As soon as there was no sign of K'rar or his boat, the violent waters died down, the thunderclaps dissipated, and the dark, frightening nimbus cleared away almost in the blink of an eye, leaving a flotilla of 24 warships surrounding the Provincian ship in the dark night of the sea. The waters were so calm that it would be impossible to explain to somebody new what had just taken place.
'There is no sign of him,' cried Rubio, 'not even the boat!' she began to shed tears, 'this is it. We are surrounded by the same enemy he was supposed to help us fight. And we cannot even deliver news.'
'Captain, they're readying again!' a sailor called out.
'Then we go down fighting,' the captain's reply was for both Rubio and the sailor, 'they will board us in a few minutes. Brace yourselves! Ahoy there, quit slackening and ready the rigging! Down with the invaders!' He was in ecstatic mood.
The weapons officers took their positions on the side of the ship, and the ship hoisted anchor. Langlot swerved the wheel all the way to the left, yelled "half sail!" at his first mate, who relayed that order to the man on the masts. The ship couldn't veer all the way west without part of its port side grazing the hull of Garrera's ship, which couldn't fire its ballistas (heavy iron spears designed to tear through the wooden hulls of enemy ships) because of the close proximity. Nonetheless, the soldiers on it now had the opportunity to board the Provincian ship, and they began to do just that by hurling themselves across, for about a minute before the ship pulled away, swerving as hard as it could to avoid skirting the meridian by even the slightest distance. Garrera's fleet had not readied itself for this, and in that critical moment, the ship managed to steal away and create some space between herself and the closest enemy. Still, 9 men had successfully jumped onto the deck of the ship, which was a bad number, considering that they were trained military. Only the captain, Rubio, Alain and about three others had the training to fight back. Rubio and Alain were the first to spring into action, defending the entire port length of the ship on their own at first. Even without armor, Rubio surprised many of her opponents. In fact, the first opponent wasted a precious second expressing his disgust that he was fighting a lady, and lost his life because Rubio drove her sword straight through his armor and spilled his guts. Alain was a heavy-handed fighter, using his free arm as much as his weapon. While keeping one man at bay, he could slit the throat of the other. But their efforts did not prevent the deaths of nine crewmen in spite of the fact that they neutralized the threat by subduing all nine boarders. The ship, though, was now sailing blind, with just six men manning the entire ship, and the fleet was closing in behind them. Within minutes four ships had caught up, as the Provincian ship lacked the manpower to run all its sails. The Korazite fleet fired several heavy-duty ballistas and punctured the ship until it came to a halt in the middle of the sea. Her starboard side took more damage, and it was through that side that most of the water gushed into the ship so that it began sinking from that side. The fleet ships ceased fire when this process began, and turned away one by one, confident that it would sink. Its second lifeboat was also rendered dysfunctional from the damage, so the surviving sailors, including captain Langlot, Rubio and Alain, had to scramble for ways to avoid sinking. Some sailors held on to the ship's rigging and its masts as it went down in a slow, painful descent. Langlot was standing with his sword on the bridge, and his men knew better than to try and encourage him against going down the drink with his ship. Within one and a half hours, just the tip of the main mast was still peeking above the surface of the Azlan Sea, and just Rubio, Alain and another man were still breathing above the surface, having expertly clung on to the heavy debris. Still, they only kept their upper bodies out of the water, but were half submerged, and the water was frigid. Rubio was weakening fast.
'We…failed the…the nation,' she stammered to Alain, who was calmer, but who was having more difficulty staying above the surface because of his total weight with his armor on.
'We did our…our best. Now is not. The time…to regret.'
'Why not? The Goldorans might already…be at…at our doorstep.'
'Then we die as honored warriors. Not…in vain.' His grip weakened, and he sank some more. The water was now up to his upper chest.
'Alain! Hold on. Hang in there!'
'Goodbye, Captain. See you on the other side.' He did not want to play avoidance with the inevitable, so he let go, and went down the drink. Rubio struggled to suppress her grief. Alain had been a good man, and a loyal soldier. Still, she couldn't try and retrieve him, and all she could do was hold on herself, across from the other sailor, who also was on the brink of going down. It was not long before she began to feel numb, hypothermic, and not long before her grip on the debris weakened. Then, her eyes refused to be kept open. They became heavy, impossible to keep open for more than a few seconds. Once she almost slipped into the drink, but instinct jumpstarted her back to alertness, and the sailor across from her on the other side of the debris was missing. Rubio was the only one still holding on to her life. The last sailor. She was quickly losing consciousness, and her grip in a slow, painful manner. At long last her body gave up the fight, but she did not feel her lungs fill with water. She made out faint sounds and movement, and through her half-shut eyes, a flickering light, and then she blacked out.
General Garrera was in a jubilant mood, so much so that his closest companions thought something was wrong. The man was known for his surly, austere temperament, not his boisterous, happy behavior. Yet, he was making rounds through his men, learning their names and giving them handshakes to congratulate them for ushering in a new era. He was at Cockroach, and had paid an unscheduled visit to the home of Jair, the Administrator of Amasa District, who was home. Jair was a man who loved to put his means of life on a showy display, a man unafraid to flaunt his financial muscle. He was by far the richest man in Cockroach, having an estate sitting on three acres. He ran a league of game suppliers, and owned a merchant ship that traded on the Azlan Sea. He was a popular figure in this area, and had been the District Administrator for many years, including during the fallen regime. He was also an opportunistic man who did not care much about loyalties as long as his head and his money were safe, so when Chief Administrator Maldab, then Chief Magistrate of Chaldea, contacted him some months prior to the coup d'état, he had thrown in bait to keep himself on the right side of both the Casparon dynasty and of Garrera's.
Today, the new King Garrera was in a thankful mood, especially of his host. He and about 100 of his men were sitting in a hall, eating and drinking to celebrate the demise of the Casparon dynasty. Garrera was sitting at the top of the hall in the center of a long table, which he shared with Lankh, Hatto, Jair, and Kaputska among others. Servants were roving jugs of red wine and plates of food around the lamp-lit hall. There was a constant humdrum sound of male voices, and loud laughs of those who had taken too much drink. Many more guests of this feast who couldn't fit in the hall were outside of it, some of them roasting fish and game, which Jair had in abundant supply. The host was far from happy about this extravagant use of his stock, especially because he was only told a few hours before Garrera's arrival that he would be spending the night there. His attitude, as a result, remained bitter throughout this little party, and he was having a hard time maintaining a happy face during the feast, even when Garrera himself stood up to toast him. The entire hall fell into a silence when he stood, holding up a golden cup of wine.
'Friends,' he declared, 'it is not in my playbook to congratulate people, but even though I am such a wet blanket, I know that tonight is a special day. A day to celebrate!' there were cheers in the hall, but he went on, silencing them, 'so I want to give special thanks to a friend of the new age, who has with open arms accommodated this victorious group of soldiers. Jair of Amasa!'
'Hear, hear!'
'But I say this to you men, who understand the dynamics of politics and the military. This nation will take much longer to realize that a new dawn has come. To realize that no amount of mourning nor outcry nor pain will bring back the old age. So we will help them. The old regime ignored the sacredness of our god Ashtoreth, who blesses the birth of nations. So Ashtoreth abandoned the regime too, and now appoints me to be her herald. As such, my first order of business will be to reinstate the seven-day festival to Ashtoreth in Nisan, lest we anger the gods again. So wherever you go, proclaim the festival!'
There was rapturous applause in the hall, and some broke into a religious song for the goddess Ashtoreth. This festival had faded down the years, and the festive mood was only present among families and small communities. The Casparon regime had indeed ignored the cherished festival, citing financial constraints. Garrera knew that a reintroduction of the festival would go down well in the throats of the people. Chaldea's gates would be opened, and flocks of hundreds of thousands of worshippers would once again fill the temple of Ashtoreth in the city, which overall would host upwards of a million people. The month of Shebat was coming to a close, and after the next month of Adar, it would be Nisan, so there was enough time for Korazin to prepare itself for the festival.
'And starting tomorrow, we will march all the way down to the capital, spreading the good news of the new age!'
The march to the city took as much time as Garrera saw necessary, and it did not come to the north gate of Chaldea until it was four days shy of a month, and only a week to the middle of the first week of Nisan. Along the way, Garrera had picked up a horde of people and traveled with them, so that they would arrive at Chaldea together. The road trip was not tainted with mourning the demise of K'rar von Caspar. A festival was stronger than those feelings. The city was already in a festive mood. Pilgrims from the south had also arrived and were still pouring in. The walls of many buildings had been painted in festive colors, and ribbons of the same were tied up across buildings. Garrera was pleased with himself. This is what he wanted, a city that was accustomed to the new reality. But he knew it was short lived, and that there would be small groups demanding retribution for K'rar's death immediately after the festival. He also knew that now that K'rar was out of the way, Goldora would begin moving its board pieces. He was not stupid. Even K'rar had known that Goldoran presence in Korazin was dangerous for him. But Garrera had a plan, and he was discussing it in his carriage with Lankh.
'I will have them stay for some months, and then repatriate most of them. Meantime, I need you to prep the administrators. We must begin the recruitment process immediately.'
'Yes, sir,' said Lankh, 'if you don't mind my saying, if the Goldorans have any secret plans, they must involve the Reideland. Perhaps we should limit the size of Goldoran troops there. Assign our own units.'
Garrera recognized the sense in these words, and nodded his assent. There was no way Goldora would have plans independent of the Reideland, one of the richest areas in all of Moab. The tribute and monies Korazin was paying to Goldora wouldn't be enough, Garrera knew, but they were already showing signs of severely affecting the economy. If the Reideland was jeopardized, Garrera's primrose path would end faster than he hoped, and he would have to watch his back and hold on to clutches like a drowning man. Garrera wanted to live like a king, not as a man under pressure, a man hated. But all of this was moot and he knew it. He had to breathe fire to consolidate himself, by keeping the city in constant fear of him.
Garrera had his armies depart to the four bases in and around the city, and a large majority of Goldoran forces travel to the bases in southern cities. When he was finally ready to make his grand return to the palace, he traveled with his usual detail and a few guests, including Hatto and Kaputska. The entire palace staff was assembled in the main courtyard on the orders of the queen, to give him a standing ovation and a warm welcome, having been away from the palace more than two months. She had also prepared a feast for that night for the staff, using the same tactic as her husband to ingratiate herself to them. But the queen had no interest in being a darling to her servants. She had something else on the agenda for tonight, and shortly after the long festivities, when it was time to catch some sleep, she revealed it, by walking into the king's chambers and dismissing the servant there. Garrera was perusing through a document when she did, and he took a quick glance before he asked what had brought her to his bedroom, and cast his eyes down at the document. Kishra said nothing, and just drew closer until she was standing directly to his left. Garrera didn't move his eyes from the scroll until her outer garment fell from her body, spreading on the ground and covering part of his foot. She was stripping. Garrera dropped the scroll on the bedside table. His pupils dilated, and a rush of cold blood gushed through his body.
'Help me take this off,' she was saying to him, and turning around so he could untie the strings holding her inner garment, and remove the hairpin holding her bun. When he did, she turned around and said, 'Have I not held down the fort well for two months?'
'Indeed. But it appears you created enemies for yourself,' he said to her, while caressing her naked body from the top to her waist.
'Well, I will not miss it now. What I have been missing for two months is this,' she caught his hand before he put his fingers in her crotch, 'I want a prince this time.'
'So do I,' Garrera said, and pushed her against the side of the bed to fell her.
Garrera's morning was not as pleasurable as the night. He was up very early in the morning with a fresh task, now that once again he had settled down from a military campaign, his best suit. He once again had to deal with affairs of state, and the first order of business was a meeting between him, Maldab and Ishkeniaz, the Minister of Trade and the overseer of the Korazin Grand Treasury. Lankh was present too, he always was. Minister Ishkeniaz was bearing the news that the treasury would be deeply distressed by the festival, given the already ongoing tribute payments to Goldora, as well as the commissions payable to the large number of Goldoran military personnel.
'If you're suggesting we scrap the festival four days before it begins, forget it,' Garrera said to him, and dropped the papers Ishkeniaz had handed him.
'No, my lord. We cannot scrap the festival. I am saying, we need to find a way to recoup the money before the kori's value depreciates any further. I am thinking about these solutions,' he placed another pair of documents before Garrera, who perused quickly through them.
'This will require the Korah's revision. Have they met, Chief?'
'I will summon them immediately, my lord,' Maldab said. Lankh also took a peek at the documents, and said,
'New taxing reforms? Will it be enough?'
'Not nearly,' admitted Ishkeniaz, 'but we start slow. Taxes are like a physician's dose. They must be fed in small amounts, otherwise an upheaval would be inevitable. My lord, in another respect, I believe it is in our best interests to reduce the amount of grain and cotton in tribute. We have already paid just over half, so Goldora should trust you to pay the remaining amount in small doses.'
'I'll see to that. Anything else?'
'That is all, my lord.'
'Good. You may leave now.' When he did, Garrera turned to Maldab, 'you haven't had a good two months, have you, Maldab?'
'Of course, I have, my lord.'
'When I left you were so hell bent on catching the rebel constable Mershak. Not only did you fail to do so, with your men, but the queen did. And she also helped us crush the civil war before it started. Perhaps we should give her an office higher than yours.' Technically, Maldab's office held more power than the queen, who was more or less a housewife, but before his departure for Magherita, Garrera had specifically handed the scepter to his wife. She had used it well.
'My lord, she held the scepter, not me.'
'But you tried to usurp her powers by back-channeling, so I've heard,' Garrera was a bit more harsh with his next words, 'I hope there is no developing rift between yourself and the queen.'
'I wouldn't dare, my lord.'
'Good. When is Mershak's trial?'
'In two days, sir.'
'Schedule it for tomorrow. Make it a public hearing, and you will preside over it. Make sure to use him as an example of what happens to anyone undermining royal authority. As for the prisoners from Magherita, have them serve heavy sentences, but do not execute them.'
Maldab was evidently delighted by this. Garrera had not completely ostracized him after all. But Maldab had understood that it was dangerous to get between Garrera and his wife, even by simply squabbling about unimportant matters.
'Any other business?' Lankh asked the chief administrator.
'No, sir. Only, there are rumblings I hear that your—that Lady Esella is in Shona.'
'Let her be,' said Garrera, 'it is better for all parties if she is not in Chaldea.'
'My lord, what I mean is, she is living with Queen Rukh-shana at Thermos Palace.'
Garrera's hands stopped between pages he was opening. He looked up at Lankh.
'That changes things,' said Lankh, 'with the king's permission I will get Home Affairs on it. Is Niezki in the city?'
'He is, my lord.' Niezki was Korazin's Minister for Foreign Affairs, formerly the Exterior Relations Office.
Later in the day Garrera was in his second courtyard practicing his archery with some men in Major Alain's Royal Forces, when he was told that a Goldoran envoy had arrived at the palace. The man who delivered the news looked bewildered by his own news, so Garrera asked him what was going on.
King Tao of Goldora had just crossed the border, and was on his way to Chaldea.
'Did you say he is already in Korazin?'
'Yes, my lord. The messenger is in the throne room, sir.'
'Bring him here,' he said to the man, who raced away. Garrera said to the maidservant in his proximity, 'bring us tea.'
They set up a table quickly in the shade of the entrance to the armory, the building they were in. The messenger came along accompanied by Kaputska, who departed from him when he sat down at the table. Garrera intentionally ignored his presence until he used up the three remaining arrows in his pouch, before approaching the porch, and smiling,
'Welcome to Chaldea, my friend.' He had never seen this messenger, and was used to receiving the tall, slim lad with a disheveled beard, 'I'm told King Tao is on his way here?'
'Yes. He apologizes for inviting himself, but he hoped to surprise you. He says there are important matters between you to discuss, but that he is coming mainly for the festival to Ashtoreth.'
'Goldora worships Dagon,' said Garrera as a matter of fact.
'Ashtoreth too, my lord.' said the messenger, 'he is coming with the entire royal family, including,' he cleared his throat, 'including the former queen of Korazin.' Garrera wished he was surprised by this, but he wasn't. Tao's intentional disrespect was already manifest in that man's border crossing without prior correspondence.