Gaffar Island is the center of Anahitiian power. Port Royal lies on the warm Southern coastal waters and is the gateway to the Capital of Lalji. Port Royal is where all the shipping and commerce takes place. A man-made canal was built in ancient times that connected the sea to Lalji.
Lalji was once a swampy area at the foothills of the Hanna Mountains. Port Royal was the city where all the trade was done and the workers lived. The canal allowed small craft to sail to Lalji, where higher society resided. Viziers, Lords, and Sultans grew wealthy and converted swamps into coveted land holdings.
Lalji was surrounded by mountains, and the city was formed in the valley lowlands. As you come North and up the canal, you reach the city gate. On both sides are colossal statues of the city's protectors, the two sister Goddesses Iartiva and Ianorak.
The twin sister Goddesses are also symbols of beauty and refinery. Their naked form was seen to be the ideals of desire and fertility. Fertility can be in the form of conception or as in the fertility of wealth. The old be fruitful and multiple adage. As they are twins, they are seen as having doubling the luck.
A circular canal forms the outer edge of the city. At the back of the ring canal are the Houses of Government, bathhouses, and Royal Palace. A massive wall prevents access from the outer ring canal. A center canal leads directly from the gate to the Palace. A series of side canals connect the center canal to the outer ring canal. Instead of roads, these canals and waterways are the streets.
There are no outer roads into the city. You can only access the city by boat.
Most citizens use gondolas to get around. The area is well guarded, and access is often difficult, not just for outsiders but also for lower-class citizens.
Wealthy citizens often own whole city blocks. They have personal gardens for pleasure and food. As most of these are passed down in family inheritance, it has allowed the city to become a wonderland of excess and style. Wealthy citizens have built family temples to enhance their legacies.
It has created an isolationist attitude amongst the powerful. This attitude is not just toward foreigners but even towards Anahitiians who are not from Gaffar Island. Some of the Viziers and Lords have even had siblings marry to ensure their holdings.
The isolationist policy made the Sultan react strongly to Chancellor Flaero's appointment in Ishavara. Flaero's anti-aristocratic ideologies were passed around the islands in pamphlets. In combination with the death of Tsar Miro, Sultan Graeo'gi and the Viziers saw these intrusions by Flaero as an act of war.
Sultan Graeo'gi and Kittisek Khan of Nanook signed a non-aggression pact. They were not joining militaries or acting together. They agreed that each could do whatever it was necessary to defend their borders but would not take arms against each other.
Sultan Graeo'gi received a messenger from Hanwi and King Ohdakota but sent only the messenger's head in return. As long as King Ohdakota held treaty with Chancellor Flaero, the Sultan wouldn't even consider peace with Hanwi.
After learning that King Ohdakota sailed with a fleet into Anahitiian waters, Graeo'gi sent his son Prince Tugce to sink their ships or send them back to where they came from. The Sultan had no interest in expansion, but he would defend his borders with an iron fist.
Anahiti used to be more disorganized. The Sultans, through the years, had centralized power to have greater control of the markets. Since they did, Anahiti's economy has stabilized, and its wealth has grown. In order to keep the stability, the line of Sultan's had to show great cruelty to make examples of those that might threaten it.
The order to kill the family of Vizier Loean and his allies, like Sir Rovan of Tara, was necessary to set a strong example, or more dissent might grow. They helped Flaero become Chancellor, and Sultan Graeo'gi would not let them attempt to supplant him.
Word had reached the Sultan that Prince Tugce and his envoy had returned with captives. They had taken most of the captives to be jailed in Port Royal, but were bringing the leaders to the Palace. A royal skiff was sailing up the canal and would arrive at the palace docks.
It was disappointing that the flotilla from Hanwi had largely escaped. They were last seen retreating back to their home waters with their tail between their legs. It wasn't as pleasing to the Sultan as their deaths but he enjoyed the humiliation of his enemies.
The captives were largely Anahitian. Vizier Loean wasn't among them, but word was that they had captured his nephew Olafur. That was almost as good, as he could be used to ransom Loean.
Vizier Loean and his kin have been a thorn on the side of many Sultans, including Graeo'gi's father. His father had Loean's brother and wife killed for their treachery and betrayals; his nephew Olafur might have to receive the same treatment.
Sultan Graeo'gi, his wife, the Sultana Yamila, and daughter, Princess Gursel, were all waiting at the palace docks to greet Prince Tugce. A great feast had been planned to honor his victory.
The Royal skiff was guiding its way past the houses of Government and pulling into the dock. The Sultan presented his ring for his son to kiss, then opened his arms for his son to hug him. The Sultan kissed his son in the traditional way, as did the Sultana. Flower petals were raining down on them as servants threw them from baskets. Musicians played cheerful music, and many people used their full voices in adulation.
Behind the Royal skiff was a second. This skiff was full of soldiers led by Dagrim Kvore, who was pushing his prisoner to exit onto the docks. Olafur, indeed, was his prisoner, bound by his hands behind his back.
"Dagrim, your heroics are legendary. I'm running out of medals and honors to bestow on you." The Sultan exalted.
"Do you get a medal for the murder of children? If so, give him the biggest one." Olafur said defiantly. Dagrim slapped him hard and forced Olafur on his knees.
"This is your sovereign. You should show him obedience while you still have your head. Have you no honor at all?" Dagrim spat.
"It's alright, my friend. He is an animal heading for slaughter. We can allow him some indulgence. Besides, he will be a guest at our feast tonight. He will be on display for all to see." The Sultan pacified.
Olafur looked up with eyes full of hatred.
"Dagrim, take him somewhere to get properly decorated for our little regale." The Sultan said sarcastically as he implied he was to be tortured.
———
Water is sacred to Anahitiians. Inside the halls of the palace are the pools of divinity, which are sacred pools below the palace floors where only the highest of power is allowed.
Many ceremonies are held there. All royal children are christened there. When a new Sultan is crowned, they must drink from them to prove their souls worthy. Any royal marriage will only be official once the couple drinks from the same cup filled with the sacred liquid.
Prince Tugce and Sultan Graeo'gi were drinking from the same cup to celebrate the victory but also to reaffirm the allegiance of his son. With such a grand victory, it would grant Tugce respect, but some might see him as a way to more power.
When power is inherited, it makes your children your greatest love, but it also makes them your biggest rival. Tests of loyalty and love can turn into shadow games if egos and ambition aren't quelled and looked after.
The Sultan wore royal Nemes for all ceremonies. He wore a purple Nemes, while Tugce's was blue. It covered their coarse, curly, black hair. The Sultan's hair had a mixture of grey and white, which was also true of his beard. Tugce kept clean-shaven and kept his hair tightly cropped. They both had brown eyes, tanned skin, and fit physiques. They were adorned with bejeweled silken garments, dark eyeliner, plenty of rings, and open-toed sandals. All of these were just ceremonial, as no one could be comfortable in such things every day. It was to demonstrate their wealth and power for the feast.
The Sultana and Princess joined them in their extravagant gowns as all the glamour and extravagance would be on full display. They did not wear Nemes but fine golden crowns that highlighted the elegant lines of their faces.
Sultana Yamila and Princess Gursel were widely regarded as the greatest jewels in the Anahitiian lands. They both possessed effortless beauty and grace.
The Sultana had greying, long, curly ringlets and a round face. She had high cheekbones and kind brown eyes that could still light up a room. She was tall and thin, and it didn't look like her kin had aged a day.
Princess Gursel beamed youth and vitality. Her features seemed chiseled or drawn by an artist striving for perfection. She was curvier than the high seas and sharper than Dagrim Kvore's sword. Dagrim is just one of the many suitors looking for her affections. The Princess has high standards and has never come remotely close to marriage. She's never even been in a relationship. Her brother Tugce, on the other hand, has had many lovers, sometimes on the same night.
Not all are in love with the Sultana. Despite all her elegance and beauty, she has also been the champion of monotheism. She believes in a modern secular religion centered on deifying the Source of All Things and steering away from the Traditional Gods. Many traditionalist Anahitiians have seen her position at the Sultan's side as dangerous.
The Sultan has been diplomatic and, stayed away from the topic, and has been publicly supportive of tradition. Privately, it has been a source of conflict between the Royal couple.
All of the mighty and powerful showed up for the feast. You didn't want to accidentally give the Sultan the impression that you were not supportive of his positions and leadership.
Boundless amounts of tropical fruit filled every table. Pineapple, papaya, kiwi, and bananas to name a few. Rum, Otai, and wine overflowed the cups. Coconut rice, Ota 'ika, Limu, crunchy pork salads, meatballs, lu'au, poi, and endless side dishes to gorge on. Picking up raw fish and dipping it in coconut milk is just a start before the main course of Kalua pig.
After the desserts and coffees have been served, they bring out the spoils. Vizier Loaen's nephew Olafur is brought out for display. Many of these stuffed pig bureaucrats gag a little at the sight of a tortured fellow Anahitiian. The message for all is clear for those who wish to betray the Sultan. They chain the prisoner to a wall where no eye can miss him.
Olafur can barely open his eyes as they are extremely swollen. The prisoner is shirtless. They turn Olafur so that his back is on display. It is obvious that he has been flogged and whipped. The prisoner isn't standing; he is slumped forward. The only thing keeping him from falling is the tight shackles.
"It is a shame that the flotilla from Hanwi managed to retreat. I would have liked to send their bodies back to Ikai Nor. The death of King Ohdakota was just karmic perfection, though," The Sultan amused himself in conversation.
"The Elysium got away as well." Prince Tugce admitted. "The victory wasn't perfect."
"The Elysium? Isn't that Vizier Loean's ship?" One of the Lords asked.
"Yes, but he wasn't on it. The coward is hiding in the North somewhere, along with the families of his crew. That is his nephew on display." Tugce boasted. "I don't think Vizier Loean will be coming back to Anahiti any time soon."
"Or those bastards from Hanwi. They're without a King and without a clue. They got what they deserve." One of the Lords said.
"They've gotten a taste of our claws, and have run back to Chancellor Flaero for help. That spineless worm will teach them how to hide. It's what he does best. It's appalling that a man born from a lowly whore can ascend to power. Not a drop of noble blood in his veins." A Vizier pointed out.
The feast was rudely interrupted by loud laughter. It wasn't the kind to be heard from good conversation. It was disturbing and mocking. The Sultan looked around to find the source of this impertinence. It was coming from the prisoner, Olafur.
"It seems the condemned man can still see the funny side of things." Prince Tugce laughed.
"All the false backslapping and praising is making me sick," Olafur said loudly.
Some guards went over to shut him up, but the Sultan stopped them, "No, let him speak. The words of a traitor are the shovel, digging his grave deeper."
"You're honoring the Prince for a mighty victory. Acting as if you routed us in battle and even are taking credit for King Ohdakota's death." Olafur criticized.
"I don't like the tone in which you speak of my son." Sultana Yamila rebuked.
"I don't like the way they lie about what happened." Olafur barked.
"The truth can be painful." Prince Tugce boasted.
"The truth? The truth is you were losing. If it weren't for Dagrim Kvore I would have killed every last sailor on your ship. My Master had killed your entire infantry. Our fleet had boarded all of your ships. I sunk half your fleet myself. I wasn't strong enough to defeat Dagrim, though, and that was my mistake." Olafur admitted.
The banquet hall irrupted in anger at Olafur's accusations. People shouted that Olafur was a liar, and that he should be removed. It was difficult to make out all the words as people yelled over each other.
"Is what he said true?" Sultana Yamila asked Dagrim Kvore when things quieted down.
"There is some truth in it." Dagrim confessed. The room got incredibly quiet after that remark.
"How much?" She pushed further.
"It's true that we lost many ships and that his Master took out our entire infantry. But in war, it is how it finishes that counts. The Prince devised a perfect trap. We caught the leaders, and the rest fled." Dagrim lifted his wine glass up to toast the Prince. The entire room joined him.
After the room finished their toast and returned to the chairs, Olafur added fuel to the fire.
"You're forgetting one thing."
"What's that?" The Prince asked.
"My Master will come for me. When he does, not even your champion, Dagrim Kvore, will stand a chance against him." Olafur threatened.
"Your Master died taking out the infantry. I saw him collapse." Prince Tugce said.
"It takes more than that to kill my Master."
"Who's that?" One of the Lords asked.
"Sir, Rovan of Tara, last Knight in the Order of the Sun." Olafur told them.
"Order of the Sun? They're all long dead." A Vizier scoffed. "He's a pretender."
"I wouldn't be so sure." Dagrim rebuked. "I've seen him fight. I think this man, as abhorrent as he is, tells the truth."
The room became a mess of anxious clambering. For the first time, these powerful people were nervous. Everyone in the room had heard the legends of how powerful the Knights in the Order of the Sun were.
"But we have Dagrim Kvore. He has the power of the O element. He is the most powerful and skillful warrior in any land. This Rovan is no threat." A Vizier reasoned. Dagrim said nothing.
Olafur was laughing again. "I suppose few here know what Dagrim did to my Master's family. I shouldn't like to know what my Master will do with your champion if he gets a hold of him." Olafur mocked.
"What did Dagrim do to his family?" Princess Gursel asked honestly.
"Oh, nothing much. I think he slit the throat of his little girl and boy, stabbed his wife in the abdomen until she bled out. A man tends to remember such things." Olafur warned.
"Is that true?" Sultana Yamila queried.
Before Dagrim could answer, the Sultan interrupted.
"This man is a liar and a traitor, and so is his Master. He's served his purpose tonight well enough. Take this prisoner back to his cell. I'm tired of smelling the stench of rot that comes out of his mouth."
The Sultana seemed to want to press for more answers.
"My dear, this is our son's glorious night. There will be time to sort out all the details later. Let's not spoil it." The Sultan requested. The Sultana reluctantly agreed.
"Wait before you take him." A voice shouted from behind them. Some soldiers had interrupted the regale, but they had another prisoner.
"Soldier, it is inappropriate for you to interrupt these proceedings." A guardsman halted them.
"It's alright. I recognize the prisoner. A most timely interruption it is." The Sultan said.
Olafur was brought into the room.
"You were very critical and arrogant earlier, traitor." The Sultan said to Olafur. "You even threatened and warned us about how your Master was going to come for you. Even had some of my Lords and Viziers worried."
Olafur said nothing in response.
"Your Master did come for you." The Sultan gestured for the new prisoner to be brought forth, "Do you recognize him? Your Master came to join you."
The crowd erupted in laughter as Sir Rovan of Tara was brought into the room in chains by two soldiers.
"And we were actually worried about him. Some Knight he is." A Lord mocked loudly.
"Worst Knight I've ever seen in my life. Look how pathetic he looks." A Vizier ridiculed.
Rovan was walking with a limp. He barely had any clothes on. His hair and body was covered in dirt and grime. It looked as if he might have been beaten up. Olafur was looking at him in shock.
"I knew he was a pretender. The Order of the Sun is a relic of the past. Something both of these traitors will be soon." A Lord joked. The room was full of laughter and back-slapping. Everyone but the Sultana, Princess, and Dagrim Kvore.
Dagrim Kvore was staring at Rovan with an intensity that was unnerving. It was as if he was very suspicious of the whole affair.
"I want a good look at this fearsome warrior." The Sultan said. "Bring him to me."