Flowers and Fealty

The Empire is flourishing and new cities are forming, each more modern and impressive than Nbahlari. Maladal is one such city, but with success comes ambition, and with ambition comes war.

The inhabitants of the Ihrabivi mountains were hardly known for their civility - travellers would quicker be killed and eaten than offered a bed for the night - so, imagine the world’s surprise when a city sprang up there. Called Maladal, meaning “Little Athal”, what at first started as a camp for the construction of the Kalada canal quickly became a waypoint of astounding wealth -- if you wanted your goods cross the mountains - with the traders unharmed - then there was simply no way around it. This fact was not lost on Maladal, whose tariffs were some of the most exorbitant in the known world.

These tariffs built sewers, expanded the canal, and most importantly bribed officials, thus ensuring Maladal’s complete dominion over the mountains. The natives flocked to it in droves, abandoning their traditions in exchange for a taste of the high life - whatever that meant in the Bronze age, at least - and with their tireless work the city became more than just a blip on the map; it became a mountain metropolis.

During the Pax Asorita, stonemasons were summoned by Maladal’s council and commissioned to build a wonder. Yes, that’s right, it’s wonder after wonder here in Tanvoma -- this one’s pretty nice, too. Led before the council - an equal mix of men and women in distinct contrast to Nbahlari’s matriarchy - these stonemasons were instructed to carve flowers into the karst pinnacles that surrounded the city, in the hopes that they would attract positive spirits. Now, we’re not talking flower-sized, we’re talking building-sized. The only thing to do now was get to work.

It took sixty years for the first batch of flowers to be carved, as well as an unspeakable loss of life. Regardless, in its finished form these towers were some of the most phenomenal works of art in the world. With the experience gained from the first batch, the second smaller towers took only ten years to complete - all in all, Maladal had thrown abhorrent amounts of workers and knife-money into what was essentially a vanity project, and the council couldn’t’ve been happier.

The Shaman-of-Bows was feeling quite the opposite - his companions had set off northwards to fight the Miecans, leaving him to twiddle his thumbs and wait for their return. He hated waiting, and he hated his companions, so there was simply nothing for it but to go on a little vacation to Maladal.

Now, this wasn’t a surprise to the Maladal council - in fact, they’d drummed up enough money to fund their next foray -- this time into warfare. Hlavang hunters were equipped with bows, spears and slings, trained extensively on their native brothers, armed and armoured in bronze and hemp gambesons. The Shaman-of-Bows knew this, because he was the one who’d requested it. When he arrived, he took the soldiers and set off northward, reconvened with his own army and marched on the Asoritan heartland. It was an open rebellion.