Chapter 1; Part 1
Chapter 1
14th Cycle, 8th Year of Water, 50th Day of Summer
“The dark flood did not stop with Velura but flowed south to begin the siege of Dunjaer, the host was mighty, but the city was prepared. The two great bridges of Dunjaer had been destroyed and the remaining bridge, three days to the north, was guarded by the Tutelli. Trapped on the north side of the river and unwilling to face the fearsome Tutelli, the Senza Numi built bridges to cross the Argantato. The bridges were crude things, little more than logs lashed together, but sufficient, over the course of days, to allow the Cattivi to begin crossing the river.”
The speaker stopped and beckoned with his hand. A small child jumped off his mother’s lap and ran over to the speaker, both hands wrapped around an earthenware mug. The speaker was a man of indeterminate age; his head was full of hair touched with gray. His face was shaved smooth and while not the face of a young man, was remarkably free of lines. Average height and average weight there was nothing that would make the speaker stand out in a crowd. That is, nothing except eyes the color of ice and a voice that would command the attention of kings. Taking the mug from the child the man nodded his thanks and took a long drink. The speaker set the mug on a nearby barrel set on the grass and wiped the foam from his mouth. He paused for a few moments to let his audience settle back down, and once again began to speak.
“Over the course of days, the beasts began to cross the river. Piorus, now Emperor sent the little cavalry he had to harry the beasts as they marched across the makeshift bridges. The Emperor’s Cavelli fought valiantly, slowing the crossing, but were finally forced to retreat to the city walls as the number of Cattivi became to great. The crossing lasted days, thousands of the beasts moving under the increasingly warm sun or the waning moon. A full ten-day after the beasts had arrived only about half had come across the river, over five times the number men the Emperor had to protect the walls. The new Emperor surveyed the great mass of warriors arrayed against him and knew that he could not wait out a siege. While the defenses of Dunjaer were certainly formidable, they lacked the legendary strength of Valura, which had fallen in a matter of days. Fortunately, the Emperor knew something he hoped the beasts did not. A messenger had made it to safety inside the city walls and had brought hope with him. The southern Guerriri were only two days march from the city and were moving quickly. The reinforcements certainly would not make the numbers even, but they would cut the odds against the Empire in half, and he had to hope that would be enough. The Emperor called his captains and generals to his side and they began to make plans, in two days time they would sally out of the city and attack the Senza Numi who had brought war to their homes.”
While the cities of the Empire might celebrate the Feast of Fire more lavishly, nowhere was it celebrated with more enthusiasm than this particular town. This particular town went by the name of Giana, and was located in the center of the triangle made by Kandar, Dunjaer, and Elisward , just outside of the lands claimed by the Sae-Tel. While the horse-lords tended to deal harshly with trespassers, they largely remained on their own lands and the town prospered, well protected on all sides. Giana was in an ideal location, the perfect place for caravans to stop and restock supplies as they traveled from one end of the Empire to the other. The town had doubled in size over the past fifteen years and was still growing quickly.
“The two days passed slowly for the warriors who spent the time sharpening weapons and preparing their armor. Time passed much more quickly, however, for the lords of the Empire who had much planning to do and precious little time to do it. The plan that evolved over the course of two days was simple in its design, but very ambitious in its scope. The whole of the army would march out of the gates in the hours before dawn and prepare their lines of battle. Footmen would advance on the enemy’s center while archers would pepper the lines of the Senza Numi and the remaining cavalry would guard the infantry’s flanks. After the two armies were fully engaged a single arrow would be lit and sent aloft and that would be the signal for the Empire’s second army to charge in the Cattivi’s rear. When the night gave way to the dawn the beasts were surprised to see the Emperor’s army arrayed before them and barely had time to form a ragged line before the Empire began its advance on the horde. The plan was executed flawlessly and the defenders of Dunjaer engaged the enemy and held while the signal was given to the waiting army. Soon after the southern Guerriri, led by Hyorn Steelheart, lowered their long lances and charged in to the beasts[3]. The battle was short and brutal, enraged at the loss of Valura, the warriors of the Numi Godere slaughtered the foul creatures that had defiled their cities. Broken, the beasts fled back across the bridges that had once borne them to the attack. Thousands were slaughtered in the route, but Piorus and Hyorn wisely held their men on the south bank of the river, for they were still sorely outnumbered. They had won the day, but the battle was far from over. More than sixty thousands of the invaders sat on the north bank, three times the combined number of the Empire’s warriors, and they would not be easily persuaded to leave.”
Though the Feast of Fire would not begin until the coming dawn, the townsfolk sat silently around fires ringing the city, listening with rapt attention as storytellers wove their tales and passed the night. Different stories would be told at each of the fires according to the wishes of both the teller and the told, but at each fire the story of the Ombra Diluvio, the Dark Flood, would be told and nobody told it better than Arilyn. The storyteller was something of an enigma in the town, none of the elders could remember him being born in the town and nobody ever remembered him living in Giana, but he returned to the town for every summer festival.
Lots were prepared by the city’s elders and drawn by the mayor to see who would have the pleasure of sitting at Arilyn’s fire, and if the Elders’ lots were drawn more often, no one ever complained. For only the second time in his young life, Dunraelus sat with his family at Arilyn’s fire. Fifteen years ago, according to his parents, Dunraelus had sat on his mother’s knee and listened to the storyteller work his art. He had been only two at the time and couldn’t remember the evening though his mother swore he never made a noise or slept a wink during the night, that he had stared at the tale weaver with attention exceedingly rare in one so young. Dunraelus listened now, with equal attention, as Arilyn continued his tale.
“For months the armies sat facing each other across the river, shooting arrows whenever an enemy wandered in to range, but without any major bloodletting. Piorus had tried a number of ideas to push the Senza Numi in to retreat, but none had led to success. His first idea had been to construct catapults and attack the horde with stones. His warriors and engineers labored for days to build the massive engines of war which, when completed, killed several dozen of the enemy before they simply moved out of range. He even called upon the mages of Kandar who responded by sending a few of their more war-like practitioners to the battle. The magic users spent hours each day raining fire and lighting, acid and ice against the invaders but they were too few and the enemy too many. After the mages collapsed, exhausted, for the third consecutive day, Piorus sent them back to Kandar to strengthen the city’s defenses.”
The speaker paused here, and took a deep breath before continuing.
“The months passed and the stalemate drug on until the morning a scout came running in to Dunjaer’s great hall, interrupting Piorus’ and Hyron’s breakfast. The scout’s clothes were torn and more than a bit of blood covered the remaining cloth and exposed skin. The scout took a second to catch his breath and gulp down a mug of wine before speaking, “Majesty, the enemy approaches!”
Hyron roared to his feet, “They are crossing the bridges?” The scout shook his head from side to side, “No my lord, they approach from the southeast! I was scouting with my unit along the shore of Mirror Lake when we were ambushed by a group of the beasts. We fled immediately, hoping to bring back word to the camp, but we were too slow and only I survived.” Screams and the clash of iron could now be heard in the hall and both Emperor and Hero grabbed those weapons they had near to hand and charged out of the hall. The sight that greeted them as they topped the walls nearly stopped their hearts.”
There wasn’t a single person around the campfire who didn’t know what scene lay before the Emperor and yet each person waited, straining to hear the voice of the storyteller as he described the carnage.
“A regiment of Cattivi, several thousand strong had managed to place themselves between the camp of the southern Guerriri and the walls of Dunjaer. They had caught the southerners completely unprepared and were wreaking havoc. The overrun warriors struggled to halt the onslaught and pulled themselves in groups ranging in size from a couple dozen warriors to a few hundred. As they fought for survival more of the Senza Numi streamed across the makeshift bridges, some carrying ladders others carrying only swords and spears. The Emperor surveyed the scene with dismay, for he knew if the southern Guerriri broke it would only take the beasts a short time to take the city. As the soldiers outside of the city walls fought for their life, the Emperor ordered the defenders to assemble in the courtyard and prepare to assault the horde. In moments the soldiers were ready and the Emperor ordered them out of the gate and in to the fray. The Emperor’s attack opened a corridor through the enemy regiment in front of the wall and the first of the emerging warriors fought towards the largest grouping of southern warriors, while the trailing line of warriors exiting the city fought to keep the corridor open. The fighting was fierce and the Emperor’s men struggled to hold their formations against the press of the enemy. The Guerriri struggled to reach their surrounded brothers and finally the leading warriors broke through. Hyron pressed past the Emperor and spoke quickly to one of his captains, the highest ranking officer he could find in the group. After a moment of conversation he broke off and ran back to the Emperor. “Sire, we must get back to the safety of the walls, we can hold them for eternity if needs be, but we cannot now keep the Cattivi on the northern bank of the river.” The emperor quickly nodded his assent and orders were given to make haste back in to the city.
The Emperor’s army began to fold back in on its self as the leading elements made their way through the corridor being held open by the last soldiers to leave the city. The Emperor and his men were within bowshot of the city when disaster struck. Lumbering giants, half again the size of a large man crashed in to the soldiers closest to the gate. The Emperor’s men fought hard to hold their ground, but were driven back. Rather than enter the city the giants pressed the attack, forcing the Guerriri further away from the safety of the city. With a cry of rage Hyron Steelheart charged the ogres, soldiers of the Empire only steps behind him. The ferocity of the counter-attack ground the ogres advance to a halt, but the Emperor’s men were not able to break through. Aware of the situation, the Emperor order his men to move in to defensive positions, as best as they were able. After a time and with great difficulty the Guerriri arranged themselves in to a massive square surrounded on all sides by an enemy that was still growing in numbers”
The fire cracked and popped and Arilyn leaned forward, his arms moving with the story, but nobody saw them. Every man, woman and child in the audience was focused on his eyes, they seemed to be burning so intensely that it was easy to believe that the fire was not being reflected in his eyes, but rather was the reflection.
“For the rest of the day and through the night the armies fought. The Senza Numi sent wave after wave against the lines of soldiers and wave after wave was repulsed with the Emperor’s men standing defiant. Around midmorning the attacks stopped and the warriors of the Senza Numi pulled back from the lines of Guerriri and waited. The waiting lasted until almost noon when the northern lines of the Cattive split and a single figure walked towards the soldiers of the Empire. The figure stopped a mere hundred feet from the lines of the Numi Godere and raised his hand, “Piorus, do you know me?” The Emperor stepped through his own lines and faced the figure with his back straight and chin raised, “I know you Kael, and you will not have this city.” Kael threw back his head and laughed, a terrible sound, a sound that chilled every soldier on the field. “Piorus, the city is already mine, it is your lives I wish to bargain for, serve me and live, refuse and die” The Emperor shook his head slowly, “Your offer is no bargain, and we will have no part of it. Do your worst Kael, and we shall do our best.” The field was silent as Kael raised his fist above his head, the fist was wreathed in flame and as his mouth opened he yelled with a voice like thunder. As he began to bring his fist towards the ground his yell became a shriek, a sound so loud it brought warriors to their knees, man and beast alike. Kael fell to his knees, one hand on the ground, the other at his side gripping an arrow protruding from his body. He raised his head and lifted his hand from the ground, pointing it towards the line of Guerriri. A man stood out from the rest of the line, with a bow held at rest in front of him. As Kael raised his hand the man began to scream, then to smoke, and finally he burst in to flame. As the Emperor and his men looked on, horrified, Kael picked himself up and stumbled back through his lines. A moment more passed before the beasts let out a cry and once again charged the Numi Godere lines. As the charge crashed in to the Emperor’s line a horn could barely be heard above the din, then the fighting men realized, not one horn, but scores. Line after line of horsemen appeared on the horizon, charging towards the battle. The first group of horsemen broke off their charge and began sweeping along the flank of the Senza Numi, peppering them with arrows, the line behind them crashed in to the army, made a few stabs with their spears and wheeled away. This attack was repeated over and over with devastating effect. The Emperor’s men fought with renewed energy and began to push back the beasts. With agonizing slowness the Cattivi were being pushed toward the river. The horsemen had cleared the rear and flanks of the Emperor’s army and were now pressing along the flanks of the enemy, herding them as they forced back. Finally the battle turned, the Senze Numi broke and fled towards the river. The horsemen pursued them as far as the water, but pulled up short of crossing. This was no withdrawal, the enemy was broken and the siege lifted. Many of the Guerriri slumped to the ground, immediately falling asleep with exhaustion, but they had won and the Empire was again safe.”
Arilyn leaned back in his chair all intensity gone from his countenance as a smile broke across his face, “That is why the Sae-Tel are citizens of the Empire, “ the crowd immediately responded, “Honor to the Sae-Tel.”
As Dunraelus worked himself out of the story, he looked around and noticed that the night had all but passed and dawn loomed just moments away. The night had been more than he dared hope for and now it was time to begin the Feast of Fire.
[3] At this time it bears note that the Guerriri of the Empire vary by region. The summer heat in the Kandar region of the Empire makes fighting in heavy armor nearly impossible, therefore the armies have developed around speed and discipline. The cooler climate of the south, along with a history of border disputes with the Elysites, had led the Empire’s warriors to adopt the heavier armor favored by the Elysites.
14th Cycle, 8th Year of Water, 50th Day of Summer
“The dark flood did not stop with Velura but flowed south to begin the siege of Dunjaer, the host was mighty, but the city was prepared. The two great bridges of Dunjaer had been destroyed and the remaining bridge, three days to the north, was guarded by the Tutelli. Trapped on the north side of the river and unwilling to face the fearsome Tutelli, the Senza Numi built bridges to cross the Argantato. The bridges were crude things, little more than logs lashed together, but sufficient, over the course of days, to allow the Cattivi to begin crossing the river.”
The speaker stopped and beckoned with his hand. A small child jumped off his mother’s lap and ran over to the speaker, both hands wrapped around an earthenware mug. The speaker was a man of indeterminate age; his head was full of hair touched with gray. His face was shaved smooth and while not the face of a young man, was remarkably free of lines. Average height and average weight there was nothing that would make the speaker stand out in a crowd. That is, nothing except eyes the color of ice and a voice that would command the attention of kings. Taking the mug from the child the man nodded his thanks and took a long drink. The speaker set the mug on a nearby barrel set on the grass and wiped the foam from his mouth. He paused for a few moments to let his audience settle back down, and once again began to speak.
“Over the course of days, the beasts began to cross the river. Piorus, now Emperor sent the little cavalry he had to harry the beasts as they marched across the makeshift bridges. The Emperor’s Cavelli fought valiantly, slowing the crossing, but were finally forced to retreat to the city walls as the number of Cattivi became to great. The crossing lasted days, thousands of the beasts moving under the increasingly warm sun or the waning moon. A full ten-day after the beasts had arrived only about half had come across the river, over five times the number men the Emperor had to protect the walls. The new Emperor surveyed the great mass of warriors arrayed against him and knew that he could not wait out a siege. While the defenses of Dunjaer were certainly formidable, they lacked the legendary strength of Valura, which had fallen in a matter of days. Fortunately, the Emperor knew something he hoped the beasts did not. A messenger had made it to safety inside the city walls and had brought hope with him. The southern Guerriri were only two days march from the city and were moving quickly. The reinforcements certainly would not make the numbers even, but they would cut the odds against the Empire in half, and he had to hope that would be enough. The Emperor called his captains and generals to his side and they began to make plans, in two days time they would sally out of the city and attack the Senza Numi who had brought war to their homes.”
While the cities of the Empire might celebrate the Feast of Fire more lavishly, nowhere was it celebrated with more enthusiasm than this particular town. This particular town went by the name of Giana, and was located in the center of the triangle made by Kandar, Dunjaer, and Elisward , just outside of the lands claimed by the Sae-Tel. While the horse-lords tended to deal harshly with trespassers, they largely remained on their own lands and the town prospered, well protected on all sides. Giana was in an ideal location, the perfect place for caravans to stop and restock supplies as they traveled from one end of the Empire to the other. The town had doubled in size over the past fifteen years and was still growing quickly.
“The two days passed slowly for the warriors who spent the time sharpening weapons and preparing their armor. Time passed much more quickly, however, for the lords of the Empire who had much planning to do and precious little time to do it. The plan that evolved over the course of two days was simple in its design, but very ambitious in its scope. The whole of the army would march out of the gates in the hours before dawn and prepare their lines of battle. Footmen would advance on the enemy’s center while archers would pepper the lines of the Senza Numi and the remaining cavalry would guard the infantry’s flanks. After the two armies were fully engaged a single arrow would be lit and sent aloft and that would be the signal for the Empire’s second army to charge in the Cattivi’s rear. When the night gave way to the dawn the beasts were surprised to see the Emperor’s army arrayed before them and barely had time to form a ragged line before the Empire began its advance on the horde. The plan was executed flawlessly and the defenders of Dunjaer engaged the enemy and held while the signal was given to the waiting army. Soon after the southern Guerriri, led by Hyorn Steelheart, lowered their long lances and charged in to the beasts[3]. The battle was short and brutal, enraged at the loss of Valura, the warriors of the Numi Godere slaughtered the foul creatures that had defiled their cities. Broken, the beasts fled back across the bridges that had once borne them to the attack. Thousands were slaughtered in the route, but Piorus and Hyorn wisely held their men on the south bank of the river, for they were still sorely outnumbered. They had won the day, but the battle was far from over. More than sixty thousands of the invaders sat on the north bank, three times the combined number of the Empire’s warriors, and they would not be easily persuaded to leave.”
Though the Feast of Fire would not begin until the coming dawn, the townsfolk sat silently around fires ringing the city, listening with rapt attention as storytellers wove their tales and passed the night. Different stories would be told at each of the fires according to the wishes of both the teller and the told, but at each fire the story of the Ombra Diluvio, the Dark Flood, would be told and nobody told it better than Arilyn. The storyteller was something of an enigma in the town, none of the elders could remember him being born in the town and nobody ever remembered him living in Giana, but he returned to the town for every summer festival.
Lots were prepared by the city’s elders and drawn by the mayor to see who would have the pleasure of sitting at Arilyn’s fire, and if the Elders’ lots were drawn more often, no one ever complained. For only the second time in his young life, Dunraelus sat with his family at Arilyn’s fire. Fifteen years ago, according to his parents, Dunraelus had sat on his mother’s knee and listened to the storyteller work his art. He had been only two at the time and couldn’t remember the evening though his mother swore he never made a noise or slept a wink during the night, that he had stared at the tale weaver with attention exceedingly rare in one so young. Dunraelus listened now, with equal attention, as Arilyn continued his tale.
“For months the armies sat facing each other across the river, shooting arrows whenever an enemy wandered in to range, but without any major bloodletting. Piorus had tried a number of ideas to push the Senza Numi in to retreat, but none had led to success. His first idea had been to construct catapults and attack the horde with stones. His warriors and engineers labored for days to build the massive engines of war which, when completed, killed several dozen of the enemy before they simply moved out of range. He even called upon the mages of Kandar who responded by sending a few of their more war-like practitioners to the battle. The magic users spent hours each day raining fire and lighting, acid and ice against the invaders but they were too few and the enemy too many. After the mages collapsed, exhausted, for the third consecutive day, Piorus sent them back to Kandar to strengthen the city’s defenses.”
The speaker paused here, and took a deep breath before continuing.
“The months passed and the stalemate drug on until the morning a scout came running in to Dunjaer’s great hall, interrupting Piorus’ and Hyron’s breakfast. The scout’s clothes were torn and more than a bit of blood covered the remaining cloth and exposed skin. The scout took a second to catch his breath and gulp down a mug of wine before speaking, “Majesty, the enemy approaches!”
Hyron roared to his feet, “They are crossing the bridges?” The scout shook his head from side to side, “No my lord, they approach from the southeast! I was scouting with my unit along the shore of Mirror Lake when we were ambushed by a group of the beasts. We fled immediately, hoping to bring back word to the camp, but we were too slow and only I survived.” Screams and the clash of iron could now be heard in the hall and both Emperor and Hero grabbed those weapons they had near to hand and charged out of the hall. The sight that greeted them as they topped the walls nearly stopped their hearts.”
There wasn’t a single person around the campfire who didn’t know what scene lay before the Emperor and yet each person waited, straining to hear the voice of the storyteller as he described the carnage.
“A regiment of Cattivi, several thousand strong had managed to place themselves between the camp of the southern Guerriri and the walls of Dunjaer. They had caught the southerners completely unprepared and were wreaking havoc. The overrun warriors struggled to halt the onslaught and pulled themselves in groups ranging in size from a couple dozen warriors to a few hundred. As they fought for survival more of the Senza Numi streamed across the makeshift bridges, some carrying ladders others carrying only swords and spears. The Emperor surveyed the scene with dismay, for he knew if the southern Guerriri broke it would only take the beasts a short time to take the city. As the soldiers outside of the city walls fought for their life, the Emperor ordered the defenders to assemble in the courtyard and prepare to assault the horde. In moments the soldiers were ready and the Emperor ordered them out of the gate and in to the fray. The Emperor’s attack opened a corridor through the enemy regiment in front of the wall and the first of the emerging warriors fought towards the largest grouping of southern warriors, while the trailing line of warriors exiting the city fought to keep the corridor open. The fighting was fierce and the Emperor’s men struggled to hold their formations against the press of the enemy. The Guerriri struggled to reach their surrounded brothers and finally the leading warriors broke through. Hyron pressed past the Emperor and spoke quickly to one of his captains, the highest ranking officer he could find in the group. After a moment of conversation he broke off and ran back to the Emperor. “Sire, we must get back to the safety of the walls, we can hold them for eternity if needs be, but we cannot now keep the Cattivi on the northern bank of the river.” The emperor quickly nodded his assent and orders were given to make haste back in to the city.
The Emperor’s army began to fold back in on its self as the leading elements made their way through the corridor being held open by the last soldiers to leave the city. The Emperor and his men were within bowshot of the city when disaster struck. Lumbering giants, half again the size of a large man crashed in to the soldiers closest to the gate. The Emperor’s men fought hard to hold their ground, but were driven back. Rather than enter the city the giants pressed the attack, forcing the Guerriri further away from the safety of the city. With a cry of rage Hyron Steelheart charged the ogres, soldiers of the Empire only steps behind him. The ferocity of the counter-attack ground the ogres advance to a halt, but the Emperor’s men were not able to break through. Aware of the situation, the Emperor order his men to move in to defensive positions, as best as they were able. After a time and with great difficulty the Guerriri arranged themselves in to a massive square surrounded on all sides by an enemy that was still growing in numbers”
The fire cracked and popped and Arilyn leaned forward, his arms moving with the story, but nobody saw them. Every man, woman and child in the audience was focused on his eyes, they seemed to be burning so intensely that it was easy to believe that the fire was not being reflected in his eyes, but rather was the reflection.
“For the rest of the day and through the night the armies fought. The Senza Numi sent wave after wave against the lines of soldiers and wave after wave was repulsed with the Emperor’s men standing defiant. Around midmorning the attacks stopped and the warriors of the Senza Numi pulled back from the lines of Guerriri and waited. The waiting lasted until almost noon when the northern lines of the Cattive split and a single figure walked towards the soldiers of the Empire. The figure stopped a mere hundred feet from the lines of the Numi Godere and raised his hand, “Piorus, do you know me?” The Emperor stepped through his own lines and faced the figure with his back straight and chin raised, “I know you Kael, and you will not have this city.” Kael threw back his head and laughed, a terrible sound, a sound that chilled every soldier on the field. “Piorus, the city is already mine, it is your lives I wish to bargain for, serve me and live, refuse and die” The Emperor shook his head slowly, “Your offer is no bargain, and we will have no part of it. Do your worst Kael, and we shall do our best.” The field was silent as Kael raised his fist above his head, the fist was wreathed in flame and as his mouth opened he yelled with a voice like thunder. As he began to bring his fist towards the ground his yell became a shriek, a sound so loud it brought warriors to their knees, man and beast alike. Kael fell to his knees, one hand on the ground, the other at his side gripping an arrow protruding from his body. He raised his head and lifted his hand from the ground, pointing it towards the line of Guerriri. A man stood out from the rest of the line, with a bow held at rest in front of him. As Kael raised his hand the man began to scream, then to smoke, and finally he burst in to flame. As the Emperor and his men looked on, horrified, Kael picked himself up and stumbled back through his lines. A moment more passed before the beasts let out a cry and once again charged the Numi Godere lines. As the charge crashed in to the Emperor’s line a horn could barely be heard above the din, then the fighting men realized, not one horn, but scores. Line after line of horsemen appeared on the horizon, charging towards the battle. The first group of horsemen broke off their charge and began sweeping along the flank of the Senza Numi, peppering them with arrows, the line behind them crashed in to the army, made a few stabs with their spears and wheeled away. This attack was repeated over and over with devastating effect. The Emperor’s men fought with renewed energy and began to push back the beasts. With agonizing slowness the Cattivi were being pushed toward the river. The horsemen had cleared the rear and flanks of the Emperor’s army and were now pressing along the flanks of the enemy, herding them as they forced back. Finally the battle turned, the Senze Numi broke and fled towards the river. The horsemen pursued them as far as the water, but pulled up short of crossing. This was no withdrawal, the enemy was broken and the siege lifted. Many of the Guerriri slumped to the ground, immediately falling asleep with exhaustion, but they had won and the Empire was again safe.”
Arilyn leaned back in his chair all intensity gone from his countenance as a smile broke across his face, “That is why the Sae-Tel are citizens of the Empire, “ the crowd immediately responded, “Honor to the Sae-Tel.”
As Dunraelus worked himself out of the story, he looked around and noticed that the night had all but passed and dawn loomed just moments away. The night had been more than he dared hope for and now it was time to begin the Feast of Fire.
[3] At this time it bears note that the Guerriri of the Empire vary by region. The summer heat in the Kandar region of the Empire makes fighting in heavy armor nearly impossible, therefore the armies have developed around speed and discipline. The cooler climate of the south, along with a history of border disputes with the Elysites, had led the Empire’s warriors to adopt the heavier armor favored by the Elysites.
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