//------------------------------// // Pasha's "Open" Letter (It's really just another background info chapter) // Story: The Scramble for Equestria (A Pre-EAW Story) // by Radical Centrist //------------------------------// "...The British inqilab* of 'Benghal' left those who rode atop elephants as mere beggars on the streets... 'While' other beggars were elevated into palaces." - A Benghali Poet, circa 18th century Inqilab - A great upheaval of the current order; a revolution. "There was no king in Israel. Everyone did what was right in his own eyes." - Judges 21:25 Outgoing Mail: Alive. Uncaptured. In major port city. Grand Prince dead. Chaos reigns. Four rivals for the throne. A Princeling in my possession. The Young Saddles shall inherit the Golden Kingdom. There was a letter from Pasha, the native they had rescued during their voyage, on the desks of all he had 'befriended'. One of these 'friends' happened to Kitchener, who much liked the native's straightforwardness and appreciated his astuteness. The other was Alfred, who was wisely flattered by Pasha due to the former's exudation of apparent overwhelming 'aura of importance' and the respect everyone else seemed to pay him. An affirmed decision, as Pasha would soon be told Alfred was of royalty. They read the letter: Mir Jal-Far Saddle; The Marshal of the Heartlands Ambitious, determined and energetic. Or, Delusional, headstrong and rabid. He has de facto control over the Kingdom's heartlands as the beylerbey of the eyalet of Gallarb, which stretches from Mareakech from the south to Awal in the north. It can be safely said, from what we have seen so far, that Jal-far had several secret treaties with the various other minor beylerbeys in the heartlands, such as the governors of the lesser eyalets of Manedinah and Jeddneigha. With hindsight, we can determine it is so as Jal-far has supported the successions of those respective eyalet's governors, and is probably calling in the debts. Despite the heartland's sizeable population, Jal-far does not have the largest army among the four major factions vying for the Saddle Arabian throne, instead, he confusingly has the most prosperous regions, so while he may not have a large standing army, it is supplemented by a formidable mercenary force. Such is why he is known as the 'Marshal of the West,' ironically so. As he is with an insufferable personality, one, only sustained through the coop of a tendency to resort to strict disciplinary measures. There is very little respect for the detached brother of the recently dead gluttonous Grand Prince. He was born from the fourth concubine who was, following many others like her, killed in a mysterious 'accident' on one cold weary night. A foalhood of being unloved, uncared and isolated has shaped the free mind of Jal-far into a particularly ugly one. But he is not deserving of Asura's pity, for he exercises his immense will to seize others of the memories he lived without. There is no doubt his ruinous tax, if implemented Kingdom-wide, would rid the foals of every family of their cherishable youthhood. Either toiling away working, or more likely, heart-breakingly offered to the barracks, sold to be a slave soldier, never to wield an ounce of will given as a birthright from our great creator. ... His army is diverse, as mercenary armies go. Levies from the heartland still overwhelmingly outnumber the soldiers-for-hire, but their ratio far exceeds any of the armies from the four other major players. 'Kiṣir šarri', otherwise known as the 'King's unit,' they are the most prolific category of mercenaries in Jal-far's employ. Almost entirely comprised of donkeys from Assytria and Anseruk, these at-face benign creatures with a-near deafness to magic bafflingly specialise in siege warfare. Their invaluable engines in defeating the Maregyptian chariots in the 70-year war attest to their surprising competency. In the previous centuries, they dabbled with engineering the most renowned ballistas, trebuchets and siege towers. Now, they have begun tinkering with black powder, creating near-monuments in the form of gargantuan cannons that are even taller and wider than some of the forts they were meant to destroy; many better served as a hollow battering ram, considering their unreliability. Al-Haras al-Mutaharikkah, or, the Fursan, are a light mobile unit that claims 'spiritual ancestry' to the fabled 'marching guard' the first Sa'adle Grand Prince used to neatly roll the heartland into his saddlebag. Their composition still remains largely the same, except for a sharp increase in the ratio of unicorns to earth horses, which, in its inception as the 'marching guard' was 1:9, which has been turned up to, if possible, to 2:8. This expensive reform came into being, slowly at first, in the initial years of the 70-year war, which, if you start seeing a trend, is because it is, as said war with Maregypt would provoke several key military, political and economic reforms to fight, integrate and sustain the Kingdom respectively. Several phyric battles against the nimble and often permanently airborne chariots, that was before they were violently shot down, led the then-Grand Prince to figure the number of unicorns in his battalions should temporarily double, to exert more ranged force with their levitated composite bows and crossbows. He would further remedy the problem by equipping some of his levies, who all still by then wielded spears and bucklers, which could handle the enemy's ground levies handily, with crossbows, lessening the impacts of the Maregyptian chariots even further. Regardless, even without the more permanent reforms after the 'Grand Ride', the Fursan was a formidable unit. Fast, agile, nimble and utterly maneuverable in the field of battle, they proved devastating still in an all-out shocking frontal charge. That is until they faced the Zebra's Chargers from the Great Lakes. Griwbanar, better known as the Cataphracti, or just the Cataphracts, these heavily-armoured, strong and towering horses of primarily earth stock were the answers to the Zebra's Chargers. The then-Grand Prince of the 6th century had thrown just about everything, from Abyssinian rangers, Maregyptian charioteers and simple, true, overwhelming numbers to match the fiercesome, stubborn and unrelenting Chargers of the Great Lakes. It was around the 10th time (The records are muddled) when the then-Grand Prince allegedly said, quote: "SCREW IT! WE'RE PLAY BY THEIR RULES!" And create the first units of Cataphracts, literally meaning 'All-covered (in armour)'. The first engagement yielded surprising results: The complete annihilation of the Saddle Arabian army, including the newly formed Cataphracts. Most rulers would call it quits there, but not the Saddle Arabian Grand Prince. Possibly out of delusion, coping or other manner of rejecting reality, the Grand Prince would scrounge up another army; added, his replenished cataphracts, and launch another invasion into Re'em. No doubt, probably exasperating the Nobatsia King, who ruled one of three kingdoms in the western regions of the Great Lakes, the others being Macureia and Alwani which all had resisted, by now, probably the 100th invasion from the Sa'adle lineage. Somehow, the 111th time was the charm, as the Zebras became the ones massacred in the sands, not by rout and subsequent capture and execution, but from hard, brutish, and an absolutely savage melee. The desert sands drank in a refreshing new palate. They had long since found the taste of horses too common. The Grand Prince, in his victorious high, would fracture the great Alwani Kingdom, dissolve the precarious existence, that was Macureia, and irrevocably shatter the Nobatsian realm, splitting them into various squabbling chiefdoms. It is still in dispute whether the cataphracts are an effective force, especially when they were similarly massacred against the Maretonian's pike walls. However, they still remain quite popular for their imposing visage, and their mere presence they exert on the battlefield, depicted by a contingent of particularly large earth horses in heavily cladded lamellar armour. They speak volumes of their commissioner's wealth, and is even useful in shaming the occasional onlooking generals or dignitaries for their disparaging prosperity. These are the most noteworthy mercenary forces in Jal-far's employ... And now, I shall list the other Great Players for the Throne... Fatima ibn Saddle; The Scholar-Stewardess of the North The 'humble' mare of the north is the least reflective of her title. Despite without the dreadful colours of the Sa'adle family; rust orange, the Princess is as crafty and cunning as any Princeling or, maybe, even any Grand Prince of the Sa'adle family. She is the niece (By Law) of the deceased Grand Prince, and I will be remiss to not inform you that she is the legal elder sister of the rescued Princeling, Pedrollah. The intricacies of how she is one, are far too convoluted to explain shortly... But in laymare's terms, Fatima had become far too 'engrossed' in a specific culture of Maregypt while being tutored there, being their very unique... 'Succession styles' and 'unrestrained' marriages. Directly ripping-off a precedent set in Maregyptian history, she has shamefully inserted herself into the Sa'adle dynasty by fiendishly violating the sanctities of familial relations. Her conduct of treating her close and extended families as nothing but tools is not only vaguely heretical, but violates the very laws of common decency. Despite her juniority in her regionally significant family, she had taken to become the head of it, marrying off her blood relatives to the swayable, weak-willed members of the minor Sa'adle line. Her greatest achievement would come from marrying her... Ugh... Grandmother to an indebted hedonistic Princeling, whose hoof's continual attachment to his limb hinged on repaying a loss in a game of chance. The rich Fatima was only too glad to pick up his tab. For a ring, that is. This would get her a trot closer to her likely ambitions of becoming the third Grand Princess of Saddle Arabia, also inadvertently becoming the unassuming sister of a certain bright Princeling. The records are sketchy on what happened next, but Princeling's senile wife would disappear only a day after their betrothal. Rumours of murder still linger today, but others insist that she was never alive, only on paper so that the marriage could take place. This would ultimately lead to her becoming the sister of Pedrollah, but as is usual for the Sa'adle family for the past century, there is no love, care or even a bare respect for the same blood. Actually, for most cases, the inverse is true. The countless corpses or involuntarily 'protected' members of the Sa'adle family in their relative's 'possessions' is a testament to this. For history has proven, that if the legible heirs were to be freed or loved, it would only pose an opportunity for them to betray or otherwise usurp their compassionate counterparts for the Trotgier throne. Genorisity faced extinction in the Sa'adle family. Ironically, Fatima, herself, has never tied a knot herself. This is despite having an endless selection of suitors, either drawn to her wealth, youth, influence or beauty, conveniently overlooking her rotten personality. Some say she is saving herself for the eventual winner of the succession war... However, that is still to be debated sceptically, as confirmed reports of her mustering armies, combining the forces of her allies in Abyssinia, Maregypt and the reluctant Mandalusians on the borders to the heartlands speaks doubt of her peaceful intent in resolution. Actual spoilers: No seriously, you should probably not read this as I'm gonna reveal it better later on. C'mon bro, have some patience. This is mostly for me to not forget writing this later. Jeez, fine. Spoil yourself, but don't blame me when the eventual reveal is underclimatic and lame. My agents did a little digging, and turns out, she had been arranged by her father to marry a rival family engaged in similar commerce, in the interests of monopolising their businesses. The fact that her father had mysteriously 'disappeared' shortly afterwards that decision, and the marriage annulled, paints a somewhat vivid picture of the reasons why she is so resistant to marry. The fact that the rival family soon became destitute and impoverished also further supplements her reputation for 'diligence'. Of course, the story straight from the mare's mouth would be far more telling, and in the grand scheme of things, this changes very little, but it seemed in good faith to tell what you what, I, myself, had been recently told. It's mostly for you, friend Alfred. It can be safely said that Fatima is heading for a direct collision course with Jal-far's army, as for the first time in decades, the north is not subsumed in chaos from bitter rivarlies, mainly originating from Mandalusia. Possibly out of bribery, prostrating flattery, or even an unthinkable appeasement, the various governors that fief over Maregypt and Abyssinia have thrown their weight behind Fatima's gambit to Trotgiers. Meanwhile, Mandalusia, possibly fearing the head-strong, 'pure-heartlander' Jal-far, would overreach his tyranny to their autonomous, unsegmented greater-eyalet, has reluctantly decided to fight beside the hated cats and North Zebrican ponies to support the highly-educated and culturally-versed Fatima. The odds are definitely not in favour for the North, as they are neither the most prosperous, whose title belongs to the heartlands, nor the most militaristic, which belongs to the East. The consolatory presumptuous title for 'most self-deterministic allies' is even lost to the North, as said prize is flaunted by the South, with their uneasy Maretonian and Aestlonian 'allies.' Instead, the soldiers of Fatima's army have fanatic zeal, and a will invoking jealousy from even the great Asura, to win. As while Jal-far's army may fight for gold, Fatima's army of proud Abyssinians, Maregyptians and Mandalusians are fighting against the probably exaggerated threat of cultural extermination. Fatima, from her expansive tutelage, would no doubt channel the same fury and desperate energy of past's Northern defiance, albeit, in a poetic reversal to seize the iron shoe that had repressed the very force that is carrying her to retrieve it. These other 'tools' of hers can be summarised thusly: The Kadesh is the informal, yet, the most common address for the notorious Maregyptian charioteers. A terror for any ground-bound troops, they are the dreaded reapers of numerous Fursan orders and the vein of the close-behind Cataphracts and Chargers. Rarely not seen without the scorching blue canvas with scattered clouds behind them, the Mareygptian charioteers still survive today, having evolved miraculously from useless expensive ornaments to deadly efficient killer vehicles. No longer in the lavish parades of despotic Nobles or smashed misfortunately in grand racing spectacles, these favoured weapons of the North Zebrican Ponies are able to translate their awe-inspiring majesty in the stadiums, into pure-terrifying devastation in the battlefields. The levees of the heartlands, plucked from the ranks of lowly peasants could cry when they witnessed what normally only a noble could've indulged in. And they did, cry. Cry, in terror as a giant amalgamation of chariots in the rough formation of a sphere headed straight towards them. Of the chariot, there were six riders tightly packed, two on a leash, and all armed with various ranged weaponry. The sparse crossbows on the ground could only hope to shoot so far up. It was then miraculous that so many of Sa'adle's armies did not immediately flee when encountered by the seemingly invulnerable weapons of the air, as by remaining still, in formation, the various soldiers and especially levies knew they would be resigning themselves to an eventual death. But their discipline kept them cohesive, and the knowledge that breaking formation would only result in an eventual, but faster death, kept them all together. The opening stages of the 70-year war played countlessly like the scene described above, with the Sa'adle barely taking the 'fields' by outlasting the chariot's munition supply, at which point, they would retreat. They had learned early that a frontal assault was suicide against the Fursans. The balance would only tip with the recruitment of the before-mentioned 'King's unit' and the following donkey auxiliaries. ... More recently, the Kadesh would be used against the Maretonian alliances' phalanxes, with mixed results. As while the ground-bound pike-wielders were similarly vulnerable to their now-allied Saddle Arabians, the Cape employed far more experienced ranged infantry, engineers and crucially, pegasi to effectively neutralise the comparably inflexible Maregyptian charioteers. In the foreseeable present, though, the Kadesh remains a useful unit for any army that can perform any task, such as reconnaissance, screening, pursuing, skirmishing or even acting as a shock vanguard, all moderately well. Recently being rebranded as 'Meowdros's Nips', the mischievous rangers of Abyssinia seem determined to remain conformant to their stereotypes as liquor-loving debauches. Metacommentary: I'm beginning to see a pattern here... Maybe guys who could afford guns and the matching pompous dress back in those days had an overlap with petite merchants who had nothing better to do with their disposable income but to drink, frolic and play. Frustratingly, though, as the only naturally ambidextrous creatures on our side of the continent, they stubbornly remain the most talented and reliable ranged unit; coveted and wanted by all armies. They are particularly well-suited to utilise the muskets imported from overseas, which had all but been disregarded and forfeited by the traditional generals of the heartlands, and subsequently, the Sa'adle's Saddle Arabia as a whole. Well, of course, except the Abyssinians. The weapon deemed 'too unwieldy', 'too inaccurate', 'impossible to reload with hooves', 'who the fuck thought this was a good idea with our stumps?', and 'wholly inferior to the crossbows and bows,' were put to devastating use by the cats, putting the critics to rest. Literally. There isn't much of a past, no less dignity, with these particular types of soldiers, but historically, Abyssinians have been the superb choice for substituting any army's ranged contingent, and so far, this phenomenon still holds true. Despite their moral degeneration. Another Metacommentary: Pasha's wrong. The Abyssinian mercenaries have always been like that. What did you expect? They're bloody low-life sellswords. Well, in this case, sellmuskets. The Zenata, coined by, one, legendary rebel leader, Nyarid Growlnada, were once a purely volunteer force which diehard members dedicated their entire lives for the liberation of their beloved Mandelusia. Spitting in their legacy, the Sa'adle had made it the designation of their standing army, turning the once-symbol of holy, inspirational resistance for glorious freedom into a bland, humiliating subservient auxiliary of the greater Saddle Arabian army. Depressingly, this 'tamed army' is feverishly paid for by the Mandelusians alone, to protect themselves from their two larger, hostile neighbours. However, they are more often used far away from home, dying on soil never coveted by the noble, great Nyarid, and spilling blood in the name of foreigners a seasonal trot away. These poor, diligent Mandelusians are not allowed to complain. For they have been geopolitically taken hostage by the vile Sa'adles in Trotgiers, who would no doubt allow the neighbouring Maregyptians and Abyssians to swallow Mandelusia whole, if they even squeak in protest of their courageous fellows' death in a faraway war, uninstigated by their own. My deepest condolences are felt to those iron-willed cats of the north. Especially the dashing Nyarin Growlnada, whose glorious ambushes and raids against the gluttonous officials of Trotgiers still inspire us all. Third Metacommentary: Pasha is biased. 'Nough said. Back on topic, the 'Zenatas' are a frail imitation of its historic namesake. All of its apparent 'credit' is owed to the other elements of the victorious army, especially towards the heartland's Fursans, which are a far superior mobile force than the pathetically slow bipedal Zenatas. Why they don't just employ them as ambushers or rangers like the Abysinnians, I do not know, as to me, there are clear historic and current relevant precedents that they could follow to become a far superior force. Metacom: (Because that'll be fucking stupid. Different culture and changing times is why.) Those were the three two major components of Fatima's army... And now, introducing the puppet in the east: Kavad ibn Saddle; The Wagging Dog of the Eastern Seven Houses There are scant few information about the most definite puppet Sa'adle Princeling of the East. As a matter of fact, there is scant of anything that could be foraged from the east, much less, intelligence. The volatility of the region due to constant raids into the preliminary states, sometimes deeper, from the Great Lakers chiefdoms meant that the Kingdom's East would forever remain militaristic and vigilant. This vigilance would also, unfortunately, affect our network of informers in the region, meaning the information I will present now should not be taken as gospel, as it is the combined snippets of historical archives and various other records pieced as meticulous can be to create a coherent picture. ... One of the more well-recorded and disseminated heads of the seven great 'houses', that are more akin to criminal clans, is Shookhra al Khan. Why that might be, either due to self-importance or actual greatness, I cannot determine. He, like all the other heads of the clans that control the Kingdom's East, had been appointed independently to be the respective beylerbey of the eyalet hereditarily, not uncommon now, but they were the first to break that sacred 'rule'. If they were a catalase, or if it was pre-determined for the Kingdom to decentralise with the governors no longer being appointed directly by the Grand Prince, I do not know. Nevertheless, Shookhra, and his 6 peers are from families steeped in military tradition. You can expect no less for a creature that is either always in the threat of war, or is currently in one already. Quite expectedly, the eastern eyalets, despite collectively being the least populated, prosperous or generally a pleasant place to live in, have the largest standing professional army in the entire Kingdom, albeit, one that can never leave said region. This, however, hasn't stopped prospecting heirs of the Saddle Arabian throne before, from draining the precious garrisons and reserves of the east to march into Trotgiers. Regardless if they had won or lost, the east's troops would not be returned or quickly replenished, and coincidentally, the Zebras further east would take such gaps of recovery to strike deep into the eastern eyalets, ravaging the lands and looting it dry, or even just devastating it to settle past grudges, some made even before the avenger's birth. Tired of this dreadful cycle, around 662ALB, the locals would franchise a system wherein they elevate one of their richest 'patrons' in each region to act as their private defenders, forgoing the reliance on the fickle beylerbeys. This 'patronage system' would soon mutate into an uncontrollable magnet of powerful noble families that would soon compete with one another and leave only the seven great houses seen today. They would be further entrenched in their position of remarkable independence and power when they, through their own initiative, invaded the various Great Laker tribes which were the fractures from the three major kingdoms in 665ALB, creating several buffer states. While the still-competent Sa'adle Grand Prince was supposed to punish such acts of blatant free-will, he, with hindsight is seen as a disastrous decision, decided to reward the seven great houses by appointing them the new beylerbeys of the conquered buffer states. The consequences of his actions would be seen at his death in 677ALB, as the seven houses swiftly stronghoofed the rest of their informally controlled territories into their appointed eyalets, and using their massive armies, seeked to install a villainous nepotist to the Trotgiers throne, on the condition that the newly ordained Grand Prince would confirm their illegal land-grab. In an upset, the pre-determined heir, son of the predecessor, was defeated near Farasrah, starting the long decline in the quality of Sa'adle monarchs, as the Zoroastrian church, following their strict principles of free-will, had no choice but to accede to the accession of the villainous usurper, due to his apparent 'superiority of will'. But unlike countless times before, the armies of the east would return home, further galvanising support from the citizens in the east for the seven houses to remain, ultimately leading to their continued existence as major power brokers in the decide for the Trotgier's throne today. But allegedly, one of the leading houses, being Shookra's, is not satisfied with just installing a weak, puppet Grand Prince. Instead, he supposedly wishes to become a regent to the Grand Prince, no doubt wishing to indulge in the pleasures of Trotgier's amenities and expend its exhaustless wealth for his private ambitions. Even if that is not true, there is no telling what the other six great houses will demand from their puppet Grand Prince. Possibly even full independence, which may instigate every other nominally free eyalet to follow, similar to the case of mass decentralisation that the east started in 678ALB. This must never come to pass. As much as I hate the Kingdom in its current state, further decentralisation and subsequent fracturing like the three Zebra kingdoms of the Great Lakers would only lead to chaos, statelessness and ceaseless violence, as can be seen in the various 'chiefdoms' that arose after the Nobatsian and Marecueria's fall. In the fight against this agent of disorder, we shall encounter these stocks of soldiers: Zebrican Chargers, or Great Laker Chargers, it really doesn't matter what word you attach before the word 'Chargers'. One stray cry of that horrifying word, and the army melts to its most seasoned bones, revealing who among them is prepared to even invade Tartarus, itself. That is how veterans who have faced the iron-clad, alchemically enhanced, striped warriors of the Lakes describe it. Facing Tartarus, itself. There exist vivid accounts of survivors plunging daggers straight into the necks and eyesockets of the wide-eyed, manic Chargers, only for it to not even elicit a twitch from the victims. Those very same accounts also attest hauntingly, that the zebras, still showing no indication of pain and their mad grin unbroken, would either smash their helms against their muzzles or violently pummel them with their shortspears or bare hooves in a bloody pulp of shattered, broken bones. Their hideous disfigurements provide validity to their words, and the innumerable unmarked graves that litter the eastern borders speak for those who cannot; still being sorted in the probable endless queue of fallen soldiers in the Chitvan Bridge. So it is even more terrifying that in the seven house's employ, are these accursed 'devils'. It is apparent that these marauders never had a noble goal of fulfilling some ancestral vengeance. Like all primal creatures, stripped bare of the structures and stability offered in an orderly society, they are driven solely by greed and without any moralistic functions; only the basic focus for the attainment of gold. Deprived of a stately function by the unfortunate collapse of their respective societies and following states, these warrior castes had only two choices, either start from scratch in the still-existing Alwani Kingdom or become 'self-employed'. The former's army had already been oversaturated with cheaply 'available' Chargers who had similarly fled from their collapsing societies, meaning there really was one option: 'freelancing'. More accurately, banditry. But even the most unhinged bandits require a semblance of stability in their tumultuous lives, and it seems the eastern eyalets were more than happy to provide them such, in the forms of several handsomely paying mercenary contracts. As explained before, the Chargers are nearly without equals in terms of ferocity, shock and strength. And if it can easily break the most elite-ranked formations, the untrained levies must feel like a brief breeze to these striped devils. But, there is no such thing as an immortal soldier, and the Abyssinian rangers and the Cape's phalanxes would resolutely humble them on that fact. Called the 'Aksumites', they are similarly shrouded in mystery, however, what little is known about them is that they originate from the Haymir region, and like all the elite units of Saddle Arabia, they are a mobile, lightly armoured and armed force. It is generally accepted that they are the equal counterparts to the heartland's Fursans, which, is a source of massive confusion, as the East also employs the various elite units of the wider Kingdom, meaning they have both the Fursans and Aksums in their armies, sharing their designated roles. More of a religious order than a military unit, the 'Magdakites' is a subversive cult that proclaim they are following the 'purified' version the main Zoroastrian beliefs. Once endemic in the heartlands, these wayward supposed apostates of the primary branch of Zoroastrianism would be violently prosecuted when they reached the certain number of converts where their preachings of social welfare and equal distribution of wealth, therefore equal power and free-will for all, became too loud for the nepotists in Trotgier's comfort. The wisest among them had foreseen this though, and many Magdakites fled across the vast Arabian Sea, landing on the various coastal cities of the wider Kingdom. The most notable of these early self-imposed exiles was Magdak himself, who would arrive on the western coasts of the Eastern eyalets in hopes of escaping the looming storm and winning new converts in the then-already autonomous states of the East. Quite bizarrely, this peaceable branch of the Zoroastrian faith, focused nearly entirely on charity and the pursuit of social welfare would adapt drastically in the militaristic lands of the eastern peripheries. As soon after the founder, Magdak's death, his namesake Magdakites would immerse sharply into the cultures of their new converts. With every new generation, new priests and subsequent head priests being increasingly sourced from the martially-focused unicorns of the East, the doctrines of the Magdakites blended in a melting pot to forge a seemingly contradictory belief of unshakable harmonic equality matched by violent prowess. This would do what the Zoroastrian temples in the heartlands couldn't; make the Magdakites unpalatable to the wider masses. For following this shift, the Magdakites ceased to become a major competing faith in the Greater polity, instead being confined to the east, specifically their stronghold in Mareib. Their right to freely practice their faith comes at a price though, but while in everywhere else in the Kingdom, where minority faiths are beholden to pay the Jizya, the eastern eyalets instead sought reimbursement in the form of military service. Rightly seeing their knowledgeability in magic, and aware of their notorious selection process in elevating priests from the exclusive classes of warmages only, as useful assets in war, the east would recruit them in a sort-of 'holy orders' for their various campaigns. They would prove especially useful against the Zebras and occasional Abyssinian auxiliaries, whose lack of equals to the unicorns, much less, a bunch of fanatically magocratic, overzealous, former-warmages would often tilt the balances of any battle in the seven houses' favour. This leaves only the last major player for the Saddle Arabian throne... The diplomat of the South. Hayjaz ibn Saddle; The Éminence Grise of the South Deceitful, two-faced, soft-hoofed, sly, knavish slithering snake that has done nothing in the south but flatter those that have insidiously struck us without just cause, and astuciously begged for peace when we briskly slapped them back across the Arabian waters. He has revoltingly attained the hoof of an Aestlonian princess, no doubt, the beginning of a ploy by the deceitful ally of the equally fiendish Maretonians to turn the noble citizens of Saddle Arabia their slaves; a laborious work steed, leashed by the delusional 'ancestors' of their imaginary alicorn king, to fulfil a foolish dream which our great Kingdom has already attained. We must not lose the achievements made by our ancestors. To watch a vile interloper to our historic, treacherous enemy sit on the Trotgier's throne will not only be an insult to us all, but to our great fathers, who would no doubt roll in their graves to see such defilement of our sacred, albeit temporarily tainted capital. Expectedly, he is with the armed support of the Western Cape Hestraya. It sickens me to even imagine that these wormly existences of the cold, miserable south will dirty our majestic standards by the mere contact of their slithery hooves. I would pity our kind that they were made to march with those sorry excuses of equines. Half-horses, both in size and mind, will cling to our noble Fursans of the south, conjuring unthinkable sights of rich Greens marching with their sickly Purple, undoubtedly tainting our history and image forevermore. It is to my somewhat relief though, that for those very transgressions, I have no second thoughts that they will be shortly exterminated by the other three factions, hopefully rid from our minds sooner, and their awkward experiment erased from history. I cannot fathom what had gone through Hayjaz's mind. I had always thought him to be smart. Combined with his reputation as an astute diplomat, negotiating the subjugation of all other minor beyliks and eyalets in the south to his vaguely central authority had only confirmed his genius to me in the past. Everyhorse in the Kingdom had shared my opinion. Many thought, shortsightedly, that Hayjaz had also achieved a military victory, as after his consolidation, the Cape had all but ceased their military incursions, ranging from petty raids or petite sieges of border forts. Others, like me, had thought it so because the alliance of Aestrius-Trinity wouldn't be dafted enough to strike against a clearly stronger, unified force. However, Hayjaz proved slyer still. Decieving us all. After the numerous jubilant letters to wipe the rump survivors off the map went continually ignored by Hayjaz, he would truly reveal his diplomatic aptitude when he shockingly revealed his marriage to the Aestlonian princess, Jadwig Zaida, even before announcing his betrothal. A Saddle mixing blood with a deceitful Zaida... If it wasn't for the absolutely wretched reputation and debauched former head of the Saddle lineage, the mere suggestion of such a tied knot would warrant a swift relocation on a noose and the kick of the chair beneath them. It was a miracle that Hayhaz's southern subjects hadn't revolted against him. Even bigger a miracle that all the other beylerbeys of the Kingdom hadn't immediately converged upon him to tear him to shreds. Everyhorse had forgotten about decency apparently. The soul of the Kingdom MUST BE RESTORED. This shamefully unpunished move gave Hayjaz the laughable assortment of organised mobs called 'soldiers' in the Western Cape. Plus one race of monsters... The 'Phalanxes' are a laughably ineffective force of mainly toothpick-wielding earth ponies. They only seem to be effective against the similarly barbaric Zebras, somewhat adding belief to their outlandish tale of once conquering the whole of the Great Lakers and beyond, as the former's Chargers tend to blindly skewer themselves in their rigidly held wall of iron points. Metacommentary: The zebras go around them. They're not that stupid. Pasha is just pulling a Rome / Middle Kingdom. They are utterly inflexible. Making it even seem more cretinous that they had ever believed that they could defeat us. Our entire roster of soldiers is highly maneuverable. How could they possibly think sitting still in an open plane would not expose their flanks??? But what better could I have expected from the delusional Maretonians? I suppose this is also why they have also refused to give up their unwieldy pikes. As long as they keep clinging to their beliefs of alicorn ancestry, they will similarly never forfeit their long sticks. ...Need I remind you that they hold round shields? Because they do. It is shameful, really, that they do barely anything to stop our projectiles. Why did Hayjaz ally with these cretins?! The 'Thunderers', or mockingly, the 'Thuns' are what our soldiers have affectionately called the Aestlonian, and later, combined Maretonian pegasus units. Unlike the Maregyptians in our employ, whose pegasi are predominantly leashed on meticulously engineered chariots, these unelegant savages to our south prefer to chaotically dot the air above the battlefield, one day hoping that they would be more than quaint shades for the levies below. The name would derive from their common usage of thunderclouds, which, if not uselessly adding to the dramatic atmosphere of the battlefield with its mighty roars of lightning, would compel the conjurers to flash their petite daggers and rush the Maregyptian charioteers, desperately slashing the leashes on the comparably higher armoured, equipped and trained pegasi of North Zebrica. Most of the aforementioned attempts by the Thuns would result in their swift annihilation and the rout of any that remained, scattering their already scattered, incohesive formations in every direction. Dragons. You may not believe me, but the Western Cape Hastraya have always employed these savage beasts in their armies. One can only imagine the amount of treasures, favours or flattery is required to hire these impulse-made incarnates. It is a great contradiction that the delusional, self-aggrandising Maretonians would stoop and beg for the icy savage's services. However, I suppose those very dragons being in their myth, hired by their supposed alicorn ancestor king would waive any shame they may feel in prostrating themselves upon them, and pleading for their help. Nevertheless, the 'warriors' of the Ice Dragon Tribes are a ferocious bunch. If not for our various engines and mighty cannons, the dragons would no doubt wreak havoc on our lines, as the occasional times when a Saddle Arabian commander was forced to abandon their heavy weaponry or had them destroyed by a lucky Allied ambush had shown. If the numerous aligning reports of the soldiers were to be believed, arrows simply bounce off the hard scales of the Icy Dragons, spears shatter at their charge, and the hooves or teethes that held the swords striking them painfully clatter and jitter off in ineffectiveness. If there was any reasons, of many, that the titanic Kingdom of Saddle Arabia couldn't just sweep the Allies asunder, like grains of a sand in the beach, these cold-hearted beasts of the south-most isle would likely be... Kitchener neatly folded the letter and deposited it into his inside pocket, patting the spot comfortably. "What a boon!... That must be repaid in kind... After I make sure this doesn't reach the wrong pair of ears..." He hurriedly marched towards his door, the goal of intercepting his courier for assurances of secrecy in mind. Alfred waved the letter in a laxed claw, a joyful smile in tow. "Seymour, good man! You've got to see what my little horsie wrote me!"