Port city of Edregil
Kingdom of Mehtab
The massive crimson Imperial army had camped outside the city of Edregil for the last seven days, yet no one could get accustomed to their war drums or throat singers lurking in the blue night. Their presence vibrated the heart and swallowed the soul.
Within the city, fear silently crept through the abandoned streets languishing under florescent lights. The calm night sky was freckled with griffin riders patrolling the city. People were either holed up in their homes or took refuge in the numerous shrines dotted across the city chanting hymns to the God of moon, seeking deliverance. The majority were women pushing prayers out of their mouths for their fathers, husbands and sons. They were choked to the bones for they were aware of the fate that awaited them if the enemy were to cross the threshold of the city. The lucky ones would be killed, and the survivors would be subjected to something worse.
The inner royal court was in a state of chaos. Cabinet ministers dressed in their blue uniforms huddled intently around the soothsayer, a boy with dark hair and eyes the color of Autumn sun. He firmly held up the hundred eyed chalice to the King of Mehtab.
"Gaze into it. What do you see?" The soothsayer's gentle voice whispered.
The King of Mehtab, a sturdy young man, stood unmoved. His eyes dug into the chalice and the hundred eyes stared back with the intensity of a pack of predators. He felt nausea twisting his gut. There was a cacophony of howls growing around him, but he looked on until they stopped, and it was suddenly eerie quiet. Before he could scream, the hundred eyes leaped out of the cup gulped him down like a morsel. When he opened his eyes, he found himself flailing in something that felt wet on his skin, but he could breathe it in. Something endless between air and water. He had read about the lake of time in the records of erstwhile kings, but this was his first-time diving into it. It felt claustrophobic and he wanted to jump out, but he knew struggling would further agonize him. He was closer to a butterfly in a box. He calmed his heart and thought about the only question that occupied his mind. "Is victory even possible?" he mouthed the words and the answer presented itself. There was a vision of a familiar shrine engulfed in blood flames that could scorch flying birds. The king's eyes widened. He clenched his fist but couldn't feel the sensation. The god of Time had spoken, and the omen was evil.
When he got thrown back into his world, he was taken aback by what he saw.
"What did you see?" The soothsayer asked again.
"The shrine of eight moons," the king said as he sank to the floor. "I saw it on flames."
The ministers gasped.
"The gods wouldn't be so cruel to us," a ministers said with disbelief.
"Surely, there must be something we can do?" another questioned the soothsayer.
He shook his head. "Our laws forbid was from questioning the will of the gods."
The soothsayer looked at the King and said, "Our King must rise and accept his fate and with him, we must too."
The court started brimming with anxious mumblings.
An old minister stood apart from the crowd leaning on his walking stick, quietly observing. His drooping eyelids made him look blind. He opened his mouth, his voice loud and clear, and said, "We, the people of Mehtab, have long prospered, but even a full moon wanes and thus, there is no escaping these things."
The king listened engrossed in thought. He stood up and the frenzied room gathered around him.
"I accept my fate but as a king I am inclined to fight," the king said strongly. "Send a letter to the Crimson General. I challenge him to a duel. If I fall so will this city, without bloodshed, and if I am victorious, my people remain free."
"There is nothing more to be said about it," the king added before anyone could voice their objections.
The inner court dispersed, and the King left straight for the Eastern tower.
In the next hour, a letter with the royal seal of Mehtab left the city on the back of an overstrung messenger headed for the Imperial camp.
The tower overlooked the Daiyu river delta. In the distance the place where the river met the Eastern Sea was blue like the pensive bright moon. The sound of Birch trees swaying with the winds echoed through the vast grassland. The King imprinted the view on his mind and yearned for a simpler time. He had seen the sight ever since he was child, yet he still felt the same religious wonder and it dwarfed him.
As he looked on wistfully, he felt a gentle tug on his uniform. He turned around and the queen stood before him. She placed her hand on his chest and took his fears away. The silver hue of her magic blossomed his fear into azaleas and she offered them back to him. A tender smile appeared on his face. The smell of her perfumed dress lingered between them. He took the flowers into his hand and threw them on to the wind. His magic carried them towards heaven until they became stars.
"With this, I hope gods eat our fear," the queen said.
He traced the flow of moonlight on her dark hair and embraced her.
A minister stumbled towards them, panting, almost in tears.
"The messenger has returned, Your majesty."
The King and Queen rushed to the inner court. Upon arrival they found the room still and the minsters in despair.
The messenger fell on his knees and presented the Imperial response.
'To His Majesty, the King of illustrious Mehtab,
I humbly accept your challenge and admire the sentiment with which it was sent. However, I am bound by the Imperial edict that prohibits me from agreeing to your conditions. In case you were to emerge victorious, I shall leave with the Imperial army at once and offer my head to the Crimson Emperor. However, I have been commanded to bring Imperial retribution upon you and your people, so, if I win, I shall make good on it.
His Majesty and his brother, His Highness the Grand prince Dastan, conspired against the emperor and created disorder in the Empire and thus have been charged by the Imperial court of high treason. You are to be executed like criminals upon capture. Given her status as an imperial niece, Her Majesty, The Queen has been offered clemency. Upon arrest she will return to her motherland where she will spend her life under house arrest.
The worship of Mithras, the god of moon, by the people of your kingdom taints the Holy land of the Sun and the Sky and thus to cleanse this world of such pagan devotions, His Imperial Majesty has declared that the shrines dedicated to the god of moon be desecrated and its priests and shrine maidens be executed as heretics.
Beyond this, I possess no more information to provide. Tomorrow at noon, with Sun goddess as our witness, we shall fight to death in front of our people. May the gods grant you, their luck.
Yours Sincerely,
Murat Al-Hans
General-in-Command (Western Flank)
Imperial Crimson Army