The Empire had become great. It had become very great. It had become larger and mightier than any other in the history of the entire world. Even now, armies marched to Tropico and Columbia. Even now, they grew unhindered to the settlement of Tambalac. Even now, the twenty three tribes had become thirty, all united under Jeruk – their celestial Ti-maan.

And yet it was not ever enough. A hunger still stalked the alcoves of his heart, and another beast had joined it. Restlessness. Anxiety. Perhaps even uncertainty. Disgusting, base, mortal emotions – no god had room for them in their enlightened vision.

Jeruk had repeated that to himself, time and again. He stared into Krasa’s heart, hoping she would give answers as he knew she always knew. But the churning of the fire was still just that. Churning. No matter how many tributes she had been fed, it churned and churned and churned and churned.

Perhaps Anxiety and Restlessness stalked Krasa’s heart as well. Perhaps even gods could fall prey to doubt.

No.

Impossible.

Sacriligeous.

Gods do not falter, and Jeruk was no sniveling mortal. He had found the lost ruined isle – he was chosen. He was a prince. He was a god. And no god is anything but decisive, imperishable, and strong.

At once he summoned the tribunes.

Thirty tribunes came to Jeruk’s beckoning. One from each tribe, a mouthpiece of each tribe, blowing rancid breath into Jeruk’s hall. Fortunately they would no remain long, as Jeruk was unsure he could resist sampling the flavor of each of their hearts should they become less than properly helpful. Krasa was everhungry too.

In addition, a collection of the Matuttu Captains – the grand admirals that plundered and pilfered and instilled order and chaos in equal measure. They were Jeruk’s strong arm in the sea. Perhaps they were drunkards and perhaps they were traitors, but all arms must pleasure themselves time and again. They were weak mortals, and they were sinners, but they were also tools. And if a tool failed it could be replaced at once.

A few of the Siyars had come as well. One of the Natural Arts, one of the Enlightened Arts, one of the Arithmetical Arts, and one of the Civil Arts. Eunuchs, the four, each of their bare skins painted in metally tones so that they shone like obsidian, silver, gold, and copper, their flowing accordingly-dyed hair woven with peridot and nacre. Jeruk preferred the three women to look the least objectionable any mortal could become. They shimmered like sirens.

“Has Tropico fallen?” questioned Jeruk.

“Ayus, tee-mun.” said the Karbanzi Tribune, with Matuttu Korwee nodding, then saying “aye, but we took ‘eavy losses, Ti-maan. Only one o’ every ten men survived the conquest, an’ eigh’deen ships fell as well. But the survivors now bring you the ‘ead of El Presidente.”

“Excellent. Dismissed.” Jeruk said, as he waved off the Tribunes and Matuttu. “Not you. Remain before me.” He said, gesturing to half of the room.

“Has Columbia fallen?” questioned Jeruk.

“No, Ti-maan.” said the Valama Tribune.

“Why.”

“Ti-maan… ‘Twas a major-aagaah…”

The Tribune may have been tall, but Jeruk still towered above him, clamping his hand around the Tribune’s clavicle. He began to beg and whimper, but this mortal overcame his disgusting bestial urges. He stood tall, even though Jeruk pushed down minorly, and looked Jeruk in the eye. After a moment’s pause, he composed himself and drew in his breath.

“There were not enough men, Ti-maan Jeruk. We require more funds before we could press forth.”

“Why was this not reported earlier, tribune?” Jeruk hid his minor fascination with this composed Tribune, for he had not passed the full impromptu test. He squeezed the shoulder of the man more, just enough so that they could both hear the bone groan and threaten to crack, and yet the Tribune did not waver. Perhaps this man had a drop of propriety in his blood after all.

“I endeavored to raise the funding myself and-“ he paused to catch his breath. Forgivable – he may been stronger than any other mortal to have been able to overcome the whimpering, blubbering, cowardly small creature inside, but he was still a mortal.

“-and ask for recompense after Columbia’s fall, so that the conquest could be expedited and the Ti-maan could concern himself with greater importance.” His right eye leaked, but only a little. Mortals still felt pain.

“Very well, Tribune. You have done well.” With a swift flex, Jeruk snapped the man’s bone. He winced a bit, but did not cry out. Jeruk whistled, and a guard brought forth a spear of Sasva with a Peridot tip and the feather of a great seabird.

“Return to me in one months time, with the heart of your chief at the end of this spear. You shall be the new chief, should you be clever enough. Golden Siyar-?” the Golden Eunuch stepped forward, her footfalls quiet and her face in a flippant twist. “See to it that Tribute…?”

“Tamaran, Ti-maan.”

“See to it that Chief Tamaran gets the entirety of the current coffers to train his army at once. Also select three maidens to form the foundation of his concubine.”

“At once, Haruatua.” Spoke the Golden Siyar, taking the man by the arm and bringing him out of the castle. All the others had begun to sweat in the palace’s deep heat. It amused him, in a base way. As one might be amused by a fish flopping on the shore.

“You are dismissed.” He said, waving them away. Neither Jeruk nor Krasa would taste their blood today.

“Silver Siyar,” The silver woman stepped forward. “Send envoys to Iaoai, and seal our tribal confederacy.”

“At once, Haruatua.” The formal title was gratifying, wasn’t it?

“Obsidian Siyar,” the dark woman stepped forward, “what have you done with the wise men?”

Her small mouth curled into a grin, but only for a moment. “The shamans shall be studying old priestly rituals, devising construction practices, and perhaps the codifying of the laws of Krasa and Jeruk, Haruatua.”

“Very good. Proceed, Obsidian Siyar.” She curtsied and strode out without a sound. Her obeisance was unwavering and emotionless, as the woman was.

“Copper Siyar,” Jeruk said, and the auburn lady stepped forward. Affixed to the crest of her forehead was a twinkling ruby. Of the four, she was Jeruk’s favored, and for her he involuntarily and subliminally softened.

“Yes, Haruatua?”

“Survey Tropico, and compile a report. Develop your choices for infrastructure. And look over the schematics for the ships.”

Her eyes twinkled for a minute, and a bead of sweat rand down from her ruby – a bitter reminder that even with and without adornment, she was still a fleeting mortal. No matter, this one was tolerable.

“Of course, Haruatua.” She turned about, and prepared to walk out.

“Oh, and Copper Siyar-“ She turned back, with her arms crossed to hide herself.

“Copper Siyar, please have the site of Hemi-o-ikuna surveyed and properly settled.”

Her mouth twisted into another smile. “Absolutely, Haruatua. Good day.” And she turned and left, as the breach of etiquette hung in the air. Jeruk sank back into his basalt throne, ruminating on the day’s decisions. Krasa’s heart rumbled, and Jeruk did agree with her.

civ=Cahayaredupan

trans:

name=Conquer Tropico

army=-5309

navy=-18

trans:

name=Restock troops

gold=-472

army=4720

trans:

name=Conquer Columbia

army=-5133

trans:

name=Discover Six Tiles

note=these red tiles; refund from last turn.

trans:

name=Found Hemi-o-ikuna

note=founding it on the black x in this picture

trans:

name=Tithe from Dwarves of Semor Nazom

gold=100

The other transactions I’m doing is my research of Priesthood first, then Code of Laws, then Construction. Here goes!

Also, we have now adopted the Tribalist government, but will not proceed any further down that path just yet.

Next week's weekly focus shall be Military.