Get her some water, get her some feed. We must prepare a home for the goddess of the land.”

And truly, like a goddess she would look. Can you imagine for yourself what one might do for a beast, not only that she loves, but does truly believe to be in some sense, divinely intended to come unto me? As I spent more time with her, I came to believe fate, or the gods, had surely brought her to me. For what else could explain it? Happenstance? Happenstance would make me ambivalent, not nearly as drawn towards her. No, her and I were much alike. She was a young girl, perhaps around twenty. You could tell by the lack of marks on her, the wear and tear of years of fighting against nature. Now, she could be eternally youthful, taken care of hand and foot. She would never bear the scars of nature’s cruelty. Instead, she could grow old with me. If I was truly immortal, I would need a companion. If the immortal woman I loved no longer would be with me, perhaps a long-living pet would do just the same. She certainly felt like more company than ever if Alya was in the room. In many ways this animal felt more human than her. At least the elephant was present.

I dressed her with gold, I dressed her with jewels. Along her ivory tusks I slipped rings down its length. Her ash-gray skin I bathed and painted orange and yellow- along her arms and back I drew flowers and shapes, and wrote upon her the names of Al-Ilat. I trimmed her toes, I painted Kohl beneath her massive eyes. I hung flowers off her, and tied a blanket over her back. A friend, a goddess, a mount. What greater a shock to the city than for this beast to walk their streets, a powerful creature made out to be their goddess, manifested in her fearsome aura. Beautiful, bountiful, and fearsome. That was Allat. She was so shocking, so striking that all the streets would humm about the new goddess of the temple. That beast which would trumpet both war and peace for many moons to come. It was only natural that when we asked what this year be called, we named it ʿām al-fīl: “The year of the elephant.”

[Suriyanakhon]

Kinoshita Grace

Silla, Korea

Stone walls and fortresses continued to be constructed along the coasts and in the villages which had sworn allegiance to the Kingdom of Hanajima, providing increased protection against potential slave raids from the northward tribes who were aligned to the Shen. The chief among these tribes were the Neugdae, men who proudly wore animal pelts and threw themselves into a frenzy, swinging swords in the air, and shouting chants about their ancestral gods. They were the fiercest fighters, constantly attacking villages on the frontier and needing to be repelled by the expeditionary forces from many footholds to the north.

The skirmishes against the slaver tribes was becoming harder to pursue because of the disruption of maritime supplies, while fireships and diversion tactics had succeeded in making sure that an increased number of supplies were making it to the peninsula again, the imperial court was reluctant to send many resources now with the risk that Yellow River ships would sink their convoys.

“The situation on the high seas has not turned in Hanajima's favor,” an imperial message read, not realizing the unintentionally sardonic tone. “But we have faith in the spirit of our soldiers and their ability to triumph over adversary.”

There was some grumbling among troops now that they were receiving limited numbers of the Grade A rations that were common in other theaters they were fielded, but the command was mitigating the situation. The tax of rice that the Shiragi villagers paid which would normally go to the imperial government went instead to the upkeep of the troops stationed there, some of whom joked that they were eating the Tenno's rice and would become holy like her. Native hunters were employed to bring fresh game to the camps. Soldiers started trading for cows, which were useful for their milk.

Some of the soldiers, eager to supplement their rations with more flavor, started experimenting to form new dishes which spread among the camps, such as various seaweed soups, rice cereal, etc. The mood started to become slightly cheerier, with one soldier who was a peasant remarking that he almost wished to never return to his village in Kyoto, but to remain here.

The biggest problem that command noted was the limited number of smiths who were themselves dispersed because of services they performed for the different villagers, building plowshares, horseshoes, spears, and other tools for the locals. It was important that the provinces could be able to sustain themselves and that Hanajima was able to show that they brought productivity and protection.

Then one day, an emissary came with a message from the Yellow River State which all but confirmed the connection between them and the White Horse Confederacy in the command's mind.

"To the commanding officer of Hanajima's army on the peninsula we call Korea,

Our expedition against you on your own land was aimed at securing our own borders and punishing bandits, who have committed the worst crimes against our people, and similar to that our own support of a counter to you on the peninsula is aimed at securing our own borders. Every step you take across the peninsula is a step closer to our empire and a step against us. We do not want continued conflict between our countries which benefits neither of us. However, we are prepared to win a conflict if necessary and our country which is large and rich will defeat yours in time if a conflict is fought out. We have already interrupted your shipping at sea and sunk many ships with our much larger and faster vessels. If you withdraw from Korea there will be no more attacks on your ships and the movement of your monks and traders on the peninsula itself will not be stopped.

If you have not already you will soon experience difficulty supplying your army from your country, replacing lost men, or gathering tribes to your flag. We are in a position of strength and have offered you a fair offer despite our ability to force you to accept a much less fair one. If you must send this message over the sea for your government to review we request that you notify us of the time when you will have a response. If you have the authority to make this decision alone, we request a physical meeting at a neutral settlement.

Regards, the People and Government of the central country.

Araki listened to the letter scornfully. “It seems the entire people of the Yellow River have signed this message,” she remarked and the officers snickered. “You may relay our response as this.” she told the emissary. “At first we understood the White Horse to be an independent polity and were prepared to enter into relations with it, regardless of whether it was a tributary of the Kougaban. But this letter confirms to us that they are not. Our empire has had many tributaries, we have never controlled their diplomatic channels. You should ask your chieftains what they desire: peaceful relations with Hanajima, or to become a colony of the barbarians?”

---

Hanamura
School of the Tsuba Family

The young students, most of them Hanajima natives, watched in amazement as the Chinese swordsman swung his sword around, showing them how the weapon moved as he cut a straw dummy to pieces. The Tsuba family were one of the immigrant families who had started martial arts schools in Honshu, where they taught eager young aristocrats the craft in exchange for patronage by the big families. Some of them were employed in the new state schools, others were employed by the different governors as military instructors, but Tsuba preferred to keep his own private school.

Tsuba turned to the students. “Swordsmanship has been passed down through our family line for generations, given to us by Jiàndì, our august ancestor himself,” he said, reciting the clan myth of their descent from a warlike deity who was banished from heaven onto the earth and forged the first sword. The wide eyed youth listened attentively, their minds filled with exotic images of foreign lands and mystical deities. “You children are the future of this country and must not lose it like we did ours. I can show you how to apply yourselves to use a sword. But first you must have a courageous spirit.”

“We have a courageous spirit master.” one of the students stated, and the others nodded amongst themselves.

“You can't know whether you have a courageous spirit until you've actually seen danger,” Tsuba said dismissively. “You cannot see danger until you know how to use a sword.” the students looked at each other confusedly. “The first step to having courage is knowing that you cannot know if you will have it.” he paired the students off with sparring partners. “I am going to mold you, like a potter molds clay. Let's see if you're sturdy enough to make a good vase.”

---

Kyushu

The noise from the barrack was probably a (very loud) indication of what we inside were up to. The more work we did in the field during the day, the more sweaty our amorous trysts became in the night. I disentangled from one of my compatriots after breaching her defenses, out of breath and exhausted, while she started enjoying herself with another girl.

“Hate the days here, but love the nights.” Ruka our captain remarked, as she took a swig from a jug of water and offered me a drink as well. I had to find myself agreeing. “There isn't this kind of camaraderie back in the city.” normally I was germaphobic about sharing cups, but it wasn't like me and this woman hadn't already exchanged a lot of things besides just saliva.

After drinking my fill, I handed it back to her, and collapsed onto the bed, looking up at the ceiling of the tent and thinking about all that had transpired the last few weeks. We had crossed the Kanmon Straits over the course of a week, and were establishing perimeters to protect constructors and laborers who were establishing walls and forts which would allow the bugyo to govern the newly formed provinces.

I didn't know when I would get to see Ryouko's face again, part of me had a grim feeling about my future. It would be ironic if now I were to meet my end in Kyushu of all places. A couple of ill omens seemed to have followed me through the journey. A stray arrow from target practice whizzed past my head just an inch from hitting me, a training accident. When I was on the makeshift bridge crossing the strait, I'd almost fallen into the sea. I don't know what happened, it felt like I had been pushed, but no one had a reason, did they?

My mind raced to the women being taken away from the village, all of them looked wildly different from each other. All of them were different heights, weights, families, etc. The only thing they shared in common was their age. 23. My age. What if someone was out to get me? I didn't want to imagine who it might be. I knew the answer, the only person who had reason to want me dead, the only person who's line I could legitimately contest the throne for.

I felt sick. “I have to go outside.” I stammered to Ruka, grabbing my coat and covering myself with it as I went outside and stood alone, the grim realization that Ruyanpe probably was trying to kill me wouldn't leave my mind. A sick feeling filled my stomach and I thought I was going to throw up. How could she try to kill me? How could she even think of doing such a thing.

I took a coin out of my pocket and looked at the face on the front. That was the reason why.

Either Ruyanpe was playing softball, something she was never good at doing, or the person trying to kill me wasn't acting directly under her orders. I was going to need to keep an eye out, even the girls in my battalion weren't trustworthy. Don't trust a person, keep your wits about you, don't stay alone or too deep in a crowd. I was breaking that third rule right now, but I just wanted to be free for a moment, even if it meant a risk.

---

Imperial Forge
Hanamura

Fujimoto stood and watched as the naturalized smiths hammered away at the bronze, demonstrating their skills to her to show that they could be productive craftsmen for the court. Yuka stood there next to her, Fujimoto's hungry expression matched by her clearly bored one, wanting to be anywhere else than the forge.

The smith wiped his brow as he quenched the sword in the pot of oil. “The iron that you showed us the other day, it's not what we're used to in the old lands, Your Majesty.” he said, taking the sword out of the pot and presenting it to the shogun, who took the weapon and admired it while Yuka stifled a yawn with her sleeve. “In the Yellow River, we used hematite.” Fujimoto listened carefully. “If you were to invest my house with the funds, we could scour for ore, and experiment with it in order to start making newer weapons.”

“You and your sons shall have all of the funds you need.” Fujimoto replied. “I am going to enlist other families who were smiths back in the continent to work with you, consider it your most important task.” he bowed his head and went back to work, while Fujimoto left the forge and Yuka eagerly followed, wanting to look at the birds rather than remain inside the hot building.

“You need to pay more attention to matters of state,” Fujimoto told the younger woman who frowned. “You may not like the subject matter, but the future of the country and our family depends on paying attention to important matters, and not running off to play in gardens.”

“I just... you take care of all of that stuff, auntie.” Yuka said, confused. “You don't need me.”

“I do it because you can't, and your mother can't.” Fujimoto walked past a procession of courtiers with Yuka quickly following after her. “Your mother is not long for this world, and one day I won't be in this world either. Our futures depend on you, and your descendants. I don't want to meet our ancestors in the next world and be scolded by them because you wanted to look at birds and not bronze and iron.”

Yuka wanted to argue, but seemed to realize it was futile and nodded her head. “Yes, auntie.”

[Orostan]

Near modern day Gwangyang, Korea - Year 14 Month 11 of the Chinese Calendar.

A grey robed Chinese priest by the name of Lang Zhi rode on the back of a cart into the small coastal Korean town made of thatched roof huts that was called Minjae, after the tribe that lived there. The people of this town were in between the Chinese and Japanese presence on the peninsula, and both sides were trying to win them over. When the ox drawn cart the Chinese and their Korean allies were using stopped near the center square of the town and the two other men with Lang got off and prepared to set up an area where the Chinese could show off their technology. The moment Lang got off and turned to face the center of the square, he saw a bald head and the robes of a monk of Hanajima’s buddhism at the other side. They saw his full head of black hair, and both of the priests moved towards the center of the dusty square until they were facing each other. Lang was the first to talk.

“Are you a monk of an order from Hanajima, or a local convert to their religion?” he asked in the local language.

“I am Daigen,” the monk responded. “It has been twenty years since I’ve taken the tonsure as a priest of the Godai school. I was a farmhand in Wakayama but ran away from home and joined the monastery. Perhaps you have seen the village, you must be well familiar with the province,” he said with a dry but sardonic tone. “Since your king tried burning through it.” he stuck his staff into the ground and warmed his hands with his breath. “Yes, this place will do nicely.” he said a few words in Japanese to his companion, who nodded and ran to fetch some water. “I have journeyed a long way across the sea to spread the Buddha’s teachings, sometimes to the Yellow River, now here.”

Lang smiled slightly. “I am Lang Zhi. I have gone across land for fifteen years, and I have seen at least as many places as you. I have come across the sea to Korea to spread the teachings of the great empire and the God of people. If you have been to the Yellow River, you have seen what the empire has done without the need of your Buddha.” He paused for a moment.

“Tell me, what does your Buddha wish for men?”

Behind him Koreans had started to gather as the Chinese and their Korean allies began to show off their goods and put up their flags.

“I’ve seen a lot in the land of the Yellow River, some sights that no man would wish to see.” Daigen replied ominously, drinking from the pouch of water that his follower brought back. He drank the water for some time. “The Buddha wishes for nothing, he has crossed over the sea of birth and death and reached the eternal repose. Men need the Tathagata. The sun does not need the farmer, but the farmer needs the sun.”

“If there were no men to see the Buddha, could he truly exist? All the universe is interpreted by men, seen by them. And only them, as only they can stand above all other creatures as ones who can consider what their senses tell them with a mind. The God of the universe is the god of men, it follows. The sun needs no individual man, but only man can understand the sun for what it truly is. Could your Buddha exist if there were no men to comprehend them? This is why man stands at the center of the universe, and why the one God must be the God of the universe and also a God that favors the development of the only creatures who can understand the universe - men.” Lang responded.

Daigen smiled. “Let us say that there were an ugly, base born woman, who's husband had abandoned her, and who lived in poverty, and this woman was pregnant with a celestial child
who would become the Heavenly Emperor. Her perception of her that she would grow up like her father would not change her heavenly nature or her destiny to become the Lord of the Eight Directions.

“Let us say that a merchant were to receive a deposit of land with gold embedded deep inside. Were this merchant to walk on top of the land, not realizing he is the richest man in the province, the gold would still remain deep inside. It is that way with the Buddha. He dwells in the imperceptible state, but we can know that he existed and has entered Nirvana through the brilliance of the Dharma and the eradication of the three poisons. If we do not perceive the
Buddha, the gold still shines, but we remain infinitely poor because of our ignorant view of things.

“Which God would that be? Is this God of the universe the Lord Taishaku, the Lord Bonten, the Lord Suiten, or some other of the gods?” Daigen asked. “What is his mount, what is his weapon, what is his karma which lead to him being born in his heavenly station? What will he do when his karma and lifespan is depleted and he must be reborn on the earth again, as a human or animal, to fare according to his deeds?”

A small crowd had begun to gather around the men now, the debate serving as unique entertainment for the Korean villagers.

Lang answered Daigen. “Destiny is unknowable in almost all cases, divination is unfortunately not a common skill! That poor woman cannot know the destiny of her child, and nor is that destiny always set in stone. Only through their own power as a unique human, blessed by God with the power of the mind and the body, can that child ever become a great Emperor. Furthermore, once they become a great leader they become a force above that of just a person. In the great battle between good and evil, between the progress that advances men above animals and the tendency against that to reduce men to animals, the Emperor becomes a participant not by choice but by law of reality. If they rule well, their empire will thrive and their people will become more advanced in spirit and in their own work. If they rule badly and serve evil, the empire will become corrupt and be broken apart by the forces that try to reduce men to beasts. The merchant on land with gold must be equipped with the ability to understand that gold. Only through the merchant's own reason (his own humanity), through careful consideration of the land and its use, can the merchant make use of that gold. For you to perceive your Buddha requires the development of the human spirit, however your mistake is that you believe only the spirit offers enlightenment. This is not the case. The one God, which all other Gods are only limbs of, is the God of both spiritual and physical enlightenment. The advancement of the spirit is the advancement of man’s understanding of the universe and himself, while the advancement of the physical is the advancement of the tools man uses to make use of the universe and his own labor.

We know God is this because the universe is fundamentally divided between good and evil. Men seve good in general, or evil in general. Even a shade of grey is always more white than black, or more black than white. God wants the advancement of good because only that can advance mankind’s own enlightenment and therefore his understanding of God. God wants man to understand him because God is not a particular spirit or lord, but all of the universe which relies on humanity for self-comprehension. All of humanity is the mind of the universal God because God does not exist separate from men’s souls - God is all men’s spirits and through the process of its purification through the development of humanity the universal God is advanced. Men were created to do this - it is what makes human life meaningful and special above all other life. Only through the advancement of men does the universe have its own advancement. Only through the advancement of God, who tends towards good because good is the force of creation and historical progress, do men advance. The God I serve is not one enlightened being or one spirit, but all the universe.”

Lang paused for a moment, and pointed to a device the Chinese were setting up behind him - a simple cranked power loom used as a demonstrator of the technology about half his height.

“Do you see this? Machines such as this assist people in their labor in China, freeing the mind and the body from innumerable hours of unnecessary work making textiles by hand. This is an engine of practical enlightenment, and the philosophy used to build it is the philosophy of spiritual enlightenment. God tends towards the development of these machines because the universe tends towards the development of human understanding, of which the advancement of the human understanding of craftsmanship was used to build this. The human understanding of masonry and metallurgy is also advanced by the universal force of good, and humanity is driven forward to a higher understanding of all the universe and higher level of enlightenment.”

“I do not believe that you serve a false God, however I believe the logical conclusion of a search for enlightenment is an acceptance that all good Gods are only interpretations, perhaps limited, of the one universal God.”

Daigen rested his head on his staff, his face expressing no expression of his response. “Not merely humans, but animals, ghosts, gods, and ogres pay homage to the Tathagata and revere him as the Perfectly Self-Enlightened One, because the Tathagata is the supreme principle. In his lifetime, all of these beings heard his divine voice and obtained predictions of Buddhahood from him based on their respective natures. The Dragon Princess of the Lotus Sutra, not even a human being, obtained Buddhahood and preached to the audience of the great southern world system.

“You say that your Ishvara is the universe, which universe would that be? In the Kegon Sutra, there are countless atoms, each of them contains a trillion world systems, with their own Buddha, their own World Conqueror, their own Pure Land. In the Brahmajala Sutra, the Great Sun Buddha sits in the vast empty space surrounded by a thousand flowers, each containing a hundred million world systems through which the Lord manifests as Sakyamuni. In all of these worlds, the Buddhas and Bodhisattva manifest, unlimited to this world or that. The king of an entire continent is greater than a chieftain of a small fief.

“Further you say that your Ishvara is all of the gods, indeed all humans, does this mean that when men and gods lose their stations and are reborn as animals, hell sufferers, ghosts, and titans, Ishvara is reborn as well? Is he unable to free himself from the four evil destinies? If he is the entire universe, then he is subject to change, impermanence, and becoming, unlike the Tathagatas who rest in Nirvana. He is supposed to be the five elements - fire, water, air, earth, and space, but he cannot prevent his worshipers from being burnt by fires, he cannot prevent them from being drowned in a typhoon, swept away in a tornado, crushed in an earthquake, or fallen from a great height. Further he cannot make gods or human beings accomplish his will, nor can he prevent their karma from coming to fruition, indeed he would be bound to such a thing and thus is not omnipotent.

“Good and evil are not opposing forces, but are the actions that we human beings commit, and which we experience the result of. All beings have accumulated defilements from wandering through existences since beginningless time. Those who are devoted to good deeds are committed to purifying their minds and refraining from sin, it is they who are blessed by the gods, not those who revere and fight in the name of Ishvara.

“One can study and work this machine on their own, improve it even, with or without the Yellow River. One cannot study and work to obtain the Supreme Dharma Body without the Tathagata. II suspect many will take your machines and work them, paying no attention to your Ishvara because he is superfluous. You invented him to serve the purpose of your machines, not the other way around. Your Ishvara is a philosophical theory born from wrong-view, he cannot free you from the sins that you have committed and the ill births that you will take.” Daigen replied, his head still not moving from his staff.

At this point the Korean observers had begun to take sides, and those supporting Daigen had begun to group around his half of the square while the supporters of Lang had begun to group around his side.

Lang considered Daigen’s words and then responded.

“You have claimed much about what animals and ghosts believe, yet I have never seen a ghost or an animal offer sacrifices or prayers to the Buddha. It does not matter to me if your Buddha exists purely in the spiritual world either, I am not focused on the form of God but the essence of God which the form can be known from. The form of your Buddha seems disconnected from the physical world although I cannot say I am familiar with your… cosmology. I am only familiar with this universe because it is very difficult to perceive any other universes for me and perhaps the same for many other men. I do not make claims about the existence of other world systems, though if those systems exist similar to our own they must follow the same laws and as such be governed by the same universal God.

The rebirth of men as animals is doubtful to me and many in my country, instead it can be known that the one God, being the God of men first, appears to the dead as a great ocean of consciousness which they join upon death and depart from when returning to life. The spiritual and physical worlds do not exist separately, but instead the physical world is the medium through which the spiritual world changes. We do not claim that there is a stagnant God, rather that the one God grows more powerful as humanity develops. Being the entire universe that knows itself through men, all men innately start with the most basic knowledge of God that allows them to reason and recognize themselves as beings in the way an animal, which is part of nature, cannot. God is not a being but a universal spirit driving humanity forwards precisely because animals and other creatures cannot worship or know God, or even truly know the universe. The function of humanity to the universal God is to assist in self-knowing and it must do that through its own development. If all the universe is God, I have said, then the whole of humanity is the mind of God which God uses to comprehend himself. We do not claim there are stagnant and eternal masters of the universe, only that the world and men are in a constant state of change and therefore men must be as well. Do rivers not change their course? Do tribes not move and grow and develop? Would your own empire exist had there been a stagnant nature to the God of the universe and therefore the universe itself?

The point of God is to not prevent fire or wind or the challenges of nature, but to drive men to overcome them. We have learned in the Central State that no prayers will stop the seasonal floods of the great rivers and that no spirit can be relied upon to push storms away or to grow our harvests for us. Only men can overcome nature, and as we erect great constructions to control water and flooding we can build houses that are no longer blown away by a typhoon or catch fire so easily. Through this we learn to know the world more and know God more as we overcome the challenges presented to us. The will of God is not a simple command which can be obeyed by men, but rather a process that takes place over many generations. We make no promises of great miracles to followers because we have no need to say such things. We promise only practical knowledge that assists in the knowing of the universe and self-knowing of the universal God, who all spirits and ghosts are extensions of and manifest as challenges to be overcome or ancestors and good spirits urging us on and assisting us through inspiration to overcome those challenges. Good and evil are not simply actions that individuals commit, as when the universal God is recognized it must also be recognized that good and evil are both a part of it. Good and evil are defined in practical concerns by what effect an act has on others. They are acts with collective meanings and by understanding the process of God’s self-knowing we can understand the true essence of such acts. I believe none of us would disagree that history tends towards the victory of the good and the purification of the world, despite what evil troubles men along the way. By understanding the true essence of this process we understand the true nature of good and evil, that is the essence of progressive forces that elevate man above animals and regressive forces that reduce man to the level of animals, where he cannot help the universal God in self-knowing. Humanity is engaged in a process of understanding itself through its development. Men did not understand themselves as being above animals in the first stage of human history when men lived much as animals did. Men only began to understand themselves when they learned to build homes, farm, and use livestock. We say that the ideas of men are products of the environments that they exist in, and that as these environments grow more advanced so too do the thoughts of men and therefore the will of God. Humans only realize they are the conscious part of the universe that gives the universe meaning when they begin to elevate themselves above the rest of that universe. The universe would have no meaning without men living in it, and therefore the whole of mankind must be the mind of the universe and the mind of God engaged in a process of self-knowing.

It does not matter if the users of our machines are conscious that they know the universal God, they do if they have lived as men and not animals. The universal God does not require individuals to be conscious of it to know it. By participating in society and the struggle against the forces of nature continually driving men to advance in their knowledge of how to overcome those challenges they are already part of the mind of God, the mind of the universe engaged in self-knowing by humans beginning to understand its meaning. God is omnipotent because wherever there is human understanding of the universe on any level there is God. Our God is more powerful than any spirit that stands above reality because our God is the totality of reality, the spiritual and physical alike. Our God does not throw down miracles from the heavens because our God has no need of such thing, and that would in fact retard the development of man by having him rely on spirits and not his own strength and understanding. Our belief is that the human strength and understanding of the universe is God’s strength and self-knowing. Only when we aid in God’s process of self-knowing and the development of our own strength against the challenges of nature can we begin to know God and will we be blessed by the ability to control the water by knowing it, control the air by knowing it, and control the nature of the soil by knowing its nature as well. We are already doing much of this in the Great State, and the machines I have brought with me to this town represent the development of man’s knowledge and understanding of the universe around him and therefore his closeness to God. Only when humans fully understand the universe will God’s self-knowing be complete. Only when God’s self-knowing is complete, when all earthly contradictions can be resolved by the power of men which are in God's whole mind, will man and God merge and man gain eternal immortality. The spiritual world that is not understood by men and the physical world that is only partially understood will be merged when both are fully understood and mankind as a whole shall gain enlightenment. Those who are devoted to good deeds are devoted to plowing the land, to controlling the great rivers, and to improving the lot of humanity because only through that can the good be developed and truly known. Those who are devoted to bad deeds are those who are allied with the negative forces of nature against men and form challenges in their own development - the bandits, the raiders, and the purely destructive.”

Lang finished and waited for Daigen’s response.

The wandering monk still did not raise his head, but let it recline on his staff, while his disciples handed talismans and small Buddha statues to those villagers who had taken Daigen's side and instructed them in the precepts. “We know for a fact that there are other worlds because the first Tenno came from the Great Western World System and brought with her the great civilization of the middle country and the Buddhist religion. The Yellow King from your country also came from another world, for only through that way could he introduce so many creations in such a short time. It is not because of a Creator, but because of your own sins that a foreigner came and conquered you.

“You claim that we are only focused on the spirit, but this is not the case, for we also worship the form of the Buddha, because the form is the holiest sight in all of the trichiliocosm, containing immeasurable virtues that the Lord of Gods and Men practiced in his countless lives as the Bodhisattva White Banner. Each of the virtues he practiced endowed him with one of the 32 marks of a Great Man, which only appear in the body of a Buddha or a World Ruler. We, through offerings and the practice of yoga, can experience the divine form.

“I have seen ghosts and conversed with them. When I was but a child I was attacked by a yokai which tried to take over my body until I recited the sacred mantra of the Lord Vairocana, and at once, the Lord Fudo Myoo came and dispelled them and made them follow the Buddhist religion. For the most part, ghosts are usually not harmful, but forced to wander in the hope that their descendants will make good karma to allow them to be born into heaven.

“This has been proclaimed by the Tathagata, consciousness is impermanent, compounded, and dependent on fuel. The eight consciousnesses all derive from different causes, while being united by karma. Eye consciousness derives from consciousness of sight, ear consciousness derives from consciousness of sound, intellect consciousness derives from awareness of thought, etc. Without an object of cognition, consciousness cannot come into existence, thus there can be no ocean of consciousness. If Ishvara is consciousness, then he too is subject to samsara, while the Tathagata is permanent, blissful, and serene.

“If I were to consider your Ishvara real, I would say that he is not the god of the universe, for he cannot control the universe, much less the tides, but that he is instead the god of the Land of the Yellow River. For it's written in the histories that the deities of a country are the reincarnations of departed rulers, and this Ishvara has power only in the Yellow River among his descendants. Although Ishvara is important in the Yellow River, he is but a minor deity compared to Bonten, Taishaku, or Kangiten, or even the rulers of other lands. King Ajatashatru of Magadha's realm covered the north of the great country of Tenjiku, whereas the Ishvara of the Yellow River Realm's is a small country in comparison. The difference between the two is as apparent as that between the gods and men, or a king and his subjects. The two of them rebelled against the
Tathagata, but unlike your Ishvara, King Ajatashatru repented and obtained the prediction of Buddhahood.

“If what you say is true, that those who use your machines need not be truly conscious of God, then perhaps you might send some to me. My monastery could certainly use one, and so could the villages surrounding it. I am sure the rulers of other countries would also like these devices, and send a few to the imperial court as well.” Daigen said, smiling sardonically as he raised his head from his staff. He looked up at the sky to see the time of today. “Tallied here much too long I have... must keep going.” he murmured, saying a few words to his disciples. “I am going north to the lands of the Sugedai to meet the ruler of that country. Fare thee well villagers and keep the precepts.” he looked to the north and went in that direction, oblivious to his opponent and anything but his mission. His disciples smiled and bowed apologetically to the villagers and told them that some of their brethren would come to visit them soon, before following their master to the north.

Lang watched Daigen leave, giving a brief bow of respect to the old man as he departed. Lang was if anything more convinced of his right view of things although he had begun to think of the Buddhists as more dangerous ideological adversaries, unlike the more simple faiths that dominated in parts of China and Korea. The Korean town the two men had their debate in was evenly divided, though Lang hoped he would return to it in a year to see the smoke stacks and large docks that represented industry and development rather than the temples that represented Buddhism.

[Suriyanakhon]

Kinoshita Grace

Hanamura, Nara

As the imperial ministers gathered into the throne room where the shogun sat on one side with the Tenno sitting with the other, the atmosphere was heavier than usual. “Officer Kodo has sent us a message,” one of the courtiers said, taking the bamboo slip out and reading it. She trembled somewhat, perhaps in fear that the shogun would become angry. “Commander Araki has been ignoring imperial protocol and making diplomatic decisions for herself in regard to relations with the Shen and Yellow River Kingdoms.”

If the shogun was alarmed, she did not demonstrate it. “Is that so?” she murmured. “It seems the commander has been doing a lot in Korea that we don't know about. But we have entrusted her with a great degree of autonomy, perhaps it is possible that she is simply acting earnestly above her office without realizing it.”

“She has refused to form an alliance with the Shen and has been pursuing aggressive actions against their tributaries despite the risk of their retaliation.” the courtier replied, still very nervous and looking like she wanted to gulp down a cup of water. The shogun's eyebrows raised, and she listened as the courtier went into other complaints about Araki's administration. “She seems to consider her loyalty divided between the imperial court and the people of the Korean peninsula because of her ancestry. If it comes to a conflict of interest, we cannot be sure that we will side with the court.”

“Enclosed is a list of the demands that the Yellow River Kingdom sent the commander, but which she denied without consulting with Her Majesty at first.” the courtier read off the peace accord, which the shogun pondered over.

“I can see why Commander Araki would have been incensed by such a letter,” Fujimoto replied, pausing as she thought through her next words carefully. “But I cannot entrust her with our forces any longer. And I don't want this peninsula to be our graveyard where we throw away men and resources in a bitter struggle. Peace may be our only option.” she dug her fingers into her palm hard enough to draw blood, which stained her trouser legs.

“What should we do, Your Majesty?” the right-hand minister asked. “We cannot accept such a humiliating peace, it would destroy our reputation both at home and abroad.” the rest of the court held their breaths balefully. “We must fight, even if we lose.”

“We can't risk a war that we could very possibly lose,” the shogun replied, raising her hand and gesturing for her servant to bring her a rag to wipe the blood off her palms. “I won't accept these degrading terms by any stretch of the imagination. I'll bleed the whole country dry before I allow such a thing. We will send a new proposal to the Kougaban commander in Korea, with new terms, and mutual assurances. Inform Commander Araki to step down and prepare for evacuation, but to hold firm until then.”

---

White Horse Confederacy, Korea

An emissary arrived in a small fishing boat wearing the silk robes associated with the Hanajima court, and carrying an imperial seal containing the lotus crest that was the ruling dynasty's symbol. She spoke through two Korean interpreters who informed the local troops stationed that she was the representative from the imperial court and that she had been authorized to deliver terms of peace between the two powers.

To the Commander-in-Chief of the Kouga Forces,

The peace proposal sent to our Commander in the peninsula has reached our ears, and we have come to a decision on our own, independently from our officers in the peninsula. At our word that this proposal has been accepted, they will stand down and return to our imperial country, and we will not seek to further colonize there. However, we do not accept the original proposal that you submitted to us.

We have decided to present our own proposal as follows.

At the acceptance of this proposal, our expeditionary forces will withdraw from Korea and return to Hanajima. They must be allowed to be completely unhindered, and to be able to take back our weapons, armor, livestock, tradesmen, and other possessions. Both countries will define clear spheres of interest. Our troops and battleships shall not enter Korea or Northeastern China, nor shall we aid the barbaric tribes who live there. In return, we expect that Taiwan and the Ryukyu Islands be in Hanajima's sphere, and that Kougaban troops and battleships not enter those regions. Neither side will obstruct the other's trade or prosletyization, and neither side's trade or missionaries will incite rebellion in each other's spheres.

As authorized by Fujimoto no Reiko, Sei-i Taishōgun

---

Shiragi

Araki read the message she had received from the court quietly. “So that's the end then,” she whispered to herself, wiping tears from her eyes as she thought about the future of the peninsula without her. To be overrun by the slavers or the totalitarians, to bring back the slavery she had tried so hard to abolish. “Our great adventure is over.”

“We can't be sure that the barbarians will accept the peace agreement, Commander.” one of her subordinates replied, trying to cheer her up, and sympathetic herself to the mission in Korea. “Perhaps they won't. They are not exactly the kind to accept reason.”

“No, no,” Araki said, setting the letter down. “Even if they don't, the court has decided that they don't desire to pursue the campaign. I will probably be out of the position in a few weeks, and return to my estate in Hanamura. Miserable little place compared to here,” she said, not caring that her subordinate could hear her. “I love this country, Sato. I love the mountains, I love the landscape, I love the people. I want my ancestors to know that I'm here, that I will free them from the shame of foreign occupation. But maybe I was bringing a foreign occupation of my own...”

“Milady that is a treasonous statement.” her subordinate protested worriedly, thinking about the trouble that the commander might put herself in for expressing such sentiment. “Be careful what you say. When we return to the court, you could be punished if other officers hear you. Remember it was one of our own who sent that message to the court.”

“I won't be returning to the court, Sato.” Araki replied, drawing her sword and looking at it. “I'll stay here until my bones are dust and my ghost haunts the hills. The rest of the expeditionary force may return home, I won't hinder them. But I shall never leave. And I won't stop until the Kim dynasty are the lords of all Korea.”

[Joohan]

SOMEWHERE

My body had not properly ached in a long while, not since the first days of my arrival, when my lungs were still gasping in the thin alpine air. As my body swayed with each footfall from my mount, I felt creaking and soreness in my bones and joints; my neck had grown so stiff that I'd not moved it's position in what had seemed like hours. A chill wind from the north rolled between the hills, swaying the tall grass in front of us - the sudden bite a tiding for the winter to come, and very soon. I lifted the scarf round my neck up above my face, and continued onward in our trek.My tiredness was not a result of any new great labors heaped upon me since my willful exile from the Ana - my chores had not much changed at all actually, in substance or quantity - rather, a result of the stark new conditions in which I, and the rest of the newly founded Kester-Michewa, were expected to endure them in: with little food, little water, and little warmth.

Today was the second of a three day hunting adventure, undertaken by myself and Jampa, and thus far we had little to show for it. Of eight snares which I had set a few days before, we had checked seven thus far, and only one of them had managed to capture anything of value: a single hare. The rest we had found empty, or in the case of one, had contained only tufts of fur - the memento of a predator which had snagged our prey before we had gotten there. The feeling of my bow as it lay dangling across my left thigh filled me with a quiet, dull frustration. If I only knew how to shoot from camel back, I vowed that I'd hunt every fox, wolf, and leopard in Tibet to extinction. But alas, I didn't, and before I could waste my time on some new flight of learning fancy, I would need to fill my own stomach. At the rate things were going, I wasn't even going to be able to do that.

Without any lands to call our own, where ever the Michewa went, we were trespassing. I'd have liked to go stalking one of the antelope herds which grazed through these lands, were my days of weary travel would have been rewarded with bountiful, savory cuts of venison, instead of the pitiful morsel that hung off of our mount's rear, barely enough for one meal. Of course though, Atun-see, the tribe who currently inhabited this plain, thought much the same way, and so their hunters were constantly following the herd. Though it was almost certain they knew of our presence here, they had not acted yet to dislodge us from our pitiful camp, and I would not provoke them by poaching their greatest prize.

" How much further along till we come upon it? " Jampa, who rode on the back portion our mount called out too me, and I could hear in his voice the same weariness as what plagued me. My throat was dry and ached from not speaking in hours, my own voice answered back Horsley,

" Just passed this next hill. " We rode along the narrow and untrodden bottom of a ravine that rose gently above us on either side. Hilly country like this was more suited for scarce prey, used to hiding in order stay safe from predators - snares made for a perfect tool here, where otherwise an animal might easily evade a bullet or arrow. Funny thing, but snares were something I picked up on pretty quickly from the Ana. Though i'd been a radio guy back in my Army days, i'd been attached to a Sapper company, so i'd been expected to do and know a lot of Sapper stuff: how to a dig hole, how to tell the height of a hill just by walking it, and how to tie an ungodly amount of knots. The more knots you know and the more creative you can get when it comes to snares - you were pretty much only limited by your material. If I had more than just 2.5mm's of horse hair rope to work with I might have actually been able to catch something bigger than rabbits and squirrels - but woe to the poor man thinker of all the things he could fill into pockets with holes in them.

As we finally came round the final bend of a hill, to the spot where I remembered placing the snare a few days ago, my eyes immediately set upon the outline of a tan hide hanging over where I'd set my snare. Fur the color of sand, I knew the pelt of the wolves which prowled these lands as good as any native hunter, and despised them just as much. My left hand worked quickly to free my bow from it's rope, and by the time I had raised it to my side, my right hand had already notched an arrow. Thieving bastard, Using only my feet I'd pushed the toe of my moccasins into our mount's neck, forcing it to stop immediately. I drew my bowstring back to the edge of my mouth and took aim at the scavenger, from some fifty feet away. A shot from this distance and angle was a sure thing, and I would have been sure to nail it square where I meant to, had I not been stopped by the beast suddenly standing up on to two legs and turning back to face me.

It was, most assuredly, a scavenger, but of a much more invasive species than the wolf. The wide faced man looked back at us atop our camel, his eyes locked with mine, and from this distance I couldn't tell what shocked him more: the fact that two grown men appeared to be riding a camel alone in the wilderness, the giant which seemed to piolet the beast, or the fact that I had a bow fully drawn and an arrow aimed for his throat. When I realized that it was a man, and not a wolf as I had imagined, I released my draw - only for a moment though, as I saw dangling from his right hand a fat brown hare carcass that he held from the hind legs. Registering only a moment later, I drew the bowstring back to my cheek and aimed it for the bastard's chest.

" Drop the rabbit, thief! " I shouted out across the ravine, my gruff voice carried by the winds running through the hills. I was sure he'd drop the hare right were he stood before turning to run away, until I heard a voice above me call back.

" Drop your weapon - thief! " It had come from atop the hill on our right, were upon looking up, I saw six men standing above us - each adorned in hides and wolf pelts the color of sand. Slings dangled from their sides, and I could see stones had already being nestled in their crooks. I heard Jampa's whispered words at my back,

" Put it down, they got us. " I slowly released my draw, and turned my gaze back toward the thief ahead of us. He still held onto our hare, only now his dumbfounded expression had been replaced by an almost surprised look of victory.

" You are poaching, and trespassing - these are our grounds you tread upon. Name yourself, and name your clan! " Though dressed as indistinguishably as the rest the party, the one calling out to me from atop the hill, a short and stout looking man who wore his pelt like a cloak, struck me as the leader of the band. His spoken words were the same as those used by the Ana and Michewa, but they carried with them a peculiar accent, one which I knew from meetings at Phobalhan to belong to kin of the Atun-see.

" I am Jampa, son of Tsengu, hailing from Kester-Michewa. This is my campanion, Itzhag. " If the Atun-see hunters had been waiting for more information on my lineage, Jampa quickly disappointed them.

" We mean you no harm, nor dishonor. We wish merely to collect from traps we had set, so that we might return with food for our kin. "

The leader of the hunting party cocked his head to one side as he glowered down upon his, A scarf concealed the lower half of his face, hiding from us his true expression. I imagine that we must have made quite a sight for him: I had become famous among the descending tribes of Kester, as the white giant brought by the Ana to every Phobalhan. I was practically covered head to toe at the moment, but there weren't exactly too many giants walking through these lands either. What's more, camel riding, as a discipline, had not yet left the Ana - it still being regarded as the fancy of children; two adult men mounted up upon such a beast out in the wilderness must have seemed very peculiar for the Atun-see onlookers. Regarding us for a few moments more, the chief hunter lowered the scarf from round his mouth before responding to Jampa's plea,

" You are the one's who have been setting traps? We've been finding them for days now, and had wondered at who was responsible. Now we know... it was the banished Michewa! "

The gloating tone of his voice stung me as he had called my friends, " Banished ", filling my once tired and aching body with a quietly rising resentment toward the proud hunter.

" You're clan has no claim to this place. All that lives and dies here for the season has come under the domain of the Atun-see, as all the descendants of Kester have acknowledged at the Balhan of Pho. "

A finger of accusation was lowered down toward us,

" By stealing what by right is ours, you have dishonored the promises and sanctity of Phobalhan - and thus you dishonor yourselves. Already, you leopard claws should know the punishment for dishonor - and your estranged kin, the Ana, would not fain a tear should we kill you here and now for your thievery. "

The air within the ravine had suddenly become very oppressive, as the hunter's threat of death hung heavy upon both I and Jampa. They very well could have made short work of us right here and now, with neither myself nor Jampa being able to do anything to stop them. Starring up the hillside, into the hunters eye's, I knew that I starred death in the face. Thankfully, on that day at least, he broke first.

The hunter looked over toward his man in the valley, and nodded his toward him, prompting the thief to scurry up the hillside as fast as he could back to his master.

" As your traps have done much to feed my own kin however, we shall let you go with more grace than what you deserve - and send you off with a warning. "

It was at that moment that I spotted something that had turned my guttural agitation, into a boiling cauldron of hatred and contempt. Tied onto the belt of one of the Atun-see hunters was another hare, and though I had no proof, I felt sure I knew exactly where he'd gotten it from.

...

In the 21st century, Tibet had been called the water tower of Asia. Fed from glaciers nestled high up in the Himalaya's came the source of the Ganges, the Indus, the Mekong, the Yangtze, the Yellow river, and a great many more. By that logic, it shouldn't have been as difficult as it was to find a source of fresh water - but it was. Come winter, most fresh water sources would freeze over, and come spring, glacial run off would cause great salt lakes to overflow and pollute nearby fresh water sources. The map of the lands' watery land marks changed with the season, were a pond last year might have been pristine and pure, could tomorrow be completely unfit for drinking. Rain could not be relied upon either, years of nomadic travel proved most of the country to be little better than a desert. With sources of fresh water then being so valuable, when a tribe happened upon a new source, having formed perhaps just that season, they guard it's existence closely - lest they be forced to share their treasure at the next Phobalhan. I and Jampa had nearly been killed over two hares - what would the Atun-see do when they discover the Kester-Michewa camped out alongside a newly arisen fresh water pond in their territory?

Resting my elbows into the ground, I watched with morbid fascination as the hare I brought back was slaughtered and skinned in front of me by one of Dote's teenage cousins. Using a thin bone knife, she sliced open a small tear alongside the creature's side, then using her fingers, proceeded to rend the skin from the flesh entirely, exposing the red bloody meat below. Yes, that's probably what they'd do to us alright.

The Kester-Michewa, banished sons of the Ana, had made their way into the territory of the Atun-see about a week ago. Having happened upon an unpolluted fresh water pond, seemingly having burst from some unknown subterranean source, we couldn't have passed up the opportunity, and so immediately set up camp. There were fifty seven of us now, three less than what we had when we'd left the Ana. Tsengu, along with two other elders, had been taken by the plague - and so the mantle of leadership passed onto the old patriarch's son of highest standing: Dote.

The little bastard, whose face I had shoved camel turds into six years ago, was now a tribal chieftain - or, more accurately, the reluctant wrangler of his disorderly siblings and cousins. With Tsengu and the passing of the other elders, the oldest person in the camp was Dote's aunt, who herself was only eight years older than Dote at thirty three. It was the adults among us having to lead a tribe of mostly teenagers and children. It wasn't quite a chaotic rabble we ran, but with the elders gone, things certainly had become more tense. Fights over petty or even imagined slights broke out daily, and were usually broken up by the adults delivering savage beatings of their own. They may have left the leopard claws beyond with the Ana, but the Michewa still knew no better justice than corporal punishment. Children were made to take on roles intended for teenagers, and everyone's workload had been added onto noticeably.

Our living conditions over the last few weeks had proven truly abysmal. As I had said, finding enough meat to feed all was proving to be a difficult task, and everyone had begun to lose weight. Compounded onto this, the fire situation: the chief fuel source for the inhabitants of this county was the dung of the camel, an extremely dry substance which could be lit aflame and used for anything from tanning hides to cooking. When we'd been exiled from the Ana, we had been given only six camels. One camel for every ten people, to everyday provide enough dung to cook their meals, heat their homes, and any other task they should require - there simply wasn't enough fuel for everything. That had been one of the first challenges Dote and I had faced after Tsengu's death, what to do with what little kindling we had. It had been a hard choice, but we'd decided that every bit of it should go toward the cooking. Our nights would be cold and dark, but we had furs, we had body heat, and most importantly, we had cooked meat ( albeit, in ever dwindling amounts ).

Plague, dwindling food supplies, scarce water, hostile neighbors, cold and dark nights, we were an unhealthy people, and the air of foreboding hung all about the Michewa and their scared little camp next to the water; all except for Dote.

What I saw across from me, illuminated by both fire light and the last of the evening's rays, was a face marked by spite - the expression of a man who refused to show despair if only to show himself that he would not be defeated by things beyond him. These days, it was the only face I ever saw him wear. When his shouted words were not coarse, they were filled with frustration - every action was violent and immediate, the Michewa patriarch having no time to waste by failing or being lazy. He was too proud for anguish, and in it's place he filled the void with anger. He and his people would survive, if only to spite the world.

" Do you think we will be able to send out another party before they to chase us from the spring? " It was Sangye, also present round the fire, he had raised the question - to no one in particular. News of our run in with the Atun-see had made something of a stir among us adults. It was I who responded first,

" Unlikely. They only let us go because they felt some remorse in pilfering our traps. They'll have tracked down our camp and sent their menfolk here to drive us out before we can get a chance to steal their game again. "
" One damned rabbit... " Dote eyed the roasting rabbit with a vengeance, his muttered words practically spat out.

" We'll have to kill another sheep then if we plan to eat tomorrow. " It was a sad fact which Sangye had pointed out, we'd had to begin killing from our sheep herd recently, to make up for our unreliable haul of game. Already we'd killed two, and tomorrow would make for three. If we couldn't find a reliable source of food soon, we'd be out of sheep in a matter of weeks - and then we'd have to move on to killing from the rest of our herds. Dote, finished with his self pitying, interjected,

" Slaughter it tonight - we will need the strength, for tomorrow noon we will need to have left this place. " Sighs came from all around, all us adults, and even the young girl who sat roasting the rabbit. On the one hand, the promise of a full meal, on the other, the hassle of packing up and setting back out on the road again. It was the Sangye yet again who spoke, raising his hands up behind his back and giving a loud popping stretch as he spoke.

" Yes, off once again to the land of plenty...ehm... and where would that be this time? " Though cruelly put at Dote's expense, his question wasn't without reason: while we'd been with the Ana, we'd typically move no more than three times a year, always at the change of the season. In the last three months alone however, we had been forced to move as much as six times - tomorrow being our seventh outing. Instead of snapping at him, Dote remained quiet for a moment, starring toward but not at the fire. I was struck by how different he looked now, when compared to the nervous fearful aura he'd held the night before our exile. That had been the worried expression of a child, what I saw now was the look of an unsure father.

" We'll... find somewhere. "

Without admitting it, we all knew that there was nowhere left for us to go. Every tribe and clan across the country knew by now that we'd been exiled from the Ana, either by word of mouth or us showing up at their doorstep. The only sharing down in this cruel part of the world was at Phobalhan, and we had missed the mark. We'd been chased from practically ever parcel of land we'd settled down on, and told unambiguously not to return - under pain of death. The only lands not currently settled by a Kesterian tribe were those which had been picked and scavenged clean last season - little better than deserts, with no grass for our herds, little game for us to hunt, and fresh springs either turned to salt or drank dry. Somewhere didn't exist.

Or did it?

It was that part of the evening, when night had begun to invade the sky and slowly gold and orange began to give way to the black and purple of encroaching night. There was only a little bit of day left, and the cold of night would set upon us all very soon. The sun had begun to dip below the mountains in the west, it's white golden glory slowly dropping behind great white and blue mountains seen in the far distance of our horizon. Every night, the sun disappeared behind those mountains, and oddly, It reminded of the strange traveler I had met years ago, who had come out from the place where the sun set.

" I... have an idea. "

Dote, Sangye, the girl roasting the rabbit, and every other adult present all looked over toward me. Sangye shut up an unimpressed eyebrow, and speaking in a sarcastic tone he offered up his inquiery,

" Oh indeed? Go ahead then, where did you have in mind? " Dote though, for a moment his stoic expression shifted, starring across at me with the faintest glimmer of desperate hope. I cleared my throat before beginning, my words beginning slowly before picking up with my confidence.

" Well... there is clearly no place left for us here. Our kin have divided all that is worthy to be had among themselves, and we were not partial to any of it. Nothing can be done of that. To carry on in our desperate trek across the domains, hopping to survive through the winter till we might be able to claim our spot among the clans is suicidal, and worse, an insult to our honor. " From their wrapped silence I knew I had their attention,

" I happen to know, however, of a land not claimed by any of our kin. A place of plenty and green, where we might be able to feed our herds and fill our bellies as we see fit, without the shame of our clan name to follow us. " By this point even Sangye's sarcastic look had dropped, and he seemed generally anxious to know as he called out,

" Don't leave us in baited breath, out with it! Where is this place, and how do you know of it? " Alright, I thought to myself starring into the desperate eyes around me, time to sell.

" You recall the southern traveler who had come upon our camp some years ago, yes? The one who claimed to be from over the blue mountains, but was not one of the red skins? Who carried with him men and treasures from many countries, and sought land in the far east? Well, when I had spoken to him, he regaled with his travels through the land of the red skins. Of it's green fields, vast forests, and powerful rivers. A place of remarkable beauty, devoid of a people worthy to appreciate it. We have no claim, let alone means for us left on this side of the mountains, so why do we stay if not only to further hurt ourselves? Let us move, farther than we have ever gone before. Let us go beyond the blue mountains... to the land of the red skins. "

They didn't begin all laughing, or jeering, so I thought it a good sign at least. I knew this was a hard sell. Red skins often travelled over the blue mountains, mostly to trade for salt and furs at Phobalhan. They were regarded by the Kesterian clans as being a weak, sickly, and effeminate people - assumedly because of some lacking quality in their homeland, as opposed to the altitude sickness which was truly to blame for their seemingly poor health here. A gold skin moving over to their side of the mountains was practically unheard of, the mere thought being seen as tantamount to castration for some. If the red skins home made them weak and sickly, then surely it would do the same for us. Of course, at present, the Michewa were already weak and sickly.

" He said those lands were without people? " Dote asked, rubbing his hands together, like a man preparing to lift something heavy.

" He said that they were without a worthy people. Obviously, the red skins live there. However, our name would mean nothing to them, and neither would our perceived dishonor. " I knew it wasn't the answer he'd wanted, when he looked away into the shadows for a moment, letting a sneer rise up along his lips. It was Jampa who jumped up to my aid, having remained silent this entire time, until now.

" The footpaths of the travelling redskins run across this whole land, we could easily follow them, and they should lead us through the safest mountain passes. We could be on their south side in as little as three days! "

Dote threw up his hands, urging us to stop for a moment, " Hold... we don't know what we shall find on the other side of the mountains. We might very well cross and come upon the domain of a brutish red skin clan. We have been offered mercy here as many times as we have only because we are kin, there we would certainly receive none. "

" What matters if we have been shown mercy thus far? Our kin have sent us from every domain in this land, and threatened us with bullets and clubs should we return. Were we to meet a race of red skin warriors over the mountain, we might battle them in the clear conscious of knowing we harm no kin. " Jampa voiced his retort, and Sangye was close to follow up.

" They've a point Dote. We know all that awaits us here is death: our choice of slow or quick. Over those mountains though... who is to say? We may very well come upon a band of warrior tyrants, just as well we might a band of grieved and lustful widows. Tis a chance I am willing to take. "

A chuckle rose up from all the adults as they eyed each other gleefully at the saucy proposition. Dote remained stoic though, placing a hand up on his knee and looking between us all, chewing the inside of his cheek. I don't blame him for being so reticent. If he told me no, I would accept his answer, even if it meant our slow withering away. We weren't kids anymore, our only responsibility being our herd of camels. We were the fathers of dozens, the looked to protectors of our tribe, and our actions had consequences. I might as well have told him to move to Mars. It wasn't an adventure though, as Sangye put it - but a desperate last chance for our people.

He brought both his hands up to his face and rubbed his palms firmly into his eyes, then pulled back his hair all the way, as if wiping the doubt from his expression. Behind him, I saw the white sun finally dip below the mountain.

" Alright Itzhag... to the land of red skins we shall go.

[Joohan]

Somewhere in Manchuria

He could see nothing from outside the shadows of the bag that wrapped around his head. The cold of Autumn being occasionally interrupted by sudden flashes of intense local heat tipped him to the presence of wild and sporadic fires all around. His own heavy breathing did little to drawn out the cries of the injured and dying that echoed all around him. His brow broke into a cold sweat, and his chest ached from the raging of his heart. He was about to die, he knew it - any moment now he expected to feel the sting of a blade or the crash of a club ending his life. What he felt instead, was the ground suddenly coming up to meet him, as he was violently pushed down onto the hard cold earth. It knocked all the breath from his chest, forcing him to bring his legs up in toward himself; his reprieve lasted only a moment though, as at the command of loud barking orders, he was picked up off the ground by his shoulders and made to kneel. This was it, his execution...

He was plunged into a world light, the bag being ripped from off his head, and the smell of smoke and blood suddenly filling his nostrils. Though he did not understand his situation, he dared not lift his eyes from the ground, fearing that should he do so death would surely come to him. Just in his peripheries, the presence of hide and leather shoes let him know that he was surrounded. The barbarians spoke all around him, their speech violent and unintelligible to him. What did they want with him?

The world had seemed to collapse around him, and he'd not even noticed it happening. Only minutes ago, he had been diligently at work in his smithy, forging orders to satiate the state's need for war ready bolts. He was a skilled smith, and he took pride in the quality and quantity of his work. Unlike some of his other peers in neighboring towns, he had never once fell short of his expected quota. With a generous tithe of slaves to aid him in his labors, as well no wife to speak of, he had found ample time and means to accomplish any task presented to him. He had in fact been fast at work only a short while ago, inspecting the whet work of his bolt head supply, when one of his helper slaves barreled into the workshop, screaming so frantically that he'd forgotten to change from his own native tongue. Jun had not understood a word conveyed by the slave, till it was too late. A great fur covered thing, what the smith had first mistook for a beast, appeared from behind the slave, and then drove a spear through the unfortunate knave's torso, the blade protruding ugly and bloody from out the front. Soon, more beast men came rushing into the workspace. Jun made it less than a dozen steps in flight before he was violently tackled, and the bag thrown over his head.

" Raise your head! " A voice above him shouted harshly in the common vernacular used by the state, the accent though he could not place. His whole body shook as he slowly lifted his head up, and raised his eyes up to see the world that surrounded him. In front of him was a man of pale features and black hair, covered in the same furs as the warriors who had stolen him away. His waist belt was adorned with a number a iron and bone weapons, his face older than what his clear and energetic voice suggested. Next to him stood a diminutive woman of dark features, her face decorated with a complex array of red tattoos, and looking very out of place in a finely trimmed fur coat. About them stood half a dozen of the fur clad warrior, making a full circle around him. In the few open spaces he saw, Jun could see what had become of his home. The small wooden walls had been caved in at so many places, their pillars laid broken and splintered upon the ground, with the barbarian warriors now casually moving through the entrances as they moved loot out from the village. About him, he could see several homes had been lit aflame, and he could smell the smoke from more places beyond his vision. Bodies too were strewn about, women and children mostly, their outlines he recognized. Even the ground around him he had realized was not free from the streaks of blood which ran through the town no.

The man adorned in weapons, apparently the one who spoke to him, looked over toward the tattooed female and asked her something in their tongue. The woman turned from the man and regarded closely for a moment. It was then that he realized that he knew who this woman was! It was Ouyue, the Yue slave who had ran from his smithy months ago! A cruel smile crept upon her lips as she looked down at Jun and nodded, before saying something to the barbarian. The barbarian speaker turned toward Jun and spat out in Chinese once more,

" You are Jun, smith to the village of Hulying? Is this true? "

Jun looked between the two of them for moment, his mouth falling in confusion, practically giving up as he spoke. " I... yes, I am. "

The barbarian only nodded in response, before turning to face and speak to some figure behind him. Jun turned toward Ouyue, who still looked down at him in that look of smug vehement victory. " Ouyue, what is going on? "

His former slave laughed cruelly at the man's plea, saying back to him, " What is wrong? Is it not the wish of all masters for their slaves to return? " Ouyue's mocking was quickly interrupted, as the barbarian speaker violently shoved her out the way of an approaching figure, casting to the ground without any remorse. The new figure who stood before Jun cast a menace unlike that of the fur clad savages around him. His was an imposing figure, even under the vast gray tunic, made from hides of a beast Jun could not name, his frame spoke of a daunting size. Tan martial boots which crushed gravel under toe made Jun's ears wretch at the sound. Around his waist was wrapped a belt made from copper links fastened upon one another till it clung round the whole of his gut. What had once been the lustrous black fur of a bear now served as the cloak on the man's back. Upon his head rested the still screaming visage of the murdered beast, as just below it's mouth was the face of the man who had killed it. It was a face made from mountain stone, pocketed darker and deeper than the face of the moon. Black and silver hair burst from his face like untamed jungle growth, falling out onto his mighty chest. The whites of his eyes had turned yellow long ago, and if ever his iris's had had color, all that remained now was black. The Barbarian speaker declared

" Jun of Hulying, rejoice! Today, you have been shown mercy - being freed from unworthy masters, and brought into the service of one who is without peer. Sugedai, undefeated, most high lord of shen, has chosen to grace you as your new master! For him, you shall bend iron, and bring arms to his warriors. "

Suddenly, one of the barbarians closest to Jun had grabbed onto either side of his head, and tilted his head back till he face the sky. The menacing figure came into few once more, blotting out the blue sky with his black and gray silhouette, his yellow eyes starring without feeling down at Jun, burrowing through his skull in their intensity.

" You shall serve unto death his glory, and rejoice that his mark rests upon your face. " The barbarian speaker came now into view, holding something - bright, white hot, iron! All Jun heard was a shout in the their devil language before he saw the speaker plunge the burning iron into his face.

[Saxony-Brandenburg]

احلام و تنزيل

“Why do we dream? Is it, as the cynical minds once thought: our minds' disposal for the deluge of knowledge we face each day? If so, why do we often dream of things unseen? Why do dreams often foresee things to come? [...] What is a vision? Must they only happen beneath the sun’s light? [...] There are wells dug deep, deep beneath consciousness. Wells from which we might be able to taste the primordial waters of divinity. The one who drinks from this well, shall experience wajd in the moment of Fanaa.”

Dreams are messages from the deep.

-Umm Kharuf, Olifia al Yanba’awi

The candle flickered in the darkness. The pitch black darkness surrounding its meager flame hungrily feasting upon the light, pouncing into darkness with every lick of the flame. Stillness. When had I once heard nothing? I had once thought true silence had been impossible. Even deep into the desert, utterly alone but for the endless dunes, the wind gently whistles and tickles your back. Yet here, below the earth, I am free. Free from the experiences of sound, of smell, of heat. It is cold beneath the surface, deep in the womb of the earth. That from which all life is born. I can press my ear down upon the floor, and hear the sounds of Abzu, the fresh-water springs of divinity. Perhaps it is a delusion, perhaps my mind is making sense of the silence as noise. Yet I hear it, louder and louder with every moment. I can feel it coming, it gets closer and closer with every moment. And when the moment is right - and it pounces upon me! I breathe deep, and with the wind of my lungs snuff the candle out. Utter blackness takes me. I am thrust into oblivion.

---

Hours before, I sat around the campfire with three girls. The sun had begun to set far towards Yanbu, the distant walls from which were far out of view to the south. I looked out towards the distant valleys, the endless dunes of the great expanse out east. The wind whipped up little clouds as it rolled across them, like spray upon the waves. Who knows what may linger out there, obscured by their tall shadows? Yet all I see is their endless form, all I see is the sea.

I turned back to them, poking at the fire, chatting amongst themselves while dinner cooked. Sometimes I wished I could be true friends, as my students were. Yet, that was not the life I had chosen to be. There are far too few I can truly relate to.

Finally, I heard a voice chime towards me. “When did you plan to leave, Sheikha?”

I turned to her, curious eyes upon me. I was like a religious object to her, and the rest of them. I was their boss, their teacher - always a wall between our connected gaze. She looked at me, and asked like one may ask a stranger, even as I knew her well.

I let out a sigh. “When the sun sets, and the unlit moon rises high in the sky - I will make my departure down into the cave. It should be dark enough that not even the rarest rays will enter the depths. Gods’ willing, I will be utterly alone.”

“Gods willing indeed!” Another chimed in, motioning with her finger. “I could not dream of entering such a space. It is far too dark, far too entrapping down in the caves. What if it should collapse? What will we do if you are stuck down there?”

I had asked myself that question too, and doubted there was anything I could do. In another life I was utterly terrified of the chance to be trapped deep beneath the earth, beneath the mountain’s heavy weight. The darkness, the claustrophobia, the suffocating air. It once sent shivers down my spine, made my mind scream for open air. Once I feared the depths, now, faced with the prospect of my own immortality - the threat of death from below seems distant. My only fear was that I would be entombed, trapped below for all eternity. Only made to see darkness, and unable to perish from the endless suffocation of a collapse.

I shook my head, sighing once again, trying to reorient myself. “Pray for me, then. Pray to the spirit of the mountain that it shall be merciful. If there is a collapse, or I do not return two days from now, then go to the village over the ridgeline. Get strong men and pickaxes, and dig to the sound of my voice. I have faith in fate that all will be well, and so should I. Do not worry about my life, but about how you may pry me from the treacherous rocks. Understand?”

“I understand well.” The first girl said, clutching her knees tight with anxious hands. “But why must you go down there alone? Why must you go into there which not even the Jinn think to hide? I have heard from my uncle, who lives south of here, that it is cold, and utterly alien to our world. That it has turns and bends which in pure blackness one would not dare traverse unless you were mad. What reason have you for going there?”

I shook my head, my stomach dropping. I knew this to be true myself. The nomads had told us about all of this, the twists and turns, the depth of the caverns. But when I looked towards the cave’s entrance, the open maw upon the rock-wall, I hungered to enter. The call of the void perhaps, beckoning me to the one death an immortal could feel - total, eaternal isolation. Like being drowned eternally upon the bottom of the ocean. I paused. Was this the emotion I wanted to feel, after all? I considered this for a moment, and something dawned upon me.

“Once before we were born, we were nothing. Our essence was trapped deep beneath the earth, in the primordial waters of Abzu. Though in this body I am forced to suffer, blocked by miles of earth from the depths from which we come, I hunger to taste it. If there is nothing below there - no light, no sound, no smell, no heat: It is truly as close to death as I may come. I want to taste death, to experience non-being, and draw from the sacred waters below. Even a taste of it would be the greatest of revelations to me, that is why I must go.”

She opened her mouth, but paused for a moment, before turning to the third thusfar silent girl beside her, who seemed transfixed more on the food slowly roasting than the conversation. “She reminds me of the woman from our village, what was her name?…”

“We just called her grandmother.” She replied, not looking up.

“Grandmother crazy!” She retorted, before giving a little laugh, before returning to me with a little smile. “I was told by my mother that those who see the gods themselves become like gods- they do not think like mortal men… if what you say is true, then perhaps this quest is divinely inspired. I encourage you to go forward, teacher- but perhaps we may give a small sacrifice to Manat for your wisdom and safe return?”

I gave her a small nod, and leaned forward to cut off a piece of the roasting flesh. “Flesh of goat for wisdom, is a small price to pay.”

---

I carried with me only two things. In one hand, the burning candle. In the other, a cloth sack. My left hand shook as I gently held the light aloft- not from fear, but anticipation. The opening of the cave whistled with the wind, it’s cratered walls played like a flute. The little flame would be all I was accompanied with, all the way down. I gave a final glance towards the black outlines of my companions- who stared at me with concern and anxiety upon their lips. I let out a sigh, and glanced into the darkness, before calling out to them. “When I return… I will not be the same woman who entered. Please, do not follow me now.” Before stepping forth beneath the shadows.

The dim light of but the stars cast but a single ray of light into the cave’s maw, before pure blackness enveloped me. The candle’s puny flame illuminated the walls around me well, for they were narrow and hugged my shoulders with every step. It was strangely cold, the sounds of dripping water upon the rocks echoing behind my muffled footsteps. The beige limestone soon gave way to brown and ashen gray, with every step I took bringing me deeper into the mountain’s depths.

Deeper and deeper I went- the more winding and twisting the tunnel became. Far from a single, narrow passageway- it winded and turned and spiraled and dropped- until I felt utterly disoriented. All I had was the draft to guide my way- at least I knew I was going forwards, deeper, deeper. Down harsh declines and down jagged drops, beneath low walls and into the unknown, I walked on and on for what may have been hours or minutes, for my sense of time became utterly confused. All alone. Nothing but me, the candle, and the darkness.

Yet a wall of cold air erupted upon my face, as the walls around me threw themselves down and open upon like a door kicked open, and the tight, restrictive tunnel gave way to a large cavern. A long, straight, and even room. The ceiling was bizarrely well curved, almost a perfect half-circle. It was as if I had entered a great ancient king’s burial tomb. The cracks and glimmering stone like frescos of primordial epics untold. A subterranean pharaoh known only to time’s weathering.

A quick flick of my eyes to the side, a sudden startle. Cold shock running through my veins as I stumble backwards with a scream. My hand nearly drops the candle, falling forward, the wick twitching and glowing from the force of air. I hold myself straight - and gaze upon the floor. It’s worn surface, beveled with innumerable holes, creased and crossed with long mounds and lines upon the ground. I could have sworn I’d seen a skull beneath me, piles and piles of bones.

Truly, could I have entered Hell itself?

I close my eyes, my spine shivering down. Ice-cold stillness sinks towards my heart - and all time stands still. Frozen solid, frozen stiff. My mind swirls like a vortex, a deep black hole from which fear consumes all. My lips pried open, I whisper to myself with what is left: “I shall not fear. For fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total destruction. I will face my fear. I will let it pass over me and through me. When it has gone, I will turn my inner eye to see the path. Where the fear has gone, there will be nothing.”

I take a deep breath. My body stands still, yet the ice which grows in my veins stills, begins to melt. I let out a sigh, and opened my eyes, speaking: “And only I will remain.”

My knees fall to the ground, folded below myself on the hard stone floor. It scrapes against my flesh, cuts into the smooth skin beneath my dress, and yet I don’t feel it. The weight of the world pulling me downwards, an unstoppable force crashing against an immovable object. The two collide with eaternal weight, until both remain still.

I blink, and I see the candle now before me. Yet I do not remember setting it there. Kneeling on the ground, my eyes transfixed upon its flame. I stare at it until my eyes burn, that eternal fire which burns both before me and within me. When tears force my eyes to shut, another leap in time and space occurs. I look down there, to see in my right hand the contents of the bag spilled out into my palm. Three long, thin mushrooms. My incantation of divine whispers.

Far, far away from the shores of my desert home, the man who picked this very poison walked through the woods upon the north-Italian countryside. I could see him in my mind, though I had never, and would never, meet him. I could see him, as if I were walking silently behind him, watching him. He wore a midnight-blue tunic, dirty and frayed at the edges from years of wash and work. The linen had gotten weak, and dozens of rough patches were made upon it, from innumerable thorns and branches which scraped past him through the brush. He wore a round, wide-brimmed straw hat to protect him from the sunlight, though so deep into the wood only mystical rays of golden light shone through the thick leaves of the upper canopy. I blinked, and saw him kneeling upon the ground. His olive-skinned hands reach down into the soil. Rich, brown dirt pushes beneath his fingernails - rocks cut at his knees and shins. Yet from the damp ground he pulls a handful of fungi. Five, long, thin mushrooms. The sacred plant. That which his people use to speak to the gods.

And hands traded with hands. His hands gave them to his brother. His brother gave them to a shaman. A shaman gave them to a merchant. A merchant gives them to another. On and on and on, dozens of hands passed over these tiny, puny things. And now they appear in mine.

I reach up, and place all three upon my tongue. I close my eyes and softly chew them, the bitter taste filling my mouth with the taste of soap - before I swallow them whole, and wait.

---

From the darkness, the still silence of pure pitch, blanketed nothingness - substance emerges. When one closes their eyes, often they see lights dancing around them, hallucinations from misfiring receptors behind closed lids. Yet my eyes are wide open, there is no delusion here. I feel strangely warm. Though my body shivers from the draft, there is a steady rise in heat upon my skin. My hands begin to shake, I can feel them tremble, though I cannot see them. It is pure, utter darkness - I cannot see a single thing before me or around me. I am a disembodied, blinded consciousness here. I cannot see, I have no body. I can only feel and experience. My trembling hands feel like miles away from the rest of my body - drifting away like driftwood out to sea. I try to let them go - and as they drift apart the heat is replaced with ice-cold. Far colder than anything I had ever felt, like being trapped in frozen ice, the whole world within my body shaking like an earthquake from it all.

Through the cold, through the frozen ice, I can feel them before I see them. A notion rising in my mind, and deep into the eaternal maw of outer space which surrounds me, I can see them! Tiny white pinpricks in the fabric of time and space. The great damp blanket which covers reality cut tiny holes into, with heavenly celestial bodies reflecting divine light towards my eyes. Could this be real? No, there was no question. No doubt in my mind about anything. I had never felt so certain about anything before in my life. This was real, this was truth itself, this was Wujud. All other things were a delusion, this hallucination was my glimpse past the curtain towards something far more horrifying, far more awesome, far more chaotic than any physical form could hope to be. If I had a face I would grin, if I had a throat I would laugh with manic glee. I had found the sea of maddening divine truth. Now all I must do is drink from it. To cup my hands, bend down upon my knees, and draw from its freezing, swirling depths truth. Yet as I bent down, humbled myself before its swirling awe - an invisible force stronger than any could comprehend, pushed me down into it.

I cannot begin to articulate the swirling chaos which engulfed me then, all things, all words said, all truths screaming in a cacophony I could never comprehend, I could never hear. It was all truth, that which mankind was never made to hear. Thousands, no, millions of lights swirled around me in the darkness, faster and faster, until they became perfect strands of light - the speed at which they spun so quick as to make it seem still. Yet they kept going, kept accelerating, faster and faster. Incomprehensibly so- until all light ceased. I returned to blackness.

Floating through eaternal space and time. Deep, deep into outer space, a cosmonaut drifts. Never again would she see home. Never again would she see that blue marble. Never again would she see another. Never again would she be anything. For there she swirls, round and round the gaping maw of a black hole. Every century, every eon she grows closer to it. Yet she experiences it not. For her body, only minutes go by, as she is dragged closer and closer towards eternal oblivion. Her heart feels at rest, when despair gives way to peace. For now she is assured certainty, she will be no more. Balanced upon the event horizon, she sees one last glimpse of the true beauty of space - the gargantuan expanse which goes on forever. The innumerable lights shine twice as bright in her eyes, as they tear up with glee. All truth is revealed to her, true revelation which can never be spoken. God embraces her.

Then, this embrace is dropped.

Thrust from the stillness of divine reverie, her body melts into nothingness - all consciousness dies and is reborn like a lightswitch, off and on in an endlessly fractional millisecond. She is thrust into a body, she is thrust into perception. She is forced to see corporeal forms - shapes and lights, an impact so hard, so fast, so strikingly harsh that it pushes any air left from her lungs. There I am, there I see.

Slowly from pinpricks, the lights grow brighter and brighter - and begin to take shape before my soul fills with dread.

Upon a mountain deep into the hot, barren desert - a palm tree stands. Shining red light comes from her leaves, orange and yellow hues of fire raging upon its dry branches. It rises high into the sky with white-hot menacing fire. It rages on more and more, until its smoke covers the mountain in its cloak. Through this cloud of smoke a door emerges of heavy stone, with two pillars on either side. To will it to open would be impossible, for its handles and form are carved directly into the walls of the rock itself. To look up, would show hundreds of these doors, a whole city of doors which lead to nowhere. Pull and scream, tear your fingers from the bones with force - they still do not budge. They are solid. The stone-wall remains strong.

The motionless doors shimmer in and out of existence, and there before they melt into doors of wood. I stare at them in utter awe for but a moment, before they violently burst forwards towards me - blinding my eyes with pure, painful white light which sears my skin. It burns every atom in my body to utter obliteration, I have my mouth and no lips but I must scream in agony as it grows louder and louder, until it deafons all aspects of myself, and a new form appears.

Two hands appear before me. Two white hands, soft and uncalloused. Traced with the lines unmistakably of my own palms. Slashes strike each in blinding succession - and they begin to drip blood. Drip, drip, drip… until with a monsterous rush - they ooze and bleed until all the palms are coated in the warm, crimson liquid. They come from my veins, and yet I know it is not my own.

A pair of eyes stare back at me from below. Two chocolate-brown eyes pierce my soul, spearpoints breaking the strongest of spiritual armor. A face emerges from the whiteness, pure light gives way to color. An olive-brown face, a large nose, with long black locks of hair emerge. I feel the weight of a body in my arms. I feel in my hand the leather of the knife’s handle. I plunge the knife into her chest. Her eyes grow wide from the pain. The grinding sounds of tearing metal come late, echoes from the past and future into the present. I push deeper, and time moves faster. I hold it tight, and time stops. I let go of the handle, and see dying fire in her eyes. I fall upon her, and wrap her tight in my arms. I weep, but my tears fall upon her no more. I weep, but I know she is no more. I have killed her, and yet I too die upon her. A life for a life. Olifia is no more. Thrown into endless depths of eternal nothingness with her love. The last glimpse of the melting form of her body appear to me, and I see my own face where once hers was.

A new being all together is born.

I hear a voice, it echoes through my mind. It has no tone it has no sex it has no pitch. All it has is resonance, resonance and understanding.

“An awakening draws near. An awakening brought forth with palms stained with blood. A hundred souls snuffed out in a moment, thrown into oblivion. That is the cost of this cycle ongoing.

Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

For Umm Kharuf to rise, Olivia Ingels must die.”

Bells ringing, satanic flutes wheezing, a hundred drums snaring, banging louder and louder in a heavenly orchestra of madness, it drowns out all other words as the chaotic truth sinks back into the depths. All things, all perceptions are annihilated, atoms are smashed and crushed infinitely until none remains. Sound, sight, feeling, all come to a sudden

stop.

---

And when she had left the cave, her companions came upon her trembling body with fear. And with whide-eyes and heaving breasts, she exclaimed at the top of her lungs:

”I AM GOD, AND I HAVE FINALLY BEGUN TO RECOGNIZE MYSELF!”

[Ralnis]

????,????
??? Date, ??? Year

The useless young man sat up as a warm breeze that rushed along his back. It was like a warm tickle from the dream girl he always wanted but knows he never had a chance since he's a useless human being. His mind was still stuck on that dream about that one girl that he wished he could get but no's it was never be possible. As his eyes started to open fully to see something he never thought he would see.

"Wh-Where am I?"

What he saw was a graveyard. A graveyard full of dead horses and broken chariots. Each of them had bodies that were mostly fresh and had wounds with different slashes with a majority of them being arrows sticking out of their back. The very sight stunned Bo as he smelled the blood that lingered in the air and shook him to his core. His eyes widened as he saw the very dead.

"Is this some sort of battlefield? A nightmare from me trying to actually get that damn post done? This is too stra-woah!"

Bo slipped and started to roll against the hard steppe ground of the hill he was on, and he was knocked out by a broken spoke wheel. After a five-minutes, he woke up to see a dead Asian heavy body on him in broken armor with some arrows going through his ruined shirt.

"Aaah! Wha-What the hell!"

With a feat of adrenaline, he managed to barely move the larger body after a few minutes of struggling. Once he moved the dead body over, he crawled away from the body in fear and adrenaline, but he bumped into something hard. He looked behind him and saw a broken chariot with some strange symbols that could be seen somewhat. It also had a body that was pinned to the wood by arrows. Bo stood up and started to back up to the point that he tripped on the body he just moved.

"This has to be a dream! This has to be. I've just been overworked due to the paper and trying to get all those posts done-"

Bo just looked around and stood again but slowly again. He looks around.

"Ok, I... I'm in some sort of battlefield? Seems like a desert? Maybe a steppe of some kind?"

Bo looked at the broken chariot and the dead bodies.

"I guess this dream has strange Mongols? I mean I was trying to troll about that whole Mongol idea for that post but... This is a bit much for a nightmare. I mean I'm a worthless piece of shit so being able to imagine something like this is something way, way beyond my worthless monkey mind. "

He looked at his bloody hand and look down at himself and saw himself naked and with blood on his body.

"I'm definitely lucid if anything. I mean I'm naked, which isn't something I would do to myself so that should be a clue that I'm not entirely dreaming my usual dreams. Not that I remember most of them since they're the usual stuff, I think. If the only thing I dream about is trying to get some kind of girl or even more importantly, a normal fucking-"

He heard a noise of something being moved.

"-life..."

Interested by the noise, Bo moved in that direction. His mind keen on trying to figure out what was going and as he heard more movement among the graveyard battlefield. It was small and the only one among the approaching carrion birds who were gathering around and were eating the various corpses that were on top of chariots. There were many more horses than there were people and even those horses were nothing more but pin cushions with arrows filling a large part of their bodies.

Some of the horses and the chariots had more than the standard chariot. They were built differently, and the horses had actual padding with some sort of metal that seemed like iron itself. It was strange as these padding had some markings and even the completed one that he saw beforehand.

This is a weird dream. It seems like that there's two tribes that were fighting each other. I could get some idea what they are but when I wake up, I will try to actually write this whole thing down in that damn journal I'm supposed to turn in within a few weeks. I think.

Bo kept this train of thought as he slowly walked through the battlefield to find the source of the of noise until he climbed over a broken chariot to see a young Asian boy who had a straw basket behind him, strapped to his back prying off some iron that seemed to be broken down or entre parts of weapons that seemed to be more put together than the dead people he was scavenging from.

"A kid?" Bo said out loud which got the kids attention unintentionally.

"Huh?" The kid said before he screamed and started to run away.

"Get away from me? Bandit! Help!"

"Wait I'm not a bandit! God Damn it!"

Bo had to run after the kid but being 5'5 and 180lbs doesn't do him justice. The kid, while carrying a bunch of metal in his basket, was still faster than the loser. However, he did do some sort of training in his core, a few months before he had to quit because he was a loser who cheated. By some stroke of luck or some god pitying him, the kid did stop since it seem he was getting tired by carrying all that weight. The child still tried to hide from the bloody, naked, fat man and hid from him.

"Shit where did he go? If this supposed to be a dream, then why can't I find a single kid!" Bo kicks a broken wheel and have it fall on his foot.

"Damn! Damn! Damn! I'm so damn stupid since I can't find a single kid in a stupid dream! I mean why am I even dreaming of being naked, bloody, and about Asian people fighting each other!" Bo is clutching his head.

"Such a useless! I couldn't even-"

He stops as he heard some movement from the nearby upturned chariot that he missed before do to him not paying attention. He started to walk that way, but he stopped and look down at his naked self.

"Yeaah, dream or no dream I'm not going to walk up to a boy naked and with blood on me. Need to find out if there's some clothes for my fat self. Maybe I can try to will this dream to have some clothes among the corpses?"

He walked away and started to pick through the shorter corpses. However, the shorter corpses were far and few between and they were much thinner than he was. The normal height ones are a bit taller, but they were much stronger than he was. He even could believe that they were stronger than a normal soldier, but he believes that just how he thinks ancient troops were.

Eventually he found something that was tattered and ragged. The soldier himself was stabbed through the iron armor with a spear or some sort of bladed instrument that seem to be attached to the wheel of the split chariot. Being skewered like that was bad on how to get the clothing so Bo went somewhere else. Another one was found which was someone taller and larger in muscle, but it was something he can fit in and look someone normal.

"I don't care about picking from the dead. They don't actually exist so it's fine. But this does beg to question why am I having this dream? Why the hell am I lucid when I never practiced it. Sure, I wanted to when I was younger, but I was stupid to even think I could do something like that."

Bo shakes his head.

"The hell am I even thinking. I am that stupid and will always be that stupid." He sighs as he grabs the body," sorry about this buddy. No one should be given this sort of disrespect. Even in my own mind I hope you are able to find rest in your heaven or with your god. I know my Lord wouldn't like my pillaging from the dead, even if I'm naked.:

It took a while for naked loser to try and put on the strange, tattered clothes. It was mostly furs and leather, but he had to use scraps to try and get the blood off oh his naked body before putting it on his body. He already knew that the clothes were tattered and a bit heavier than he was, but it also was stained and smelled of blood.

"Great, just great. Can't stay away from the blood, no matter what. Maybe this is some kind of symbolism for me? Maybe I'm pillaging the dead in real life? I know I'm an embarrassment to my family since I couldn't do even ROTC right."

He stopped his own train of thought as he walks over to the upturned chariot and sees the boy scavenging off of the dead. He has blood all over his face, clothes, and hands. His basket seems to be heavier as he has some trouble in carrying it on his back. Bo just watched him a bit as he saw the kid was scavenging and he took a deep breath.

Can't really go at like I did beforehand since that scared him. Why did he think I was a bandit? If this was my dream, couldn't I just make him stop? No... I shouldn't do that. My mind wouldn't allow that, and I will just have the kid run away and this time somebody might come and end my dream.

Bo took a few deep breaths and walked slowly to the child. The child already was quick to see the same fat, naked loser had some scavenged clothes. He was about to yell before the loser put up his hands.

"Wait! Wait! I'm not your enemy! I'm not here to harm you or take your...Your stuff."

The child didn't say anything, but he wasn't screaming for help, which was a good sign.

"M-My name is Bo. What's your name?" The loser tried to ask but the child was just silent.

"Ha-Have you been here long? Where are your parents?"

Again, the child was silent. It was something that would be a little annoying, but he took a deep breath and gave as a much of a warm smile as he could, but his ugly face would come off as hideous in his eyes.

"D-Do you know where I'm at? Does this land have a country or why these two tribes were fighting each other?"

"Xianyun." The word came out of the child as he was still looking at Bo.

"So, this country is called Xianyun. Ok, can you tell me why these two tribes were fighting each other?"

"They were fighting over land and the pasture for this season."

"Really? They were fighting this hard for some pastures for their cattle?" Bo asked to which the boy just slowly nods.

So I made some nomadic country that are fighting amongst each other for land and stuff? Is this to demonstrate that I got some inner turmoil since I have nothing to offer? Maybe this whole country is some sort of random name I thought of back when I was awake? This just brings more questions. I know, I feel that I haven't been able to lucid dream and I'm not creative at all. I don't have a single talent in my soul, and I know not even the Devil would want such a worthless thing.

"Well, I know you don't trust me but is there anyone with you? Like friends, siblings, parents?"

The kid just shook his head no and Bo managed to see the sad look in his eyes which made the loser think.

He still don't trust me, and I don't blame him. I don't ever trust someone so useless like me since I don't have anything useful in my entire life. Either way I have to do something for the kid, even if it's a part of my pathetic mind.

"Hey, you need some help with the metal. Maybe I can protect you and you can guide me to wherever you're going to sell it?"

It was the longest wait for a nod the pathetic waste of a human had to wait from the kid but he eventually gave a slight nod and pointed to the iron of the bodies.

Well better learn how to manipulate this dream. Never did something so cool in my entire life. I wonder if it has something to do with helping this kid. Maybe afterwards I can wake up?

[Endem]

Aleksander Śliwecki

In Ali's absence, and in the absence of their training session, Aleksander had a mercenary, normally employed in the training of Kahin Shabun, come and give him lessons. Ali was busy in Qatar for the past three weeks, but the tribes of the area have at least entered negotiations, as conversions were slowly trickling in.

He took off his grey cloak and took off the piece of cloth, and the thin ring of metal holding it down, which he used as head covering. After this, he put on two vambraces which he came to use instead of a shield when fighting knife-on-knife, the two curved plates served that purpose well enough, if Aleksander could keep up the pace. The cold metal tickled his forearm gently, especially since everything else was hot in the sweltering midday heat. The mercenary meanwhile inspected the weaponry they would use for the training.

"Unusual knife, Sumerian iron, curved, and words carved into it, where did you find it?"

The mercenary asked, running his finger gently along the singular edge of his curved knife, before trying to briefly balance the edge of it on his finger. Nobody really knew where that mercenary came from, though if stories were to be believed, he served all over the place, in Sumer, Egypt, Indus, Anatolia, and other adjacent lands, naturally not all would be true, but the fighting style of the mercenary was clearly a mixture of various different styles, which made him unpredictable, and through this, incredibly deadly, in other words, perfect.

"I found it in the desert, it was a gift from Him, a weapon to use in the task given to me."

"Him? This God of yours?" The mercenary thought for a bit, before gently gripping the blade, and pointing the handle towards Aleksander. "Have you thought about naming it?"

Alexander took the blade and weighed it, an action without purpose, he knew this blade all too well. "No, not yet, perhaps time will give it a name, I'll wait for the right moment to give it a name."

The mercenary shrugged and walked to his side of the room, Aleksander also made his way to his spot, sand, an addition to the arena added on request of his new teacher, moving as if it was a fluid beneath his feet.

"Show me what Ali has taught you. Hurt me."

Aleksander's fighting was unorthodox in its own right, preferring to use his knife instead of weapons such as axes, spears, or clubs, however, it did not stem, like that of his opponent, from a deep understanding of technique, but from the feel of the blade, how it cut through the air and gave him speed, the fluid motion with which it traveled, nestled like a bird in his hand.

Aleksander bent his knee, taking the proper stance, they measured each other for but a second, then Alexander went forward. In a fluid motion, he took three steps before jumping into the air, his knife up, slicing through the air.

His knife was met with the dagger of his opponent as their blades reflected each other, it wouldn't have hit anyway as the mercenary stepped to the side. In a dance-like twirl, Alexander turned and lunged forward, the blade slicing through the air. It too was blocked, his hand jerked to the side as the two blades met.

His teacher then thrust his dagger forward, with his left-hand vambrace Aleksander intercepted it, like a shepherd, leading it away as it rested on one of its smooth sides. At the same time, Aleksander turned on his heel, leading his own blade forward.

Then his attack crumbled as something blocked his way forward and he plunged. His blade went flying, stopping a couple of meters from his landing. He suddenly felt cold metal just under his third rib on the back, if he moved upwards, the expertly placed blade would pierce him.

"Some fighter you are. It is nice to see Ali has taught how to stand correctly and how to use a knife, but we still have much."

His teacher lifted his blade, allowing him to stand up.

"Aside from standing, your footwork could use some work, secondly, you did not seek alternate ways of attack, to only use your blade to attack, is to allow your opponent to know what to do next, thirdly, you let the blade lead you too much, and you must lead the blade, fourthly, why do you use those, and not a shield?"

Finishing his statement, he pointed at Aleksander's vambrace.

"Shields I use for blocking arrows, but shields are for those who fight like walls, and I want to fight like wind blowing on the dunes."

His teacher nodded sagely.

"Fine, I will teach you to fight with a knife the way you want, but then you shall learn every other weapon, shields included." The mercenary once again handed him his blade. "But first, footwork, it is crucial to whatever you are fighting."

They took their positions again.

"You let yourself balance too much on one point of contact with the ground in an effort to be nimble, and I was easily able to trip you. Think of the little hopping mouse, yarbū' you call them. They are fast, agile, and fierce, and they are always either in the air or with both feet on the sand. The little mouse will be your teacher in your pursuit."

Aleksander was suddenly taken aback by the fact the mercenary used the word Muad'dib, before remembering that it meant more or less teacher, and that Herbert coopted it for his book. For better or worse, Dune was still the most alive memory of the past world.

"Strike at me."

The teacher commanded, giving Aleksander no time for further dwelling on the past. In a couple of hops, Aleksander's blade crossed with his teacher's. Do not let it lead you, he thought to himself.

They stood still for a second, their blades crossed at roughly chest height, before the teacher let his grip relax, stepping to the side. Aleksander jumped to the side, avoiding his teacher's leg from swiping him off balance, but as soon as his leg connected with the ground, he bounced again, directing his blade in a downward angle. His knife bounced off the teacher's blade, but also shook the teacher's grip just enough for him to land safely without risking injury.

With two feet firmly on the ground Aleksander, blocked an incoming attack with his blade, directing it away, to the left, and dragging his foot along the sand, he directed a healthy left-hand punch towards his teacher's cheek.

The hand connected and the mercenary staggered back, the blade of Alexander's knife surged forward, the teacher dodged and drew an attack himself, which with a 90-degree turn was deflected using the left-hand vambrace. The blade once again cut through the air in a swift motion, and his teacher dodged again, but losing his balance almost too easily, landed on his chest. Aleksander moved to place his own blade on his teacher's back rib, in a mockery of what the mercenary had done previously.

He suddenly felt as the teacher, in a calculated and almost calm motion, slammed his feet against Aleksander's shin, sending him tumbling to the ground. Faster than he could even think of doing anything, the mercenary's dagger was next to his throat.

"Better, but this time overconfidence would be your killer. There must be no proudness until your enemy has been bled. And never suspect a seeming advantage isn't just a ploy in disguise, be careful when acting on them."

The dagger's blade was lifted, and Aleksander was allowed to get up.

"We will continue practicing footwork and control of the blade now, perhaps you will understand it by sundown of the last day of this month."

The mercenary moved back to take position before Aleksander stopped him.

"How did you do that? How do you keep throwing me off balance?"

He asked, the mercenary just shrugged and replied.

"Become creative with your leg work."

They took their positions again, Aleksander once again went forward, he lead his blade in a slope, up, then down, his teacher blocked naturally, which Aleksander used to, as the teacher phrased previously, get creative. While the two blades connected Aleksander placed a well-measured kick roughly in the middle of his teacher's chest.

The mercenary staggered backward but seemed to regain balance as soon as he had lost it. They lifted their daggers up, as if two snakes with bared fangs, circling each other, waiting to attack. A nearby door opened and in walked a rather young, and rather tired, man.

"Ali sent me! I have news!"

Muscles in Aleksander's arms and legs relaxed as he let out a breath of relief, before turning to the messenger.

"What is the news you bear?"

"One of the chiefs of the Qatari tribes wants to convert, but he requested it be done by the Prophet."

"Then it shall be done, how long is the journey?"

"About a week, Prophet."

"Would going by ship be faster?"

"No doubt my prophet."

"Then go to the harbor, take one of the ships reserved for dignitaries." He quickly went to the table on which his cloak laid, and he started going through it, eventually finding a hidden pocket, he retrieved a small clay square with his sigil carved into it. "Take this, only then will you be allowed onto these ships."

The messenger snatched the stone and exited as soon as he entered. Aleksander suddenly felt metal on his back.

"Last lesson for today, do not become distracted while fighting."

The mercenary said sarcastically before lifting his blade.

"I understand we will continue our lessons on ship?"

Aleksander nodded before putting his vestments back on and moving to the exit, he needed to pack some essential things and organize their transport onto a ship.

---

Two days later.

The tent was set up on a large dune of sand in the afternoon when the sun was nearing the horizon, and painted the sky with a symphony of colors, the top opening allowed for purple and reds and oranges of the sky to be seen, as they mixed in the sky.

Several priests which Aleksander took along with him murmured guttural songs in a harmony of sounds, as uninitiated and helpers preserved flames that burned thin straws while carrying them in circles around the tent. The orange flame released from within them overwhelming smells, of spice, of sweetness, of saltiness, of flowers, of fresh wood, they overwhelmed the nose and blended, creating a smell unlike any other.

Directly next to the wall furthest away from the entrance was a small group of people, playing various instruments, there were four people with long flutes, two used a tambourine looking instrument, onto which was strung a couple of strings, that reverberated with every tap of the player's thumb as it bounced off the membrane, there was a man playing a long guitar-like instrument with only two strings, and next to him was a woman with two small lightweight hammers gently striking one of the many strings that were on a board before her. There were two people who's tambourines had chains that clanged melodically when they used the instrument. They were clearly people from all walks of life, but they all had one thing in common, they were visibly disabled in some way, and while usually care was given to them either way, after ceremonies like this there would be a time of particular charity for those people. Knowing this, they played their music with vigor, creating a symphony that wormed its way into everyone's ears.

And surrounded by these people were the fresh converts, partly for whom was the ceremony, who were visibly overwhelmed by the sensations, the lights streaming from the half-opened flaps of the tent and the small opening in the roof, of the smells and sounds, they looked like they were in a trance, they gasped when the music changed its tone, they breathed deep when a priest's helper passed them with a bundle of burning incense.

And in the middle, with light from the red sun shining and warming, was the chief of one of the Qatari tribes, kneeling before the Prophet. And the Prophet had in his right hand a curved knife, and in his left a goblet. He was wearing a grey robe that looked like a fusion of the modern galabeya, and bisht, stylized to look as poor as possible, its many loose curves flowed gently on weak winds coming from the desert.

"Will you honor our laws and our God?" The Prophet asked.

"I will." With a rugged voice answered the chief.

"Will you acknowledge prophets current and future?" Once again, the Prophet asked.

"I will."

"Will you always seek to enact His will and better yourself and liberate the enslaved?" He asked again.

"I will."

"Will you fight and die for Him?" He asked a final time.

"I will." Affirmed the chief.

The Prophet lowered himself down to his knees and placed the ornate goblet and placed his hand above it.

"Extend your hand and place your dagger on mine."

He commanded and the chief did so, and he too placed his dagger on the chief's opened hand.

"Cut!"

He shouted, and they simultaneously cut each other palms, red blood soon flowed and droplets of blood entered the chalice, and as soon as they did the Prophet spit into it, followed by the chief. As some helpers rushed to bandage their hands, the music picked up, no longer were the priests singing in a low, hushed voice, instead letting flow their whole vocal range in guttural songs meant to honor Abu Sahra', those carrying the incense changed their path and after completing one more passage they started to form a double line near the entrance, facing the two in the middle.

"We have shared the blood of our body and the water of our body, we have become bonded, we have become brothers of blood, never shall we pick a sword against another."

He placed his dagger on the ground and took a handful of sand into his hands.

"Look up, and see in shimmering light a sliver of his form."

The chief slowly looked up, and as it happened the helpers passed over them, in pairs they extended their hands with the stick of incense, engulfing them in smoke. The music entered its climax, and the Prophet, as if on command, raised his hands, and grains of sand carried on winds sprinkled the chief, and in the smoke and light of a red sun leaving the world, they looked like glistening stars.

"You have become the child of the Father of the Desert, you have been remade by the Maker. You can now see clearly, as He ripped scales placed on your eyes by Shaitan."

And thus it was done, he thought it was rather nice, he worked on making a good ceremony of conversion for the last 5 years, tweaking aspect after aspect. Suddenly they all heard the drumming of a camel's ride, as its feet slammed against sand, there were several. It soon stopped and a man unknown to him entered the tent, walking towards him, soon after two of his men entered, and crossed their spears before him, blocking him further passage, and lastly Ali entered.

"Stop this nonsense at on-" The man tried shouting but was stopped by Ali.

"I'm sorry Nafsi, he is the brother of Haydar and the chief of a sister tribe to his." Ali explaining

"And I've come to reclaim him." Continued the man

"There is no one to be reclaimed, for we never claimed him, he came to us of his own."

"You see, I told you th-" Ali was interrupted by the brother.

"He was never responsible, and was enamored by one of these priests of yours, I know what's better for him."

"I won't come, brother, I can finally see," Haydar replied, with a look of newfound wonder on his face that has not yet faded.

"What have you done." Whispered the brother.

"I have shown him the truth."

"The tribes that serve your God made a rule for themselves, the ultimate test of ability until one participant's breaking, to destruction, to-"

"To death." Aleksander finished

"I invoke it if by besting you I will reclaim my brother."

"You aren't part of our tribes, you can't just invoke one of our la-" Ali tried to object but was silenced by Aleksander.

"I accept."

A Few Minutes Later

They circled each other like dogs waiting for an occasion to attack, each one had a knife in their hand, then the brother leaped forward, Aleksander parried, and as diverted his opponent's knife with his knife, he sent a kick to their knee. The brother dropped onto one knee but before Aleksander could deal a blow, the opponent rolled away and back onto his feet, striking as soon as he regained footing.

Aleksander managed to divert the blow with his left-hand vambrace, yet he felt as a painful sensation traveled up from his forearm to his shoulder. Turning in place while also doing the previous maneuver, he also thrust his knife forward and the blade made contact and was pressed to the skin.

They turned towards each other, blood dripping from both, Aleksander tho find, cutting from left. Once again only their knives made contact, as they struggled against each other, the brother pushing his downward. They were locked into position for a breath moment until Aleksander slid his blade down the opponent's, grazing the knuckles of the wrist with the dull edge.

The knife made contact with flesh by the pointed tip, and he began to get his knife in further, unfortunately, to do that he needed to get closer, and as he did, he felt a sharp pain on the back of his shoulder, as a knife scrapped against his shoulder blade.

They fell away from each other, both bleeding rather profusely. Aleksander rushed again, and he directed his blade slowly, his opponent dodged, Aleksander struck again, another dodge, but this time it was nearly immediately followed by an attack. Aleksander stepped to the side and did what his teacher did, and soon enough his opponent was lying in the sand. Aleksander took this opportunity, and jumping on the brother's back, he slit the man's throat.

He suddenly felt light-headed, no doubt a consequence of the adrenaline escaping him, he stood up but he felt his legs would give up any minute.

"I survived, I survived the trial of..."

His mind raced trying to find an appropriate word, eventually settling on one which, if uninjured, he wouldn't think of saying.

"Amtal."

He said with a weak voice, he suddenly felt his legs letting go, and the last thing he remembered before fainting was two people rushing towards him.

[Orostan]

Aaron Dawson's Story

Year 15 Month 11 Chinese Imperial Calendar - 2964 BC

New Year's Day

"It's a good deal, I'll give them that." said Aaron, looking over the parchment in front of him.

"It's too good. They must be trying at something" said Tan from across the big wood desk Aaron liked to do his work behind. The sunlight came in from a window in the brick wall to the side of it.

"I agree, but I haven't got any idea what that thing is. Taiwan and Ryukyu are nothing compared to Korea and the mainland."

Tan nodded. "I didn't even know what those were until recently, you say they are small islands?"

"Taiwan I wouldn't call small, but next to Korea it's unimportant. Regardless of what I say we take this deal. It's to our advantage and the enemy wouldn't be able to stop us from taking Taiwan and those islands later if we need to. Our security issues are solved and we kick the enemy time traveler can down the road." responded Aaron, sitting back in his chair.

"We are in agreement then." Tan stood up, with Aaron following soon after. The two gave a bow of respect to the other before Tan left the room and Aaron resumed his work, reading a series of letters from the north regarding bandit raids and proposed responses.

The next day the message would be delivered to the Japanese emissary in Korea, and the emissary herself would be asked to board a Chinese fast trading ship to deliver the news to Hanajima's forces in Korea and to Hanajima itself. By the time the message would arrive Hanajima would know the deal had been accepted already - seemingly overnight Chinese ships had stopped attacking their boats. Some adventurous traders had even begun the normal trade that linked Hanajima and China, although the sight of a Chinese ship sitting near a port would still remain something that inspired mixed feelings to many fishermen and traders.

WHITE HORSE CONFEDERACY - KOREA

The new years festival was a tradition that had been brought to Korea by the Chinese, who had frequently begun to use the White Horse confederacy as a stop on their way to Japan or as a trade destination itself. It was found that the Koreans would eagerly provide the "three bloods of China" - rice, coal, and iron - if they were compensated well. Korea was generally a safer place than many parts of China, and Chief Hyonu knew it. In a somewhat unpopular economic policy he had directed the artisans of the country to focus only on the most productive labor, that being the construction of agricultural tools and mining tools with all other crafts being imported from China. One particular mining tool had begun to be called "the sword and wheel". It was a device that needed to be wielded by multiple men and mounted on a small cart, and it was basically a thick iron rod with a pointed end attached via crank to a wheel that could be cranked around by at least two men. It was similar to devices in use in China that were sort of like miniature ballistas used to "shoot" heavy iron sticks into rocks to break them apart, but much simpler and easier to use. It was not as efficient, but certainly better than having the same number of men it took to operate it break rocks by hand. This technology and water wheel powered stamping mills greatly increased the White Horse Confederacy's metals output, and in turn what they could get via trade from China. The To tribe Chief Hyonu was part of had gained much power as a result of this and thanks to a few strategic marriages Chief Hyonu had begun to accumulate an incredible amount of personal power. The council of the confederacy could limit him, but for now Hyonu was in an unassailable political position. News of their "victory" against Hanajima had resulted in Hyonu launching a campaign of expansion and coinciding with the new years festival the confederacy had absorbed multiple plains tribes on the eastern coast of Korea and several hill tribes who would dig iron in exchange for goods from China. With the departure of the Japanese from Korea Hyonu believed he had every advantage, and was doing his best to take advantage of it before his enemies that remained in Korea could reorganize.

[Suriyanakhon]

Kinoshita Grace

Silla

The Hanajima troops started packing up almost immediately as soon as they heard the news about the peace accord, eager to return home, away from the war, many of them bringing new wealth that they had obtained in Korea. Cattle was one of the biggest things, with peasant soldiers eagerly bringing their new cows with them back to Honshu. In the Jeju Island, horses were transported as well, with troops taking as many as they could muster.

The islands in the Korea Strait remained in Hanajima's hands, with semi-professional troops being transported there from the peninsula, while others returned home or to Kyushu to reinforce the divisions there. Despite the apparent return to peace, the imperial court trusted the Yellow River Kingdom about as much as a fisherman does a shark, and intended to ensure that the strait could not be used as a future invasion of the archipelago.

Still though, some decided to stay. Soldiers who had a boyfriend or girlfriend on the peninsula, others who didn't want to return to insignificant life, and those who had accumulated a degree of wealth that couldn't all be brought back with them. They kept their weapons and refused to go with the ships back home, choosing to remain in the abandoned colonies as ronin who swore their loyalty to the same native aristocrats who had been ennobled by the Tenno.

The most important defector was the imperial commander herself.

“I, Araki no Hideko, vow to serve the Kim dynasty and their descendants for so long as I live.” Araki declared, hand on sword, and bowed to the same Kim chieftain who had asked her for help months ago. “I will protect your children, and grandchildren, and under them, I hope that all of this land will be united. Until Korea is freed from the Yellow River and the Shen, I will never eat meat nor drink wine, nor will my spirit rest. This I swear.”

The newfound regal power did not come naturally to the Kim, who had previously been little more than ennobled farmers, but they received the pledge of loyalty with gratitude and assurance that at least some of Hanajima had not abandoned them. With the news that the commander had become the retainer of the Kim, more ex-soldiers flocked to their banner, her prestige strengthening theirs.

A Buddhist monk by the name of Ren performed a ritual conferring sacred kingship onto the Kim chieftain's daughter, who was proclaimed to be the Great Queen of Heaven and Earth, mimicking the titles and language of Hanajima, while positioning the Kim as the equals or even superiors of the Tenno of Hanajima.

The walls and fortifications around villages started to be manned by peasant militias who's leaders, the ennobled chieftains, started swearing loyalty to the House of Kim in the belief that they had inherited the mandate to rule, and that only the side that the soldiers started pledging loyalty to could be a strong deterrent against the Yellow River Kingdom who they hated and feared.

---

Imperial Court
Hanamura, Nara

The newly formed council started their first meeting around the table in a side room of the throne room. The attendants were composed of both greater and lesser noblemen, along with guild masters, and other branches of the court that were attached to the administration. Fujimoto intended to replace the ceremonial courtly atmosphere with one that was much more serious and secretive.

“As you are all aware, the Yellow River Kingdom has agreed to the terms that we sent them, and we have evacuated our troops from the Korean peninsula. With the exception of a few, such as Commander Araki, who have decided to stay and severe ties to the Empire.” Fujimoto stated, while the council listened carefully. “It seems to be peace for our time. However, we cannot rely on the good word of the Yellow River Kingdom or their king to count on our security in the future. We need to develop new weapons and new tactics for our engagements in the future if they do not abide by their part of the treaty.”

“With the help of the court, we have been searching for iron and experimenting with new forms of craftsmanship,” the master of the capital's smithing guild reported. “We believe that in five years, we should be able to forge iron weaponry for the court, but our country does not seem to have much of this ore.”

“What about the sand that we have shown you? Does that not contain iron?” Fujimoto asked.

“It is not the same kind of iron that we're accustomed to, and can't be mined or smelted the same way that the Kougaban does.” the smith replied to the shogun.

“I want start looking into learning how to mine and smelt this substance, to make up for the lack of ore in our country.” Fujimoto replied, and the heads of the guilds bowed their head and acquiesced. “We sacrificed Korea for five years, enough time to establish Kyushu, Hokkaido, Ryukyu, and Taiwan into the Empire, to rebuild the national military system, and to build our defenses for the next war if it comes to that.”

---

Somewhere north of Seoul

“Why must we tally here, Daisho-sama?” one of the monks asked, barely concealing his expression of disgust as a villager relieved himself in the ditch next to them. “These people are barbarians, nothing like the civilized people back in Hanajima. Why should we - ” Daigen gestured calmly and the monk fell respectfully silent.

“We preach whether one is clean or unclean, civilized or uncivilized, morally pure or impure.” Daigen replied, working on the plowshare that he had offered to help the villagers repair. Sometimes he missed the farm life, repairing equipment was one of the few times he got to reminisce about his old life, and how things had been before the first Tenno. “If you are going to uphold the bodhisattva vows, you have to be prepared to appear in all circumstances to preach and convert beings. Besides,” he said, pausing as he looked over the plowshare. “We don't know the language of Sugedai yet. We can only learn by meeting and talking to people.”

The monk bowed and acquiesced to the head monk's words.

“Besides,” Daigen said solemnly as he inspected the plow before he finished. “I don't think that the Imperial Lineage is destined long for the world, we must be sure to protect the Dharma by extending it to the eight corners.”

“The Imperial Line will last forever!” the monk protested.

“Don't be ridiculous.” Daigen told him. “The imperial line are mortal, same as you or me. They live to a span of some years and pass away the same as anyone else. Their house will be the same. The unbroken line didn't permit the last Tennō to die from sickness, nor the previous one to fall ill, nor the one before her to have her hand cut off, nor the one before her from being done in by the arrows, nor her mother from dying in childbirth. They are the same as us, never forget that. They have enjoyed their high position because of their merit and when they die, they will be reborn the same as anyone else.”

“I wish you wouldn't say such things, Daigo Daishi.” the monk sighed, even more depressed than what he had been before.

[Orostan]

Aaron Dawson's Story

Year 16 Month 2 Chinese Imperial Calendar - 2964 BC

The coming of winter had slowed fighting across China as both sides of the war rested. The Chinese armies lived in their fortified cities and the bandits did the best they could in their winter camps. Large raids during this time were unusual, and raids that destroyed entire villages even more unusual. This was why the destruction of a village in the north of Yan province had gained such attention in Yan's provincial capitol of Ji and was reported to the central government. With the Chinese being ill-equipped to campaign in winter and the bandits much the same it was assumed that this raid was a start to a trend that would pick up in the spring when movement became easier. As such, large components of the Qi provincial army were being moved by cart across China's road system during the winter with supplies in preparation for a large campaign against the northern bandits in spring. During this period of time the central government armies also usually moved to new locations where they would prepare for the next campaign season. One full legion of the central government had been called to the city of Ji and was streaming in from three different directions, having been divided into three different parts previously.

However, deeper inside the Chinese government the orders being given out were quite different. The appendages of Aaron's Twenty Five Points were all over the country and over other countries as well. The Shen King Sugedai had been acting very unusual shortly after a particularly bad raid in the north. He spent increasing amounts of time outside the court personally overseeing some project, and small columns of smoke had begun to rise from some parts of the city that nobody would be let into. The Shen government had also begun buying or retaining small quantities of iron ore from mines they controlled - something that they had never done before. This iron was moved to the capitol and into those closed sections of the city. It did not take Aaron's government long to put two and two together, and the actual reason behind the movement of men and supplies to the north was a campaign against the Shen designed to end the problem to the north permanently. Only the commander of the central government army being moved north, General Pan Yazhu who was known for her conquests in the rough terrain of the south, and several high up members of the military and government knew what the true objective of the troop movements were.

The timing of the likely Shen raid and their attempts to develop iron had led Aaron to assume that the Shen must have been in league with Hanajima. Although there was no hard evidence Aaron directed several of the Twenty Five Point's men to begin trying to gain connections within Hanajima's government including prominent nobles and governors on the island. In return for good deals on trade Aaron hoped that the nobles would provide information regarding Hanajima's political goals. Although quite a lot was known about the technology and economic system of the Hanajima little was known of its opaque political system. This combined with the presence of Hanajima missionaries in China who could be working for their home country's government led to a new priority being placed on figuring out what the government of Hanajima wanted. Not content with only covert means of figuring that out, Aaron sent another letter this time addressed directly to the ruler of Hanajima and written by himself.

To the Empress of the country of Hanajima,

Relations between our countries have been very strained, to say the least, for a long time. In the past we have negotiated through proxies and messengers on neutral ground but this takes enormous time and is very inefficient. To fix this issue and to improve our relations, I suggest that our countries exchange ambassadors to act as our representatives in the other's country. As long as they are in the other country it would be forbidden for either of us to hurt them or expel them even in times for war, as they could only be expelled if there was some type of crime committed on their part. Their communications with their homeland would also be kept secure and it would be forbidden to impede or tamper with them for either side.

In practical terms neither of us has the military ability to harm the other. My army was not able to bring the bandits who escaped to your country back, and your armies were unable to take control of Korea. Neither of us has the ability to significantly harm the other and neither of us benefits from continuous war. Instead it makes much more sense to create the diplomatic and economic relationships that are conductive to our mutual prosperity. If you have other concerns I would propose that we meet in person on neutral ground to fix all issues that exist between our countries.

Regards, Emperor of the Central State.