The Duke, the City, and the Priest

 The Duke

    As a young man, Qinshi knelt by the bedside of his dying father, the old Duke. The Black Wolf's hair had long since turned white, but his grip had lost none of its strength as he grasped his son's hand. He refused to die until Qinshi swore to see the war through to the end. And so, fired with the fervor of youth, the young man swore before Heaven and Earth to install the true heir on the throne of Liangyu.

    That was long ago. Since taking up the obsidian scepter, he has lost brothers and friends to the war. Most recently he buried a son, and he still wears white mourning garments. He is beginning to feel his age, and the hairs of his beard have begun to grey.

    His vow constrains him. Such a thing is not lightly cast off. But in his heart has has begun to loathe it, resentment gnawing at him like a cancer. He feels trapped in a war he cannot win, for a cause that will do him little good. Yet breaking the vow and abandoning the war would hold perils of its own. His oath was made before gods and men, and to walk away from it would be a great breach of loyalty, a betrayal of his people. Furthermore, if his three cousins do not conquer the East, he fears they may turn on the West and take his domain for themselves. And so he bides his time in frustration, weary of counsels and campaigns.

    All this he keeps in his heart. To the world Duke Qinshi is a stone-faced politician, maintaining the customs and policies of his ancestors. His duties extend not only to the oversight of the realm and the prosecution of the war but also to the clan at large. As senior member of the clan he is responsible for keeping the various branches of the family in line. Marriages of clan members must be approved by him first, although this is usually a formality in all but the most important cases. He also presides at funerals and the spring ritual honoring the family's ancestors at Hei Chao. And every year he travels to keep the Autumn Feast in Zhigen.

The City

    Zhigen is built on a low hill, bounded by a long bend of the river on its west, south, and east sides. It began as a collection of huts along the riverbank, and became a trading hub for the scattered settlers of this rugged land. Over time it grew in wealth and prestige, an outpost in the wilderness, overseen by an honorable family, the ancestors of the Huo and the Shan. On the crest of the hill they built a stronghold, the House of Weathered Boughs. The north side of the hill became dotted with their tombs, and the ancestral hall was filled with their memorial tablets.

    When a man dies, his spirit goes to be with his fathers, and his children inscribe his name on a memorial tablet. The tablet is placed in the ancestral hall alongside those of his father and grandfather, as far back as the founding of that particular branch of the clan. Though his remains crumble to dust, it is believed that part of his spirit remains within his memorial tablet, providing a link to the next world. Ancestors are believed to represent the interests of their descendants to the Lord of Heaven in the High Courts of the afterlife.

    The rulers of Zhigen became the clan we now call the Huo. When the Huo left Zhigen to rule in the east, they packed up the ancient memorial tablets into ox carts. But when it came to the oldest tablets, the ones of the ancestors both Shan and Huo claimed descent from, the cart broke down and the oxen refused to move. An oracle was consulted and it appeared that these ancestors were reluctant to leave the city they had spent so much time and toil to build. So it was agreed that these memorial tablets would remain at Zhigen in the Hall of the First Fathers. A member of the Shan would be appointed to watch over them, and every autumn the Huo King and the Duke of Shan would come to pay their respects. (In these days, of course, the King and his court do not attend, and the Huo clan are represented solely by the Three Princes, their households, and a handful of relatives who have come over to their side.)

    Over the generations, the prosperity of the Huo Dynasty was attributed in large part to the intercession of the First Fathers. They came to be viewed as powerful and benevolent patrons. Petitions to their shrine came from all over the province, and for a time from the the entire kingdom. Anyone of that bloodline could expect a hearing, but so could loyal retainers of the King-- ostensibly any of the King's good vassals. Pilgrims flocked to the city, which grew to accommodate them. Many donations were made in hopes of (or in gratitude for) favorable outcomes. The temple became wealthy, and the role of Custodian was highly sought after.

    Often given to a cousin of the Duke of Shan, the lucrative position attracted cynical and self-serving men. Corruption bred there. But every so often a man of piety would, against all odds, receive the post and weed out the worst offences. Such a man is the current Custodian, Yanshi.

The Priest

    Yanshi seems to be that rarest of all things, a good man. He is driven by his duty to both gods and men, and his fervor for both is self-evident. He has abolished the entrance fee to the Temple, and spends long days listening to and counseling petitioners. Both lowborn and high find an open ear and much counsel. He is learned in the ancient songs and tales, but seems to also be a keen observer of men. He is well spoken of in all places.

    Yanshi has very nearly succeeded in rooting out corruption from the city's priesthood. He insists that the temple should be allowed to choose its own Custodian rather than remain at the mercy of court politics. In this way, he hopes, Zhigen may maintain its noble purpose with due reverence for the gods and compassion for mankind. The Duke is skeptical that such a move would truly do much to stave off the corruptions that keep cropping up in the city. And he is keenly aware that such autonomy could eventually prove a threat to the realm. On this matter there is no harmony between the two men.

    There is a further matter which divides them. As the Custodian of Zhigen, Yanshi is more sensitive than most to the ancient ties between the Huo and the Shan. To him they are close kinsmen, and he sees the war as nothing but evil, infighting between two branches of the same tree. He is obedient to the Duke as head of the family, but he considers it his outspoken duty to argue constantly for peace. He can quote the exact verses from the Book of Odes which support his ideas, and does so often-- sometimes without preamble. It is said that he enters the Hall daily and remonstrates with the ancestors about the state of the war, now scolding, now pleading. Yet he maintains his loyalty to the clan and gives aid and support to the army whenever they come through.

    While privately the Duke feels that Yanshi may be right about the war, he also bitterly resents him for pressuring him when he already feels so conflicted. Yanshi, meanwhile, views the Duke's vow as a weight dragging the realm deeper and deeper into chaos. These two major issues have exacerbated a host of petty disputes between the two, causing even small sparks to blaze into searing flames. The Autumn Feast has become an awkward and uncomfortable affair for nearly everyone involved. At the most recent one harsh words were exchanged, and the two men nearly came to blows in the Hall itself. The growing rift between these two influential men can only spell trouble for the realm. Any public action by one against the other would be a terrible scandal due to their positions and reputations in the clan. Certainly it is hard to imagine a loyal son of the Shan willingly seeking to harm either of them. But the war has brought many strangers into the realm as mercenaries or auxiliaries. Who can say where a careless word may lead?

The Camp of Envy

  The camp moves about, springing up seemingly overnight near its current target of ire. Moving through the camp you'll meet businessmen muttering about long-dead rivals and neighboring kings sketching up battle plans against each other. Outcasts, has-beens, and jilted lovers all crowd around fires that give heat but no warmth. Everyone seems to subsist solely on black coffee, whiskey, and tobacco. Smoke hovers above the area, curling in twisted patterns like a brood of ghostly vipers.

Camp materials seem to be scavenged or scrounged from other sources. Visigoths use classical columns as benches. A pirate captain has made a pavilion from captured sails-- all dragged here painstakingly across miles of desert.

Around the camp, shady vendors promise quick fixes. Every other person seems to have a book or a tract they want you to read, right now, while they give commentary. Wild-eyed speakers whip up the placard-wielding crowd for fresh crusades. Guitars and occasionally odder instruments crop up here and there.

The trampled dirt here is not a soil from which deep friendships spring. Tenuous alliances shift in the everchanging wind, and any elevation in the fortunes of one is likely to draw the resentment of others. But while the status quo lasts, there is a certain grim camaraderie among Envy's followers.

For some, the camp is a permanent residence. For others it is a stepping stone to a career in the army of Wrath or the temple of Greed.

The Three Princes

        After he was wrongfully disinherited, Prince Chou fled to the West and formed a rebellion. He died in battle, but left behind three sons to carry on his claim.

         Lord Jiao is Prince Chou's eldest son and the current heir to his stolen throne. A skilled fighter with sword and spear, Jiao is unequalled in battle. He has long dominated the chariot duels which traditionally precede most battles, to the point where few now face him in such encounters. These days he prefers to lead cavalry charges, and he owns one of the finest horses in the kingdom. Although his advisors urge him to remain safe behind the front lines, he takes nearly every opportunity he can to plunge into the thick of the melee. Thus far he has emerged largely unharmed, but he bears many scars.

        Off the field he is jovial and outgoing, always eager to share a laugh or a drink. His disarming charm has won him the loyalty of his men, and turned more than a few hearts among the women of the realm. Frankly he is something of a womanizer, and he never seems to stay with one for long. Not all of his conquests were single when he met them, and there are several husbands in the realm who hold a particular grudge against him. But thus far the populace at large seem to like him. Perhaps it is easier to forgive his flaws if it wasn't your wife or daughter he slept with.

        To Jiao's numerous children, at least the ones he knows of, he is an indulgent if often absent father. None are full grown yet, but nearly all the boys are eager to follow in his footsteps as warriors. He treats his wives well enough, although he does not seem to have any particularly deep relationship with any of them. Some say that he is more interested in the hunt than the quarry, and that seems to be true. A few of his conquests are scouts in the Flying Corps, and his second wife is the head of it.

        His personality makes him a decent enough diplomat, and it is largely due to his connections with the territory of Xin that the vital alliance between them and Shan is maintained. His horse was a personal gift from the Xin ruler.

        In counsels of war Jiao contributes little save for the odd joke here and there. He seems to prefer action to deliberation, although he has displayed quick thinking on the field itself. He never speaks of his plans for running the country after the war, and if pressed on the issue he directs people to his younger brother, Tongyi.

        Tall and narrow-faced, Tongyi generally wears the robes of a scholar, even on campaign. His official title is Chief Strategist, and most of the Shan victories in recent years were the fruit of his foresight and planning. He tends to stay off the battlefield itself, directing events from a distance in a chariot he designed and built personally. He has a complex but efficient system of signals and messengers to relay orders.

        Not all of his contributions to the kingdom are military. He planned and oversaw the creation of several irrigation canals which have greatly improved crop production in the valley. His suggestions have also led to some major restructuring in both the government and the military. In his spare time, Tongyi is almost always reading or writing, save when he practices the forms of his martial art. He has developed a unique style of unarmed combat, and it is said that his fists strike like hammer-blows, breaking blades and shattering armor. It is also whispered that he has knowledge of arcane arts and can bend the wind to his will, although this may be nothing more than the idle talk of the superstitious.

        Most of what people tell of him is hearsay or conjecture, for little is genuinely known. By all accounts he is private and reserved-- some would say cold and aloof. He speaks little, save when debating policy or strategy. No one seems to know if he has any actual friends. He has never taken a wife, and is seemingly indifferent to romantic pursuits. This naturally sets off its own set of rumors. Some say there was a great beauty in his past who left him jaded. Others say that the school of study to which he adheres requires celibacy. Still others quip that he is simply inhuman and soulless.  While nearly all respect him, few seem to like him, and many admit that they find his presence unnerving.

        If Tongyi is unnerving, the youngest of the three brothers is outright abrasive. Gutuo is known for his irritable and testy nature. Those who spend time with him find that he often picks quarrels or engages in arguments seemingly for no reason.

Perhaps his soul is twisted by his body's condition. Since childhood he has had to suffer from chronic pain, usually dull but sometimes increasing to agonizing intensity. The cause of this ailment is unknown, and he has spent the majority of his life studying medicine to find a cause and a cure. The diagnosis has thus far eluded him, but he has become an expert in treating the illnesses of others. Keen and observant, his knowledge of how the body functions is far in advance of most doctors in Liangyu. His expertise in pressure points aided Tongyi in developing his martial art style. He is skilled in treating humans, animals, and even canids.

Such knowledge of the body is deadly when turned to harm. Gutuo knows all the kill shots of most creatures, and is an excellent tracker. A crack shot with bow and crossbow, he is intrigued by firearms, although the ones that have made their way to Liangyu are far too inaccurate for sharpshooting. His duties as a healer tend to keep him away from the battlefield itself, but he stays in practice. Archery is something like meditation to him, helping to take his mind off his troubles.

While his attitude is grating to nearly everyone, it is widely acknowledged that he works tirelessly on behalf of his patients. Many lives have been saved through his efforts. Indeed, he often does much to help people without letting them know. It is said that he doesn't care much for praise, viewing it as mere flattery.

He keeps no concubines and has only one wife, a commoner, to whom he is devoted. It is rumored that she is the only person to outlast him in an argument, and that he was smitten instantly. To hear their barbs and jabs tossed back and forth is like watching two skilled swordfighters at play. Most find it exhausting to listen to them, but there is a certain elegance in their verbal battle that is lacking in his other interactions. It is almost as though they have elevated the spat to an art form.

If there are any people in the world he does not try to antagonize, it is his small children. They have found him a strict but patient father. To all others, his personality is a hindrance that only a small handful have overcome. These few friends and retainers seem to have earned his confidence at any rate. Many more are grateful for his aid, but glad to keep him at a distance.

The Sands of Mars: Snapshots

 Steles such as these can be found across the Sands. It is thought that they were placed to aid navigators. The significance of the markings is unknown. They predate Karathambra by several millennia.

Arlazir

The shade of a black cypress can provide a brief respite for the Ringmaster on his journey.

The Great Divide.

Succulents of various kinds may be found in certain stretches of the Sands.

Shaodan lizards migrating in search of kelbar deposits. Between Mars' lighter gravity and some quirk of their own anatomy, shaodan are able to move across all but the very finest of sand without disturbing a single grain.

A blood arc over Nivala. Blood arcs are atmospheric phenomena, the origins of which are not yet understood. Some attribute them to light reflecting off of ice crystals high in the atmosphere. Others aver a metaphysical origin.

Birds scatter from an approaching devourer. Although they often prefer the richer hunting grounds of the plains or the sea, border canyons such as this one offer plenty of opportunity for the bulky creature to ambush its prey.