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Post by Lord Newbury on Jan 29, 2018 18:52:48 GMT
![]() The Phoenix and the 7 CitiesThe Drakeshead moved into harbour with little interference, the mercinary captain of the ship heading below decks as soonas the vessel had been moored up. He moved into the room next to his own quarters, the door locked yet unguarded. "We've arrived...." he paused, unsure of the travellers name "...Sir." there was no answer from the man the captain did not know, and a few moments later he walked away, the door opening almost as soon as he had left. Caston Varos, a Diplomat from the Empire of Rjillund stepped out, his attire unchanged from his usual garb - evoking the look of a wealthy merchant, one who could be in the City for myriadic reasons. The ship was unadorned with sigils, his entire guard hired in - nothing bar the parchment in his pocket gave away his port of origin, or his purpose here. Caston, buckling his long sword at his hip, and straightening his headwear, moved to the top deck of the ship, and walked down the gangway onto the docks, wherein he hoped to be met by his contact, thus enabling the secret diplomatic exchange to commence. |
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Post by Zoilus on Jan 29, 2018 19:31:33 GMT
Farnah moved with a deliberate speed towards the dock, part of a larger entourage that seemed to have no one person to orbit around. Just another group of merchants come to the docks to oversee their investments....Perhaps that was what was happening? An investment. Lord Arrhidaeus was playing a dangerous game with the Artis-spawn, but if this meeting went well, perhaps it would finally be the beginning of the end for them? Perhaps Pherai could take its rightful place in the world, at last. But one step at a time.
Farnah watched as the Rjillishman walked onto the docks, looking around expectantly. Trevastines had no patience, did they? Farnah gestured to his men, telling them to wait, and approached the foreigner. Grasping the man's shoulder, he began to speak, "Greetings, friend. My slaves will take care of the cargo, you and I should go to my office to finalize our negotiations," Farnah gave the man a wide, toothy smile, "Such exotic cuisine will be a coup down here!" There. That was the code phrase, hopefully the savage would remember it.
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Post by Lord Newbury on Jan 30, 2018 11:28:53 GMT
The Seven Cities had always astounded Caston, when he had travelled here as a young man - fresh out of the Imperial Colleges of Rjillund, he had been amazed by its contrast - the opulent wealth and power of its priestly noble elite, next to the poverty of the common folk. Indeed, it appeared that everywhere such disparity was commonplace, and it was rare for anything close to equality to be found in any nation. However, what was noticeably different within this settlement, when compared to Carenna or others of the Northern states; was the sheer diversity within both castes, wherein both contained people of many backgrounds, the northern states upper crust was the preserve of bloodlines alone.
Caston had long tried to convince the ruling class of the northern Kingdoms that the key to developing a nation was to empower its natives with learning and the ability to finance themselves - as was being tried and proving a success in some of the more progressive nations, but in the north, the old ways shone true. In his guise as a merchant, it would play well to continue to vouchsafe that school of thought, and he spread his arms wide as his contact approached an said the codewords to identify himself, Caston responding correctly ”A thousands blessings upon you my friend,” as he offered a bow ”...Wine from distant Boteri shores.” he gestured to his ship, completing the code, and walked with the man away from the docks, his merchant-marine guard following a respectful distance behind.
His contact would know the drill, used to clandestine meetings as he no doubt was, and they walked down the side of the street, entering one of the more silent areas of town as they exchanged pointless commentary, before the conversation turned more serious as the crowds thinned. From memory, they were in one of the Slave Markets - and it was closed for the day. ”His majesty sends his regards,” Caston began, making it clear he wished to move onto the business of the day ”...but enough of him ey?” he added, moving the discussion rapidly away from the ‘Blood of Arturas’ vien.
”His majesty has compelled me to speak of matters pertaining to your northern neighbor,” Caston began ”...and to ask you, what you know of their plans of late, their ambitious on all four corners of our globe?” he added, making the implication clear - the threat of the Izhen was not the preserve of the Northern States alone.
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Post by Zoilus on Jan 30, 2018 21:35:39 GMT
The Tarvashdan seemed quite taken with Pherai, but Farnah could hardly blame him. What in the savage lands to the north could possibly compare to the splendor of her markets, the wealth of her people, the righteous glory of her temples? Very little, Farnah knew: from what the merchants and informants had seen and discerned about Rjillund, it was a land that gloried in the martial cult of Arturas above all others, with a soldier-aristocracy of his blood heirs lording over all. If Izhen didn't exist....but it did, and that was what they were here to discuss.
The diplomat, Caston, finally began speaking when they reached one of less busy streets, but it was still too early. Try as they might to counter it, Izhen had ears everywhere. "Friend, the gossip of your homeland has always intrigued me, but we need to reach my warehouse as quickly as possible. The stock is time-sensitive." Farnah motioned around a corner- they were nearly there, he just needed to keep playing his part until then.
As they approached the doors, Farnah motioned one of the clandestine guards, and they were ushered into the warehouse. It became clear, though, that the building's outer appearance was a facade: inside, the walls were stone, guarded by masked soldiers, and held no inventory. Farnah quickly led Caston to an opulent lounge in the center of it all, and clapped his hands for refreshments. "Sit down and relax, friend. A clandestine meeting does not have to be an uncomfortable one."
As the wine was served, Farnah spoke again, "Now, you may speak freely here. Did you come all this way to ask about the obvious? Izhen covets all, the lands of your," he looked away and took a breath, "progenitor most of all. You do not know them like we do, don't have to dance on shattered glass to keep the peace like we do: but that is about to change. The sisters have grand ambitions for your homeland, and as far as we know, their campaign has already begun."
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Post by Lord Newbury on Jan 31, 2018 9:01:58 GMT
Caston was impressed at the caution that Farnah showed, and at the same time somewhat alarmed as to the apparent all-pervasive nature of the Izhen Empires spies; in many ways similar to the consistent presence of Aladez operatives in the North. Stepping into the meeting lounge, he took his seat an accepted the wine that was brought out to him; remarking on its quality in a passing comment before Farnah moved onto business.
"Now, you may speak freely here. Did you come all this way to ask about the obvious? Izhen covets all, the lands of your," Farnah was careful how next he spoke, clearly eager to avoid offering insult or deferrence to the Monarchies of the North "progenitor most of all. You do not know them like we do, don't have to dance on shattered glass to keep the peace like we do: but that is about to change. The sisters have grand ambitions for your homeland, and as far as we know, their campaign has already begun."
The news did not alarm Caston, for he was aware Ferrus was deploying troops to the Badlands in the hope that they would engage the Izhen forces marching northward. What did alarm him was the information this man could hold, and the use it would be to his King. "I know well the troubles of your lands, and lands like you - ever at threat by the monsterous Izhen," he said, in the native toungue of the City "Tell me, do you know the scope of the sisters march north?"
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Post by Zoilus on Jan 31, 2018 21:41:50 GMT
Again, he was a direct one. Of course Farnah knew the scope of their invasion: it was written in the merchants' ledgers, the economic ripples spreading from Tuman Tabar's mass mobilization and supply chains. It was enough that they sent an emissary to beg to be left alone for the duration of the conflict, enough that the world shook with the thunder of their march...and yet, this man had to ask?
Tarvashda's doom had already come. Nothing could save that land of fools, so why bother? Let the Izhen march their strength north, fight to the end, occupy those lands if they could. As long as this war could be made to last, the better off Pherai would be.
"We have some idea, yes. Moving armies of such a size is impossible to do stealthily, without our agents noticing or the economic footprints making themselves obvious. We can't give you precise numbers, but you should expect their full strength, and that of their satraps. This endeavor is to be the culmination of their reign: they will give you no quarter, so give them none." Farnah gave the man a pitying look. "Does this answer your question?"
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