Only rarely had Kinakals seen so many people fill its streets. From the vantage point on one of the highest buildings in the city, Rituxim could see the streets of the city, haphazard and crisscrossed with its mud-brick homes staggered along, filled with cheering throngs of skirted citizens. Men held children on their shoulders so they could see the lines and lines of horses and people walking for the heart of Kinakals, each horse led by a handful of men and women in ornate clothing and dress. Toward the middle of the procession the guests of honor strode forth, the children of the Zivold. They dressed in long, pleated skirts, arrayed in a dizzying variety of colors, flowing to the ground and kicking up waves of dust with each stride.

The young man wore an ornate vest of yellow marked with ornate lines and images of blue, his shoulders wrapped in long flowing red robe which he held closed with one hand. His hair was long, flowing, black, held by a band of cloth that held a brilliant black gem of obsidian on his forehead. The girl walked next to him, matching stride for elegant stride. She wore a similar fashion of clothing, colors matching and exquisite, with the vest cinched closed by a ribbon at her waist, the ribbon itself embedded with smaller obsidian gems. Her hair was even longer, flowing down to the backs of her legs, ribbons and gems wrapped around all down the length of it.

The brother and sister walked along, the procession having a gap to let the city know just who was coming to them. Hand in hand they walked, faces stern, eyes flitting back and forth to the throng of people standing, cheering their welcome. What were they thinking? Excitement? Judgement? Contempt? Rituxim had felt more than enough of that when those from Ibandr came to visit. He looked down to the center of the city, ringed by a waist-high wall on two sides. The Temple of Adulla stood tall and firm, with the palace of the Zivold wrapped around it like a coiled snake. There were even more Kinakals here, a serpentine line of citizens with baskets of grapes and horsemeat to celebrate the Festival of Linaglutl, Paroxl of the good harvest.

Twelve days to celebrate Linaglutl, and 12 more to celebrate the arrival of Ibandr, the son and daughter to marry the daughter of son of the Kinakals Zivold. Rituxim spat on the ground next to him. He was standing next to a small patch of dirt on the terrace of his home, his spit seeping into the wetter-than-average dirt of the garden on his home. In the style of the Adulla, many homes had tried to create small gardens on their roofs to little avail, but the Temple of Adulla had a channel built through the city to its heart and workers fed this water up to the gardens on its steps. If your were rich enough or lucky enough, like Rituxim, you could get these laborers to bring water up to your own personal garden. A touch of heaven on the roof of your own home.

The first days of the festival were a feast of luxury. Grapes and horsemeat, the two symbols of Linaglutl, thronged every street, hung on every window, filled the bowls of every party, so much so that by the fourth day Rituxim was sick of eating the two together. But what to do when everyone, everywhere was giving out just grapes and just horsemeat.

“It really is a shame,” Ustekn was telling him through mouthfuls of horsemeat. The two men were sitting by one of the streets in the heart of the city, a rare opening in the throng of buildings and people. They were watching a few dancers prancin gin circles with one another balancing a bowl of water on their heads. “A shame, that we just have not seen the right people come in. Where has all the copper gone? All the great foods and clothing from the south that used to come in throngs, stands so full there were some streets you could barely walk through? Tools and wool and clothing from the eastern barbarians and fish from those to the south.” He should his head and took a grape. “But here, well Ibandr has everything doesn’t it? Kalliza provides for them well. I prayed this morning that Adulla would do the same for Kinakals.”

Rituxim burped, shrugged. “I prayed that this damn indigestion would stop and I’ve gotten nowhere. Adulla listens to better things that our complaints. Only the Zivold and the handful of Illir that have seen Adulla will have a word with her.”

Ustekn waved him away, shifted in his seat. “I went east last season, to get to Amiodarna for one of their festivals.”

“I remember,” nodded Rituxim, “they welcomed us to celebrate their Gudrin Temple, yes?”

“Yes, why didn’t you come?”

Rituxim shrugged. “Officially, the birth of my son. Unofficially I get a sore ass from riding and a sore head from listening to them talk with their strange accents.”

Ustekn laughed. “Well anyway, when we went there we were stopped on the way there and the way back by this small settlement, village, hamlet, whatever of Ibandrites. They asked us who we were, where we were going, and what we had to trade with them.” He shook his head, “Rituxim they had so much wealth there. How is it that Kalliza blesses them so far from Ibandr and for us Adulla gives us less and less every year? I don’t understand. I’ve half a mind to renounce this city and move west to Ibandr for everything Adulla gives us.”

Rituxim narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t mention this when you came back.”

“Ah well, we were set upon by those horselord Anug just outside and it slipped my mind until now. Kalliza sure is strong.”

“Now that you mention it, I do know of several of these Ibandr settlements up and down the Luzum. I’ve never seen one but I have heard of those coming to Kinakals speaking of Ibandr spreading like a web up and down the river.”

“South of us too,” from behind Rituxim came Humr, one of the Kinakals Illir. He clapped Rituxim on the shoulder and sat next to the two men. I was just listening to the Ibandrites talking about the copper they’ve been able to get from settling far south, out of the highlands, near the coast but so far from the Luzum they forget what it looks like.

“For how long have they been there?”

Humr thought, rubbed his chin. “The southern one not as long from what I know, but those to the east and west, many many years. I know for a fact there are some out far to the west that are older than the three of us put together, towns in their own right now.

RItuxim let out a sigh. “Could it be,” he said slowly, “that this is why Adulla does not provide? Not because she will not but because she cannot?”

Ustekn stopped chewing and put his grapes back in the bowl. “That these far-flung Ibandr people are taking what would be coming to Kinakals?”

“Taking it and then coming to sell it to us for more than they had to give. Taking it and growing fat off what should be ours!”

Humr scratched his head, “I never thought of it like that. Huh.”

The three men watched the dancers in the middle. Different now, as the previous ones had dropped the bowl. These dancers wore the colors of Ibandr, blue and yellow, their short skirts slitting around their knees as they pranced.

On day 5 of the festival, the thre emen went to the Zivold who would hear none of it. “I marry my children to the most powerful gods in the world and you think to strike down what Ibandr creates? How dare you come to me like this!”

Some felt similarly, some felt different. But what the three men, Rituxim, Ustakinr, Humr, knew in their bones, was that their city and their gods were being strangled by Ibandr. It had wrapped settlements around their throat so coarsely that they would suffocate, drown, or starve if they let this go on. And only Ibandr would be around to clean up their carcass. No, something had to be done, whether the Zivold knew or not. Adulla would understand. For the sake of her city, she would understand.

Rituxim and those who stood with him had a plan. Kinakals had several friendly Anug tribes to the far south and Rituxim and Ustekinr were able to bribe those that came to the festival to attack the eastern and western Ibandr outposts. These settlements had to learn to defend themselves so it may not be easy, but the handful of tribes that agreed to strike them should be more than enough to scare them into leaving at the least. If this worked, at least two Ibandr outposts strangling Kinakals would leave. But worst case, Ibandr understood this would be a slight from Kinakals and may retaliate in kind.

Only one way to find out.

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Context: Ibandr is the biggest city in Xanthea but others are now popping up in size and influence, particularly on the Luzum. Several states have risen to rival Ibandr, including: Kefakl (Blue), Kinakals (green), Amiodarna (yellow), Kipr (purple). Kinakals takes special offence to this and attacks some of the outposts that have been choking off their trade. Will this erupt into greater conflict on the Luzum? Yes. Yes it will.