RULES AND THE ASPECT: THE FIVE SECRETS

War Again

"There is honour in death, those foolish Sel say," King Goron bellowed as he walked among his warriors. "I say, serve your neid! Fight in service till shaky breath is drawn through your wrinkled lips, and your eyes pierce the air only an arm's length in front of you; till your bones creak, and the flesh sag off it; till your mighty battle cry becomes no more than a hoarse whisper; till your arms can neither support the weight of your blade, nor nock an arrow! Our worthy sacrifice to our neid is our way of life, our pride... our honour!" He stared Gulo in the eye. The boy had become a man, a warrior. Goron let his eyes roam the faces of as many as he could. He knew them well -all four hundred and ninety seven of them- including Gulo, his younger brother. Goron trusted these warriors. He could give them his back; and give them his back, he did. Turning around in his well-bruised but uncompromised leather armor, he smiled. "We live and fight for..."

"GALORA!" The shout of four hundred and ninety-seven elite predators sparked the blue-gold flame Goron knew burned in the chest of every Galoran. King Goron's band. His band. He smiled again.

Denca watched him turn after giving his iria. She had hoped to catch his eye this day. Alas, Galoros had not flamed upon that particular eventuality. She did however catch Gulo's eye, as usual. They grew up together. Back then in the citadel, they would run in the fields amidst the trees, beneath Galoros' warm golden gaze. That was a different time, a different life, a time before Goron became king.

Two years ago, scouts reported an army marching east along the coast of the great river, Kuridis, two days' worth of travel from the Citadel by beast. They raised the Sel flag and numbered around twenty thousand: roughly three thousand vorgen riders, and infantry.

King Goron assembled his band and rode out to intercept the intruders, the rest of his force would have to catch up, assuming his band were not enough to handle the situation. He thought to himself, Do the Sel really hope to take Galora with those numbers? They had been quiet a very long time, why now? What could that Sukkra be plotting?

It was dawn when Goron was seen riding up alone to the Sel camp.

"I would speak with your leader," his voice rang out in the neutral Tenauri language. He rode a bragge fit for a Galoran king, a vicious, intimidating predator of a beast. Goron's tan skin and shoulder-length, blood-red hair held together at the back of his head by a thin string, were closely matched with the red mane and brown fur of his beast. In his gauntleted hands, he held the reins, not linked to a bit as with horses, but to a wide leather choker fastened around the beast's neck. Together, rider and beast were several times more intimidating than either would have been alone.

"How considerate of you to grace us with your presence, Your Highness," came the toned voice of a man from the group directly in front of Goron. His voice, though soft and smooth, had a certain depth to it.

"Spare me, Lasair, you think us all inferior to your kind. What is the meaning of this?"

The group parted to reveal a lean Sel in battle regalia of form-fitting, white bevor and sallet with a white-frilled, red cape brooched at the clavicles. His pale face looked much like the others, but he had on a white metallic headband dotted with glass stones that sparkled in the morning light. He was young, but unmistakably royalty in untainted white armor. He was of a height such that he was eye-level with the beast, and on his right hip hung The Sukkra's Blade. By Sel standards, he was tall; by Galoran standards, most people were not.

"Well, you see, you have forced my hand, Your Highness. Your people are small, your territory and resources, massive. You refuse integration, you also refuse trade – the Sukkra will not be denied any longer..."