Previously on Bulkhanization...

[Prelude]

The ironclads steamed forth at the front of the line, to the tune of a constant, rhythmic chug chug chug. They were seventeen in number, and arrived before their masted counterparts. Winds had been poor through Efferia, poor enough to dissuade Glimmer from producing any more masted ships.

The fear associated with these metal-hulled monstrosity was another benefit.

These large ships, lumbering behemoths with spindles of guns sprouting from their sides pushed slowly into the harbor of Fiyer. A medium city, not unlike Ridgeston, home of the Admiral of this fleet: Jamerald Vanbools. First class.

The town was made silent from the commotion. The Great Barracks bristled with activity in defiance. The portsmen all stopped and stared at this occurrence. All eyes were on him. And his seventeen ships. There was no deck crew to help him moor, nor any quay for him to land at.

So he did what any good Glimmerite would do. He made his own spot.

One of his warships dropped lines on the largest docked vessel in Fiyer, and with the vast strength of its engines pulled the ship away from its spot, and cast it adrift (with not enough sailors) in the middle of the port. Vanbools’s own ship, the Lumino Hero, took its position.

He smiled for the crowd.

“Thirty gun salute!” he cried out.

It took a few minutes, but his ships, all in unison began to fire their guns. Each blast, like the strike of Thunder. As if Achintya himself was trumpeting Vanbools’s arrival.

After thirty booming shots, Vanbools’s turned away from the fleet. The Fiyerans had come, spears in hand. His own men had come up beside him, wielding Rifles. Vanbools’s smirked.

“Alright then, chaps. Take me to your king!” he said, clapping his hands together.

“What is the meaning of this disruption?!”

Shqipojn Brekock was astounded at this man who stood before him. This… Glimmerite. Who had pranced into his harbor and fired his cannons. Who did he think he is.

“Quite simply, Brekock, we have a proposal. For too long, you Bulkhans have been weak and divided. As I’ve been informed, Fiyer should, no, deserves to unite Bulkhai under its rule.” Vanbool smirked at Brekock, before continuing, “If I may be so bold, do you not deserve to be the ruler of all Bulkhai? The most powerful man in the peninsula?”

Most powerful man in the peninsula? Brekock didn’t like it. As ancient Bulkhan proverb went, “The man who goes after free food lies covered in shit in a river.”

Nobody likes shit.

Especially not in the river.

Then again, this man was in command of 17 ships. That were now aimed at Brekock’s palace.

Somehow, he felt that saying no was an option.

“Well, yes, but-“

“Excellent! Now, where are you daughters?”

“What?!”

“Your daughters, sir. As I am your new Viceroy, Viceroy Vanbools of Glimmerite Bulkhai, at your service,” he said as he did a snide little mockery of a bow, “I must see your daughters. You shall need to forge alliances! Sire! Yes, sire, you shall need to forge alliances, and marrying off daughters is the best thing to do that! You do want to rule Bulkhai, don’t you.”

Brekock’s frown just grew more and more.

“I would like to see all seven, lined up. Without clothing is preferable, too, sir. Oh, and I shall have my scribe draw up in writing our arrangement.”

[M]: Glimmer now runs Fiyer, as a Viceroyalty. Brekock is not happy. This will be the start of a series where things just go downhill for Glimmer.

Occurs in the year 894

Next on Bulkhanization...

[Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4]