Imperialist: The Voyage

Chapter Two; The Robbery

The warrior who comes back from battle without a scratch on them is likely to be derided as a coward who sat out the fight. Even the most skilled warriors do not emerge from battle unscathed. On the other hand, a warrior coming back with too many injuries does not say much for his skill.

And so, they settled on an iron helmet capable of covering his face and fitting over his dreadlocks. Even so, he had to do a lot of adjusting. The Muslim Adregans typically shave their heads and do not grow hair, much less dreadlocks. But after Moutassim married his wife ten years ago, he grew his hair as a way of solidifying his bond with her Genda tribe, a tribe synonymous for its dreadlocked, ebony skinned people as much as it was synonymous for producing sorcerers.

As the army set off towards Kalli with the Emperor leading the way, Agdel approached him on his war horse with a grim expression on his face. Agdel was from the Genda tribe too and was, in fact, the Empress's cousin. There was a time when his locks were as long as his cousin's, but the death of his wife three years ago had caused him to cut off his locks as a symbol of mourning. They were still growing back.

"How can I help you cousin?" Moutassim asked him cheerfully, as his horse fell into step next to Sheikh.

"By listening to my advise." Agdel said through gritted teeth. "If you had fallen, your wife would have held me responsible. Worse, the empire would have crumbled. You have no baby in the cradle and no one wants to see your brother on the Imperial throne. Everyone knows what he's capable of."

Moutassim shook his head.

"I had no choice." He said dismissively.

"You always have a choice! The Empire-"

"It's precisely because of the Empire, I did what I had to do." Moutassim snapped and as if a switch had been thrown, the pain in his cheek started throbbing again.

"You are the greatest military strategist in my Empire Agdel, but perceptive politician you are not. I rule over five distinct tribes, with different cultures, different languages. How else will I win my people to my side? How else will I, a Muslim, govern an empire made up of Muslims and spiritualists? The only thing keeping me on that throne is the military and politics of perception."

Agdel opened his mouth to argue, but Moutassim raised his hand.

"Enough. If you must give your opinion on something, I'd appreciate your opinion on Bremon and what to do with it."

Agdel fumed, but couldn't pass up the opportunity of advising the Emperor when called upon. Very few had such an opportunity of directly influencing the course of history.

"Farouk's death will cause a power vaccum. The person most likely to replace him is his son Khalid, I think he just turned sixteen. Khalid will no doubt flee once news of his father's defeat reaches him. Sieberon is by far the most friendly Kingdom to Bremon. And Votrek has never been particularly fond of you sire. So he will flee there. The danger is if they shelter and provide him with their mercenaries."

Moutassim nodded in agreement. Sieberon was famed for its brutal and sadistic mercenary force, personally commanded by their Prince Regent, Votrek. In a mountainous country which grew few crops and had no natural resource of its own, Sieberon mercenaries were in high demand around the world and had influenced world events in whichever wars they fought. Besides armour and weapons, Sieberon mercenaries were the country's chief export and a high earning one too.

In fact, the only thing keeping them in the Empire was the fact that most of the Kingdoms sold them commodities they could not produce, at rock bottom prices. In exchange, the Empire could rely on Sieberon mercenaries should some other, foolish country decide to invade.