Shah

The heat pelted down upon the silvery dunes. Glittering beads of light reflected from the Nobahan's surface like salt crystals, wrapped within the fishing nets of concave rowboats. Within the confines of an airy inn, occupying herself with warding off the heat, Pale sighed and clenched her fist as the cool air ran down her arm.

"Another drink?" Opposed to her, a well-dressed man spoke.

"How do you cope with this heat?" She replied, "It feels like I'm going to melt…"

"Travellers always seem to appreciate our bathhouses more than anything else." Majed smiled, "If one lives closer to the inner city, they can also enjoy the ice in our subterranean warehouses. More than anything else, we have learned to take the heat as it comes and welcome the sunset with open arms."

"When is your man likely to come back?"

"Within the next half-hour, I imagine. His Eminence can be rather busy at this time of the day. I imagine you will have your audience sometime in the evening."

"Is it common for the Shah to welcome just anyone into the palace?"

"Naturally, matters of the nation are placed over the squabbles of a divorced couple's estate, but recall my position as a professor and lecturer. Khazman places great faith in its alchemists, so my recommendation is worth quite a bit--especially considering your status as an envoy from Gria."

"What could the Lunar Dominion do to aid Tor?"

"Provide soldiers, naturally. We are aware that most of the trade coming in from Tor has ceased, and rumours of Demonic attacks have also stricken our own caravans with a reluctance to travel beyond the border. Reinforcing those routes with guardsmen would do little to stop a Demon from terrorising them, but it would certainly grant some peace of mind--enough to ignite interest in trade once more, at the very least."

"Should I be…" Pale paused, "How do I put this… are there any customs I should be following when speaking to the Shah?"

"If you were Khazmani, a tribute of some kind would be expected. But His Eminence is an accommodating man. It's more than likely that he will be concerned with violating any of your customs instead."

"I'd like to be reminded of my homeland as rarely as possible." Pale replied, "I've taken a great risk by abandoning what remains of my people to travel elsewhere."

"You made the right decision." Majed supported, "Fighting a war by yourself cannot be compared to doing so with allies. Even if you have violated a dire law by leaving, you have only done what is best for the Steppe."

"Is that so?" Pale muttered, "Somehow, I can't help but think that The Holy Alliance will never send soldiers to the north. What does it have to gain by liberating the Steppe from Demons?"

"Practically? Nothing at all." Majed answered, "-Not to mention that, lacking any connection to the Holy Alliance at all, we are under no obligation to provide aid. The Beastkin conduct neither diplomacy nor trade with allied nations--to say nothing of their nomadic ways which makes coordinating counterattacks a tricky affair."

Pale scowled. It was a truth that boiled her blood, but Majed did not mince his words. The Henklomeon Steppe had yet to emerge as a true country, and its reluctance to communicate openly with Gria made defending the Beastkin a tricky and thankless proposition.

"I can sense that your people are a point of pride for you." He continued, "But in order to move forward, you must ask yourself some difficult questions. What is a country? A culture? The ruler dissects his people--he extracts their wants, their desires… and from those myriad pieces, he constructs systems of legislation, economy, and infrastructure."

"But how does a nation develop from a system that keeps its people apart?"

"Through change--but not the sort of change wrought by violence." Majed informed, "That is what a ruler is. Somebody who can enforce change without the need for bloodshed. Perhaps the stubbornness of your people is to blame for their slow development, or their lack of cohesion? In either case, it is not a problem of the mind or body, but of the heart. A 'ruler' is that sort of person--an individual who can turn the hearts of the innocent."

"A ruler…" Pale lowered her head, "...Are you-"

"-------!"

A voice split their conversation in two, from the doorway of the inn where the Nobahan's bank lapped at the sandy beaches.

"Shisha?" Majed wondered.

The hot-footed student made his way over to their table, face beet-red with exhaustion.

"--- -------- ----- --- -- -------- ----- ----…" He panted out.

"-- ---- --? Do you hear that, Pale?"

"I hear him just fine. Understanding him is another matter." She answered.

"Ah, of course." He paused, "It seems the Shah wishes to speak to you immediately."

"Is that normal?"

"Not at all. But it is a great honour for His Eminence to request an audience personally."

"I'll make my way to the palace, then." Standing reluctantly from her chair, the Rabbitkin girl hurriedly paced towards the door, "Thank you for your help."

"Be mindful of what we have discussed." Majed recommended, "It would be a shame to see the Steppe's true potential unrealised."

"...Right. I'll try to take your advice to heart."

"May the Gods favour you, Pale."

And so she went, out towards the splendid expanse of Anan-Daje. The palace's alabaster walls were almost blinding as they reflected the light of the midday sun, and as she crossed into the city proper, a kaleidoscope of vibrant colours stretched down the bisected sandstone streets, with merchants peddling fine dyes and silk to crowds of shoppers.

Pale's conspicuous set of ears garnered a few wayward glances as she proceeded to the city's rear end, where the curtained, overhanging markets were replaced with homes, gardens and places of worship--domed cathedrals of sanctified marble and shrines burning upon the central staircase leading towards the imposing royal palace. The guardsmen of Khazman did not have the luxury of donning heavy tunics and armour lest they cooked alive in the burning daylight. Their colours were practical and noble, decorated with leather reinforcements. Like most soldiers, they held spears--the thinking man's weapon, though far longer than those of Tor's design.

"----!" One of the guards at the palace doors exclaimed as Pale approached, the two of them dropping their spears to block the entrance, "- ---------? --- --- ---- --- -- --------?"

"Why didn't I think to drag that alchemist along with me…?" She wondered, "The Shah requested to see me personally."

"----- ---. ---- ---- --- -----." Speaking to his comrade in a matter-of-fact tone, the two guards raised their spears and gestured for Pale to enter.

Anan-Daje was a city that placed as much stock in beauty as it did practicality, but even then, very few of its gardens and churches could rival the extravagance of its royal palace. Draped unashamedly in the finest textile handiwork of its people, many finely-dressed nobles and statesmen traded lively conversations within the palace's generous antechamber, which proceeded directly into the ascendant throne room.

The Shah, who remained attended at all times by his most trusted advisors, seemed very much unlike a ruler in his mannerisms, exchanging smiles and laughter where others would maintain staunch professionalism. As Pale made her way up the central staircase leading to his throne, the man turned his attention to her presence as one would when seeing an old friend wander in.

"--, --- -----..." Despite beginning confidently, he quickly became silent and paused for an instant, "...My apologies. It has been far too long since I engaged a Beastkin in their native tongue."

"Please do not apologise, Your Eminence." Pale gave a short bow, not quite sure what else to do.

"----, -----, ----- ----- --." Turning to his advisors, the young Shah waved his hand, and the three men sharing his presence quickly made themselves scarce, leaving the two of them alone, "I have awaited news from Gria with baited breath. From what I have heard, it appears war of a most peculiar kind is on the horizon."

"That's correct. Demons--the very same from 500 years ago, have returned."

"The tale of the Three Heroes is a legendary one, even in this place, where the Goddess of Light is rarely worshipped." Emir recounted, "Regrettably, I had always imagined it as just that--a tale, but if what you say is true, then my reluctance to consider its authenticity has left us woefully unprepared to face such a terrible foe."

"I was sent by His Majesty to request aid from Khazman."

"Getting right down to business, I see. If only half of my court were as concise." He smirked, "Naturally, as a sworn ally, Gira is entitled to our aid. She will receive as many soldiers and supplies as is needed to bring this terrible event to a close--provided my barracks are not left completely empty, of course."

"...Is it really that simple?"

"We live in a world touched by the grace of magic. Very little is truly impossible." Emir threw his arms aside, "-Of course, it will be some time before we are able to reinforce Tor. One cannot simply move an army into another ruler's borders. And, I believe some outdated treaties are in need of abolishing."

"I just wasn't expecting this to be so easy…"

"What interests me more is why His Majesty chose to send a Beastkin, as opposed to a human."

"Lady Dorma vouched for my… aptitude, I suppose."

"It is a rare day indeed when news of the Steppe graces our lands." He placed a hand to his chin, "I do not suppose your people are faring any better than humanity?"

"From what little I've experienced myself, I'm afraid not." Pale shook her head, "The Summit--a yearly gathering of tribes, was assaulted by a group of Demons. Many of our communities were decimated, or simply annihilated. I myself lost many comrades."

"A difficult situation, to be sure." Emir's expression was sunken, "I presume you have ventured south to seek a coalition with the Holy Alliance?"

"My apologies for sounding crass, Your Eminence, but if it was as simple as that, we would have joined the Holy Alliance many centuries ago." She answered, "I won't try to salvage a culture on the brink of being destroyed. The most I can accomplish is avenging those who have already lost their lives. I am only one Beastkin. I cannot speak for the needs of an entire people."

"Hm." The Shah studied Pale with a perturbed glance, "...You are lying. Are you not?"

"Wh-" Stammering, she blinked, "What do you mean?"

"In truth, the woes of your people trouble you more than you would care to admit. Am I not correct?" He began, "I will not claim to be a perfect judge of character, but a patriotism for one's own nation cannot be hidden. I bore witness to countless tragedies while enduring the despotic reign of this land's previous ruler. I saw countrymen slain, fateful friends broken apart by ideology… up until the moment when I could bear to tolerate it no longer, it seemed to me as if Khazman would be lost for good."

"...You were the one who led the Five-Star Rebellion, weren't you?"

"Indeed. Though it pained me to do so, I was forced to bring low the institutions of this glorious city. We fought openly with frenzied traditionalists and conscripts who had barely graced their adult years. Whether it was necessary or not, the lives of those lost during the rebellion continue to weigh on my heart even to this day. I was a young man then--very young. And very impulsive. But even so, I struggle to see how anything bar pure violence could have seen us retaking the city."

"I spoke to someone on my way here who said something very similar." Pale replied, "I keep being told that violence is not the right answer--that controlling people with fear only leads to alienation. They speak to me as if I want to be some grand saviour for the Beastkin."

"...Don't you?"

"Whether I do or not isn't the problem. A single person can't bring a country back from ruin, or unite one that was never cohesive to begin with." She deflected, "...I do want the Beastkin tribes to work together, but how realistic is that, really? Isn't it for the best to stop focusing on what I want when there are more important things to worry about?"

"A worthwhile attitude. But sterile. Terribly sterile." Emir shook his head, "It is precisely within the fires of strife where our own beliefs are truly realised, whether practically or spiritually. The imperfection of desiring an unlikely, hopeful outcome is precisely the kind of romance one should be cultivating in a time of war."

"That's just… wishful thinking."

"Even those who entertain the impossible are occasionally rewarded." He replied, "I am sure that your position within the court of Gria has allowed you to meet many people who have attained such a level of enlightenment."

"You don't understand how hard it would be…"

"Perhaps not." Emir acknowledged, "But as it stands, you are in a position to begin that long and tiresome process. Why, I would be more than happy to sponsor the Beastkin should they desire to join the Holy Alliance."

"That's precisely the problem… I struggle to imagine how we would ever reach the point of wanting to be a member."

"Have you ever petitioned the tribes to work together?"

"No, but in the past-"

"The past is gone!" Emir exclaimed, "Allow the mistakes of our forefathers to become the stepping stones to greatness! Where they failed, we will surely succeed! If one lingers in the past, they become stagnant and unresponsive to the troubles of the present!"

Clearing his throat, the young Shah lowered his voice, "Failure is not to be made light of. Despite its reputation, we would be nowhere without failure. Even if you fear it, be content with the fact that only improvements can follow. Do not allow yourself to become burdened with inaction when languishing the shortcomings of dead men."

"That's…" Pale lowered her head.

"You have much to consider, so I will not waste another second of your time. I will have a sorcerer prepare a Gate to ensure your safe return to Gria--treaties be damned. Inform His Majesty that we will be in talks regarding Khazmani aid towards the war effort." Emir deigned, "As for yourself--devote time to understanding your own desires, as well as what you believe is best for your people. Do not lose hope for their future, just as I did not lose hope for Khazman's. Do this, and you will soon find yourself overcoming obstacles you may have thought insurmountable before."

"...I understand." She muttered, "Thank you for granting me an audience under such short notice. Farewell."

As Pale turned to descend the palace's lofty staircase, the advisors who had been awaiting her departure slowly trundled back up in her wake, casting glances towards the girl's retreating form.

"His Eminence's candid nature seems to have rattled the poor girl." One of them commented.

"She is a special one." Emir replied, "Unrefined, but with so much potential. I could see my younger self in her gaze. Go and fetch a sorcerer to arrange for her transport back to Tor."

"Right away."

"But with that said, Your Eminence… do you not yourself think that uplifting the Steppe seems an impossible task?" Watching his colleague depart, another advisor posed that question.

"I will not deny that." He answered, "But… how may I put this…"

Relaxing in his throne, the eminent ruler couldn't resist the smile forming on his face.

"A world united…" He muttered, "No matter the impossibility… I would very much like to see that for myself one of these days."