by Max Barry

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Region: The Story of Civilization

Year of the Dragon, Part IV
Expansion Post

Udegram, Luu-gazar territory, central Goryn riverlands

"Again!" The striking of iron upon straw. "Again!" The sound of tearing linen. "Again!" The rattling of the dummies upon their wooden posts.

Zayaat marched up and down the lines of conscripts, who swung again and again at the straw dummies with their iron scimitars, occasionally barking "Again!" He tutted, partly to himself and the conscripts. With a wave, he announced, "That's enough training for you lot today. Dismissed." With an audible sense of relief, the warriors-in-training sheathed their blades and began to march back to their homes when he called upon their attention. "This was a sorry performance today. I expect improvement by tomorrow, or it's a week of river patrol for the lot of you."

"Yes, sir," said the conscripts in unison, with a barely restrained frustration. "Alright, dismissed," said Zayaat with another wave. One the trainees had dispersed, the seasoned warrior turned and made his way through town. The sun was beginning to set on the settlement, and the sky had turned a beautiful shade of pink. The town itself was beginning to settle in for the evening. Most folk were in their homes already, likely tending to their young or getting ready for sleep. The only people he saw out was a camel patrol on the outskirts of the village. He gave them a friendly wave, and they returned a polite turn of the head. Indeed, Udegram seemed to be settling down for the evening, save for one place: the tavern.

Making his way to the raucous building, he walked through the archway to be greeted to the sounds of yelling and laughter. The tavern was filled with Mokrani warriors of all stripes, from riverguards to camel riders to foot-soldiers such as he. Zayaat was stirred by a call. "Ho, Zayaat! What are you standing around for, you damned fool? Come join us!" He turned to the source of the call, and saw a trio of familiar faces sitting around a table. As a sly smile crept on his face, Zayaat grabbed a spare stool and joined the three of them. "Usun, Qabal, Yesui! How are the three of you faring?"

"Better than you, I wager! Ha!" guffawed Usun. He was the biggest of the circle, a boisterous camel rider from Clan Taibaidal who was among the initial joiners of Luu's campaign. One hand of his gripped a mug of chal [1] and the other was wrapped around the waist of what appeared to be an Aranqi prostitute. "How're those recruits of yours doing, eh? They know the hilts of their scimitars from their blades yet?" Zayaat answered, "Enough, though I'm beginning to doubt that these Aranqi wastrels are even capable of fighting in a pitched battle. Let me tell you, it's a good thing that Udegram is positioned at the meander of the river. We're woefully underprepared should the Padishah [2] decide he wants to send a war party our way."

"Thank the Most High Ones we're not stationed further inland," interjected Qabal, a normally quiet messenger who hailed from Clan Khuvilan. "I hear that the conquest out there has turned into a slog. They're making headway, but the Padishah's men are fighting back, trying to retake what was lost mostly. They won't succeed, but it doesn't stop them from trying."

"Really?" asked Zayaat. Well, least they're actually seeing fighting. The river campaign was glorious for a time, but it was too easy. Once all the riverguard were dead, it was more a formality than anything. But the Aranqi interior? Oh, the battle there will be remembered in the histories!" he bemoaned. Qabal, sensing his friend's distress, beckoned him closer. Leaning in, the messenger murmured, "If you're itching for war, I recommend you train those conscripts of yours, and fast. One of Luu's warchiefs is looking to draw more men from the riverlands to supplement his army. The constant battles are wearing down the men already out there. Rumor even has it that the Padishah has sent one of his sons, Miran, to command. Hoping to break our line, I'm guessing. If you can forge a well-trained cadre of warriors fast enough, you can be summoned to the front lines. May even get to face this prince in battle. Oh, but make sure that your recruits are well-trained. The inland campaign isn't fighting militias. These are hardened soldiers, and they will cut down the unprepared. You understand me?"

Zayaat nodded intently, his mind already racing at the thought of getting to face the Padishah's own in a pitched battle. Their conversation was interrupted when a thoroughly sloshed Yesui playfully shoved Qabal's shoulder. "What'rre yooou talkin' 'bout there, Qabal? That lady o-of yours?" Qabal turned and cocked an eyebrow at the Urjilzam riverguard, who seemed deep in her cup of chal.

Usun paused his oogling of the Aranqi by his side at the mention of Qabal. "Oh, don't tell me you haven't told Zayaat yet?" Usun then turned to Zayaat. "You are not going to believe this. Qabal here's plucked himself a wife! An Aranqi woman!" Usun slapped his quiet friend on the back, causing him to let out a slight grunt of pain. "This damned hyena, can you believe it? So what was it that did you in, eh? The Dragon's little incentive? Her father offer a nice dowry? Or was it the size of her..."

"Enough, Usun," said Qabal, putting a hand to to rider's face. Usun laughed and shrugged. "Well, you enjoy your quaint little life. I've got my own pleasures to indulge. Isn't that right, Yesui?" The drunken Urjilzam could only offer a dazed shrug. Usun leaned in and whispered something in Aranqi to the prostitute's ear, eliciting a giggle. With a friendly wave, he bid his companions goodbye as the woman took him by the hand to one of the backrooms. Once he was out of sight, Qabal breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank the Dragon you're here, Zayaat. I'm not sure how much more of Usun's bluster I could take."

"Oh, he's not that bad," countered Zayaat, shrugging. "He just takes...a little getting used to."

"Pfft. He's so much like a hyena, I'm surprised he's not constantly waited on hand and foot a bunch of Delkindu."

Zayaat chuckled and nodded in response. "By the way, Qabal, is it true what they said? You've found yourself an Aranqi wife?"

Qabal nodded, "Yes, it's true. I figured, since we've been here for four winters, that it's time to settle down and make the best of our situation. This is a conquest, after all. Luu intends for us to live here, not simply raid and leave. Why do you think he's offering gifts of land to anyone who takes an Aranqi to wife?"

"Well, marriage is one thing, but with an Aranqi?"

"And why not? It's clear as day that Luu wants us to get along with the Aranqi. Not to mention that an acre of land is nothing to shrug off. My assumption is that he's trying to bring the two peoples together. Language teachers, local marriages, even preserving much of the Aranqi way."

"It's just, I'm not sure how I feel about this. Warchief Harun used to sack Sharuhnki villages to the man. After all, people tend to resist conquest and try to murder their conquerers, so better to kill them off and enslave whoever's left, right? That's how Mokranshi became whit it is. Safer than letting them live. And definitely safer than letting them be."

"Not if you make sure they have no reason to resist. Most of these village folk don't give a camel's arse who rules them, so long as they're left be. And don't fool yourself. There's very little doubt in my mind that every Mokrani living today has a bit of Sharuhnki blood in them. You don't simply destroy a people to the man. The way I see it, Luu is doing exactly what the old Mokrani did in the days of Sharuhnkar, only better. And he'll have the backing of the Aranqi as well. May not be as fine warriors as us, but they provide the numbers needed to take Aligrama [3] when we reach it. And we will reach Aligrama.

Zayaat nodded in agreement, though he wasn't entirely sure which statement he truly agreed with.
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[1] An alcoholic drink made from fermented camel milk
[2] The god-king of Aranaq
[3] The capital of Aranaq

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