Engine's East
Headquarters of Ironclad Arsenals

Tycoon Evan Radcliffe had died at the age of 63, just ten days before the coming of Spring, from old age and poor health. Leaving one of the largest military arms companies in the whole of the Commonwealth in the hands of his 19 year old son, Samuel Radcliffe, who now stood alone in his father's old office, looking out the window at the sight of factories and forges spanning a third of a city, most of which under his direct or indirect command as part of Ironclad Arsenals and subsidies.

Despite his youth, there was no denying that the young tycoon had promise and ability. Ironclad Arsenals remained under his control, and arms contracts were in full swing for Ironclad Arsenal tanks as the nations of the world were preparing for a new year. And as usual, there would always be a need to have a bigger stick than the other guy even if war wasn't on the horizon. While their stocks were in slight flux, they stood to rise in value very soon, and the security and status quo of his company was assured for the next fifty years as long as a Tucker sat on the throne.

So why did he feel so hollow inside?

"Sir, your eight o clock meeting is here." Reported a secretary, snapping him out of his funk and bringing him back into the world he was born into. Gesturing for his latest guest to enter, he sat down at his desk and turned to get a decanter of wine out as a common courtesy whilst trying to remember who he agreed to meet. The recent days had been naught but a blurr to him, and slip ups of this kind were becoming distressingly common. He was losing focus, and he knew it.

Turning back, Tucker looked forward to see an elegant young woman in a red dress stand in front of him. It took a not inconsiderable amount of effort not to drop the decanter all over the papers on his desk at the sight of her beauty, or low-cut dress around an astounding figure.

"CEO Radcliffe? My name is Elizabeth Reiss." Greeted the young woman in red as she took a offered seat and a glass of wine as if they were natural elements to her. "I have a joint business proposal for you."

"Exactly what kind of proposal are we talking about?"

"To begin a second industrial revolution of automation." Replied Reiss, before putting a folder on Tucker's desk. Opening it, he saw a number of schematics and designs of machines. Machines in the image of man. "I would like to work with Ironclad Arsenal to create a new generation of clockwork men as a first step towards bringing this world into a new era of labor efficiency. And in the process, giving you a competitive advantage over Chekov's mech-men, one of your largests rivals in armaments. Do I have your interest?"

"I think your mad, but call my curiosity peaked. You have my complete attention, please tell me more miss Reiss."

"Thought you would like what you see.....hey, eyes up here! I didn't mean it like that!"

"I was looking at your schematics! Honest!"

Royal Household, Lorras
Principality of Molitas
2nd day of the 1st month of Spring 1460

Sitting on the pleasant looking veranda in the afternoon warmth looking out across the wide sweeping green lawn before him Consul Danton sipped more wine from the flute resting on the table before him. Prince Hamilton across the table was noticeably annoyed as the Consul from the Dominion continued to seem to waste his time. "These negotiations seem to be going nowhere, again consul. Perhaps you would like to retire and we can begin discussion fresh, again. Some other day."

Consul Danton smirked and sipped from his wine again before responding, "The world is changing and yet you are all still stuck in the past. We are giving you a chance to join the Dominion and the future here. Your continued refusal is nothing short of insulting to the greatness the Dominion represents and what you could become. I am sure you recall what happens when insults fly before us."

It was the prince's turn to smirk now, "Yes I do, you attempt to invade over some slight as a pretense to your own ambitions. Then the horse lords descend from the north straining your entire nation so much that you are forced to call for a truce and you gain nothing from us."

"That is the past prince, things are changing. They are changing for the better, for us anyway. You will see this change sweep across the world soon as you stay here hidebound."

The prince sat up now from the small table, "I think we are done here. i will have you escorted from the premises by guards to ensure you... safety."

The consul only smirked as he drained his glass and stood up, "Have a pleasant day prince, I expect we will be talking again soon." He could still recall the message he had received by courier earlier that day dictating he was to give peace one last chance. The Dread Guard were mobilizing and the 2nd fleet was heading north while the 3rd and 4th were coming west. The horse lords were to soon be a thing of the past and would pave the way to a glorious new future for the Dominion.

Dread Guard Marshaling Camp
North of The Grey Fields
2nd day of the 1st month of Spring, 1460

The 14th infantry regiment of the Dread Guard were arrayed in all their glory as Lord Marshal Fulbrik stood before the all in a field uniform his salt and pepper hair neatly trimmed, his mustache precisely cut, and he had the physical power of a far younger man . The sergeants were checking down the line. They were the second to last regiment to be checked. Soon the entire Dread Guard would be deemed combat ready, already the five armored regiments and thirteen of the infantry regiments were marshaled and ready awaiting only the order to move. 100,000 men had been prepared for this incursion. The 2nd fleet was inbound and would be there in a few days to support them as well with air power the horse lords lacked.

Finally the sergeants one by one finished inspecting their lines and issued forth a salute to the Lord Marshal. Finally the last one finished and saluted as well. 5,000 of the best trained men in the entire Dominion armed forces were arrayed before him and despite seeing it thirteen times so far that day he still swelled with pride. The nearly 40 year old man bellowed out commands to them his powerful that of a man nearly half his age, "Regiment, present arms!" As one they brought theirs rifles up in front of them, "Shoulder Arms!" They brought the rifles to their right shoulder in clean precise motions, "Left face!" with a click of heels they turned as one to the left, "MARCH!" and so 5,000 men began their advance from the impromptu parade grounds towards the proper mustering area. The horse lords had humiliated them and resisted them for far too long, but they had never faced the might of an army equipped like this.

'The Administration cannot survive like this!'

Rarael Om-Maxicaliel looked around at shocked faces, eyes wide at his sudden outburst. He gritted his teeth in frustration, angry at the stupidity that had brought them to this condition. ‘You know the situation as well as I do. We have barely enough food to support a third of our population. A third! Do you know what would happen if we were blockaded?’

He stared at them. They were surprised at his outburst, but not at his speech. This was a crisis they’d been dealing with for years now. The Solaran Administration was an arid, desolate place, with only a few regions efficient to farm in. Yes, the deserts could be farmed with extensive irrigation and advanced techniques, but it would be ludicrously expensive to start watering the entire country. It had been quicker, cheaper and easier to trade for food, exchanging mass-produced cutlery for the life of their people. It was humiliating. But far, far worse than that, it was dangerous.

‘Being blockaded isn’t our only problem. What happens if our trading partners decide that trading with us isn’t profitable anymore? What if their priests tell them that helping us will anger their fairy-tale masters? What if one day we cannot make goods any more, or we run out of resources?’

Now he wasn’t the only one gritting their teeth. More and more conference members were nodding their heads now. Maybe they’d finally be able to sort out this mess.

‘Fine. Tell me what we’re going to do about it.’

Rarael sharply turned his head to the speaker. He spoke in a low, calm voice, ensuring that he didn’t offend anyone. He had to, in a job like his.

‘I’m sorry, Chairman Azaliel?’

‘You’re the Head of Agriculture, Rarael. What should we do to stop this crisis?’

Rarael’s shoulders sagged. Slowly, he sank down into his chair.

‘I don’t know. I don’t...I’ve tried everything. We’ve looked at irrigation; it’s too expensive. We’ve looked at making the Oriental Region more efficient in farming; it’s too time-consuming. We’ve even looked at growing food from bacteria, like in those awful science-fiction books you can get at the station. It turns out it would be too impractical to set up the factories necessary to produce the food. There’s nothing the Department for Agriculture can do.’ His face was granite. ‘That’s why I’m asking you, the rest of the Conference. If we don’t sort this out soon, we could suffer the greatest famine since the Unification at the whim of our allies.’

The room lay silent. Slowly, the conference members began murmuring among themselves, trying to draw up a solution. Rarael lay back in his chair, closing his eyes. The chair was hard, and uncomfortable. Some days it seemed like everything in the Solaran Administration was. Hard, uncomfortable, mass-produced and cheap. But it would last you forever.

He was just worried that the Administration wouldn’t.

A voice called out. Rarael woke up with a start. It was Solarael Mir-Meziel, Head of the Board of Cartographers. Of course, as anyone in the High Conference knew, the Board of Cartographers was anything but an atlas-maker’s society. Well, that wasn’t quite true: they did make a lot maps. Mostly of enemy troop movement and the weaknesses in fortresses. Something about their work made Rarael wince: it seemed wrong to have a department devoted to spying on their neighbours.

‘I believe, ladies and gentlemen, that I may have a solution.’

All heads turned towards the small, unassuming man. ‘It seems to me that not only do we have an agricultural crisis, but we also have an overcrowding crisis too.’ The conference members set their teeth. Some days it felt like everything was in crisis.

‘Well, how about we move to the south-east. There is a huge swathe of fertile land, relatively undefended- save for natives, who I imagine won’t be too happy. But there aren’t any nations who lay claim to it. I suggest we move colonies into the newly-claimed territory, and start farming. Of course, until the rail-way tracks are built we’ll have to fly supplies in and food out, but this seems like the least expensive of our options. It kills, aha, two priests with one stone, as it were.’

---

Tactical General Tulael Ur-Gerliel looked up from his book.

‘I’m sorry?’

‘It’s the Head of Cartographers, sir. Says he wants to speak with you.’

Tulael sighed. This probably meant another death-trap for his soldiers to walk into- always as a distraction, while Solarael’s men and women worked their quiet, bloody business. He walked over to the two-way radio and picked up the microphone.

‘Hello comrade. This is Tulael, as requested.’

‘Good. I have new orders for you. You are to accompany colonists on a journey to the south east.’

‘What? Why?’

‘Well, I believe in order to set up new farmland-‘

‘Why does this warrant full mobilisation of an entire Tactical Armada?’

‘You don’t think the natives are going to be a problem for the colonists?’

‘Don’t play that game with me, Solarael! You don’t need a Tactical Armada to defend yourself from bows and arrows. What’s really going on? Do you want us to babysit some colonists in the middle of nowhere? I must say, this is a nice break from what you normally give me. At this rate, we probably won’t see any action worse than a few thrown spears for months!’

‘Oh, Tulael, I don’t know about that…’

County of Nohrmarch,
Capital City of Redleaf,
The Grand Courthouse.

The Great Oak leered over the marvelous stone and marble structure, red and orange leaves trickling down through its massive pillars and statues of great leaders. Several armed guards from the ICU's Foreign Legion lined up around the base of the courthouse, and surrounded the Prime Councilor's sides atop the beautiful, reflective marble balcony. Before him was a scroll, a tradition in the Union as things of an utmost important nature were often inscribed upon scrolls and fragile parchments. Paper files and the likes were left to companies, offices, school assignments, personal notes and such.

Prime Councilor Daniel Jacobs was an elderly man, roughly in his mid fifties, who valued tradition and heritage above all else. He was a full-blooded, native Ulfryaen after all. A conglomerate of unionists, council leaders, office managers and the like surrounded the outside courtyard the balcony loomed over.

"Today, on the first day of Spring, a new law was put into effect." His voice, although cryptic at times, boomed over loudspeakers and echoed into the courtyard. It was as inspiring as it was intimidating, but he knew how to get the message across. "The people have voted! We will resume the valiant efforts of the Volunteer's League, and merge them with the Mindset Movement to continue providing cultural and economical benefits to our nation. Peace through action, and action through peace."

As Jacobs retired into the courthouse, a clustered murmuring overwhelmed the courtyard. Many were confused as to the exact nature of such things, a total merger between the Volunteer's League and the Mindset Movement? Truly, it was to be a new era of enlightenment for the Union.

~
Inside the Grand Courthouse, two hours later...

"Ah, how can one not admire the many constellations, Adams?" Jacobs looked onward, appreciating the lack of lighting within the courtyard to look out upon the night sky.

The two elderly gentlemen lounged back in their padded, oak-made lounge couch placed there shortly after the announcements. A marble table was put in front of them, with a bottle of sixty-year old wine and silver-lined goblets atop it. They were both of an ancient lineage between the Ulfryaens, the Adams and Jacobs once at war in the more primitive times, now at total peace and productivity together. Harold Adams spoke up, quite a bit older than Daniel Jacobs, his voice a tad withered and wavering, nonetheless still influential to this day.

"Prime Councilor of the Supreme Council. I often wonder what my ancestors would think of such a position for a Jacobs. Hah!" The wrinkled, gray-maned elder coughed off to the side, before pouring another glass of wine. "Seventy years old and still getting drunk. Boy does time fly, especially when your having fun!" The two chuckled, and drank to that statement.

"Look at this bottle, Harold." Daniel continued. "A decade older than me, a decade younger than you. Here we are, dressed in fine clothing, revealing the secrets of life to each other, whisking away something so aged in one night. Couldn't have been a better time, I always say." The two continued to drink and talk age-old philosophies, reminisce on ancient mythologies of Ulfryae and otherwise look back on their lives.

Down the long, winding corridor was three pairs of steel-toed boots storming down burgundy rugs and carpets, pictures of leaders passed and artwork commissioned for the courthouse halls. Three soldiers hiding behind gas masks, dressed in the uniform of the Foreign Legion, approached the balcony. One in the middle held a very symbolic Williamson Revolver in his hand, the two to his sides holding firm in their grasps U-V automatic rifles. Their steps were heard long before they reached the arch separating the balcony and the corridor, the old men brushing it off as an escort come to bring their drunken selves to bed.

"Don't worry, gentlemen, we can find our own way home. No need for..." As the both of them glanced back for brevity's sake, what they saw befuddled them.

"Soldier, there's no way a chemical scare breached the courthouse! Show yourselves, badge and ID! Commander! Joseph! Fredrick!" Jacobs shouted, with no reply.

"The Commander of the Supreme Council is dead, as are his subordinates. We cannot have a nation that prides itself on values aimed towards equality and justice for all, cultural exchanges for everyone." The soldier in the middle spoke. He spat at the mention of 'everyone'. "Ulfryae was a country founded on heritage, honour, clansmen and brothers. Me and my people refuse to call these outsiders brothers, they are not our equals. They are never to be trusted, they lay our wives and breed abominations of mixed races, they steal our livelihood and professions, they try to erase our culture. No. Not anymore."

Before the two men could object, speak their minds, or plead for mercy, two rounds were placed right into their skulls. Blood splattered over the marble ledge, spilling into the courtyard below as Adams and Jacobs lay face down on the balcony floor. The leading revolutionist took a long sip from the wine bottle, before tossing off into the streets.

"Death to the Mindset Movement! Death to all Unionists and Independents! Long Live Sacred Ulfryae!" The sound of automatic rifles disturbed the silence of the night sky, screams and shouts heard in the distance. The three soldiers slipped away in the shadows, sparking a grim, uncertain future for the Union.

Sha-Bahkur

High Priest Gahlem Hahkim cleared his throat in preparation for the early morning prayers. He opened his Qureem, the holy book of Ismum and turned the pages to the pages were the prayers of the Ismum faith were written. The old man, who was into his mid-80's, traced his fingers and eyes across the scripture and read the prayer into a copper mouthpiece. The high priest was boarded on a helium airship with gold decorations throughout its hull. The sails were made out of interweaving cotton and the helium bags were made too of cotton coated with the sap of the Bahtar plant to keep them safe from fire. The flag of Fahtamis flew on either side and the bust of a head of a lion made out of gold was on the tip of knell. Its hull was painted white and it casted a great shadow on the city below. The top deck where also fitted with two copper speakers. Through this speakers, the voice of Hahkim were heard all throughout the city. As he recited the prayers with a bit of melody, which almost sounded like he was singing, the people below were all in Mosquirs, praying as well. The few remaining people on the streets were city guards who were excused from their prayers by the clergy and foreign merchants who did not follow the faith of Ismum. The high priest finished his prayers with the short ending prayer and the national motto of Fahtamis, 'Kharum(God) give us guidance and strength'. As the Hahkim finished his prayers, he was approached by a crewman informing him that he was being called by the Sultaness herself. He nodded and thanked the crewman. He then prepared his belongings as he prepared to depart the ship. It took a good hour or so before the ship landed on the royal courtyard of the royal palace.

As Hahkim walked through the long winding hallways of the palace, he noticed a crowd gathering in front of the main palace itself. He saw another of the High Priest, Yapeq Am-Bahlatta, walking from the direction of the commotion.

"What's happening out there Yapeq?" Hahkim asked.

"A spy, sentenced to be hanged today." Am-Bahlatta answered.

"Solaran?" Hahkim followed with another question.

Am-Bahlatta simply nodded. The hatred between Fahtamis and Solaris was becaming dangerous according to Hahkims observations. A small misunderstanding now could cause a war between the two nations and Fahtamis has no allies to rely on if a war does break out. They made their way to the doors of the throne room and waited there until called forth. While waiting, Am-Bahlatta and Hahkim were met by the three other members of the Council of the High Priest of Ismum. High Priest Jorem Am-Kahleem, Rameq Fahkaq and Malis Damarah greeted the two other high priest. They were followed by the advisers of the Sultanesses. The doors were opened and they made their way to the Sultanesses throne. At the large marble throne sat Sultaness Sofia Kalrahya and his husband and price, Pahtir Kalrahya sat by her side. The klopeq that surrounded her also masked a great majority of her head, all that could be seen was her face. The young sultaness, who was only 18, and her husband younger by 2 years, had a look of utter anger in their faces. Hahkim knew why she was very displeased but let her advisers speak out first before he asked any questions.

The five advisers kept their heads low, fearful of the Sultaness's wrath. The Sultaness spoke with an angry tone.

"Where is Taleer?! I thought his capture was imminent!"

One of the advisers, a noble man Qahbid Hasanah, answered first. "He had hired mercenaries to ambush the party we sent to capture him. We did not expect this, we thought that his funds had ran low and he wouldn't be able to pay men for his protection."

"Useless! All of you are useless! Where is he now?!" The sultaness shouted.

"We have no idea you highness. He escaped the watchful eyes of my spies, but he must be heading for the frontier lands. This may be the only place he could find sanctuary."

"You have all failed me! I want the man captured at all cost!" The sultaness again answered by shouting. Prince Pahtir held out his arm and placed them on the shoulder of the infuriated sultaness. This did little to calm her down.

"Then might I suggest something my liege." Allad Sahkam, a commoner adviser of the queen spoke. "We should put a bounty on the man's head. This would be easier than sending our own men to catch him."

"Very well." The Sultaness said. "Have my scribes ready a letter to be sent across the land."

Imperial Palace, Verkesh
Tovari Federation, 11:32 AM

Sarin collapsed into a chair as he walked into the main living area of the palace. It had been a long morning; even now the echoes of the droning council members invaded his thoughts. The Praetor leaned forward, putting his head in his hands enjoying the silence as it lasted. Soon enough however the large double doors that he had just walked through, opened once more as his guards let his assistant into the room. Hearing her approach Sarin lifted his head and shifted back in his seat, trying his best to look attentive. “Ah Meri, I trust you bring good news?” he said with a hopeful smile.

“In a way yes, and in a way no.” Meri replied as she came to a stop around 5 feet from Sarin, shuffling the papers she carried.

Sarin closed his eyes and sighed lightly “Proceed.”

Meri nodded as she began reading off of the pieces of paper “Reports are coming in from the northern mines, another vain of copper has been unearthed and has begun to be worked. There are Watcher reports of troop movement within the Dominion, as of now the reports do not specify the exact nature of the nature of these movements, they do however explicitly state that the movements will not pose a threat to any of our interests in the area.”

“And what of our… Interests up north?” Sarin asked as he stood and made his way to a large map that had been laid out on the table

Meri shuffled the papers around some more as she looked for the one she wanted “Right. On that subject it seems that the Administration has accepted our offer, cargo ships are already being loaded and the new embassy staff is awaiting your final approval.”

Sarin sighed "Good, I'll take a look at the roster when I get a chance next. Now, if that is all, would you mind calling General Tulin, I need to speak to him."

"Of course sir." Meri said as she bowed and turned to leave the room.

After the doors shut behind her Sarin once more sat himself down, trying his hardest to enjoy the silence, perhaps catch up on some of the sleep that had eluded him for the past few nights. As he slowly began to drift off, his mind raced with what had been going on in the world the past few days, army movements, murder of nobles, all in other countries, yet all too close to home.

"Sir?"

Sarin woke with a start, jolting out of the chair and into a standing position. Off to his left the middle aged General stood, his dark grey uniform spotless. "Sorry to disturb you sir, I was notified that you wished to see me."

Sarin shook his head to wake himself up more "Yes, I did. I need you to send a detachment to Songset, a large enough force to reinforce the defenses there, but not enough to look abnormal. Also I need you to task a few airships to guard the shipments to the Administration, wouldn't want our new trade agreements to start of rocky, now would we?"

"No sir." The general responded "Is that all sir?"

"Yes it is, you are dismissed general." Sairn said with a wave of his hand. After a brief salute the general left the room, once more leaving the Praetor alone. Resigning sleep as am impossibility at this point Sarin strode over to one of the windows that lined the side walls. From the window the view extended down the mountain turned city, and across the sprawling expansion of the city, stretching from the city, smoke stacks of factories rising all over the massive city, the drone of airships adding to the symphony that was the sounds of the city, even out in the distance Sarin could pick out the massive, hulking shadow of a Colossus as it patrolled around the city limits. "An interesting time to be alive in." he thought with a smile "An interesting time indeed"

Grand Mosquir of Fahtamis, Sha-Bahkur, Fahtamis

High Priest Gahlem Hahkim was in his quarters, having some tea and a little snack when somebody knocked on his door. This was peculiar as he was not expecting anybody. He opened the door slowly but he did not take off the metal chain latch on the top of it. Being a high priest in Fahtamis was a job that required one to ever be vigilant of threats. As he opened it, he found his colleges High Priest Yapeq Am-Bahlatta and Rameq Fahkaq standing outside his door. He closed the door again and took off the latch then he invited the two men inside.

"What brings you two to my humble dwelling?" Hahkim said as he poured them some tea and offered them some yomam biscuits he was eating. The two men took the tea and the biscuits and thanked Hahkim. Am-Bahlatta answered his question.

"You see Gahlem, we come here because of necessity. We are in need of your help. Our brother Rameq has a confession to make. This will explain a lot about the current situation."

"Is this about Prince Taleer?" Hahkim asked as he looked High Priest Fahtaq in the eye. Fahtaq was far more younger than any of the other High Priest of the church of Ismum. He was just about the age of Prince Taleer Ser-Tahbad and he was also one of his closest friends. During the morning of the murder, when he was questioned, Fahtaq admitted that he did spend the night with Ser-Tahbad along with his mentor in Astrology, Sir Jomahr Semmeq. They spent most of the night gazing at the stars until midnight when Fahtaq and Ser-Tahbad decided to rest. They departed ways and went to their chambers or at least that is what Fahtaq told them. Hahkim dipped his biscuit in a small bowl filled with honey and eat it as he listened to the young priest.

"You see master Hahkim, all I that I told you and the rest of the high priest were true. At midnight I and Prince Taleer decided to rest and bid farewell to Sir Semmeq. After we walked down the observation tower's stairs, we bid farewell to each other as well and went our seperate ways. As I was walking down the corridor although, I heard a shout. It was faint and it was not very loud but I still heard it. As I walked to the source of the sound, I saw blood on the walls and on the floor. The trail of blood led to the kitchen. I tried to pull open the door but it was locked. I ran up the corridor to find help and I found myself in the royal throne room. I came in the south door. The torches on the doors were put out but the lights in the center of the room were still on. That was when..." Fahtaq paused as his eyes were firmly fixed on the ground. He whole body froze which concerned Hahkim greatly.

"Is something wrong Rameq?" Hahkim asked as he placed his hand on his shoulder.

"I... I saw Sultan Ser-Tahbad dead, choking on his own blood as his throat was slit. He lay there dying while Taleer was fighting a man whose head was covered. Gahmallah rushed into the room and I was about to run back and shout for help when I saw Gahmallah stab Taleer in the back of his thigh. Taleer feel on his knees but he took his blade and slashed Gahmallah's left arm. Taleer then ran outside. I heard the guards coming and Gahmallah stab the hooded man in the stomach. I left the room after that. I ran outside into the courtyard and then I ran back here, to my room. I.. I... didn't know what to do."

Hahkim gave a gentle but firm pinch of his hand on the young priest shoulder, reassuring him that he was safe. "Why didn't you tell us this?" Hahkim asked.

"I couldn't sleep after that night. I stayed awake until that morning and then I was going to call our a meeting between our brothers when I saw Gahmallah walking down our halls. I also heard a door close from one of our chambers. He met with one of our own, a high priest. I'm sure of it."

"And that is why he refused to talk to any of us, well except for me a couple of hours ago. I knew that you slept on the airship that night and only came down for your meal during noon so I knew it wasn't you." Am-Bahlatta continued.

"Well, this thus post a challenge for us. Where is the prince now?" Hahkim asked, his hand firm on the young High Priest's shoulder to assure him that he was willing to help.

"His in the Qhubai, disguised as a commoner. I have my friends guard him from harm. From what I read last night from his letter to me, he's in good condition. His wounds are stiched up but he said they may be succumbing to the corruption of dying flesh. I fear for him. If only there was more I could do to help." Fahtaq slammed his fist on the table, spilling some of the biscuits, the honey and some tea.

"Calm yourself brother, you've done all that you could to help him." Hahkim reassured Fahtaq. "I have too have friends in Qhubai and they just might be able to send him out of the country."

"Where would you send him brother?" Am-Bahlatta asked. "The Sultaness would hunt his head no matter where he goes."

"That is why we must send him to a place where one would guard him closely like one who would like a thief would guard his precious, stolen gem." Hahkim answered. "We will send him to Solaris, where he would be kept safe by their government because it would give them the upper hand."

"But... but... wont they kill him?" Fahtaq asked with great concern. "They are our enemy and we have killed plenty of them. Wont they take vengence upon us by executing Prince Taleer?"

"Like I said Brother Rameq, they would not lose as big of a bargaining piece as the one we are sending them." Hahkim answered his question.

"But how would we get him out of Solaris once the Sultaness knows of the truth and the prince's life is safe again?" Am-Bahlatta asked.

"I do not know brother, I do not know, but now we must think of the prince's safety. I will send a priest that I know personally to escort him to Solaris. Then I would visit the prince once he gets there. I hope that Kharum may guide watch over the boy's safety." Hahkim answered. Hahkim then went to write a letter to his good friend and local priest of one of the district mosquirs of the city of Quhbai, Amur Namir Dahllem.

Three Days later. City docks, Quhbai

Prince Taleer Ser-Tahbad never worked a day in his life until now. The back-breaking job of loading and unloading cargos from ships put a serious strain on his body that he never felt before. In addition to this, the badly patched wound on the back of his leg was beggining to become infected. He was going to visit the local doctor after his shift was done. So far, nobody had noticed who he was. He hasd shaved off all of the hair on the top of his head and shaved his signiture pointed moustache so that the commoners would not notice who he was. His two royal guards, Hahmbiq Jahkar and Musir Tahballis have also shaved all of their hair to avoid being detected. They too worked in the docks to keep a close eye on the young prince. It was they're sworne duty to protect the prince at all cost and they were not going to break their vows. As the three men lifted another create and placed it inside a warehouse, they noticed that they were being followed. Jahkar and Tahballis took out daggers and awaited for the mysterious stalker. As the man followed them inside they warehouse, Tahballis took him by surprise and put the blade of his dagger on the stalker's throat. The fellow was wearing a hood, a priest's hood. They took off the hood to find an old find dazed, confused and frightened.

"Who are you?" Prince Ser-Tahbad odered the man to reveal his name.

"I am Amur Namir Dahllem, the local priest of the city of Quhbai your majesty. I was sent by the high priest Gahlem Hahkim to protect you and escort you out of the country. They fear for your safety here."

The young prince was taken back. The high council was helping him? His friend is one of those in the order but he was still suspicious of the priest's goals.

"Where would you take me then?" The prince asked, this time with a more mellow and welcoming voice.

"To Solaris, my lord..."

"Solaris?!" Jahkar asked in an angry tone. "So that they themselves may butcher the prince?!"

"His majesty would be safe there as they would see him as a leverage against the sultaness and would guard him very closely. That is what Hahkim told me when I spoke to him the other night at least."

"He speaks of blasphamy, slice this traitorous assasin's throat." Jahkar said. The priest closed his eyes as Tahballis drew the blade to meet the flesh on the priest's neck.

"Wait! Halt this non-sence!" The prince ordered. "Let him go and we shall follow him."

"But my lord, he will send us to our deaths." Jahkar said.

"It is better to die anywhere else but here." Prince Ser-Tahbad said. "Besides, if we cannot trust a priest anymore, then who can we trust?"

Jahkar and Tahballis begrudgingly accepted the prince's orders. Tahballis let the man go and the priest stood up and brushed off the dirt from his clothing.

"I have already informed the dock master of your retirement and your departure. I have payed a captain of a trading cog to let us board his ship heading for the Solaran docks. We must go now your grace before the ship sails."

Amur Dahllem led the three men to the ship. They were now heading for the lands of their enemies, in hope that they would help them. The two guards were still weary of the priest but Prince Ser-Tahbad trusted the man and there was nothing they could do.