Heaven-Blessed Ashkar
best at philosophyAt the Court of the King of Ela’Susam
At the court of the King of all of the Kingdom of Ela’Susam sat the High Queen Nefiti lounging upon her throne of gold and jade. Years had passed since she had ascended to the throne, forcing that cruel Queen Ezfra. Ezfra had killed her mother, she had killed her father, her sisters, and her brothers, and thought she could wipe out the proud Netyskare line. Yet Nefiti had proved herself the better of the two, and rose against her sovereign, and roused the forces across her country that saw that their sovereign was but a tyrant filled the thirst for blood and the crazed emotions of paranoia.
And it had been seven years ago when she tore through the capital, the great and immortal city of Pelis, and with her army forced Ezfra and her dynasty away from the proud throne of the ancestors, to her, someone who would rule it properly. Purges had dealt with the remaining resistance, and now Ezfra was on the golden throne, and now she knew that that was where it was that she properly belonged.
Around her sat her court of aristocrats, women and their husbands who sat and feasted. Nefiti knew that as jovial as they might have seen with each other, what they were doing, and it was what they excelled at, was at the cutthroat politics of intrigue. She had once been amongst them, in her days before she was the High Queen.
Here entered Pelim with her ever loyal lieutenant Luawan by her side. Pelim approached the High Queen Nefiti with a respectful bow.
“My High Queen, I have returned with news that may be of interest to you,” Pelim said.
“Oh?” said the High Queen. “Then tell me, what news have your brought.”
“Well, my Queen, let me tell you that I was near a town where you, your esteemed majesty, had temporarily set some royal gold. And then it was raided.”
“Raided? And who were they, Pelim? Savages? Or Prometheans?”
“Neither. They were iron-wielders, like Prometheans. But these were neither savage, promethean, nor Elan.”
“What, then?”
“Foreigners, from a not so distant land. In ages past, the Kingdom was too small for us to have ever encountered them. Yet in the last century we have expanded, and now our two lands have.”
And from this, much whispering from the court came.
“What you tell me, Pelim, is thoroughly unbelievable.”
“On the authority of our good women who were defiled.”
“We shall see,” said the High Queen.
Kingdom of Ashkar, The City of Ashkar
Assuritu sat in his quarters, sitting upon the purple velvet cushion of his finest chair, crafted of the greatest of woods with the most intricate of designs. In his right hand was a golden goblet sparkling with the jewels and diamonds that were strewn across it. He nervously took sips of it as he anxiously awaited the impeding news of his plot. He deeply hoped that all had gone well, and Esru of Hegal had died. He was glad when Ghamku came into his quarters, and he put down his goblet.
“Ah, Ghamku. Never have I been happier to have seen you,” Assuritu said. “Now tell me, how has it gone? Is Esru of Hegal finally vanquished, and we may move around the court as we wish?”
“The slave didn’t do it,” Ghamku said.
“What!” Assuritu said, knocking over the goblet.
“There were news of a certain slave of Esru’s killing herself with an elaborate dagger.”
“Damn! Curses of Eliyahu!” Assuritu said. “How in the name of Imkhas did all of this happen? I was certain that the wench was aware of what I bade her task to be.”
“It seems she thought you aimed to give her a mercy-killing.”
“Drat! The harlot ought to have had some sense in her! I suppose we’ll just have to resort to ordinary methods then. I’ll hire the best assassin in the land, no – of all lands! – to be rid of this gluttonous fool.”
“That’s been tried by a number of people, and all attempts have failed.”
“Then, my friend, we need only find someone who we know cannot fail. Who is the greatest warrior of all Ashkar?”
“That would be Hugu, aide and lover to King Girbranu.”
“Well, we can’t very well count on his cooperation,” Assuritu said. “I know him, and he certainly values Esru more than me. I suppose then, we’ll just have to count on someone else. Do we have a list?”
“No.”
“Can we make one?”
“I would advise against it.”
Kingdom of Ashkar, The Royal Palace, The City of Ashkar
“Hugu would often brag that his strength and skill was the aggregate of that of a thousand Saurian elites.”
-Dammu, Political PhilosopherHugu stood in the more private chambers of the Royal Palace, where the family of the supreme eminence, the King of Ashkar, Shepherd of the Edimmu, made his proper home, filled with his family and personal servants. He was a warrior, and viewed himself of the greatest of his kind in the entire world. At the last Almurzani he had proven as much, as through the blood of enemies he had emerged as the victor, the champion of the world. Now yet another Almurzani had come, and to the bloody Ring of Valor he would go once. There he had gone, and basked in fearsome splendor of the highest glory, and now he was to return, and bask in glory once again. He looked forward to beating down arrogant glory hounds with no true sense of battle.
Hugu had been preparing for his departuring to the land of the north, the Saurian domain of Zaqir, yet not all had taken it gracefully as he. He had no family, no relations, he did have his share of friends, but none of the sort who would object to it. All except for his lover, his most eminent of majesties, King Girbranu. Now he was beseeching Hugu to not go, but it was not Hugu’s place to listen.
“You can’t go, Hugu!” Girbranu said, with tears in his eyes, knowing he could never stop Hugu. “I forbid it! As your King, I forbid it.”
And so Hugu approached Girbranu, and he held with a caress that became an embrace, and gave him a long and deep kiss. Hugu had always been the stronger of the relationship.
“I’m going, Girbranu” Hugu said.
“I know. I’ve never had any power over you, Hugu. But Hugu, ever since I’ve met you, I’ve changed. I…I can’t live without you.”
“You’re mistaken. I’m not going there to die, Girbranu. I’m going there to kill. I’m the best warrior in the world, Girbranu.”
The Sea on the Way to Zaqir
“War is fine; it is grand, and I love it. Yet what is truly sublime is that time of bloody, brutal, thoughtless brawl. That is truly what is best in life.”
-Akaku the Warrior-KingUpon the heavy Saurian seas the sturdy Quinquereme creeks, a strong galley of strong woods and strong sails. Today held a fine weather, with a clear blue sky filled with the white of gentle clouds, and heavy and great yet gentle waves rocking the galley’s planks. It was through the wind that the ship sailed, moving ever closer to their destination of the city of Zaqir. The Almurzani had come, and now was the time for the greatest of all warriors, not the least of Ashkar, to come and meet at the Saurian Ring of Valor and prove which among them was most blessed by Imkhas, god of war.
Upon the decks was a young Edimmu warrior named Attu, his blade in his hand. He was engaged in a sparring match with a middle-aged human, an Or’Rouzi named Musa. The two of them clashed their sword, a mighty crash of iron heavily resounding. Like a panther when it pounces with its mighty tusks, Attu lurched forward slashing with his sword. Yet Musa was more skilled and more experience, and every strike of Musa’s blade was parried. Then the Or’Rouzi lunged forth with his strength and was like a bear when it pounces its prey to the ground, and Attu was launched down to the ground and disarmed. Musa offered his hand, and lifted Attu back up to his feet.
“I’m hopeless, Musa,” Attu said. “When I arrived on this ship, I thought I was better than I really was, but you make me look like an amateur.”
“Nonsense,” Musa said. “You’ll be fine. Remember to keep your stance, always keep your eyes on the enemy, and always think.”
Attu took a look over at the sea. Its tint of blue seemed particularly strong today. At times the motions of the ship sometimes made him sick, but when he gazed out at the sea, he saw that it was truly beautiful. He looked back to the deck, and saw someone he had yet to see. He knew him to be a warrior, but he had not yet seen him yet.
“Say, Musa, who is that?”
“Surely you jest, Attu? That is the pride of your race, Hugu the Great Slayer, champion-warrior, winner of the Almurzani.”
“By the gods! I had no idea that was him. How foolish of me.”
“Where were you ten years ago?”
“I was still just a boy at the time.”
“Ah, well that explains it.”
Yet Hugu had no doubt had heard them. He was in a good mood, so he would decide to humor the boy.
“It certainly would, Musa,” Hugu said. “Now, tell me, boy, have you ever fought against a legend.”
“I-I…no never,” Attu said.
“Why not start now, then?” Hugu said. “Are you ready boy, or has Musa the Grey tired you out already?”
“No…Very well, Attu, I’ll accept your challenge.”
“Good.
And when the two of them clashed swords, Attu was struck with a great surprise. Musa had been incredibly skilled in the art of swordcraft, but in comparison he was nothing against Hugu, whose speed, strength, and cunning were a mountain’s length ahead. Attu held out for as long as he could, but he was always on the defensive, and eventually went down.
Looking onwards were two mere citizens who had taken passage on the ship.
“Impressive,” Muslidheen said. “I saw Attu kill a bear in the Ring of Valor. At the time I thought it rather simple sport, but now I am more interested in the skills of these warriors. Specifically, I wonder whether or not this Hugu will win again.”
“Were you here ten years ago, I wonder?” Amanu said.
“I must admit I was not.”
“Well, let me assure you, Hugu the Great Slayer isn’t going to lose this time, or any time for the next hundred years.”