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Sir Emerson Lennox
Mista Savar
‘Pale Jackal’
The Plains of Dor O’ Cofol
Part I
-Screaming Palms-
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Late Spring of 193
Dates Plantation Forest
Near the village of Palar, Dor O’ Cofol
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Good ground for cavalry. The whole east side of the Peninsula really.
Emerson had knelt to touch the harsh grass under his boots. Large herds of fawn-colored gazelles had grazed it almost to the roots. They had done it overnight in order to avoid the heat of the plains. The Khanate’s Gulf brought a constant warm breeze from the east and the occasional heavy rains of winter had thinned considerably that last month.
So the grass had lost some of its color or outright died out at spots, but them gazelles still favored it aplenty.
He let his eyes roam the open flat field, from the last dwellings of the village Palar on his back to the edges of the Great Palm forest. Some of it cultivated, but at some point they had lost control of it and the tall palms had spread towards Clear Lake past Que Ki-La all the way to the banks of Small River and beyond it.
A hundred meters to his left a lonesome large rhinoceros, black skin hairless and the horn on its massive head more than a meter long, snorted irritated at the sight of his mount. Or smell. The large beast was almost blind the locals had told them.
Best to avoid it, as it considers what it doesn’t recognize hostile and attacks unprovoked, they preached trying their best not to anger the armed gladiators. A land whose inhabitants were easily cowered before authority or great power.
Not all its inhabitants of course.
It was easy to make that mistake lulled by the soft music, the sweet dates and the warm nights.
Emerson didn’t have the bones or legs to do that dance again with the proud beast, so he returned to his horse and climbed up the saddle. Turned it around with a respectful nod at the scowling large beast determined to hold its ground and returned to the Chiliad’s large camp next to the village of Palar.
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“I can clear that wagon with a sprinting jump,” Troy insisted. “Then I get to bed your Issir slave Sim Ib-Lurd. Mix me honey-blond curls wit her dark-chocolate goodness,” he added and the Cofol thought about it for a moment.
“Eh, you don’t have any coin Troy. What you had you’ve already spent on booze and whores. What happens if you don’t jump over the wagon?”
“Ye get a good laugh about it?”
“Not a good trade,” Sim, an advisor to Lord Tsuparin of Fu De Gar replied unamused. “I rarely find humor in athletics absent a hefty bet… in coin.”
“Ye don’t visit the circus back home? Them acrobats are as nibble as monkeys!”
“I have monkeys aplenty in my villa. Two male orangutans. But I enjoy the arena more. You agree to work for me when this is over Titan,” Sim replied. “You have yourself a deal.”
“Not a good trade,” Troy retorted using his words against him and seeing Emerson approaching, pushed his naked chest out to showcase his musculature. He snapped both beefy arms forward, fists clenched and planted a kiss on his swollen right bicep. “Ye need to scrap yer coin boxes clean and oil up a couple more of yer slaves afore you get to enjoy all dis!”
“There’s a challenge for you Master Ib-Lurd!” Asmudius guffawed slapping his hands. “Cease the moment and grab the Titan’s meaty cock for yourself!”
“Troy gather everyone,” a solemn Emerson cut into their conversation. “Bohor as well Asmudius. I hope you opened yer mouth to agree afore trotting away,” he warned him.
“I’ll bring the Slavemaster to you Mista Savar,” Asmudius said with a sneer.
“I find alarming yer not moving though,” Emerson grunted and the slaver did with a roll of his eyes.
“Samir’s scouts reported Lord Elur Sol’s army is a couple of days away,” Troy reminded him. He stopped near Emerson and grimaced. “You are not lifting the men’s spirits wit that long face.”
“What that’s supposed to mean?” Emerson grunted.
“That’s it. No hidden meaning,” Troy retorted.
“That’s flat ground. The Cofols will cover it very fast, no hidden meaning there also,” Emerson said through his teeth. “I want eyes on that forest. Better yet I want control over it.”
“What’s wrong with the plains?”
“Ye can’t hide in them,” Emerson replied and Troy nodded puckering his mouth.
“Think the Lord of Coin knows that?”
“Someone in his camp must,” Emerson said and glanced at the mass of date trees and palms extending on their west flank as far as the eye could see. “Check those plantations at the edge of it. It’s been a day but they haven’t send anyone to the village. Either they don’t like our smell or they are stalling to give us a warm welcome.”
“Local cunts?” Troy chanced with a stupid grin.
“Local steel,” Emerson grunted and cuffed him upside the head for being a smart mouth.
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Velox, the experienced Lorian former Gladiator and trainer from Fu De-Gar, made another pass with the sharp curved dagger over his oiled shaven head. There were no more hairs to shorn but it always soothed him he said and helped the hardened fighter think all the better.
He’d another curved blade dagger on his waist, a scalpel tattooed on his right chest but it was his skill with the short blade that had given him his moniker.
“You can’t control the forest, but we can take the plantations,” the ‘Surgeon’ finally said after mulling it in his brain, everyone else taking his cue from the senior trainer present to add their two cents.
“I trust Ballard wit this,” Troy said, never one to overuse that part of his body.
“Better to fight in the shade,” Qathor the tall dark-skinned Issir decided, always liking his small comforts. A bottle of greasy lube hanging from his neck ‘not to ruin a good fuck on a gory arsehole.’
“Eergh,” the horribly scarred half-breed Telos grunted, sole eye gleaming with hatred.
“How many Platoons?” the cunning Asper, the other Cofol trainer from Fu De-Gar, asked looking at Audax his taller brother.
“Yours,” Emerson replied. “Audax and Toros wit ‘Sweet’ Sylia will help you with theirs. So you’ll be in good company.”
Asper nodded, Qathor grimacing for missing his opportunity and Troy cracked up at his friend’s disappointed face.
“You’ll move first, but the rest of us won’t stand idle,” Emerson continued and put his calloused finger on the crude calfskin map of the plains. “We’ll build a wall here, long enough to get every man behind it.”
“Why not use the village’s buildings for cover?” Velox queried.
Elur Sol was bringing a lot of archers with him.
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“We shall, but not in the way you propose,” Emerson replied and turned to Sim Ib-Lurd. “You’ll bring the slaves inside Palar.”
“There’s no place left for them. The civilians have taken over most of the spare shacks and houses,” Sim argued. “You’ll toss the locals out in the street?”
“I want most of the village leveled,” Emerson retorted and the rich Cofol stood back with a frown. “The material used to erect the barricade within a day. Only the foundations left behind us, so we can retreat if needed to a place they can’t burn.”
“Huh,” Sim stared at the others present inside the commander’s large leather tent to see whether he was serious. Emerson had stayed in the camp outside Palar. “It can’t be done,” he added realizing Emerson wasn’t pulling his leg.
“A thousand men can build a small tower in a day, if they put their minds to it. Two thousand? They’ll have a simple wall erected pretty fast.”
“You’ll have merchants work—”
“I’ll have everyone work.”
Sim used a tongue to wet his painted mauve lips. “The slaves are very poor workers Ballard.”
Emerson was more worried about his civilians.
“We’ll give them incentive to work harder, your civilians as well,” Emerson elucidated.
“We can’t ask—”
“You are confused I reckon. I’m not asking.”
“Right. What about the slaves, offer them more food?”
“Freedom.”
“You’ll free almost a thousand slaves? Have you got any idea how much coin—?” Emerson stopped him banging his fist on the table once rattling it violently.
“Something eludes you Ib-Lurd,” he rustled gravely. “I see it aplenty around here, but mostly in yer circles,” he eyed Bohor and Nertor at that, the slavers frowning at his words. “You’ve killed the Khan’s people and took them as slaves. I know you’ve done it. All them pretty young girls and boys weren’t with us from the beginning. I’m good with faces,” Emerson continued warningly. “While I’ll deal wit you about it that’s not the plaguin’ point I’m trying to make here,” he took a deep breath and looked each man inside his quarters in the eye. “Let me tell you how wars end and what happens afore and after they do. A bloodletting. Aye. There’s no profit in it, no showmanship or cheering crowds. No leaving the arena early if the spectacle is not to yer liking.”
“Ballard,” Troy intervened as he’d heard him talk about it before, but Emerson stopped him with a glare.
“Let me finish.”
Troy stood back raising both arms. “Go ahead old man.”
“When the ‘Warbands Rebellion’ ended those that had started it were still breathing,” Emerson continued. “So seeing the writing on the wall and the pile of dead bodies they surrendered. They lost their heads just the same, all the great houses of Sovya put under the blade and the Redmonds who had failed to control them left with a single male heir. People condemned the barbarity but no one stepped forward to save them and eager men were found to do the foul deed. That was on Jelin,” Emerson continued. “Where people care about those things, value nobility, praise chaste maidens and pretend to believe in the laws of the Five. Here, killing is a lucrative sport that sells tickets and the Khan’s law absolute, no religious heads to ask for clemency or academics to condemn such philistine actions. What will the Khan do if we lose this war?”
No one wanted to answer him so Emerson answered his query himself.
“The gladiators will die out there for they are not going back to the arena. Your families sold to slavery, your cities burned or reduced and yourselves shall burn for the Khan’s pleasure. You think Elur Sol will spare you Ib-Lurd? The Lords of Rihtur forgive you? How about you Bohor? How many will step forward to ask the Khan to spare a slaver? Samir? You think the Sopat can buy themselves out of trouble? I say the Khan will take over running the mines, the slavepits, the arenas and the spice ports. He has men to do the deed eagerly, sons and generals ready to enrich themselves further. They’ll dance on your graves. All of our graves.”
Emerson breathed in once and added hoarsely. “If we lose. All of us are dead. I trust the gladiators to fight for their freedom Sim Ib-Lurd. Will you fight for yer life? Will the Lords of the Peninsula do it? If the answer is yes, then you’ll raise yer fancy sleeves and build a wall to force them archers closer or make Sol nervous enough to order his men to come and take it.”
Velox nodded and Asmudius clapped loudly with both hands his eyes misty as if he was a theater spectator in a great play not yet written.
“When they do,” Emerson finished his thought that solemn expression still on his face. “We’ll retreat a few meters and fight them on the other side.”
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“I’m not against returning to the arena,” Troy told him when everyone had left to rouse the camp. “Just putting it out there that I’m entering my prime years. I have more to give to my followers is all I’m saying.”
“There’s more to life than the arena’s sands, the prized tourneys and an enthused crowd’s cheers,” Emerson replied thinking of his son and his crying sister a world away. “One day you’ll figure that one out Troy. It’ll be useful if yer still breathing when you do.”
Troy pulled his lips away from his teeth in an uncomfortable grimace.
“Yer a barrel of laughs sometimes Ballard,” he griped adding after a small pause. “Forget that. Most of the fucking times!”
> Arik Sartak, Lord Commander of the Rin An-Pur Jang-Lu recruits, upon learning of what happened in Rihtur messaged the still grieving for the loss of his son Vijay at the distant Tyeusfort Lord Zuti Mirpur, the Khan’s Master of Horses that had been left in the Capital and asked for reinforcements. Five hundred horse archers left Rin An-Pur immediately for Lukela, but Emerson’s fast advance meant they weren’t able to arrive in time.
>
> Elur-Sol wanted to attack immediately at the arriving in Palar advanced units of the Chiliad, but Sartak opted first to control the approach to Que Ki-La and the massive battlefield’s west flanks. For that he sent his best troops inside the palms forest. The edges of it were dominated by large date trees plantations and it was difficult to know where the forest ended if you weren’t local. Sartak’s men –recruits from the Capital- took control of most of the buildings there days before Emerson’s supply train arrived.
>
> Elur Sol moved the rest of his force into the plains. Around a thousand spear infantry, two thousand archers on foot although they could turn in mounted units easily and a cavalry force of about five hundred men. Three hundred medium lancers, some Cataphracts from his personal guard and two hundred camel riding mercenaries, mostly repurposed caravan hands.
>
> Sartak spent his time securing the forest with his smaller force of infantry, probably around a thousand men but the number is difficult to trust given the source. Asmudius who wrote extensively about the campaign gives a colorful account of their numbers, but I strongly believe they were much less men present in the field. The Khan had taken the bulk of the army left with him and the Princes’ had control of the rest.
>
> Given the numbers that would appear in the following battles elsewhere, it just seems implausible and the local official records aren’t easily accessible today given the political climate and my personal circumstances. Despite my efforts and the long time since the events, it is impossible to convince the unforgiving Zilan officials in Goras for access to the Royal Library that holds the Monarch’s personal account.
>
> Speaking of the Princes, the Khanate’s Heir chariots reached the city of Garya that month, eighty kilometers from Shao Na-Lan after a grueling fast march and were immediately confronted by Aquila’s Dor rear units that were loyal to his brother Atpa. In the ensuing confrontation Prince Nout routed the guards refusing his force entrance and took control of the city. He issued an ultimatum to Dor to have the larger city port open for him when his army arrived, else Nout would tie him to his chariot and drag him all the way to Rin An-Pur while Dor still breathed.
>
> Aquila Dor caved in but notified the distant Prince Atpa of his brother’s actions. Prince Atpa’s whereabouts are unknown at this time. Officially he was marching across Eplas to meet with Prince Radin at Devil’s Cove port, but there are accounts of a big portion of the Army of the Desert still camping near Sadofort. Atpa wanted to keep his forces intact as the Khan had absorbed Sahand’s troops stationed in Rida into his own army. While the Khan was informed of the developments in the Peninsula, the window of opportunity that had opened for him was too enticing to lose.
>
> Prince Nout assured his father that he would win the war back home and to go ahead with his invasion. Perhaps the best general the Khanate had and his father’s favorite son, the still ailing Prince convinced the Khan to leave the matter to him. If there was one man to fix the mess created by the Three Sisters rebellion it was him.
>
> By the time Prince Nout reached Shao Na-Lan to be greeted by a sour-faced humbled Aquila Dor the situation had deteriorated spectacularly across Khanate’s Gulf. It is often said great military heads rise through adversity and in this case it is true. But not all great war stories have a great ending.
>
> The first action of the battle was to come before noon near the largest plantation bordering the palms forest just as summer arrived on Greenwhale Peninsula. A large force of Gladiators led by a warrior named Asper made contact with a patrol of Cofols guarding it. In the ensuing battle the Cofols were helped by two hundred slaves, their guards and the locals owning it. They raised quite the ruckus with screams to notify the nearby Jang-Lu recruits so the gladiators put everyone to the blade.
>
> Such was the immense clamor raised by so many people getting slaughtered that Asmudius writes of a concerned Emerson dispatching Samir with his horse archers to report on what was happening. An action that left him without ranged support in an otherwise well planned out battle, which the usually avoiding such thorny topics play-writer nevertheless implies that it was intentional.
>
> If that’s the case, then Sir Emerson’s support from his allies wasn’t as robust as histories written after the war and the writings under the many monuments to the man himself will have you believe.
>
>
>
> -
>
>
>
> Embellished by
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> Lord Sirio Veturius
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> Assembled from notes, oral memoirs, and the vulgar, unreliable but famed plays of the slave merchant turned writer Asmudius, who traveled with the Chiliad
>
> Circa 206 NC
>
> The Fall of Heroes
>
> Chapter XXIV
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> (Sir Emerson Lennox, Ballard of Lesia, Mista Savar)
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> Tales of Greenwhale Peninsula,
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> Volume V
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> ‘Three Sisters Rebellion’
>
> -
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> 6th month
>
> -Bloody Palms-
>
> Battle of the Dates Plantation
>
> First month of summer 193 NC
>
>
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