Previously on Bulkhanization...

[Prelude | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3]

"On behalf of the City of Girokastur and her people, I... surrender."

Shqipojn, well, former Shqipojn Jaakuff signed his name. He was not used to doing that. The formal surrender was conducted in the Glimmerite fashion. He could not even read the treaty, it was written in the Glimmerite Script. He was told that it was the unconditional surrender of Girokastur. He was told that he'd be allowed to flee to Libernis, or perhaps Zeal. But in truth, he could not read the treaty to be certain.

And by the looks of things, even if he could read the treaty, it would mean little.

Across the table sat Shqipojn Brekock. The man who had successfully unified Bulkhai once more. He sat slumped, morose. Staring wistfully out the window over the city. He did not look happy.

As opposed to the man who sat at his side.

The man from Glimmer.

The man that one day, ten years ago, showed up in the harbor of Fiyer.

The man that one day, marched into Brekock's palace with a smile on his face, and stole his kingdom, his army, and his daughters out from under him.

The man that one day, nine years ago, butchered the inhabitants of Lushnii like cows to be slaughtered, and discarded of the curse of Tirania like it was soured old milk.

The man that one day, three years ago, burned down the city of Shkodriana. Their Shqipojn had always been a friend to Jaakuff.

The man that one day, last year, took the city of Vloriana in a brazen attack.

That man. The man from Glimmer.

He was not much to look at - he had spectacles, and stood tall. His black frock covered most of his appearance, and he stood to the right of Brekock. His face was tight in a laughing sort of way. He wore no hat and no beard.

He was just a man. The man who had killed Jaakuff, the man who had raped Bulkhai, and the man who was truly behind it all.

Jaakuff hid a hatred of this monster. He could not help but hope that Brekock hid one as well.

"Brekock, I've signed."

"Hmm..."

"Brekock. Sign, please," spoke the man from Glimmer. It was truly bizarre how the worst of men could sound so normal.

"Yes, Viceroy." Brekock picked up the pen and scribbled something on his part of the enigmatic treaty. Just like that, a scribble and Bulkhai had been made a slave to this man from Glimmer. The theft of the nation was complete.

"Thank you," those eyes cackled some more from behind his spectacles, "Now, if you'll please come with me, Master Jaakuff."

"If you'll please let me look over the city once more?"

The Viceroy sighed. He made no more comment. Jaakuff took it as free leave to walk over to the balcony. He considered whether to jump: his life was over, his city had been stolen, and the nation had been dismantled and rebuilt in an alien fashion. If he would live on, he could go to Zeal, Libernis, Oxjoldov, or even Marxhui. But no doubt Glimmer would hound him even there.

Was that any way to live?

On the other hand, to surrender and then to jump? Was that not the basest form of cowardice?

To be remembered as the man who lost Bulkhai or the man who let Bulkhai be lost. A grim choice.

He could feel the viceroy's eyes laughing.

"Jaakuff," said the man from Glimmer.

"Very well," Jaakuff would not die today. But Bulkhai would.

[M]: I swear I get more and more depressing as time goes on.

Takes place in the year 904. The Feuding Cities are now all a part of the Bulkhan Viceroyalty.