Lord Marak dressed and left his room in the Balomar mansion. He moved quietly down the stairs and out the front door of the mansion. Lord Kiamesh was standing on the porch staring up at the stars. He turned as the door closed and saw Lord Marak.
“You rise early,” greeted Lord Kiamesh.
“Not as early as you,” retorted Lord Marak. “Today is the day we test the mettle of these Jiadin. Are your troops ready for it?”
“They are,” nodded Lord Kiamesh. “My cortes will guard the road outside the estate. The Jiadin will not use it to get around your defenses. Have no fear.”
“Good,” smiled Lord Marak. “Remember to keep Jarri near you at all times. She will be your communications link to me. I will keep you appraised of how the battle is going from the hill.”
“She will always be by my side,” promised Lord Kiamesh. “Their ability to speak over great distances is amazing. You must tell me how this was discovered.”
“After the battle,” promised Lord Marak. “I want to take one last ride through our defenses before heading up the hill.”
Lord Marak mounted his horse and rode off. The Balomar estate had been turned into a natural fortress. Three wide, cleared areas had been cut the length of the estate through the eastern forest. The felled trees were piled in the cleared areas. Wider bands of mature forest separated the cleared strips. Lord Marak rode directly to the outermost cleared strip. As he rode slowly along the cleared strip, couples came out to greet him. Each couple was composed of a female mage and male archer. Lord Marak’s conversations were generally the same for each couple. He warned them that the battle would begin in a few hours. He asked if they understood their tasks, and they assured him that they were ready.
When Lord Marak reached the end of the fortifications, he turned inward until he was well past the innermost cleared strip. A series of trenches ran the length of the estate. Here resided the bulk of the Khadoran army. The squad leaders were just awakening the men as he rode by. He smiled and greeted the men, offering words of encouragement as they prepared for a day of battle. The men were nervous, but they tried not to let Lord Marak see it.
A warm feeling ran through Lord Marak as he reviewed the troops. The men were nervous, but optimistic. They showed a kindred spirit with one another regardless of the uniform they happened to be wearing. They were a unified army fighting a common foe.
Lord Marak gazed skyward and saw the first lightening of the sky. He had spent several hours reviewing the fortifications and knew the battle would begin soon. He quickened his pace and rode to the top of the hill. Already gathered at the summit were the other clan lords and a group of twenty air mages.
“Lord Marak,” greeted Lord Chenowith. “On the ride here I tried to visualize what four hundred cortes would look like if they were assembled in one place. My imagination was not as grim as reality. I fear the troops that we brought will have proved to be too little.”
Lord Marak turned his gaze to fields just beyond the border of the Balomar estate. Whatever crops had been grown there had been trampled to dust by the arriving Jiadin. The fields were packed with mounted Fakaran warriors as far as he could see in either direction. High on a ridge on the other side of the trampled fields were the Pikata Jiadin.
“There are a lot of them,” nodded Lord Marak, “but that alone will not allow them to win. Our people are ready for them. I just spent a few hours reviewing the troops. They are ready.”
“Do you really think we have a chance?” asked Lord Quilo. “The Jiadin are on horseback and our men are on foot. They could just race past our defenses.”
“We have a few surprises planned for them,” smiled Lord Marak. “They will find their ability to trot to the Balomar mansion slightly hampered.”
“The mages?” questioned Lord Patel.
“Yes,” answered Lord Marak. “Our mages will not be expected. The one fear that I have is Zygor. From what I have heard, he is a powerful magician. Whatever part he plays in this battle will probably surprise us. I do not know what to expect form him. I can only hope that our surprise is more effective than his.”
Lord Marak gazed at the distant Fortung Mountains. The first glint of the sun was swiftly approaching the peaks. His eyes dropped to the gathered Jiadin and saw them forming ranks.
“They are coming,” declared the Torak lord. “Mages gather around me.”
The twenty air mages formed a semicircle around Lord Marak and immediately wove air tunnels to the areas that they were to communicate with. Lord Marak nodded appreciatively as he kept his eyes glued on the Jiadin.
“The attack is starting,” Lord Marak announced loudly. “Get ready to defend.”
His words were instantly conveyed to the troops below. Lord Marak’s eyes focused on the center of the defense. He could barely pick out the mage and her archer as they stepped into the forest along the border of the estate.
The Jiadin charged across the entire front, the air ringing with their shouts to charge. The fields thundered with thousands of hooves beating the ground. Suddenly, large felled trees started rolling towards the charging Jiadin. Even as the lead riders prepared to vault over the rolling trees, the logs leaped into the air. Horses and riders fell to the ground as the trees swept onward. The charge faltered as the Jiadin tried to avoid the flying trees.
Suddenly, the air was rent with thunderous claps of thunder. Lord Marak watched in horror as bolts of lightning flashed down from the sky, striking the easternmost strip of forest. The Torak lord saw a mage and archer fly through the air as a bolt struck their position.
“Mercy!” screamed Latril. “What was that?”
“They have magic of their own,” frowned Lord Jamarat.
Lord Marak’s eyes rose to the far ridge. He saw Lord Damirath standing with his hands high in the air. More lightning streaked downward as he watched the Pikata lord.
“That is Zygor,” declared Lord Marak, “although most people would now call him Lord Damirath. Pull back to the next position,” he said loudly into the air tunnels.
Lord Marak watched as the forward mages and their archer escorts turned and raced across the first cleared strip and disappeared into the forest. The Jiadin reformed cautiously. Their horses were skittish from the lightning, and it took a while for them to regroup. The lightning ceased and the battlefield grew quiet. When they did reform, the charge was uncoordinated and sporadic. Some groups charged forward while others were still regrouping. The charging Jiadin leaped over the logs and fallen bodies. They shouted loudly as they charged into the trees in search of the enemy.
As the vanguard of the Jiadin gained the cover of the woods, the trees surrounding them began to explode. Hundreds of water mages worked feverishly to expand the tree saps and time the explosions to cause the most damage to the Jiadin. Flying splinters, large and small, hurtled into the Jiadin horsemen and their mounts. Great trees toppled and fell as their trunks disintegrated in a flurry of bursting wood. The few Jiadin that had managed to race through the fury of the forest were felled by arrows as they tried to cross the outermost cleared strip.
“I cannot believe my eyes,” stated Lord Chenowith. “Who would have believed that our mages were capable of such feats? You could have walked this army through each and every clan of Khadora, Lord Marak. Nothing could have stopped you.”
“I am not out to conquer,” replied Lord Marak. “I do not even care to kill these Jiadin. They could be useful to use when the real battle begins.”
The lightning strikes started again as Lord Damirath focused on the new location of the Torak mages. The Jiadin retreated to regroup, the outer band of forest completely gone. Lord Marak frowned as Lord Damirath peppered the defenses with his lightning bolts.
“Pull back some more,” Lord Marak said into the air tunnels.
“We are giving up ground rapidly,” frowned Lord Patel.
“Too rapidly,” agreed Lord Marak. “The mages were meant to eliminate a great many of the Jiadin, but we cannot afford to lose them to Lord Damirath’s lightning. Worse, when our mages are out of the way, he will be free to bring that lightning down on our armies. We must find a way of stopping him.”
“There are still two cleared areas that they must get across,” Lord Quilo pointed out. “Plus we have the trenches. We at least have some time to think of an alternate strategy.”
Lord Marak turned and signaled Botal to approach. “Take your squad out of here,” instructed Lord Marak. “Try to work your way around the Jiadin without being seen. Do nothing foolish, but if you see an opportunity to attack or distract Lord Damirath, do it.”
Botal nodded and gathered his squad together. Lord Jamarat frowned as he watched the small group of men leave.
“One squad cannot penetrate his defenses,” said Lord Jamarat. “Let me take my cortes out of battle and work my way towards this Lord Damirath.”
“A small group has the best chance of getting anywhere near him,” Lord Marak shook his head. “Besides, your men will be needed here shortly. As soon as the Jiadin clear the trenches, this will become a very bloody battle for us. Every man will be needed then.”
“Here they come again,” announced Lord Patel.
Lord Marak watched as the Jiadin raced across the area that had been a forest a few moments ago. Once again great logs from the cleared strip rolled towards them and took to the air. As soon as the first logs slammed into the charging Jiadin, the lightning strikes began anew. The Jiadin charge did not falter this time. The horsemen tried to dodge the flying logs and leap over those who had not been successful. They raced across the destroyed woodlands and the cleared strip. As the Jiadin entered the next band of trees, the air mages turned and ran, even as the water mages began to expand the tree saps.
The trees exploded in a rippling fashion starting at the far edge of the woods as the air mages tried to stay ahead of the destruction. Hundreds of Jiadin were struck down in the explosions and finally the charge halted and retreated.
“One more band of trees and it is time for the trenches,” frowned Lord Quilo. “They do not care how many men they lose. The next charge will not falter.”
“More Jiadin are arriving,” pointed Lord Jamarat.
Lord Marak’s eyes followed Lord Jamarat’s extended arm to the north. On the distant ridge that Lord Damirath occupied, thousands of Jiadin warriors were forming ranks near the north end.
“These ones have not even bothered to wear the uniforms of a clan,” remarked Lord Patel. “There is just something red around their necks.”
“The red scarves of the Jiadin,” commented Lord Marak. “How many do you estimate?”
“Too far to tell,” Lord Jamarat squinted into the rising sun. “Thousands at least, but I cannot estimate them.”
“It hardly matters how many,” sighed Lord Quilo. “There are already enough Jiadin to defeat us.”
“The battle has not yet started,” rebuked Lord Patel. “Lord Marak’s defenses are sound. Even after they clear the trenches, they will have a battle on their hands. Their horses will be no advantage then, and our soldiers are well trained.”
“This battle is far from over,” agreed Lord Marak. “My hope for few casualties appears to be futile, but we will prevail. We must.”
“Here they come again,” remarked Lord Jamarat.
Lord Marak focused on the charging Jiadin. He watched the horsemen charge over the destroyed woods, the cleared strip, and the newly destroyed woods before the flying logs once again began to smash into them.
“Look at the ridge,” urged Latril. “Something there doesn’t make sense.”
Lord Marak tore his eyes away from the charging Jiadin and focused on the far ridge. The red-scarfed Jiadin were racing along the ridge to engage the Pikata warriors.
“They are attacking each other,” remarked Lord Marak as he continued to watch in amazement.
The Pikata horsemen reacted slowly to the unexpected attack. The horsemen had been at rest watching their brethren below attack. They now scrambled to mount a defense even as the first of the Jiadin reached the closest Pikata soldiers. Lord Damirath spun and faced the attackers. He started to rain lightning down on them, but the ground at his feet erupted into showers of dirt as lightning struck all around him.
“There is another mage,” pointed Lord Patel.
Lord Marak’s eyes swept to the northern extreme end of the ridge. He could barely make out a figure dressed completely in black. The mage’s arms were extended upwards as he called lightning from the sky.
“Aakuta,” Lord Marak said under his breath. “What is the dark mage doing in all of this?”
“Whatever he is doing,” offered Latril, “he is aiding our side.”
“Perhaps for now,” nodded Lord Marak as he watched the red-scarfed Jiadin clash with the Pikata warriors, “but I cannot help but wonder what his real goal is. Mages, direct your air tunnels towards the center of the charging Jiadin below us. Maintain the spread that you currently have. I want my voice to be heard by as many of the Jiadin as possible. Everyone else remain quiet.”
Each air mage nodded when her air tunnel was properly positioned. Lord Marak glanced briefly at the Jiadin below as they entered the last forested strip and the trees began exploding.
“Jiadin,” Lord Marak said loudly into the air tunnels, “I am the Torak, ally of the Astor and the free tribes. Your cause is lost. Look to your leader on the ridge behind you. You are being attacked from the rear. You have but one chance to survive. Get yourselves over the Fortung Mountains and live. Stay in Khadora and die. You have one hour before our cavalry starts to hunt you down.”
Lord Marak watched as confusion rippled through the ranks of the Jiadin below. The charge had already faltered at the last strip of destroyed woodlands, and the Jiadin had started to regroup. Many of the riders turned and gazed up at the ridge. They pointed and shouted loudly. Lord Marak did not need to hear their words. He knew they were wondering what to do. They could continue to attack Balomar, go to the aid of the Pikata, or flee. At the moment, the red-scarfed Jiadin were destroying the Pikata. Lord Marak decided to help them decide.
“Do not waste your hour,” he shouted into the air tunnels. “Our armies are well rested and fresh. You are not. If we catch you in between our cavalry and our Jiadin allies, you will all die.”
Lord Marak made a motion for the mages to drop the air tunnels.
“Our allies?” questioned Lord Jamarat. “Do you mean those with the red scarves are on our side?”
“I have no idea who they are,” Lord Marak admitted, “but it doesn’t hurt to make these false Khadorans believe that they are in danger of dying. At the moment, the red scarves appear to be our allies. That is good enough for me.”
“What was that about the Astor and the free tribes?” asked Lord Quilo.
“That is a long story that I promise to share with you when this is over,” answered Lord Marak as he watched the milling Jiadin arguing with each other.
“Some are fleeing!” shouted Latril. “Look!”
Hundreds of Lejune warriors turned and started galloping away to the south. As their departure created a void in the milling Jiadin, others turned and followed them. Within minutes, thousands were leaving the battlefield. Lord Marak’s eyes rose to the distant ridge. The Jiadin and Pikata warriors were so intermingled that it was impossible to tell who was winning. The two mages continued their lightning strikes against each other, oblivious to the battles raging around them.
“Latril, open an air tunnel to Jarri,” commanded Lord Marak. “Lord Jamarat, I want you to organize your men as cavalry.”
The Neju lord nodded and when Latril had an air tunnel open to Lord Kiamesh, Lord Marak continued, “The Neju and Scratti will follow the retreating Jiadin to make sure they keep heading eastward. Do not engage them as long as they are heading to Fakara. If they try to turn north or south, attack them. The rest of our men will mount up and follow behind you. If you get into trouble, we will be there to bolster your forces.”
* * *
The Jiadin bodies surrounding Aakuta were beginning to pile up. He glanced briefly at them and inhaled deeply as his feelings of power grew. He gazed across the ridge to where Lord Damirath stood. He watched the wizard’s arms rise high and then felt the lightning bolt glance off his shields. Aakuta waited. He did not bother with returning a lightning bolt at his adversary. He waited patiently and timed his move perfectly.
As Lord Damirath’s hands started skyward again, Aakuta swiftly cast a different spell aimed at the Pikata magician. The move caught Lord Damirath by surprise, as the shields protecting him turned a frosty blue. Aakuta smirked as he cast the next spell. A loud ringing echoed across the valley as Lord Damirath’s frozen shields shattered. The Pikata mage looked with astonishment towards Aakuta as he saw the incoming lightning bolt. There was no time for Lord Damirath to react. The lightning bolt blasted into his body, smoke rising in a spiral above him. The uniform that Lord Damirath had been wearing fluttered in the wind and fell to the ground, the body that it had covered was gone.
The Jiadin in Pikata uniforms had seen the magical display of power. Shouts rang out as they began to retreat from the charging Jiadin. Aakuta watched without emotion.
“They are running from the fight,” reported Werner as he rode up alongside Aakuta. “Do we chase them?”
Aakuta looked down at the fields where the other false Khadoran clans were already fleeing the battlefield. He shook his head slowly.
“No,” Aakuta said. “This battle is over. It is time to retreat and plan for the next battle. Gather the men and return to the Valley of the Ram.”
“Not to the Kamaril estate?” questioned Werner. “You are going there alone?”
“The Kamaril no longer interest me,” shrugged Aakuta. “They should not interest you, either. Come closer to me.”
Werner moved hesitantly closer. Aakuta reached out and placed his hand on Werner’s forehead. Werner shivered with fear.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I am removing certain things from your mind,” Aakuta said dispassionately.
“Why?” trembled Werner. “I have served you faithfully. Have I done something wrong?”
“I have no further use for your services,” declared Aakuta. “Tell our Jiadin that their services are no longer required.”
“Then you are not coming back to the valley,” Werner finally realized. “Where will you go?”
“That is no concern of yours,” answered Aakuta. “Zygor has failed. That is what mattered to me. Lead the men directly to the valley with haste. Do not let the Khadorans catch you. If I have need of you in the future, I will let you know.”
Without another word, Aakuta turned and rode away.
* * *
Fisher straightened his uniform as they approached the Imperial Palace. He had wanted to pose as a priest so he could conceal a weapon, but Lord Garic had decided that a one-soldier escort would draw less attention. The Ronan lord had made sure that no weapon was available for the spy.
“Just stay three steps behind me and do not speak,” ordered Lord Garic. “If you embarrass me in the Imperial Palace, I will have your tongue cut out.”
“I know how to pose as a soldier,” promised Fisher.
Lord Garic mumbled under his breath as they approached the door to the Imperial Palace. The Imperial guards nodded politely and opened the door without a word spoken. The halls of the palace were deserted as dusk was several hours past. They marched through the entry foyer and the foyer before the Assembly Chamber. Lord Garic walked straight to the nearest staircase and started ascending the stairs. Fisher maintained the proper distance. He grinned broadly when the light of a torch reflected off of something metal in Lord Garic’s waistband. He focused on the area as they passed the next torch and saw the tip of a knife protruding just below the wide belt.
Lord Garic left the stairwell and marched along the corridor to the door of the Emperor’s office.
“He is expecting me,” Lord Garic stated without emotion.
One of the Imperial soldiers on guard nodded and opened the door to the Emperor’s office. Lord Garic swept past the two men and Fisher followed obediently. The door closed behind him. Emperor Mirakotto glanced up momentarily as they entered the room, grunted an acknowledgement of their presence, and then returned to his writing. Lord Garic continued walking across the large room towards the chairs before the Emperor’s desk.
Fisher smoothly closed the distance between himself and Lord Garic. Just before Lord Garic reached the chairs, Fisher made his move. He grabbed the hidden knife and pushed Lord Garic forward. Lord Garic stumbled into a chair and fell to the floor. Emperor Mirakotto glanced up with a look of annoyance on his face. His eyes barely had time to register the threat as the knife flew across the short distance and imbedded in his throat. The Emperor’s hands rose towards his throat and his mouth opened wide to scream, but the only sound was a timid gurgle. The Emperor’s head banged down on his desk. Lord Garic cursed and tried to untangle himself from the chair he had knocked over.
“I am so sorry,” apologized Fisher. “I didn’t see you stop. Let me help you up.”
“I didn’t stop,” snarled Lord Garic as he took the offered hand. “I warned you not to embarrass me.”
“I know,” Fisher said with a smile as his fist flashed forward and connected with the Ronan’s lord’s head.
Lord Garic collapsed and sprawled on the floor. Fisher swiftly hoisted the man’s body over his shoulder. He walked to the window and looked out. The city was dark, and he could see no guards on the lawn below. He maneuvered Lord Garic’s body to the window ledge and pushed it out. He waited until he heard the telltale thud of the body hitting the ground. He walked over to the desk and picked up the chair. He positioned the chair as it had been earlier and walked to the exit door. He listened carefully for any signs of activity on the other side and smiled when he heard none. He was thankful that the Emperor’s office had thick doors to keep outsiders from hearing what went on inside.
Fisher swiftly opened the door, slid out of the room, and closed the door again. The guards immediately turned towards him with questioning glances.
“Lord Garic forgot the papers he wanted to show the Emperor,” Fisher shrugged. “Guess who gets the blame for it?”
“Could it be any other way?” chuckled one of the guards. “You had better hurry with them or he will deride you some more when you return.”
“I am in no hurry to return,” smiled Fisher. “Those two are arguing as if they were married. I can never get used to being in the presence of two powerful men arguing. It just isn’t safe.”
“Well I hope he doesn’t ring for us then,” laughed one of the guards. “I would prefer that you return and take the abuse.”
“Thanks a lot,” Fisher said sarcastically as he waved goodbye to the guards and headed for the staircase. “I just hope they don’t come to blows like they did the last time.”
* * *
“Welcome back to Khadoratung, Lord Marak,” greeted Katzu outside the Lords’ Council Chamber. “I heard that things went well on the frontier.”
“Indeed they did,” smiled Lord Marak. “The Jiadin have fled back into Fakara. A few groups of them chose to stand and fight, but they proved to be no match for the armies pursuing them. The bodies of the three lords hosting them have been found dead. Nobody is sure if they committed suicide or were murdered by their own people. I don’t think anyone really cares as long as they are gone.”
“What of Lord Damirath?” asked the mediator. “I heard reports that only his clothes were found. There was no body.”
“That is correct,” nodded Lord Marak. “Frankly, I am not surprised. I believe the real Lord Damirath died a long time ago. Somehow Zygor found a way to take over his body. There is much about magic that we do not know yet.”
“I am sure your mages will soon discover it,” smiled Katzu. “What of Aakuta? I heard he actually helped our side in the battle.”
“He certainly did,” agreed Lord Marak. “I do not know if it was intentional of not, but timing of his arrival was fortunate for us. We were at the point in battle where our losses were about to increase dramatically. There was no sign of his body after the battle. He must have escaped. Some of the fleeing Jiadin spoke of a secret valley in Fakara that was lush with crops and animals. I got the impression that the dark mage was somehow responsible for it. What happened to Mirakotto?”
“That is puzzling,” frowned Katzu. “It appears that Lord Garic and he had a falling out. Lord Garic knifed him in the throat. It must have been a spontaneous act, because Lord Garic did eventually realize what he had done. He committed suicide by jumping from the window.”
“I cannot say that I am sorry to see the two of them gone,” admitted Lord Marak. “They placed their own welfare above that of Khadora. We have no place for such people.”
“I agree,” nodded Katzu. “You had better go in. The other lords have already assembled. We can talk later.”
Lord Marak smiled and nodded as Katzu held the door open for him. He entered the chamber and took a seat with the other four lords.
“Now that we are all here,” smiled Lord Patel, “we can begin. Our only point of business today is to select the next Emperor. Let us try to do a better job than the last time. I open this meeting for nominations.”
Each of the lords looked at one another for a few seconds. Lord Marak smiled and stood.
“I nominate Lord Chenowith,” he said. “His father served Khadora well, and I am sure that Bagora’s son will follow in that tradition.”
Lord Chenowith smiled and rose as Lord Marak sat back down. “Thank you, Lord Marak,” he said. “You honor me with your nomination. I cannot accept, however. I think everyone in this room knows who needs to be our next Emperor. While I think each of us could serve this country well, only one of us has the vision of where we need to go. That person, Lord Marak, is you. I nominate Lord Marak to be our next Emperor.”
“My election to Emperor may be a bit too much for the Khadoran lords to stomach,” warned Lord Marak. “I would immediately issue several edicts.”
“What kind of edicts?” asked Lord Quilo.
“I would immediately banish slavery,” answered Lord Marak. “I would demand that all mages be schooled. I believe we will need their magic when the evil comes.”
“I think the lords will have to swallow those reforms,” shrugged Lord Quilo. “Schooling the mages makes a great deal of sense. Nobody fully understands what they are capable of. As for freeing the slaves, it is only an economic matter. If all clans free them, no particular clan will have an advantage. It will be equal for all.”
“I would also freeze all clan boundaries,” Lord Marak continued. “I will not have boundary disputes causing dissention between clans. If there are boundaries that are currently in dispute, they must be presented to the Lords’ Council within a fortnight. The Lords’ Council will decide upon a final boundary in those cases.”
“An excellent idea,” remarked Lord Patel. “Boundary disputes are the number one reason for warfare in Khadora. We should commission a map of Khadora showing each and every boundary.”
“I will want each estate to have their armies trained here in Khadoratung,” added Lord Marak. “They can send two cortes for training and when those two are returned to them, they can send two more. Eventually, we will have trained every army in the country and taught them how to interact with other armies.”
“So when the times comes,” nodded Lord Kiamesh, “the various clan armies will be able to act like one.”
“Exactly,” agreed Lord Marak. “We will also be able to count on each army to have a sufficient level of skill to handle the tasks we assign. There is another reform that I have thought a lot about lately. We need a system of courts in Khadora. When slavery as a punishment is abolished, it will cause a certain amount of confusion as to what is to be done with lawbreakers. We should have courts that will decide the punishment for each crime. No longer will the clan lord be the sole judge of crime and punishment. Each offender will be given a chance to tell his side of the story. The court will decide on guilt or innocence and specify the punishment.”
“This is a drastic change in our laws,” interjected Lord Chenowith. “Clan lords are used to having the final say in affairs of the clan. There may be riots calling for you to step down.”
“Which is why I warn you against electing me,” sighed Lord Marak. “I see these edicts as necessary to make Khadora into the country we have always wanted it to be.”
“I think the courts could be presented in such a way as to make them appear more favorable,” suggested Lord Patel. “Each clan has in their history at least one tale of wrong justice. If the courts are presented as being able to prevent such injustices in the future, I think it will be accepted.”
“You might also add that the levying of fines will be a punishment,” added Lord Quilo. “A portion of the proceeds can be allocated to the wronged party. Nothing speaks louder to a clan lord that gold.”
“Isn’t that the truth,” chuckled Lord Kiamesh.
“There is one last edict that goes against the very first law of Khadora,” Lord Marak frowned. “The Chula are not to be bothered. This will cause an outcry from some clans because they have been led to believe that all of Khadora’s woes rest on the shoulders of the Chula. The fact is, the Chula have never attacked us unless we first invaded their lands. This fighting must also stop. As the clan boundaries will be formalized, there will be no reason to invade Chula lands.”
“You have presented the reasons why Khadorans have no need to attack the Chula,” frowned Lord Quilo, “but what is to stop the savages from attacking us?”
“I will execute a treaty with the Chula,” offered Lord Marak. “We will each agree to the boundaries of our peoples. Hopefully, we will soon begin trading between the Chula and the clans, and perhaps in time, we will even learn to trust one another.”
“Any other edicts, Lord Marak,” asked Lord Chenowith.
“Not at this time,” sighed Lord Marak, “but I warn you my election will cause problems.”
“There will be problems no matter who becomes Emperor,” declared Lord Chenowith. “I could be easily tempted to take your list of edicts and make them mine.”
“That would please me,” smiled Lord Marak.
“But I won’t,” grinned Lord Chenowith. “They are your edicts, and you should implement them yourself. My nomination of Lord Marak still stands. Are there any other nominations before I call for a vote?”
“There will be no other nominations,” smiled Lord Quilo. “Let’s get this vote out of the way so we can start planning to implement the Emperor’s new edicts.”
“Yes,” grinned Lord Kiamesh, “I can hardly wait to see the faces at the Assembly of Lords when Emperor Marak announces his few small changes. A few of those expressions will be priceless.”
The mood of the Lords’ Council was bright as they voted in the new Emperor. While the meeting officially ended with the election of Emperor Marak, unofficially it continued well into the night. Each of the members of the Lords’ Council began preparing speeches in support of Emperor Marak’s edicts.
The Lords’ Council mediator, Katzu, checked the room periodically. Each time he checked, his curiosity grew as to why the council was still in session. He also wondered why the members were in such a jovial mood. Eventually, he stayed inside the room and listened to what was going on. With a wide grin of understanding, Katzu pulled out a chair and sat down to join in the preparations for a new Khadora.