The envoy arrived in Tlangthar amidst a display of opulence that clashed with the somber atmosphere of the city. The sky above shimmered as a radiant, flying carriage descended onto the main square, phasing in and out of visibility. Its surface gleamed with metallic etchings, enchanted runes pulsating in intricate patterns. As the carriage landed, the onlookers—already uneasy from the recent quakes—gathered in silent anticipation.
The doors of the carriage opened, revealing a tall man draped in jewels and radiating an aura of authority. His pale, flawless skin seemed to glow in the early light, and his long blonde hair, streaked with silver, fell in waves down his back. Bangles, earrings, and rings adorned every inch of him, reflecting the wealth of the Kirat Empire. Behind him stepped ten guards, their armor minimal but enchanted, consisting of chest plates and headpieces under flowing cloaks. Their deliberate movements and the faint magical hum of their weapons left no doubt—these were magi, elite soldiers of the Empire.
Zakop stood at the forefront, flanked by his closest advisors. Pupi, the elder mage with piercing eyes and an air of inscrutable wisdom, held his staff loosely, though his stance was alert. Chinzah, the warrior chief, stood to Zakop's left, his imposing frame and keen gaze a silent warning to any who might underestimate the gathered leaders. On Zakop's right stood Hwehwe, her fiery temperament barely concealed beneath her composed demeanor, and Mualza, calm and solid as a mountain, his hair tied into a practical bun.
Zakop stepped forward, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. "Captain Rhabut, we welcome you to Tlangthar. May this visit bring clarity in troubled times."
Rhabut's gaze swept over the assembled crowd and the city beyond, his expression one of thinly veiled disdain. He took his time, his eyes flickering with faint magic as he seemed to appraise the very land itself. Finally, he turned his piercing gaze to Zakop and his council.
"This war of ours is complicated," Rhabut began, his tone condescending, "and I am here to deliver the Empire's decree. We cannot spare forces for your northeastern region. You will defend yourselves. Your land, however, is of value…more than you realize." He paused, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "Once the Empire finishes this war, everything will change. Be prepared."
The advisors exchanged glances, their composure tested but unbroken. Hwehwe's eyes narrowed, her fists clenching briefly before she mastered herself. Mualza remained impassive, but his measured breath hinted at the effort it took to maintain his calm.
Zakop's voice remained measured. "We have always defended our lands with resilience. But we hoped for mutual cooperation in these times. The quakes have disrupted—"
"Enough," Rhabut interrupted, his voice sharp. He took a step forward, his guards closing ranks around him. "What we demand now is tribute. One hundred women—for the entertainment of my guards and me. We shall have them brought here by nightfall."
A hush fell over the square. Zakop's jaw tightened, and his advisors stiffened visibly. Pupi's hand tightened around his staff, while Hwehwe's fiery temperament threatened to boil over.
"This is an outrage," Zakop said, his voice low and taut. "We will not subject our people to such barbarism."
Rhabut's smile disappeared. In an instant, his hand shot out, grasping Zakop by the throat. The chief's advisors moved to intervene, but the magi guards raised their hands, conjuring a shimmering barrier that held them back.
"You forget your place," Rhabut hissed. "Perhaps your wife, Moimui, should lead this procession. And your advisors' wives, too…Pipu and Lianmoi, was it? Refuse me again, and I'll execute a dozen of your people here and now."
Zakop struggled against Rhabut's grip, his vision narrowing. With great effort, he choked out, "We…will comply."
Rhabut released him with a shove, stepping back as Zakop gasped for air. "Good. Have the tribute prepared by nightfall. I will send for them then. And while you're at it, I want last year's taxes and tributes. Yes, even those already paid." With that, Rhabut turned, his guards closing around him as he strode back to his carriage.
In the privacy of the council chamber, the fury of Zakop and his advisors boiled over.
"We cannot let this stand," Hwehwe spat, her voice trembling with rage. "This…this fiend thinks he can take our people as playthings?"
Pupi's voice was calmer but no less resolute. "We must act swiftly. Rhabut's arrogance is his weakness, but we cannot underestimate the magi guards."
Mualza's voice rumbled like distant thunder. "If we are to strike, it must be decisive. An ambush, using the full power of our shamanistic arts. Given time to prepare, our magic can counter their defenses."
Zakop stood at the head of the table, his composure returned. "Then it is decided. Tonight, we strike. We will not allow Tlangthar to be humiliated—nor our people enslaved."
The advisors nodded, each already beginning to prepare their role in the plan. They summoned their most trusted shaman-soldiers, working through the day to set up runes and enchantments that would turn Rhabut's temporary residence into a deadly trap.