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Kingdom of Nand
Round 4 | 106 - 107
News and Rumours
- Things are quiet so far...
Spoiler: 88, Janganand
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The royal procession snaked along the road, though to call it a road was to give the track undue flattery. Despite desultory efforts of the setrapan near Jangai itself, decades of neglect had left enough of the surface missing, whether through wear or scavenging by locals for their own purposes, to leave it scarcely better than trekking across open country. It was, nonetheless, better, and so they stuck to it regardless.
One of the rearguard thumped up alongside the column, the rider turning slightly to give a slight salute to the queen as he passed, but only stopping when he reached the commander at the head of the group.
“Riders to the rear of the column, anoban.”
Firouz turned slightly in the saddle to regard his junior officer. “Numbers? Insignia?”
“No insignia we could see, sir. We have no word on full numbers, but at least ten, with the look of steel about them.”
Firouz nodded. “Take two additional men to the rear, and give the order for all riders to stay alert. You're in command back there, Karim. In the meantime I shall speak to the queen.”
“Sir.” Karim turned and headed back down the line, giving his instructions.
“Is there a problem, commander?” the queen asked as Firouz drew alongside her litter.
“I hope not, shabana, but there is no sense in taking a chance. Riders have been sighted to the rear of our group; I recommend that your person and the civilians remain in the centre of the column at least until their intention can be ascertained. In all likelihood they are merely fellow travellers.”
“As you say, commander.” She waved over one of her attendants. “Bring all my household to surround the litter, none on the outside of the column.”
Within a few minutes the straggling group had transformed itself into a more obviously military formation, the royal guards surrounding a central group of civilians and pack animals, together with the royal litter.
Eraneh noticed one of her junior officials glancing around slightly nervously, and beckoned him over.
“It's Kusal, isn't it?”
“Yes, shabana.”
“There is no need to be frightened. Sardapan Firouz has my complete confidence.”
“I am not frightened, highness.”
“There is no shame in admitting it. If you have not seen battle, it is only natural that the prospect of attack would induce nervousness.”
Kusal looked slightly incredulous. “Who would attack the royal banner? The queen herself?”
“Bandits,” a sergeant grunted from nearby. “Or worse. Both are possible out here.”
“Invaders from the west, then?” Kusal twisted to address the sergeant.
“Perhaps,” the man said, though kept his further thoughts to himself.
“Forgive Davoud,” the queen said, gently. “He has a dour and pessimistic manner. It will not be long before we are back in Teyasi, I am sure.”
That likelihood seemed to recede a moment later as another rider pounded past, and held a hurried conference with Firouz. The savaran scowled and hauled his reins around, turning his mount back towards the queen.
“Shabanah, I-”
She cut him off with a quick hand gesture. “Firouz, you are entrusted with my safety. If you believe we are under attack, you need not ask me for permission before taking action. Give orders and I shall follow. We can worry about the formalities when we are all safe.”
“Thank you, highness. In that case-” he glanced around - “I might suggest that shortly we abandon your litter and you ride. It will be less comfortable, but faster.”
“As you say, savaran.”
Firouz gave a grim nod, and turned away. “Pick up the pace!” he called. The riders kicked their heels, jostling the flustered handmaids and mandarins along with them.
Firouz swore and made his way back down the line, grabbing the arm of an officer next to Kusal. “We need to keep the civilians quiet. Our numbers may be the only thing keeping us safe for now, but if they realise half of us are noncombatants that could be curtains. If they cannot maintain military discipline they can at least look like they are ready to fight.” He glanced over to Kusal. “You, boy, can you fight?”
“I have never fought – though I have trained.”
“Do you have a sword?”
“Yes?”
“Then wear it, and tell your colleagues to do likewise. You may not be a soldier, but from a distance you could look enough like one.”
Kusal nodded, then couldn't help himself blurting out as the commander turned to leave. “Savaran.”
“What, boy?”
“What's going on? Raiders from the west?”
“I don't know myself yet, though I have my suspicions. But they're not from the west – they ride thezirins.” Firouz was gone before Kusal could question him further.
“Outlaws, then?” he said to the man at his left.
“Or in-laws, depending whose laws we're talking about,” the man growled. He twisted in the saddle slightly to look behind them. “They're matching our pace.”
Firouz had clearly noticed, judging from his body language, and for a moment he seemed to hesitate. Kusal could understand the commander being caught in two minds: if they were to make a stand, it should be here in the hills, but until they reached open country he would have less idea of their numbers, and therefore the odds facing them.
“Less than an hour until the plain,” Firouz spat, when the rearguard caught up with him, “and still no idea on numbers.”
“We know they have more than us,” Karim replied. “More than we have soldiers, at any rate.”
“But how many more? I'd back us to see off sixty, maybe. A hundred? Not a chance.”
“What are our options?”
“We make a stand here and hope to kill enough of them that they withdraw, or we run for the river and trust we cross it before they catch us.”
“There's a lot of open country to cover before we reach the river.”
“I didn't say they were good options.”
“There's a third.”
“Speak.”
“I remain behind with, say, six riders. Enough to delay them, and buy you time.”
“It's a suicide mission. I can't order that.”
“I don't need your orders, sir. Only your permission.”
Anger twisted in Firouz's gut. Karim was one of his best, a promising young officer; intelligent and observant, and, above all, loyal. To be forced to sacrifice him, let alone the rest of the men he would need, went against everything he believed in, and yet it offered by far the best chance for the queen's escape.
“Do it,” he said, eventually, hating himself for it. “Just before we reach the plain.”
“Sir.”
“And Karim...”
“Sir?”
He found himself unable to express his true feelings. “May Larutir guide your arm, and Jenehuntir find you swiftly when your arm can no longer be guided.”
Karim gave a slight smile. “Don't let her hear you talking like that.”
Firouz spat. “Whatever she might say, if my men are going to go out, I'll have them go out to the tune of their own bloody gods.”
Eraneh, having abandoned her litter as per Firouz's advice, drew her thezirin up alongside his. “What is your plan, savaran?”
“We still have little idea of their numbers, shabana, save that they outnumber us. I cannot risk you in making a stand, so our only option is to make a run for the river.”
“Do you yet know who they are?”
“No, highness, but we can guess. They are no bandits, that is certain. Were they so, they would have abandoned the chase long ago, besides which only the boldest bandits would attack a military column of this size in any case.”
“Assassins, then.”
“I fear so. They will aim to cut us off before we can reach the Buzdarja. Once we are across our passage back east shall become much easier, and we can hold them off at the ford for hours if necessary.”
“If they have the numbers, they will aim to run us down in open country before we reach it.”
“Exactly, highness.” Firouz was impressed by how calmly the queen spoke of these matters. “One of my officers has volunteered to delay them while we break for the river.”
“And you will allow this?” Her eyebrows raised.
“It is my duty, highness. Every man and woman here is expendable to ensure your safety.”
“I should rather fight with my people.”
He frowned. “Highness, if we become embroiled in combat before we reach the river, you will run for the ford, alone if necessary. That is an order, by your own instruction.”
She gave a grim half-smile. “Very well then, commander. Though I hope it will not come to that.”
“So do we all.”
The plains were visible in front of them. “Are you ready to ride hard, highness?”
“I don't have much of a choice, do I?”
“Not if you wish to live.” He raised and dropped his fist, and the whole column lurched forward as the thezirins stretched their legs. One of the soldiers rode alongside the pack beasts, cutting straps on those items deemed non-essential to free them for running, as Karim and his chosen few veered back to guard the pass against those coming from behind.
Firouz did not dare look back, only in part because he did not wish to see his men die. The distant ring of metal on metal quelled any hope he might have maintained that this could be settled without bloodshed. His eyes, like those of his steed, stayed fixed on the horizon and the river where something approaching safety awaited.
It was only when one of the nearby troops swore that he turned to see the group following them, and came to appreciate their full size. He swore himself.
Nearly two hundred thezirin riders were behind them, strung out in a rough semicircle. In a fight, he knew there could be only one winner. More worrying though was that with those numbers they could likely run them down. Already the right wing of the pursuit was pulling forward, almost level with their rearguard, aiming to get between them and the river.
“If we turn now we can have a shot at punching through!” Babur, one of the junior officers, yelled across to him.
“No!” Firouz shouted back. “They would envelop us, and we cannot risk the queen!”
The groups continued to close the gap, as he looked for a chance, any chance, to break ahead and reach the river before the pursuers could get there. Shots were exchanged between the riders on the outmost of each party, and at least one of his men fell to the ground with a yell. They had no chance to recover him.
He cursed and waved, drawing his column off towards the left, back north-west and away from the river out onto the plain. As they drew away, he could see the pursuit party falling off, enough to conserve their energy, though clearly not far enough to abandon the pursuit. As cautiously as he dared, he signalled for his own men to slow too.
“What now?” asked the queen, as the group slowed almost to a walk. “I take it we can no longer reach the river.”
“We cannot, or at least not without taking an undue risk to your safety, shabana. They are shadowing our rear, and if they persist with their current strategy they will doubtless attempt to foil any attempt by us to double back and reach Jangai, or other shelter. They will harry us west until we can flee no more, and hope to exhaust us before cutting us down.”
“Is there no room for negotiation, you think?”
“None, I imagine. They are here either to kill you or to take you captive, and I would imagine the former. If we stop, and allow them to catch us, they will kill us.”
“So what shall we do?”
“We could head south and attempt to find another crossing point on the Buzdarja. We would still be stranded, but it would at least form a defensible position, and might buy us time.”
“You do not sound confident.”
“I am not. They are clearly keen to avoid us finding our way back towards the kingdom proper. If they allow us to head south we might encounter a sympathetic setrapan or even a village who can delay them. I believe if they think we are heading south they will do their best to cut us off: it will only cost us men and steeds.”
“Or we could continue to head north-west, into uncharted territory.”
“Exactly, highness. Moreover, away from the river. We do not know whether there are any fresh water sources to be found. We have enough for perhaps two days, but no more without resupplying.”
“And every day we spend running reduces our ability to fight. Damn them.”
“Forgive me for saying so, highness, but this has been a well-executed ploy on their part.”
“When I find out who's behind it I'll have his balls,” she said, softly. “Still, time enough for that later. It seems we must take our chances and head west.”
It was the pace of the pursuit from that point onwards that was as frustrating as anything, Kusal felt. In the adrenaline-fuelled rush of the flight from the hills, he had felt ready for battle, but since then everything had slowed. They travelled mostly at walking pace, save for occasional bursts when a rider would test them, and were even able to pitch camp for the night, spending an uneasy night within sight of their pursuers' torches. Davoud had suggested attempting to sneak away in the night, but Firouz had had none of it: even if their enemies did not catch them, which was more likely than not, they had little idea of the local geography, and it would be all too easy for the queen to fall into a ravine. Besides which, they were all exhausted.
Shortly before dawn, Firouz came to him.
“Kusal, is it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“We have no hope of getting away to the south or east in any numbers, but we can continue to head west. The problem is that we have no idea what we're running into. I need someone to go ahead of the column and scout for us. Can you do that?”
“I have no experience...”
Firouz spat. “I have thirty men remaining and none of them are scouts, besides which, all of them are bone-tired. I need someone young, with energy and sharp eyes, and a good memory. You're a scrivener or something, aren't you?”
“Or something, yes sir.”
“Then you'll have an eye for detail, and you know how to talk your way out of any trouble you might run into.”
“How far ahead do you want me to range?”
“As far as you believe you can. I doubt you'll have a problem finding us again.”
“Thank you for trusting me, sir.”
“It's your own life on the line as well, boy. Leave now, before they spot you.”
As Kusal rode off into the dawn, Babur approached. “You let the kid go?”
“I need someone ahead of the column in case we run into the river again, and if we have to fight, who'd you rather have by your side, him or one of our men?”
“Fair enough, sir.”
Another day and night passed and Kusal did not return, nor did they find any fresh water. Still their foes hovered, like carrion beasts waiting for weakness to overcome them, loitering just out of range, moving in often enough to drive them on, not allowing them any rest during the day, and little enough during the night, as they slept with one eye open.
Eventually, one of the thezirins stumbled and fell, spilling one of the queen's handmaids to the ground. The creature rose again, but, with both it and its rider dehydrated (as were they all, save the queen and the soldiers, who had been prioritised when distributing water rations), Firouz forbade her to remount. Being reduced to the walking pace of a Nend slowed them yet further, and he could feel the predators nipping at their heels. When enough of them were on foot, their enemies would move in en masse.
It was almost the hour of Elarendeh when the moment came, as the column was marching almost due west into the sun. By now ten of them were dismounted, and the air of hopelessness was almost tangible. Then Davoud was pointing.
“There, sir! A river!”
It was a paltry thing compared to the mighty Buzdarja, but it would be enough, enough for them at least to replenish their water supplies and make a stand. But Firouz knew that as soon as the river became visible to their pursuers, they would charge, and that could be enough to finish them as it was.
Gradually he eased the column forward, increasing their speed. Those on foot were jogging to keep up with the riders, and then the shout came from behind. A trumpet sounded, and he heard the roar as the charge was ordered, then the thump of thezirin feet.
“Run for your lives!” he shouted, and spurred his own steed forward. The queen led the flight, her thezirin still the fittest and best-watered, as had been the intention. Still, their enemies were coming in hard, on fresh mounts and scenting blood. Dismounted maids and mandarins coughed and spluttered and stumbled in the cloud of dust the thezirins kicked up. He was sure he saw some of them fall, but he could not help them.
Babur clearly disagreed, as he turned in the saddle, shaking his head, and drew his sword, before charging back towards their enemies. It was a defiant gesture, but nothing more. Arrows were falling among them now, men, women and beasts screaming as they found purchase. Babur would likely be a dead man before he even reached enemy lines. Still though they were on course to make the river. There was still a chance to survive.
Then they crested the hill, and Firouz's hopes died in his chest. Between them and the river were half a thousand men, the leading group approaching at pace with weapons drawn. Their mounts were odd and ungainly, large quadrupedal mammals that jerked back and forth and looked thoroughly uncomfortable to ride. Camels, perhaps, he thought, from what he had heard of the creatures. However strange their steeds, the cavalry themselves were no joke: humans, he reckoned, fully armed and armoured, with bright-coloured banners that would not shame a Nend. And behind the cavalry, rank upon rank of infantry.
The queen drew up her thezirin at the sight of them and the increasingly small party stalled and milled as they tried to make sense of the situation. They had only moments, and for the first time Firouz thought he saw fear in the queen's eyes.
“What do we do now, savaran?”
“Now we make our stand, shabana. I am sorry I failed you.”
She smiled sadly. “You have not failed me yet.”
“Sir, look!” Davoud was pointing again, and now Firouz saw it too: a Nend, a thezirin, among the camels. So this was not a coincidence. He was still trying to process the information when the files of cavalry parted, and the camels began to veer around the queen's band.
“It's the boy! Kusal!” someone shouted, and now Firouz recognised him, leading the camel charge, not against them, but against their opponents. Suddenly the tables had been turned absolutely, their pursuers scrambling to arrest their charge and form some kind of defence against the incoming wave.
They were not fast enough, and the line of camels met the panicking thezirins with a crunch. Firouz glanced around, and saw the tiredness of his troops evaporated, a fierce, joyous anger in their eyes.
“Kill them all!” he roared, and led the least organised charge he ever would, half his troops not even soldiers, but servants, slaves, scribes. It did not matter; victory was theirs.
When the slaughter was over and all that remained was to assemble the prisoners, Kusal led one of the camel-riders to where the queen sat astride her thezirin surveying the carnage.
“You are my rescuer, I presume?” she said, as the man removed his helm. He was indeed human, middle-aged with golden skin, dark hair and a smile that took years off his face, his pleasure at the battle's result evident.
“So it would seem, my lady. Protos Archigos Daan Asker, at your service. Welcome to Ambrose."
Spoiler: 106, Janganand
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Clouds of dust were kicked up around the thezirin's feet as it pounded through the camp before finally coming to a stop before the tent of the karapa. The roof of the tent was down, as was conventional during daytime, but the walls remained standing, to provide the generals' council with a degree of privacy.
The guards saluted as the young officer entered the open space within, where the prince regent and his senior commanders were gathered.
“Ah, Prince Kouros,” Kusal said, glancing up as he entered. “Have a seat.”
Though the grandson of a king, with attendant royal status, Kouros was of relatively junior rank compared to the general officers present, and he hesitated slightly before he took a seat. A servant poured him a drink, which he accepted gratefully.
“The reports are in, sathoran. Prevaz units are indeed moving to reinforce the natives.”
“Blind snakes,” one of the senior officers scoffed. “Our archers will cut them to pieces.”
“It is not just the Prevaz, though,” Kusal said, taking a calm sip from his wine glass. “I have received word that if the Prevaz mobilise, so will the Fiid. The Nevarri too cannot be discounted. This is no longer a simple conquest.”
“Blind snakes, stunted wretches and a handful of humans. I would still wager our command and our men against them.”
Kusal was silent for a moment, staring off into the mid-distance. “On equal terms, yes, but this is in foreign terrain, unknown to our troops. And their numbers are considerable: if they commit in strength we could be facing odds of two or three to one.”
Kouros opened his mouth, then thought better of it. Kusal glanced in his direction and nodded. “Speak.”
“The Prevaz are not the only ones with allies. We have friends of our own upon whom we could call: Krozna, Ambrose, even the Aeldir are pledged to support our claims in these lands. I am sure my brother could persuade the Mirzahib to commit his navy. Between our attack from the north and theirs up the rivers, that would once again tip the balance in our favour.”
Kusal glanced over towards the Kroznat military observer and gave him a polite nod. “That is well spoken, but I am unwilling to throw away the lives of our allies, let alone call upon our tenuous partners so soon into the agreement, over what should by rights be a skirmish engagement.”
“So we are to allow this rag-tag band of foes to intimidate the grand army of Nand?” one of the officers exclaimed.
Kusal gave him a cold look. “Confidence and pride can easily become arrogance and delusion if left unchecked. There is no sense in suicide. Rag-tag they may be, but they are potent. Yet this exercise has not been a futile one. Until now our relations with the Prevaz have been littered with mishap and misunderstanding, but we now know that the Prevaz are not to be trusted, that they will undermine their allies even as they claim to defend them, that they are prepared to take up arms to defend their falsehoods, despite their claims of pacifism. We know their alliance with the Fiid and the Nevarri is one to be taken seriously, not a mere piece of paper they will discard on a whim.” He gave a thin smile. “And perhaps seeing how lightly their new ally calls them to war will make them more cautious in future.”
“Nor are this an escape for them, merely a temporary reprieve. They have elected to declare war upon us, and they will suffer the consequences. In time we shall go south in strength, and I am sure the Queen will relish the opportunity.
“But for now, we are to divert. We go to Havanand and quash the rebels there. In the meantime Janganand will be resettled, and all our provinces primed for recruitment. I assure you, my lords, those who have crossed us will pay, when their time comes.”
Spoiler: Actions
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1. [Diplomacy] Colonise Region 51 (TN16: three existing regions, non-adjacent to capital; +2 exploration bonus)
- [Luck 5] - take 18 on the roll; success is automatic
2. [Military] Invade Region 52
- Military 5
- Military specialism - conquering regions (2d12)
- 3,000 troops
3. [Military] Train a land unit
4. [Curiosity] Establish the Grand Continental Course, a trade route joining regions 1, 2 and 4 and extending through region 51 to Ambrose and southwards to Krozna (should they join).
5. [Diplomacy] Continue discussions on unification with Ambrose and Krozna (federation 4/5)
Spoiler: Non-Actions
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- Offer shelter to the "sovereign" of 43 and any of his followers or subjects opposed to the Prevaz coup.
Spoiler: Increases
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This round: +1 Military, +1 Diplomacy
Luck 5 used: new score is 3
Spoiler: Ruler
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Kusal (as regent for Aiman III)
Diplomacy 6
Military 5
Curiosity 4
Faith 1
Rolls
Previous ruler: Aiman III: D2 M6 C3 F1
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