General Saris, the leader of the Talurian army, burst into his tent, yelling at his Harmite attendant to leave. He stumbled toward the cleaning basin setup underneath a crude mirror. With each step, a piece of his armor dropped to the ground.
Their three-week siege of the Kilgarian fortress was complete.
Saris reached the sink and plunged his head into the water. He pulled out violently, splashing water on everything around him. Fingers snaked over his brow and through his wet, gray hair. Looking at his reflection, he studied his skin, leathery and wrinkled, showing a man older than he was—forty-three summers. Saris' face, eyes, hair, his whole body, showed the toll of a warrior's life.
Not looking your best, old boy.
Another man entered the tent and cleared his throat, crossing his trunk-like arms across his chest.
Saris shifted his attention to the giant warrior in the entranceway.
"Thandril..." Saris closed the distance between them and grabbed the hulking man's shoulder. "Today calls for a celebration. Fetch us two goblets from that cabinet on your right. I have a nicely aged bottle of wine somewhere around here..." He pushed a few things around in a nearby trunk. "Boy! Come, now!"
As the slave scurried back into the room, Saris found the bottle he was looking for. "Get out of here!" He swatted his hand in the air. The slave tripped up on his own feet and landed on the floor in front of Saris.
The General picked the young man up and shoved him back the other way.
Animals.
Adjusting his uniform shirt, Saris nonchalantly took a seat at the table opposite Thandril.
Thandril was the General's closest friend and loyal bodyguard—an adopted survivor from a long-destroyed, druid enclave. Their meeting was the result of an event many years ago while Saris was only a Private in the army. Thandril was a powerful weapon at Saris' disposal and an equal to no man when he stepped onto the battlefield.
"I have fought in three wars..." Saris started into one of his monologues, taking in the majority of his alcohol in one, drawn out sip. "...and led two of those! All for the late Emperor Kidaris! Now his young, foolish brat is Emperor—" He stopped and looked at Thandril, "you never heard me say that."
Thandril just grinned back at him. The friendly expression tamed his harsh, militaristic appearance. "I only hear words of admiration for the youthful Emperor, master." He casually responded, pulling his warhammer over his shoulder and resting it against one of the tent's support beams. The wood creaked and cried out from its new burden. The weapon's weight would debilitate another man.
Saris blurted out a laugh. "Now, he goes and decides that ruling the southern beaches and grasslands of our ancestors isn't enough, he wants more! However, he can't lead them, no! He needs the legendary General Saris!" He took to his feet with the last sentence, pounding his fist against his chest. Of course he does.
He let out a sigh, "I am the one who should be ruling. The one who should be waging war and, not just as the troop's commander, but as the man behind the Empire. It is too late for me to change the way things are set. Although, soon I will have a son, and he will be a catalyst for change in this empire. I will make sure of that!"
Saris flicked a piece of debris off his uniform and refilled his cup. "I will give my rank to him; he will do things that I never dreamt possible for myself. I am a warrior, but it takes all my loyalty as a citizen of the Talurian Empire to fight for as stupid of a reason as a vain Emperor's adolescent ambitions of world power."
Saris laughed again and downed the second cup of wine in one gulp, "Now! If it were for my own vain ambition, that would be a different story! Ha! Things have just not gone as I planned so many years ago as a young soldier rising through the ranks of glory." He wobbled over to the edge of his cot, "Enough of this, how is the war effort going? I saw some of our agents from the north come into camp this morning. Have they been debriefed? We cannot stay content with this minor victory."
"Yes, a few have returned and they all bear testimony to a treaty being formed. One learned of a meeting between two tribal representatives happening in the Chargon forests. He knows roughly where they will meet and that they will do so in one week exactly."
"Excellent. I want you to fly north and try to uncover whatever you can. Stay safe." cautioned Saris. "Now, I am going to get some rest."
Without a word, the tall warrior nodded and left the General alone in his tent. Saris was asleep within minutes.
* * *
"Wait a minute! Who does this person think he is? And what happened to that soldier?"
The projection dome shattered.
Master Orin's head sunk. "Boy, this is not proper. We will discuss the visions after our session is over. The power it takes to maintain the viewing is hard enough on my old body, without having to restart it every few minutes."
Valen noticed the sweat beading on his teacher's forehead and the darkened veins in his eyes. "I'm sorry, master."
"It will be alright," he said, trying to ease the young man's quickening worry. "Rurik will be back soon. What is it that you're having trouble with?"
"Umm...everything? Give me something to work with. You have dropped us into an entirely new environment."
"Right, you have no education on any of this..." Orin tapped his chin. "Where to start...Our vision led us to a massive island continent in the far north of the Artomas Sea. Do you know this body of water?"
Valen rolled his eyes. "We live on the Artomas coast."
"Good! I am glad some of my lessons have stuck." Orin winked.
"It is home to many people groups and varying cultures. Over the centuries, the inhabitants congregated into five main tribes."
Orin pulled a map from his satchel and started to outline rough boundaries. "Starting from the north and moving south, in a not-so-straight line, I might add, the tribes were Merkadia, Chargon, Targa, Kilgar, and Taluria. A sixth principal tribe, the Harmites, had existed along this river at one point. The Talurians conquered them hundreds of years before the moment we are viewing now.
"They were forced into slavery and, due to their similar appearance with the olive-skinned, black-haired Talurians, were given a branding on their wrists and neck at birth. This was to keep the people groups separate."
Valen shook his head. "That is horrible. We 'war-about' as much as the next nation, but I haven't come across any race that has enslaved an entire people group."
"That is because we are not the same. We are incapable of understanding such atrocities outside our set of ethics and morals." Master Orin clasped his hands in his lap and watched his student's face—confusion, sadness, and anger were plainly visible.
That is a lesson for its own day.
He continued on, attempting to change the mood.
"Now, Tymedious, the newly ascended Emperor of the Talurian people, waged war on the other tribes of the island. He was young and determined. Using General Saris and his elite army of soldiers, he had started a war that would not soon be over."
"How could they expect to defeat an entire island of people?"
"Ah!" Orin's eyes brightened. He pulled out a handful of drawings, displaying various swords, shields, and mobile siege weapons. "The Talurian tribe had the strongest army at the time. They took full advantage of their civilization's advanced blacksmithing and metallurgy techniques. Their swords and shields were more reliable. Their platemail armor was thick and maneuverable, and their engineers built armored wagons and war machines that could level cities."
Sliding another rendering forward, he pointed to a primitive looking shortsword. "This is a Merkadian blade. They were the only other tribe to use metal in their weaponry, but nowhere near the artisanship of the Talurians. The other, smaller tribes were even less developed, still using sharpened stone and hardened wood.
"The battle that we just observed through Rurik was the Talurian army moving north, to the heart of the Kilgarian tribe. With the destruction of Kilgar's longest-standing border fortress, Saris achieved a pointed victory in the region. While managing to kill a large part of the tribe's warriors, he also crippled his enemy's influence in the area."
Orin leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Although...considering Thandril's news, the tyrant Emperor's army could soon be outnumbered. However, a mixture of arrogance and command of the fiercest, most well-equipped army that land had ever seen emboldened Saris to believe he could still conquer the continent."
Valen jumped up. "You sound to be on their side! Do you hold value in their victory?"
Orin's eyes narrowed on the young man. "You hold your tongue, boy. I am only telling you the historical steps of the struggle that we witness here today. The evilness that grew from that time in Ethindriil's history will plague our world for more generations than either of us will see."
The rebuke dropped the boy back into his seat. "I am sorry, Master."
A long silence screamed between the two.
A far-off bell sounded. Time for lunch at the food hall, but each of them knew they were not done for the day.
Another moment passed and, as the last bell rang, Orin straightened his posture and started back into the channeling. "Do not speak again, unless spoken to."
Valen nodded, quietly conceding to his teacher.
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