“We are not ready. Not to cross swords with the Empire of Sands. We have no army; we barely have a garrison here. My people still starve. That is why we must wait.”
“Then to war! Bring me my horse, my armor and armies! We will ride forth until the Empire of Sands is dust in the wind! To me! For vengeance and fury!”
To begin with, of the five continents in the world, only Izril and Chandrar could be considered calm by any stretch of the word. Chandrar was still recovering from the collapse of the King of Destruction’s empire and nations were rebuilding. Or in the case of the emerging Empire of Sands, slowly growing their borders and absorbing smaller nations. However, such conflicts were small and thus Chandrar could be considered peaceful.
Unless you had bad orders. Or a bad commander. For Brigadier General Khal of the Empire of Sands, he was experiencing both unfortunate events at the same time. His force of eight thousand men had been sent across the border of the great desert to hunt down an enemy force that had been harassing the empire for the last few months. A force that had eluded pursuit, destroyed small villages and towns, looted, instilled havoc among the empire’s citizens…and routed six other armies sent against them.
Takhatres, Lord of the Skies. One of the King of Destruction’s vassals and a sworn enemy of the Empire of Sands, which had declared war with Flos Reimarch not four months ago. His name would make men greater than Khal tremble. And yet here he was, leading an army of eight thousand against Takhatres’ tribe.
And he was an emir, a rich lord of the Empire of Sands. His family had enough influence to appoint him as the head of an army and so he had organized this latest force to fight the Garuda. And it seemed that Brigadier General Khal was the sacrifice being sent to die with him.
Khal was Human. A majority of Chandrar was Human, as befitted a race that had spread to all five continents in the world. But in the Empire of Sands another species held predominance. And while their appearance was like Humans, they were far better desert fighters than most Humans. One of them would never make this mistake fighting the Garuda; they would know all too well the danger. But Riefel just laughed again, drunk on youth and alcohol.
The String People. They who create themselves. This was their continent, and this was one of their greatest empires. The Empire of Sands, whose people were born of cloth, who could replace limbs, eyes, and yes, apparently even bodies at will. Khal had never heard of any Stitch-Person doing so before, but the Emperor of Sands was an exception.
The capital of the Empire of Sands was vast, but eventually the chariot did slow. The Empress descended, Khal once again holding her arm. She even smelled different. Khal tried not to breathe as they walked down the street.
Her words were greeted with cheers. Khal stared at the Emperor of Sands, but he did not doubt her for a second. She was the ruler of the Empire of Sands, a empire set in one of the driest parts of the world. But she had managed to make her people flourish despite that thanks to her Skill.
Such was Chandrar. Such was the Empire of Sands and its strange ruler. Feared for her—his—their ambitions, yes, but hated and despised too. Not for their policies, or the way they made war and peace as their personalities changed, no. Simply for one reason. A petty one? An important one to some.
Yes, the Empire of Sands was hated. Because they were different. But as the Goblins might have observed if anyone thought to ask them, different did not mean evil. It just meant you were a target.
