The men of Santara call themselves the Yakobins, the Sons of Yakob. Yakobinian history recorded the flight of their ancestor from the archipelago to a distant land in the Northern Continent known as Mata Hari, the land where the sun sets. It was from Yakob’s flight that the Yakobinian calendar was dated.

Generations later, the descendants of Yakob returned to the archipelago under the command of El Shaddai, the God of the gods. It was from this lineage that the Yakobinians saw themselves as the chosen of El Shaddai.

They are a proud people, these Yakobinians; I know this all too well. Their pride was why they found five centuries of Tionghoa domination unbearable. The extermination of their priests, the desecration of their holy sites, and the importation of foreign peoples into their lands were unpleasant to be sure. But what they found offensive more than anything was the idea that they were not the masters of their own destiny.

This brings me to our struggle in Mocasar. The capital of the Sultanate of Paloe had become the definitive center of the Padri, the movement to restore Yakobinian independence in Santara. That didn’t come out of thin air. Mocasar had been garrisoned by Tionghoa soldiers for centuries, and the occupation was brutal at times. Little by little through the generations, native resentment built up until the Dragon Emperor’s servants could no longer contain it.

As for me, I was completely nervous. Aron had introduced me to his army on the way to Mocasar. Apparently, he was so impressed by what I’ve done in coordinating our battle against the brigands that he made me his army’s official tactician. I didn’t know that was even a thing. Even so, I was glad for the responsibility.

Of course, the young captain of the king’s army, Arphaxad bin Jared Penn, was bemused at this turn of events. He thought it was foolish that I, a stranger who was barely even a man, would have any say on how the army fights. That dandy would be impressed soon enough.

For the sake of clarity, I will refer to the battle ahead as ‘The First Battle of Mocasar’. This was where the forces of Dun-a-din under King Aron marched into Mocasar to assist Kochba bin Simon Hamshur, the Sultan of Paloe. Looking back, it was a good thing that Aron and Drusus had attacked the brigand encampment by themselves because the men were fresh and eager for battle. Cries of “Santara Will Rise Once More!” and “Long Live the Padri!” rang from time to time during our march.

When we finally arrived in Mocasar, it was clear that a battle was ongoing. We were late. The cries of men could be heard over the walls of the Sultanate capital, as was the clangs of steel and occasional shots of arquebus.

King Aron, brave and noble, wasted little time as he advanced into Mocasar. The commotion inside was such that we were able to enter into the city unopposed; neither the Tionghoa nor the Paloeans were around to stop us.

As we entered Mocasar’s town square, we were greeted by a battlefield. The soldiers of Tionghoa and Paloe were in a desperate battle. The Tionghoa, with their heavy contingent of musketeers were able to keep their distance. They had no cavalry, and their swordsmen were weak. Yet they were winning, and it was clear why… they had the high ground. Basic mistake on the part of the Paloeans to start fighting before they could even take control of the walls. I could tell that the Padri had much zeal but little wisdom.

From far away, I saw Sultan Kochba. Even then, I knew that he and my lord were cut from different cloths. Aron was a swordsman, not afraid to get into the thick of battle. A little too foolhardy for his own good, I must admit. On the other hand, Kochba was a mage, a practitioner of the preternatural arts. This made him powerful. And cowardly. If he had been more willing to expose himself to enemy fire, the Paloeans would not have needed our help.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Kochba’s blasts of fire and ice were my first exposure to magic. His abilities would have been a lot more decisive in the battle had the Tionghoa remained huddled in one place. Instead, they were spread apart meaning that Kochba had to expend great energy just to take out small pockets of soldiers. Still, being cremated alive was not how anyone would want to go down, especially here in Santara where the people placed such an importance in the bodily resurrection to come.

Kochba’s fire magic must have done a number to Mocasar’s town square. I remembered scarce what that part of the city looked like during the First Battle of Mocasar, but I did remember the infamous Gallows of Mocasar. This high-rising structure served as the place where criminals were executed. Despite the name, they were not hanged, rather they were thrown to the ground below. At about a hundred feet high, falling from that place was a guaranteed trip to the netherworld.

Speaking of high-rising structures, I beelined for the walls as soon as our army entered Mocasar. I sent most of our archers and musketeers up there. Clearing the walls for them was a contingent of swordsman, though they were not the only ones. I knew it was important that we take the walls as soon as possible, so I ordered Arphaxad and his Riders of Dun-a-din to dismount and help the swordsmen we sent.

To my shock, Arphaxad refused to obey. Being a cavalryman, he would rather charge the enemy on horseback. Intimidated, I would have acquiesced, but Drusus came to the rescue.

“Would you have dishonored our lord by disobeying an order from his tactician!?” the warrior said.

From the look of his face, I could tell that Arphaxad was cut to the heart by the exhortation. He then nodded and carried my orders without hesitation.

Grateful, I genuflected before Drusus. “Thank you.”

But Drusus shook his head and brought me back to my feet. “I am but a servant, like you. Nay, I am lower than a servant, for I am a vassal of my lord Aron.”

With the help of Arphaxad, it did not take long for the soldiers to take the walls of Mocasar.

The height advantage proved to be the decisive factor in the First Battle of Mocasar. I could only imagine the shock of the Tionghoa musketeers as their friends were hailed by arrows and bullets from above. That alone would have been enough to break Tionghoa morale, but then Drusus charged from the sky towards the Tionghoa position.

Imagine the sight of a black wyvern charging down on you. Atop the beast was a man with equally dark coat and armor, his golden hair contrasting his attire. The warrior without equal.

And just like that, the soldiers of the Dragon Emperor had broken. Most of them surrendered, with some escaping out of the city in a panic.

Victory was ours! But it did not take long before the cracks appeared in our alliance. It was over the question of the Tionghoa prisoners.

In his zeal for the Sons of Yakob, Kochba ordered for the prisoners to be executed, all of them. To be thrown over the Mocasar Gallows.

King Aron, for his part, was outraged: “They have surrendered to us with the understanding that we will spare their lives. Hold them ransom, exile them from Santara, hand them over to us… but don’t shed any more blood than was necessary!”

The Sultan laughed in the King’s face. “I have heard the King of Dun-a-din have his… sympathies for the goyan. After all, you still hold that Khmerian’s leash.” As he was saying this, he pointed towards Drusus, who was looking down. “But I didn’t expect you to be plead for the lives of our enemies.”

“They have surrendered to us. They are defeated,” responded Aron.

Kochba shouted, “They are the enemy! And I will brook no more discussion on this!”

I recalled that Kochba had a scary look in his eyes at the time. Aron, uncharacteristically, backed down.

And with that, we saw hundreds of Tionghoa soldiers thrown to their deaths in Mocasar’s town square. Those who survived the fall had their necks stabbed by Paloean lancers. The executioners were efficient, and the whole affair was done in less than two hours. I can still vividly recall them to this day, especially in light of what would happen years later.

Make no mistake, readers. I understand the necessity of taking lives, even of defeated prisoners, in war. But the Sultan’s blatant disregard for human life had unnerved from the very beginning.

Fortunately for the Padri, we were able to put aside our differences if only for the night. A feast was thrown in celebration of Mocasar’s Liberation from the Tionghoa. Not that I could get over that mass execution so quickly. Fortunately for me, Mocasar was a large city, so we were able to enjoy the festivities away from the town square, away from the Gallows.