Mistresses of the Jungle – Amazonia AAR (Warhammer: Geheimnisnacht)

[dark_melancholy]

Chapter 39: Put Down​

03.12.2041
The sheer size of the Amazon flagship mitigates the roil of the end-year seas in Amaxon Bay admirably. Rivalling some Easterner vessels, it is a testament to Amazon ingenuity; not bad for a civilization with a tendency to look to the past rather than the future...

"I thought Calypso's the one who doesn't wanna be here," Inanna observes as she surveys the royal cabin. A gloom hangs over the room, despite the light from the foreign-made lanterns. A gloom that emanates from the monarch herself.

"None of us want to be here," Lyssa grumbles, staring at the ceiling. "But it has to be done. This subversive 'equality' nonsense must be nipped in the bud."

"I'd like to see how 'equal' they feel with my mace in their face," Inanna grins dangerously.

Lyssa sighs and turns her gaze upon her daughter: "We're not here to kill everyone, Inanna. We're talking about males here: they aren't malicious, just gullible and short-sighted. Which is why we have to tend to this matter before word spreads."

"...'to protect our other males', yeah you've already told me several times. Rigg save me, are you still upset you didn't find any shiny sun-weapons in Xahutec?"

If she wasn't already, the accusation certainly sours Lyssa's mood: "And here I thought it would be very much of interest to you to find artifacts left by our ancestors!"

"Fire lances and sun gauntlets are hardly womanly weapons," Inanna scoffs.

"Perhaps a warrior who cannot produce womanly heirs should care less about weapons and more about relics that can decide a child's sex in the womb?" Lyssa shoots back.

"So that's what this is all about," Inanna growls. Her cheeks glow red around black warpaint. "Ugh... I'm out of here..." She jabs a finger at her mother: "And while you're sitting on your ass like you always do, maybe consider if it's 'cause of your damned selfishness that Rigg rewarded you with nothing but ashes and rubble for taking her holy city!"

"Get out!" Lyssa commands, as if to salvage some pride by telling her daughter to do what she is already doing. Halfway out of her chair in anger, the queen flops back down once Inanna leaves her sight. With a groan as loud as that of the straining woodwork, she clutches her head. Before she is left alone with her frustration there's a shout from the doorway:

"I am going to kill everyone, just try and stop me!"​

When the Amazon fleet arrives outside the archipelago of Kavana, canoe scout teams find no sign of rebel forces on Amazoc island. Careful landing parties confirm that only a handful of misguided cultists remain. The rest have joined their brothers elsewhere. Perhaps they have gotten wind of the queen's approach and have consolidated their forces – or they have simply abandoned the smallest and most insignificant of the Triad Islands.

Able to make landfall completely unopposed, Lyssa's forces quickly round up the stragglers and gently question them. Eager for an outlet for her frustration, the queen herself proves quite persuasive. In between screams, the males confirm that the fort at Xocibiki still holds out... barely.

According to the helpful captives, no doubt grateful to be back under their queen's benevolent protection, the leader of the uprising has called his followers to his side. The queen's advisors interpret this as preparation for a final assault on Fort Xocibiki. Lyssa is reluctant, but Inanna and Calypso insist that they must sail at once and strike before the enemy is ready.

The ancient tradition of Rebel Whack-a-mole​

At first it seems like the queen's worries are unfounded. As the year passes into the next, the Amazons land on Xocibiki with barely any more resistance than on Amazoc. Clearly the dangers of the religious uprising have been exaggerated. The fanatics had succeeded in taking Fort Xocibiki, but even fresh from the Xahutec campaign the Amazon army has no trouble seizing it in a frontal assault. As expected, males are no match for battle-hardened Amazons.

Despite the easy victories, Lyssa has no intention of leaving for Ganaina only to be distracted by a third uprising. As much as the idea might appeal to Inanna, who is upset over the lack of fighting s far, Lyssa cannot exactly just kill everyone in the Triad Islands. The whole situation is a mess: Hapless innocents coerced by true believers, all influenced by insidious pirates that remain infuriatingly elusive and stuck in between, confused Easterners who fear and shun both Stromfels and Rigg.

In order to deal with the situation, Marshal Kriemhild is recalled from her recruitment duties in Ganaina. Before she can arrive, however, the guerilla campaign in Kavana takes an unexpected turn. The easy invasion has indeed been a mirage: Mere days after the fall of Xocibiki the enemy emerges from the jungle to take the fight to the Amazons. Lyssa relishes the opportunity to crush the rebels in open battle: It is the perfect opportunity to achieve the crushing victory she needs to restore order, both divine and administrative. That the fools oblige her by coming to her is just the honey glaze on the roast capybara. In turn she will oblige them by letting them do so.

Come at me​

02.03.2042
Lyssa raises her hand to remind her warriors to remain steady. Even if the rabble are obviously inferior fighters, the Amazons are significantly outnumbered. All the more reason to face the rebels on the narrow plain between Fort Xocibiki and the town below and deny them any advantage.

"Let the huntresses harass them," the queen tells her commanders, trusting them to carry out her plans.

As the black and red banners dedicated to vile Stromfels come closer, the sight just becomes more and more bizarre. Of course, she has witness males fighting in battles many times before, but only pirates and Easterners. To see her enemy dressed up in Amazon wargear, faces painted in ferocious designs that are most familiar to her, is to gaze into a bizarre mirror universe.

The rebels march steadfastly, eerie chants in a strange mix of Amazon and Sartosan filling the air. Lyssa might have remarked on how they must be ignoring her skirmishers if not for the captivating depravity of it all.

Quite unperturbed the rebels start exchanging fire as they march, meeting Amazon javelins with slings and heathen fire rods. As the lead shot tears through their ranks, Lyssa grits her teeth and checks the mana supply on her sun gauntlet. Watching the enemy charge she is about to call for a shield wall when she is interrupted by a cry: "My queen! The flank!"

Lyssa steps out of line to get a better look, immediately knowing to look to Inanna's left flank. Rather than stand firm her daughter is charging the enemy, with her regiment trailing behind her in a disorganized attempt to keep up with their bloodthirsty commander. Eager to kill as many heretics as possible, Inanna cuts a deep swathe through enemy lines.

A dizzying array of predictions rush through Lyssa's mind as she wrestles with what to do. She very nearly orders her troops to support her daughter, but hesitates. The enemy is but moments away from her own lines and the warriors under Inanna's command have broken formation to rush to her aid.

She is about to take her eyes off the debacle on the flank when suddenly the haphazard trickle starts to falter. One by one, shieldmaidens stumble and fall. "What in the–" Only when it is too late does it dawn on her what is happening: Out of the deep jungle, males operating like huntresses, firing arrows at heedless opponents. Already way out of formation, the surprised Amazons crumble as the enemy ambushers pour out of the trees.

"All warriors, quick, left!" Lyssa screams. "Support the flank!"

Her sisters respond immediately. Doing her best to keep up with the shieldmaidens, Lyssa's eyes seek desperately through the throng of spears, bodies and death for a glimpse of her daughter. All of a sudden the mass that was rushing ahead of her slows down around her, inertia carrying her ahead a few more steps before coming to a halt like a pebble dropped in jam.

The din of battle coming from her right explains it all: They have been engaged by the main enemy force. Pinned down before they could reach Inanna's force. Unable to push through her own ranks, all Lyssa can do is watch as in the distance, Inanna's whirling macuahuitl is swarmed by enemies. For all her strength, isolated she is eventually overwhelmed.

Desperate shouts.

The enemy has broken through.​

 

[dark_melancholy]

Chapter 40: Mother of the Realm​

06.03.2042
"Our forces have regrouped, Your Highness." In the chaotic retreat from Xocibiki, a young commander named Valesca had stepped up and, like a calm eye in the raging storm, she helped her sisters fall back in good order. Most of them. "Those who made it..."

Slumped against a tree, quite undignified, queen Lyssa's gaze is distant. She does not seem to be paying attention at all; in fact she looks like she is defiantly refusing to listen. "My daughter," she says eventually. "What of my daughter... daughters?"

To say nothing of Inanna's doomed, foolhardy charge, Lyssa had heard nothing from her daughter Maya either, following the uprising. She had simply assumed she had gotten away like last time. When it turned out she was nowhere to be found... well, it would just have to wait until after the battle. Now the battle is over. Lost. Like her daughters.

Commander Valesca just smiles awkwardly. She is usually quite talkative, but knows she is entering a minefield here. "We will keep looking," she says evenly.

Because of your selfishness Rigg rewards you with nothing but ashes and ruins. Inanna's angry accusation is suddenly very clear in Lyssa's mind. At the time she had dismissed it as a childish outburst – and it was. But it was also the truth, only she had been unable to see it at the time.

Not true in the way Inanna had meant it, of course: The disappointment that was Xahutec meant nothing. Not any more. She had been selfish before; short-sighted. But her time in the deep jungle has shown Lyssa the truth: Only she can hold Amazonia together and bring back the faded glories of her people. She is the only one with the vision – and the ability to see that vision come true. However, in her desire to realize that vision she had pushed her daughter too far. Lyssa's selfishness had not upset Rigg, it had upset her daughter – and so brought her ashes and ruin.

Lyssa tilts her head back and closes her eyes. Rigg, I do not call upon you with a prayer, but with a promise: I will hunt down the ones who did this to my daughter, in your name and in hers. Serena: If she returns to me–

"Your Highness!" The gasping breath of a shieldmaiden tears Lyssa out of her communion. "A message... it's your daughter..." The young warrior is bruised and battered and falls to her knees, not in obeisance before her queen but simple exhaustion.

Lyssa hesitates, mind racing. She cannot take the uncertainty for long before she grabs the woman by her collar, pulling her face closer to hers: "Speak!"

"I was captured," the warrior gasps, eyes full of shame. "But the heretics released me to bring you a message: They have the Princess Inanna and... they're waiting for you in Xocibiki!"

The knuckles turn white around the shieldmaiden's collar, as white as the hot anger shining in the queen's eyes. "How dare they!"

"Your Highness..." Valesca ventures fearlessly. "Your armies are severely depleted..."

For a small eternity, both women expect the queen to order their execution – or maybe shoot them on the spot with her sun gauntlet. Finally Lyssa closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She lets go of the poor messenger and meets her eyes with a firm gaze: "See to it that our sister is fed and well tended to," she orders her bodyguard. "Shieldmaiden, you have brought no shame upon yourself."

Once the warrior is out of sight, the queen lets Valesca help her up: "Prepare to get everyone on the ships, commander."

"It could be a trap..." Valesca cautions her warily. The look in her eyes is not nearly as diplomatically ambiguous as her words.

"Start with the sick and wounded," Lyssa continues unabated. It tears at her heart when she continues: "At first opportunity we will leave for Ganaina."

"Wait... are you..." Calypso of Quetzlpan walks past the poor messenger on her way to the queen's side, outraged at what she hears. "You would run from a gaggle of men??"

Lyssa is visibly in no mood for this indignity, but manages to keep her calm, after a fashion: "We have no choice," she says firmly. "Calypso, they have my daughter. Do you think this is a decision I make lightly?"

Calypso's fury catches in her throat. The queen is not really the target of her ire and she cannot find the words with which to retort.

"I realize you don't have daughters of your own," Lyssa continues, utterly discounting the young woman's son, of course. "But I know how much your mother loved you. What would it have taken her to leave you behind, you think?"

A flurry of emotions flash over Calypso's face as her rage falters. She mutters an incomprehensible assent, then abruptly turns to leave.

"Good" news...?​

The vile cultists may have their hands on Lyssa's daughter and heir, but the queen refuses to take the bait. As much as it pains her she has little choice: The Amazon army is in tatters; most of all its morale. To have suffered such a great loss is one thing... but at the hands of males! Calypso is not alone in clamouring for revenge, but once the respected warrior begrudgingly goes along with Lyssa's orders the shieldmaidens fall in line.

In hushed whispers, women worry that a cataclysm similar to the Great Raid is imminent. After all, had not that disaster been preceded by infidels seizing Kavana? When the islands were still under pirate rule, the queen had indeed called them the dagger pointing at the heart of Amazonia. Now she is silent. Secluded in her quarters aboard her flagship, Lyssa passes the journey out of sight of all but her most trusted bodyguards.

Her absence only serves to fuel the rumour mill. When the flagship falls behind the oar-powered war canoes due to unfavourable winds, the queen has abandoned them. When someone spots a messenger bird leaving Lyssa's window, she is negotiating Amazonia's surrender to the insolent males.

Such wild speculation is not worthy of Amazons, but how else can they cope with such an inconceivable defeat. It is all they can do to make the shameful journey back to Ganaina, nurturing some small hope that the queen has a plan. The older warriors know Lyssa has a knack for bouncing back. All the younger generation knows is that she abandoned them to wander the jungle for years. Now the question on everyone's minds is: Which is it going to be this time.

* * *​

​

28.04.2042
Instinctively glancing over her shoulder, steward Azu slips out on the palace balcony. Only once she can steady herself on the railing does she allow herself to breath. It takes a moment for her companion to break the silence.

"Good afternoon, mother," the younger woman says softly, betraying no hint of having waited for a while. She pauses to observe the plaza below. It is as if you can read the uncertainty and worry suffusing the city just in the way the crowds move through it. Finally she has to react to the elder Azu's anxious looks: "I have been doing my best to convince the people that everything is okay. It's not working." The former regent shifts uncomfortably. "I know you say about the queen that the less she does the less of a threat she is, but our sisters worry about Her Highness's inactivity."

"As do I!" steward Azu frets, throwing another look behind herself for good measure. "Usually it's because she's in a drunken stupor or food coma! But now..."

The older woman wrings her hands before clutching the railing again: "Have you been in contact with Calypso of Quetzlpan?"

Azu the Younger nods: "We can't let the cultists leave Kavana. I had hoped she could protect our waters with her fleet, but... I still haven't got a reply."

"Not that! To butter her up before she comes here and takes over! Haven't you wondered why she went straight back to Quetzlpan after the battle of Xocibiki? Why she does not answer our messages? Conquering Xahutec and the way she organized the rearguard on Xocibiki has made her more popular than ever!"

"Are you suggesting..." Looking aghast at her mother, Azu lowers her voice to a whisper: "...we betray the queen?"

The steward squirms under the accusation: That is the last thing she wants to do. "You know I only want what is best for our queen. I just want to prepare for every eventuality!"

Her daughter pushes away from the balcony's edge and makes to go back inside. "If there really is some sort of coup brewing, first of all we need to make sure the queen doesn't do anything rash. We don't want bloodshed."

As the two of them make haste through the palace corridors, the elder Azu agrees: "If she does she'll take us down with her. And if Calypso is involved, I bet Kriemhild is too."

"She's always out in the training fields. As long as the queen stays here, she should be fine. Just... feed her a few dozen capybaras or something. Under no circumstances must the queen be allowed to leave the palace."

Mother and daughter nod at each other as they come up to the queen's quarters, where they are halted by one of the guards: "Apologies, my ladies but your audience will have to wait. The queen has left the palace."

​

The port outside Ganaina had been little more than a simple jetty a decade or so ago. Since then it has struggled to keep up with demand as the realm has grown more interconnected than ever. Today it has turned into a squalid tent city nestled between the jungle trees, home to hundreds of survivors of the Kavana campaign. Shame and uncertainty are their constant companions, existing in limbo as they are allowed to neither return home or seek battle.

It has been weeks since their return, but only now does the queen address their concerns. They do not seem overly enthused that she does so in person.

"My sisters, I feel your pain. You are wondering: 'when do we get to strike back at our enemy?'"

The crowd just stares sullenly at their ruler as she calls upon them from on high. Perhaps that isn't quite the question on their minds after all... Lyssa nods to herself and deftly changes tack.

"Yes, we have met with defeat," she admits solemnly. "At the hands of Unworthy Ones no less. How could this happen? Has Rigg forsaken us? Are we no longer Amazons?"

A multitude of emotions wash over the faces before Lyssa as she puts into words the shock, disbelief and humiliation they all feel. All but the queen herself, judging by her confident bearing.

"These questions may seem unfamiliar to many of you, but our people has been here before! It has been thirty-five years since the Great Raid sundered this realm. Then too it was at the hands of lesser beings. Then too some said it heralded the End Times. Do you know what did happen?" Lyssa pauses to chuckle, just loud enough for everyone to hear. "I understand if you don't; not everyone is an old crone like me." The notion that the Great Raid is not common knowledge is only made even more absurd by suggesting the queen looks a day over fifty. A smattering of bemused smiles spread through the crowd.

"Yes, what happened was: we came together, stronger than ever! Our achievements have been many, but in all this success we lost sight of our duty to our menfolk. What happened on Xocibiki was not a punishment from Rigg, it was a sign and an opportunity. We have let males be seduced by the vile words of heathens. Most of these do not carry evil in their hearts, but as we know, males are emotional and prone to irrational behaviour. Thus it falls to us to stop this infection before it spreads." Lyssa can see the occasional head nod in agreement. She will have to thank priestess Tanya for suggesting she pivot the defeat into an opportunity.

"We are not defeated! That is not the reason we have yet to take our revenge. There is bravery and then there is recklessness. I know you are all tired, my sisters and as your queen it is my duty to protect and support you. As much as it pains me, we cannot strike before we are ready. Two of my daughters are missing, but as much as I yearn to save them I will not sacrifice the lives of my Amazonian sisters in a vain attempt to do so."

When it's called "Patience", Sloth can also be a virtue...​

With her wisdom and benevolence established, Lyssa briefly explains how Kriemhild's recruitment efforts will give them the numbers required to crush the rebellion soon enough. Judging by the morose muttering, the crowd does not seem entirely convinced however. Some might see this prudent approach as craven or perhaps they don't believe it will be enough. How much difference can a few fresh recruits do after all...

Before Lyssa can come up with a better way to encourage the warriors, the murmur reaches a crescendo. Coming around the island; Quetzlpan sails! And not just a few war canoes or even a warship. In front of the anxious onlookers, a whole fleet emerges to fill the horizon.

Before anyone quite realizes what is happening, the surprise visitors are already coming ashore. The haggard crowd parts to make way for the Matriarch of Quetzlpan herself. Clad in full war regalia, Lyssa eyes the woman warily but stands firm as she approaches.

Without hesitation, Calypso leaves her bodyguard and climbs onto the podium to face the queen. Lyssa for her part straightens up, as if in an attempt to match the challenger in height, and waits for her to make the first move.

Calypso offers the queen a commiserative smile before she takes a quick step forward and grabs her arm: "After Xocibiki, I could not stand idly by," she says apologetically, keeping her voice down. "I kept thinking about what you said about your daughter and... I remember how I felt when my mother–" The matriarch stops herself, her face twisting in anger. The grip on Lyssa's arms tightens: "Zarmuda can wait; let's get the bastards who took your daughter!"

The Quetzlpan army finally decides to move! (tribes are tricky...)​

 

[dark_melancholy]

Chapter 41: Blood on the Water

​

02.06.2042
It is not without a sense of trepidation that the combined Amazon fleet finally leaves Amazon Island. Above all there is a sense of relief that the weeks of waiting and uncertainty are finally over.

Sympathetic to queen Lyssa's motherly plight, Calypso of Quetzlpan withdrew her forces from her crusade against the sunken city of Zarmuda. Her full army now joins new recruits and warriors from the devastating Battle of Xocibiki, refreshed after weeks of rest and preparation.

Together they are eager to face their enemy in battle once more. A shieldmaiden is most comfortable solving problems through force of arms and months of despondent idleness makes everyone anxious to do something.

Revenge will have to wait, however. Only halfway to Kavana, unknown ships are spotted on the horizon. Three of them; clearly of pirate origin, but with the lead ship flying the feathered skull of Amazonia – no doubt in a poor attempt at a ruse.

"I thought the rebels didn't have ships?" Kriemhild wonders out loud. The marshal sounds almost insulted that she has not been better informed.

"They don't," commander Valesca states when she joins the redhead at the railing, as if willing it to be true. "Either way, they won't be able to catch us."

"Not if we catch them first."

"Your Highness?" Valesca turns around and protests softly: "But what of their firebelchers...?"

All frivolous idleness is gone from Lyssa's demeanour when she brushes her commander's concerns aside: "It doesn't matter. We cannot let them get away and inform the rebels of our presence. Go on, get someone to turn this fleet around!"

The interlopers seem unconcerned by the Amazon armada turning to face them and keep sailing straight ahead. Then again, with their cannons, a single pirate ship could match even the Amazon flagship that now leads the charge against them.

"Why do they keep coming. Surely they could've started throwing their flying boulders at us by now," Kriemhild observes, her tone suggesting they might be sailing into a trap. Not inclined to wait and find out, Lyssa yells up at the lookout for clarification. The sharp-eyed pathfinder's reply comes quickly:

"Their firebelchers are still stowed!"

The three leaders on deck exchange puzzled looks.

"Wait... one of them is gesturing something..."

"Over there: at the prow," Kriemhild points out. "Your Highness, you should take cover."

"That's one big pirate..." Valesca observes dryly.

Grabbing onto the railing, Lyssa leans forward as much as she can, as if defiantly trying to do the opposite of hiding. She shields her eyes and squints: "By Rigg's flaming ass hair... it can't be..."



Once the two lead ships come up alongside each other, a stout walkway delivers a pirate welcoming committee. As if to emphasize their non-piratical intentions, however, their captain adds a flourish with her Amazon-style cape as she curtsies before the queen. Lyssa barely seems to register her presence, glancing around distractedly.

"I be at yer service, Yer Highness," the pirate leader offers in heavily accented Amazon before being all but pushed aside by said Highness.

"Mom!"

It's all Maya can say before her mother barrels through the pirate contingent and sweeps her into a big hug. Utterly smothered, the rotund little woman can only do her best to hug back until Lyssa deigns to pull back with an accusing "I've been worried sick! Where in the Pits have you been??"

Maya is none to happy to be treated like someone half her age, but she doesn't sound any less like a proud child when she declares: "As you can see, I've been gathering allies, mother!"

Hovering as close to the two as she dares, the pirate leader clears her throat with a carefully measured amount of outrage.

"Oh, and Tiziana here helped," Maya gestures nonchalantly.

Now that she has the queen's attention again, the former interpreter does another quick bow: "I be representing yer honest, Rigg-fearin' subjects of Île Mêl– ah, Xocibiki. I assure ye, we be right irate at yer lads' mutiny and wish to be doin' Rigg's work at yer side, Yer Highness! I even bring sisters from Port Reaver who be fed up with the way they be treated and wish to aid yer cause."

Maya's turns a wry look, first upon Tiziana and then to her mother: "What she means to say is, those bothersome males are bad for business and she wants to help deal with them."

"Well... aye, that too," Tiziana admits with an affable smile.

"The 'bothersome males' have your sister," Lyssa tells Maya brusquely. "I'll take whatever help I can get."

How are you supposed to stay out of debt with all these men running around!​

A gaggle of Easterners – some fresh from the vile pirate den of Port Reaver no less – would have been no Amazon queen's first choice of allies. Despite this, Lyssa deems their conversion sincere – or at least their usefulness sufficient to overlook their past. After all, what Amazon queen would turn down three dozen cannons and a crew who can use them...

Anyone who disagrees with the queen's decision is given a swift history lesson on how Amazons have accepted honourable warriors mistreated by their menfolk in ages past – and a sharp look that brooks no further argument. And thus the reinforced fleet continues on its way to Kavana.

Lyssa has them sail close to the rebel stronghold at Xocibiki, close enough to almost be within cannon range, but not so close so as to make landfall. Rather than charge the place where the queen's daughter is held, the Amazons surprise the defenders by simply continuing onward. Onward towards the poorly defended neighbouring island.

Ultimately, the rebels are not very worried by the manoeuvre. Although this means they cannot let the Amazons smash themselves to pieces upon Xocibiki's defences as they try to land from their ships, the rebels beat them in pitched battle once before – and the odds are even more in their favour now.

Thus the rebel army marches to intercept the Amazons before they can establish themselves. They cross the narrow strait between Xocibiki and Tabasco unopposed. They scour the jungles for their former oppressors, but find nothing. That is when a message arrives: The Amazons are besieging Fort Xocibiki.

Fooled by a u-turn!​

08.06.2042
Andre dares not show how agitated and anxious he is, barking a steady stream of orders to cover it from his men. The rebel leader rushes them to embark the rafts faster. So the hated oppressors don't have the time to wear down Xocibiki – and so his fellow believers don't have the time to realize they've been played.

He had expected the reckless Amazons to attack before they were ready, but not this kind of subterfuge. Before Stromfels everyone is equal, but the pompous followers of Rigg follow the whims of their bloated queen. It will still be their downfall, but to control the queen of the Amazon ant-hill they must control her daughter. Under no circumstances can they lose Fort Xocibiki where she is being held.

Busy organizing the crossing of the strait, Andre has no time to keep track of everyone as they land on the opposite side. He is not worried. He trusts his brothers implicitly: their bond is the reason the tyrants can never defeat them. Amazons cling to their ponderous hierarchy whereas those who embrace the chaos of Stromfels can think for themselves and adapt.

After all, when the Amazon princess was felled by her own thirst for blood and hubris during the battle of Xocibiki, their whole army crumbled. Andre himself is but one of many – if he somehow slips and drowns right now, his brothers will simply carry on. This is because, unlike the Amazons they know in their hearts what they fight for. Equality and brotherhood, forged from the ashes of an unjust world.

​

Having crossed the strait, Andre helps his brothers off before following close behind. There he is met by a warning: "Brother, we've spotted the tyrants closing in on us!"

Andre glances back at the fleet of rafts returning for the rest of his forces: "Tell the men to prepare for battle. We have to hold out until they are across."

Despite his decisive reaction, this sudden development gives Andre pause. He has received no word of the tyrants giving up the siege at Fort Xocibiki, so this must be a secondary force. No doubt a suicidal attempt to slow them down; the selfish queen throwing away her subjects without a second thought. "How many?"

"Maybe as many as a thousand." Just as he thought. The Amazons had split their forces in two to surprise him – and now they would be outnumbered more than five to one.

As the battle lines are drawn it becomes clear his enemies are not entirely oblivious to their disadvantage. Rather than charge mindlessly as they are wont, the Amazons hold position in the jungle – where they cannot be picked off by the believers' handguns.

However, in doing so they have made themselves vulnerable to another threat: Their position juts out towards the bay where the Brethren have landed. The Amazons will be surrounded and annihilated and another piece of intelligence only hastens their fate:

"The queen is with them."

Andre gives the order to charge.



The two sides clash, not with the roar of handguns but a harrowing thunder from the bay at the rebels' rear. Even though he and his brothers have pushed the queen's forces to the breaking point, Andre instinctively stops to look at the sudden sound.

Even as his brothers fall upon the Amazon position around him, Andre can only watch in horror as two pirate warships glide into view and turn the bay into a slaughterhouse.

Flanking the helpless men on the rafts, cannons open fire with grapeshot to shred wood and flesh alike. One ship's broadside is followed closely by another to leave no reprieve from the merciless slaughter. Screams and the sound of cannon fire fill the air to spread fear and confusion through the ranks.

Seeing his brothers killed and maimed so helplessly makes Andre's heart sink, but as much as the sight that follows. Following the warships like a trail of murderous ducklings, a swarm of war canoes set upon the bay from each side. Piranhas sensing blood in the water.

The rear crumbles.

The ranks break.

"Stromfels! Liberty!" Andre shouts desperately right before a massive Amazon punches him in the face.​

I would like to take this opportunity to remind everyone that, despite the metaphor deployed here, piranhas aren't nearly as bad as they're made out to be​

 

[dark_melancholy]

Chapter 42: Rigg's Mercy

14.06.2042
Row upon row of rebellious males line the field outside Fort Xocibiki, returning to the site of their great victory against the Amazons. This time, however, their regiments are made up of lines of cowed prisoners. Heads bowed in deference, even the most defiant among them have stopped struggling against their bonds following the gruelling march from the north of the island.

Before them rises a crude platform, built by their own hands to kindly allow the males to expend the rest of their rebellious energy. Too tired to struggle, at least they did not earn a place up there alongside their leaders.

Bound and gagged lest they make further futile attempts to mislead their followers, the alleged ringleaders line the platform. At their feet, timber and kindling are piled in preparation for Rigg's mercy. Given no particular place among them, Andre tries to make eye contact with the crowd when he finds his vision blocked. The queen takes to the podium to address both her warriors and wayward sons.

"We are blessed," she begins, utterly ignoring the men about to be burned. "After the Great Cataclysm, when the rest of the world fell into chaos and barbarism, our people had Rigg's Compact to keep us safe. Her mandate is simple: The strong protect the weak and the weak obey. That is my duty to you, my children, and one I keep in mind every waking moment." The queen sounds genuinely hurt as she continues: "But you did forget your duty and let yourselves be led astray by lies and false gods.

Lyssa gestures dramatically towards the crowd: "You could have had good lives tending our gardens; could have been progenitors of the next great generation. Instead you spit on my kindness and threaten to destroy our great civilization out of petty childishness!" Without missing a beat, the queen stills her righteous anger and spreads her arms in maternal benevolence. "Yet I know you are but wayward children, clumsily crying out to be disciplined. Thus I shall grant you a reprieve from the easy and indolent existence that let you be tempted into heresy. You will be allowed to redeem yourselves by working in the quarries, cutting back the jungle and restoring our temple-cities to their former glory."

Having expected a death sentence, some start weeping openly while others meet the commutation with silent fury.

"Sisters, please give our charges a reminder of their queen's mercy." To a chorus of screams as the traitors are branded as such, Lyssa turns to the arch-traitor behind her.

"I'm afraid you are not so lucky." She leans close to Andre and whispers menacingly. "Usually Rigg's mercy would grant you a quick death, but unfortunately you made the mistake of threatening my daughter. I think you'll find that this firewood is not of very good quality, so this could take a while..."



True to her word, while the other rebel leaders are quickly consumed by the inferno, Andre's agony is drawn out till nightfall. The queen watches in silence along with his former followers. It is clear that even among heretics, he crossed a line no one ever should.

Note to self: Don't endanger the daughter of a woman who has the Impaler trait
​

15.06.2042
Lyssa steps into her quarters and dismisses the two guards with an agitated wave. The gentle rhythmic creaking of the ship is interrupted by a frustrated growl:

"Yeah, I'm still here," Inanna spits bitterly from the bed. She groans as she makes to sit up but finds herself firmly pushed down again. Her eyes follow the departing guards and she mutters through clenched teeth: "I don't need babysitters."

Lyssa keeps her fingers pushing lightly against Inanna's shoulder. "You're lucky I don't have you tied to the bed!"

​

The fierce admonishment stops Inanna's struggle, her mouth twisting into a sneer full of hurt. The warrior looks away, ignoring the pain from her wounds. "Why don't you just banish me? If I'm such an embarrassment."

"You think this is about pride??" Lyssa's eyes are ablaze. Her fury elicits harsh, unthinking words: "But perhaps I should be embarrassed! That my daughter and heir would just throw her life away like it's nothing! Do you ever think about anyone but yourself, Inanna? What if that vile creature's trap had worked? You'd be dead, I'd be dead – and our family would be doomed. Our clan name a mere footnote in the royal annals. Do you think Phaedra would continue our lineage after we're gone?" Noticing a rogue tear in her eye, Lyssa brings a hand to her face as she turns away.

"The vision leaf has completely addled her mind..." the queen croaks. "They say she can't even get out of bed on her own..."

Well someone is taking laziness to a whole new level...​

Lyssa makes an odd sound that makes Inanna wince from something other than the pain, before she spins around in a tornado of exquisite fabrics: "And you think this is the time to die an honourable death - childless! So yes, you do need a babysitter!"

Arms spread wide she gestures at her daughter's

"For the sake of us all and..." Lyssa pauses and sits down heavily on the bed. She takes her daughter's hand and smiles affectionately, apologetically: "...and for your own sake. The thought of losing you..." For once the queen is lost for words.

A blush creeps into Inanna's lean cheeks. She has to avert her eyes again, only after many false starts able to reply with a weak "...but you didn't..."

As if emboldened by the mere act of speaking, the warrior's fierce confidence flashes in her eyes as she meets her mother's: "And you won't!"

"Promise me you'll rest until your wounds are healed," Lyssa tells her intently, relieved but not about to let her daughter off the hook so easily.

Inanna gives her a small nod: "I promise," she says solemnly, before eyeing a chance to lighten the mood and get out of this uncomfortably serious conversation:

"But not a moment longer, or I might start taking after my mother," she says slyly and pokes Lyssa's pudgy side.

"Maybe it would keep you out of trouble if you did!" Lyssa exclaims with light-hearted exasperation and slaps away her daughter's hand. Given Inanna's state, the worst punishment she dares inflict for her temerity is a flick to the forehead.

"At least stay in bed until we can get you to the Sisterhood. I've had Tanya call on her best healers to stand ready."

"Thanks..." Clearing her throat, Inanna is unable to find any better words.

"If you want to thank me, admit that what you did was reckless."

Inanna bites her lip, looking like she's trying to set the ship's hull on fire with her eyes: "I... just want to make you proud."

"I would rather have a daughter than hollow pride," Lyssa says firmly. "You are too important to seek out a glorious death, Inanna."

"I was never going to die," the wounded warrior promises defiantly. "And it's not like that stupid trap was going to work." She gives Lyssa a small smile: "My mother is too smart to let that happen."

Lyssa's resoluteness starts to crumble and she heaves herself onto her feet before it is utterly destroyed: "Just... try to behave, okay? I'll be checking up on you."​

* * *​

Once she is back in Ganaina, Lyssa makes doubly sure that her daughters are in good hands. Poor Maya still has a bit of the sniffles after all! The fact that she is in her forties doesn't matter: After what happened in Kavana, she's Lyssa's little baby girl and needs the best possible care.

With those two taken care of the queen can turn to other pressing matters. The constant disorder in Kavana makes it clear that more attention needs to be paid to governance. Certainly the Amazons value making war above all else, but the latest rebellion in Kavana happened when she was doing exactly that. Even the confident Lyssa admits that the realm could easily have crumbled, but for the grace of Rigg. If Amazonia is ever to go to war without fear, she has to make sure such a rebellion never happens again.

​

With the subversive males executed or scattered, it seems unlikely that they can gather their strength. Nevertheless, Kriemhild is sent to Kavana to keep the peace and, with the help of the Sisterhood, root out any such heresy before it can take hold again.

Lyssa seems intent on taking no chances and furthermore officially elevates two Matriarchs to rule the two northernmost islands in the triad. Small and not terribly important, the islands are granted to unassuming nobles who above all won't give their queen any trouble. In addition, one of them just so happens to be a cousin of Calypso of Quetzlpan...

If there are any men left, please keep them away from books. We don't need any more uppity Scholars.​

It is a small favour to soften the blow when Lyssa informs Calypso that she will not be helping her take back Zarmuda. In fact, with the support of the Chief Priestess, Lyssa proclaims that it is now forbidden for any Amazon to approach the accursed island. After all, they have already combed through the ruins pretty thoroughly – and whatever ambition is great enough to warrant giving up a temple city, it seems to be one that forces the queen to tie off all the loose ends she can. Regardless of what she is planning, Lyssa certainly does not intend to get blind-sided again.

 

[dark_melancholy]

Chapter 43: Pleasures of Persuasion

​

14.11.2042
Cooking fires roar, accompanied by the whoops of brazenly drunken Amazons. Because of the Kavana insurrection, Lyssa had not been able to celebrate the capture of Xahutec and she is not about to pass up an opportunity to right this wrong, The Kavana campaign brought no plunder, but the huntresses and brewers have worked hard to make it a memorable feast.

The chicha and bloodwine flows freely and the processions of servants carrying roasted capybara, grilled fish and sausages made from foreign beasts seems endless. Amazonia has been through an unthinkable insurrection and both the queen and her steward prefer that the Amazons are distracted from thinking about it.

Inside the throne room itself, a crowd of nobles cheers as Inanna lifts a whole roasted calf and tears a big bite out of it. Standing up on the dais, Lyssa observes her daughter's antics with a chuckle. No matter how much she would like to devour a 'hornhead' or two herself, this evening she must focus on a more important quarry.

She barely has time to turn around before Azu is upon her. The steward thrusts a goblet of bloodwine into the queen's hand, knowing how much easier she is to deal with if her desires have been indulged.

"Good evening, my queen. So, how was Xahutec?" Azu knows better than to bring up the terrible events in Kavana. The capture of a temple city is a much more pleasant icebreaker.

"It's a mess." It seems the subject is not as pleasant as Azu hoped. "But you'll see that for yourself soon enough, because you're the one who's going to fix it. You leave within a week."

It's a bit of a fixer upper​

With that, the queen empties her cup and hands it back to the gobsmacked steward before stepping down into the crowd. She takes a circuitous route to avoid getting bogged down in further conversation, drinking games and eating competitions. Her challenge sits at the place of honour, at the head of the table.

Surrounded by a gaggle of servants ready to serve her every need, matriarch Calypso seems to be in paradise. In reality, she is cut off from the rest of the party by a wall of pleasures – orchestrated by the plump little woman seated next to her:

"I insist, have another bottle. You have no idea how hard my mother worked to get these things. Well, I did the legwork and she provided the gold." Pretending to be tipsy herself, Maya leans over Calypso to clumsily fill her goblet with effervescent, sparkling wine from faraway lands.

The matriarch takes a greedy sip and smirks: "Your sneaky cooperation with the foreigners borders on the heretical, but one cannot argue with the results."

Maya shrugs and beckoned a servant to bring them another platter of dumplings – and intercept a possible intruder on their conversation. Calypso's irritation over the queen's refusal to retake accursed Zarmuda is well-known and Maya is not about to let anyone come here and exploit that rift.

"I don't see the problem. If we kill the traders and take their goods, they're dead. If I give them some worthless trinkets for their wares, they'll be back." Maya casually flicks a dumpling and her companion catches it in her mouth. "Again." Another dumpling. "And again."

Taking a break from that little game, the princess grabs a treat for herself: "And if my idiot sister wants to take out her frustrations on them, the Easterners will just be easier to catch if their pockets are weighed down with gold."

Expertly chewing through the onslaught of stuffed delicacies and washing them down with priceless wine, Calypso raises an eyebrow: "I have fought alongside your sister – she's a strong and fearless warrior. You should not speak of her like that."

"She's certainly all those things... just like you. But let's be honest, she doesn't exactly have your intellect," Maya exaggerates wildly. Her sister Inanna might not be the sharpest macuahuitl in the armoury, but nor is her present companion.

The dishonest praise hits home, its recipient grinning proudly: "You should see me when I haven't drunk my weight in heathen booze."

"Oh I would never deprive you in so cruel a manner." Lyssa's mission is serious, but her manner is easy as she barges into the private little meeting.

Calypso's lips curl briefly, but she's simply in too good a mood for the queen's presence to spoil it. She awkwardly stifles a belch and gives Lyssa a wry smile: "Certainly, I don't think my cup has been dry, nor my plate empty since I came here."

The ring of servants shifts around the queen to let her flop down next to the pampered matriarch. She accepts a cup of her own and knocks it against Calypso's in a good-natured toast: "And there's no reason why that should change after you leave!"

"What do you mean?" Calypso takes a big sip of her wine, but keeps eyeing Lyssa over the rim of her cup.

"I'm just worried Quetzlpan might feel a little dull by comparison," Lyssa says innocently. "Well! I'm sure we can spare a few crates of wines and other goods now and then to make it a bit more enjoyable..."

To make sure her point gets across, the queen motions for a servant to refill the matriarch's cup. Just like how steward Azu plies her with food and wine, Lyssa knows to appeal to the base instincts of others. Why obsess over some damp ruin when there are earthly pleasures to enjoy?

"Now, there is one thing I wanted to discuss..." Lyssa affects nonchalance, emptying her cup rather than press the matter.

Calypso mimics her sovereign, letting slip a sigh of satisfaction as the delectable bubbles tickle her throat: "I'm listening..."

She's all Lyssa could hope for in a replacement Calypso!​

There is some confusion when days pass, yet Calypso of Quetzlpan does not return home from Ganaina to continue her quixotic campaign against Zarmuda. Although surrounded by the comforts of the capital, the matriarch does not remain idle however. Nor does the rest of Ganaina.

As the weeks of feasting and merriment come to and end and the horrors of the Kavana uprising start to fade, the Amazon queen has her realm abuzz with preparation once more. At first the shieldmaidens only know that they are getting ready for another campaign and their ignorance only heightens their excitement.

Only as the year comes to a close are their divine queen's designs revealed, through the Sisterhood's chants from atop temples and shrines. It turns out that once again, Lyssa has secured matriarch Calypso's cooperation by trading one temple city for another. Renewed in strength, the full might of Amazonia sails up the Amaxon, sights set on the great city of Tlanxla.

Target acquired​

 

[dark_melancholy]

Chapter 44: On Oppressive Ground

​

Sitting upon the shores of the great Amaxon, Tlanxla was once the logistical hub in the empire of the Old Ones. From here armies and supplies were ferried to and from the far corners of Lustria. Perhaps no surprise then that it was one of the first temple-cities to fall when the Cataclysm came. Ease of transit can be a double-edged sword. The city will feel its effects again soon enough.

When the Amazon army now sails for the City of the Skies it is not without preparation: Queen Lyssa has already occupied the eastern parts of Amaxacaro to secure her hold on the river. The loss of this territory has further undermined the authority of the usurper lord of Spektazuma who controls the rest of the territory between Amazonia and Tlanxla. From her journey in search of the Fountain of Youth, the queen knows this domain is in turmoil and therefore in no position to halt her advance.

Nor is Tlanxla merely a hollow prize. The city may have fallen centuries ago, but it still commands the highway of the Lustrian jungle. It is not without reason that the Lizardmen have resettled it. Furthermore it is all that lies between Amazonia and the independent Amazon tribes of Gwangee Valley. If she is to reunite her people Lyssa must go through Tlanxla.

​

17.01.2043
"Bless the Maker, dry land... finally!" Calypso the Younger groans. The swampy lower delta of the Amaxon offers few places for a large army to land or make camp, making for a dull and uncomfortable journey.

"I thought you island folk liked sitting in boats for days," Inanna shrugs. It's unclear if it's supposed to be a joke or insult – or if she is genuinely surprised.

At first Calypso doesn't say anything, rubbing her aching back in silence. In fact she has gotten quite used to sailing aboard the queen's flagship, a somewhat more comfortable vessel than a war canoe. More comfortable still: The royal palace in Ganaina.

The brave matriarch would rather not admit to any of this, especially in front of the very model of a tough warrior princess. Instead she shrugs, mostly to stretch her stiff muscles: "I would rather fight than sail." Evasive though it may be, there is a truth to this.

"You can say that again," Inanna growls, unable to contain her impatience. "Let's find us some lizards as soon as we've set up camp. And this place seems good enough."

The place in question is a small hill known to the locals as Tetepe, sitting at the edge of the Piranha Swamp that dominate further downriver.

"Good, because my shieldmaidens are already unloading our supplies," Calypso says blithely. As if on cue, a procession of Amazons come up from the boats carrying tents, kegs, heavy chests and more.

"You did bring some weapons too, right?" Inanna scoffs, watching the warriors fan out and start making this corner of Lustria a bit more like home.

Calypso just smirks at the remark: "There's nothing wrong with having a good time."

"Rigg give me strength, you sound just like my sister Maya..." Inanna groans.

This gives the hedonistic matriarch pause, realizing that she has been spending a lot of time with the princess lately. A small part of her worries about fraternizing so much with a failed huntress, but her thoughts are soon interrupted by her companion:

"Speaking of... where's my mother? I expected her to come running as soon as she smelled booze."

The two of them leave the other warriors to their work and head down the slight incline towards the river. They find the queen surrounded by servants and bodyguards, with more rushing to her side as they try to get her out of the boat. It's a flurry of hands and water splashes, while the queen herself is huffing and puffing, unable to stand up in the narrow hull of the war canoe.

Finally Valesca, captain of the bodyguard, grabs Lyssa's legs and the throng comes together to literally lift the queen and carry her bodily ashore.

"This expedition was your idea," Inanna points out once her mother has been safely deposited onto her feet.

Still panting, Lyssa rubs her poor, abused body and growls: "I'm fine."

Calypso puts a hand on the queen's arm and makes to escort her to the camp: "Come here, Your Highness. You need a drink."

Being in the middle of the jungle, surrounded by hostile Lizardmen is no reason not to paaarty!​

Having established themselves on the edge of Tlanxla's domain, the Amazon army takes some time time to rest and consolidate the area. Apart from some local chiefs, the Lizardmen offer no resistance. No doubt aware of their inferiority, the armies of Tlanxla remain in the temple-city.

Left to their own devices, the Amazons are free to pillage the outlying villages – yielding potential sacrifices and much-needed supplies. In Matriarch Calypso's opinion, every little hovel that is taken deserves a proper victory celebration, thus stretching the army's supplies thin.

With Tetepe on the Amaxon river secured, the Lizardmen are prevented from making any punitive raids downriver and into Amazonia. However, Lyssa does not use this control of the waterways to move on Tlanxla itself. Instead she sticks to the same strategy that has served her well against two other temple-cities in the past. From Tetepe the Amazon army marches inland, positioning to surround the city completely before bringing it to its knees. There will be no escape and, by Rigg's will, the victory shall be glorious.

17.02.2043
While the pathfinders move ahead, the Amazon army slowly starts to come to a halt. In the thick jungle of inner Lustria, after all, orders must propagate gradually among the scattered shieldmaidens. They completed the occupation of the vast inland area of Mochicoatl with little opposition, but in this terrain even Amazons must stop every so often or lose all semblance of cohesion. With hundreds of lizardman captives in tow, that could potentially be disastrous.

"We should be ready to go in about ten minutes, Your Highness," captain Valesca informs the queen. When she gets no reply, she takes a step closer and leans in with a look of curiosity. "My queen?"

The bodyguard can see her sovereign looking even paler than usual as she leans heavily against a tree. Her breaths are shallow and fast, her eyes staring blankly into nothingness.

"Perhaps we should camp for the day?" Valesca ventures.

"Wha'?" Suddenly Lyssa seems to snap out of her reverie, her unfocused gaze trying to locate the source of the intrusion.

"It looks like you could use some rest, Your Highness."

Lyssa's head jerks: "What? No, the Gwangee Amazons are waiting for us." With her free hand she shoos her second-in-command away, as if telling her to get a move on.

"That's... still several days' march away..." Valesca hesitates. "Did you hear anything from Matriarch Parvati?"

"Oh, me and the Matriarch get along really well. A remarkable woman," Lyssa smiles, as if that answers everything.

"So you've said, but..." Valesca puts a hand on the queen's arm, but it gets slapped away instantly!

"You heard me!" Lyssa bellows, breathing heavily as she turns on the captain. Sweat drips from her brow, onto her pallid cheeks. "Move!"

Valesca bows deeply and beats a hasty retreat. Before she does anything else, she tells her fellow bodyguards to keep an extra close eye on their queen.​

Although slower than anticipated, the Amazon army sticks to the plan and marches south until they reach the winding Amaxon river again. From there the great encircling manoeuvre turns westward, consolidating their position with every village and stronghold in their path. One step closer to Tlanxla.

What is not forthcoming is assistance from Hualotal in Gwangee, even if the domain borders Tlanxla. This is because, unbeknownst to Lyssa and the others, the matriarch Lyssa ostensibly got along so well with is dead. Her granddaughter and heir to Hualotal is only eight years old, but more importantly she is being raised by an old acquaintance of Lyssa. After being expelled from the Tarantula Coast, Parthenia the Wicked returned to her ancestral home in Gwangee. Following the death of their hated rival and overlord, Parthenia and her daughter Parthenia swiftly moved to control her underage successor. Cruel and selfish the both of them, mother and daughter are not liable to help anyone at the best of times – much less their most hated enemy!

Not always nice to see an old acquaintance...​

11.07.2043
The overgrown ruins echo with a cacophony of voices and screams. Soldiers rushing to and fro. Overlooking the commotion, Lyssa clutches a crumbling balustrade as she watches a haggard procession push their way through the throng. Between them a stretcher upon which lies matriarch Calypso. A blood-soaked bandage is wound tightly around her left thigh.

​

"Your Highness, the matriarch has been wounded leading the vanguard. They only made it as far as the first line of defence."

"Where are the reinforcements from Gwangee?"

The many voices get no reply as their leader stares blankly into the courtyard below. Her grip on the railing tightens reflexively as if to stop the growing trembling spreading from her hands.

"Hey mom! Mom! Are you gonna order the next assault or not?" the queen's daughter demands, but her impatience remains unsatisfied. Another voice breaks through the increasingly muffled chorus to dissent:

"Your Highness, we just received word from the detachment guarding our boats at Tetepe. They are under siege and heavily outnumbered. If we don't come to their aid we could get cut off entirely..."

Cheeky lizards!​

"The vanguard needs to be reinforced or withdrawn, Your Highness."

Soon the incessant pleas just turn into garbled words.

"Should we hold or fall back to–"

Lyssa lifts her head from her silent contemplation and turns to captain Valesca with a puzzled look on her face: "Huh? Where..."

Her grip on the railing loosens. There is a brief eternity where it slips out of her hands and she stumbles backward. It is as if the whole congregation holds its breath, then before their eyes the Queen of the Amazon unceremoniously drops to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

 

[dark_melancholy]

Chapter 45: The Next Generation​

Oblivion passes and before her is a familiar face.

“Your Highness,” Lyssa's old friend Calypso says, welcoming her into the light. Muddled noises ring in her ears, but the departed matriarch's words are clear.

Lyssa desperately wants to cry out her name, to speak with her again. All that escapes her throat is a dry croak. She tries to reach out but falls. Calypso's face grows distant as the darkness billows up to swallow her. Before Lyssa realizes it she is gone once more.​

* * *​

“Your Highness.”

The queen gasps as her eyes are shocked open once more. Like so many times before Calypso stands before her. Hovers over her. Lyssa does not know where exactly her old friend is. She does not know where she is.

“Wh-where...” Lyssa manages to stammer weakly. Her mind is a swirling miasma, unable to hold a thought. If her mind even is any longer.

“Your Highness!” There's a hint of surprise in Calypso's voice. Lyssa does not understand, it is she who comes to her. Unless...

Lost in her thoughts, Lyssa realizes she missed Calypso's reply. This makes her angry, though she's not sure if it's at herself or her old friend...

“We had to leave...”

No! Lyssa protests in silent fury. There was nothing inevitable – Calypso's death had been a terrible mistake. Except... she is not Calypso. Not that Calypso.

“What is your command, Your Highness?” Calypso the Younger asks intently, her very similar features surfacing from her mother's. “Do we return?”

“Yes...” Lyssa blurts out. The Janus image before her is already starting to fade. Yes, if only she could return...



18.12.2043
“You're talking as if the queen is dead.” Pragya, the freshly minted Mistress of Tabazco gradually lowers her voice as she speaks. She looks like she regrets coming to this meeting – certainly her displeasure over being assigned a worthless rock has been growing, but to speak so brazenly...

“She might as well be,” one of her companions scoffs, arrogant with the self-assuredness of youth. Although barely half their age, she immediately positions herself as a leader of the little group. Slender like a reed, but for her noticeably pregnant belly, Tisiphone II of Tetla radiates a confidence that few would dare challenge.

“I hear her blood doesn't flow right. I'm not surprised when she hasn't had a good fight to get her blood pumping in years. It's unseemly.” Although her mother died when she was eight, Tisiphone has clearly not only inherited her name but also her dislike of the Anakonda dynasty.

“But you're talking... succession...” Pragya has to steel herself to take the word into her mouth.

“I only came here 'cause Tisi said there'd be booze,” the third plotter says, her broad shoulders rising in a deliberately disarming shrug. Like Tisiphone, Melandra of Mamazo is also a daughter of one of the original conspirators against Queen Lyssa. That doesn't mean she can't make an attempt at plausible deniability.

You can believe she's the daughter of Belyse the Drunkard, alright!​

Tisiphone clearly doesn't believe a word of it: “And the fact that the queen has repeatedly denied your requests to be granted Grand Domain has nothing to do with it?”

Melandra growls and slams her fist into the table with such force that it's small miracle it doesn't split in two. “My family is descended from Amazonia's greatest queens! A Panteros should never be second to a Toucana... or any of the queen's stupid children!”

“Why, you barely rank above the queen's failure of an elder daughter...” Tisiphone points out, egging her on. “Clearly Amazonia needs a queen who won't favour an Unworthy daughter over a brave Matriarch from a venerable line...”

Still sulking, beefy arms crossed indignantly over her chest, Melandra grumbles: “You think Inanna will do any better?”

“Inanna is old and childless...” Tisiphone pauses to let her words sink in. The queen's heir might just be 20 years older than the other conspirators, but compared to Tisiphone...

“Amazonia needs a queen who can reinvigorate its people...” Tisiphone puts a hand on her round belly and smirks: “...and ensure a stable line of succession.”

She's young, but she's got a lot going already!​

11.01.2044
“I n-need to see the q-queen!” Unusually agitated it is not easy for Tanya to conduct herself with the dignity befitting the Chief Priestess of Rigg. Her natural stutter, usually under control, flares up in the face of such wilful obtuseness.

“The queen isn't seeing anyone,” Captain Valesca says firmly. Positioned outside the royal quarters, the head of the royal bodyguard remains unmoving – today just like all the previous days.

Tanya pauses to formulate a counter-argument, but in the end she makes the same argument as she's done every day over the last week: “It's v-very important!”

“So you keep saying, but you still won't tell my why. You Sisters and your secrets...”

“And you won't t-tell me why I c-can't speak with Her Highness!” Tanya counters. She has heard rumours, of course – some so outlandish as to suggest the Council is covering up the queen's death.

Valesca looks around and lowers her voice: “Look, the queen is... not well. Even if you could see her I don't know if... she might be able to help.”

Tanya swallows: “How b-bad is it? Is she... might she...?” The last thing she needs is a succession crisis. There are things more important than petty politics at stake here.

“I don't know. Chancellor Azu is looking after her, though...”

That's the last thing Tanya needs. Who knows what nonsense the younger Azu might fill the queen's head with.

“F-fine...” Tanya surrenders, exhaling like the breath of life is vacating her body. “But you must swear by Rigg and all the Old Ones never to tell a living soul about what I am about to tell you...”

​

It is not without trepidation that Tanya steps into the queen's chambers. She had convinced herself all she had to do was to get access and everything would work out. Now that Valesca finally let her pass she dreads what she might find.

The queen lies in her stately bed, put ever so slightly upright on silk pillows but nevertheless motionless – and pale as a ghost. Tanya would not have thought that such a robust woman could look so grey and hollow-cheeked and yet...

At the bedside, Chancellor Azu motions for Tanya to keep quiet. Next to her is a young halfling girl. Right away Tanya can tell she carries herself with more dignity than others of her kind, yet calmly as if still very much aware of her inferior place in Amazon society.

“What's so important, Chief Priestess?” Azu whispers, not quite able to hide her surprise that she had been let inside in the first place.

“I need to speak with the queen,” Tanya insists.

“She has been given blue stump essence,” Azu explains matter-of-factly. Tanya's heart sinks: Properly administered the brew made from that mystical mushroom puts the imbiber into a slumber deeper than sleep.

“You f-fool...” Tanya shakes her head. “This is a matter of life and death. Why w-would you...”

“So is this,” Azu says. She is trying to be calm and firm, but her voice is shaking. “We don't know the queen's affliction, but... after she was brought back from Tlanxla, she has been drifting in and out of consciousness. I worry that each time she does, she loses part of her mind... so to try and keep her stable I... we...”

As a general rule, you don't want to be "sapless and infirm" when you're leading a realm of warrior women​

It seems clear that putting the queen in a coma had been an act of desperation rather than a calculated move. And yet: “We have to risk it. The queen must...” Tanya looks at the halfling. “It is a matter only the Sisterhood may know of.”

“I may be a council member, but I was brought up with the Sisterhood, as you no doubt recall. And so is Coatopoxt here.”

For a moment, Tanya just stammers incoherently, this time out of sheer perplexity. “B-but she's not even an Amazon!”

Once again Azu motions for Tanya to keep her voice down. The small gesture is enough to shame her to silence. “Nor was I, yet you took me in after I failed my induction ritual, all those years ago.”

The Chief Priestess squirms a little. Of course there had been an element of royal coercion, with Queen Lyssa wanting to award Azu's mother for her loyalty by looking after her children. But even beyond that, Tanya had felt sympathy for the obviously intelligent little girl, who would otherwise be kept out of society merely for her lack of martial expertise.

“You're a noble...” comes Tanya's weak argument.

“And Coatopoxt is the daughter of a chieftess.” Rather, the girl's mother was married to one of the last Miyan chieftains of Amocan, deposed during Queen Lyssa's invasions, but Azu doesn't see a need to sweat the details. “She is under my tutelage and protection. Anything you say to me you can say to her.”

“I serve only Rigg,” the halfling says firmly. “And Mistress Azu, of course.”

Tanya bites her lip. She is reluctant, but time is running out so she eventually caves: “F-fine. We are losing the Old One's protection, Sister. To appease them, the queen must authorize the sacrifice of the prisoners captured from Tlanxla. If we don't act f-fast... Ganaina will fall!”​

Someone actually competent... of course she was raised by one of the Azus​

 

[dark_melancholy]

Chapter 46: Due Consideration​

13.01.2044
“I say you take what is rightly yours,” Tisiphone of Tetla says matter-of-factly. “It's not as if you can try begging the queen again, the way things stand.”

Her companion tightens her grip on her wine cup, threatening to bend the metal with her great strength: “I did... not... beg.”

Tisiphone shrugs and goes back to stroking her stomach, haughty in her apparent indifference to Melandra's rage. “Well, the fact of the matter is that you chose to accept no for an answer. But that was before the queen dragged her flabby carcass to Tlanxla and nearly died. Well, I say 'nearly'... the jury's still out on that. Either way, it means she is in no position to deny your claim to a Grand Domain.”

“That sounds a lot like treason,” Melandra points out. The fact that her tone has mellowed slightly suggests she is not overly concerned with the implications of that word.

Suddenly full of intent, Tisiphone shifts in her seat with a grunt and leans forward. Supporting herself on the table between them, she stares into Melandra's eyes. A smirk forms on her lips: “If you were concerned about propriety you'd be more careful with who you invite to your court.”

Melandra's eyes narrow and she follows Tisiphone's lead, moving forward to loom over her willowy companion: “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“You know... I've heard some people say you are oblivious, but I think you're smart enough to notice that the woman who killed Lyssa's old friend is not only secretly living at your court – but working directly for you!”

“She... she's a brilliant steward...” Melandra grumbles by way of an explanation. Her predilection for expensive parties is well-known, so it's no wonder she values a woman's management skills over her past deeds. Uncertainty ripples across her face as she backs off: “How did you know...?”

“Oh I know a lot of things,” Tisiphone says smugly. “I trust you see how that could be useful to us both?”

“Why do you care if I hold Grand Domain or not, anyway?” Melandra empties her cup in one big gulp.

“I just want to see justice be done,” Tisiphone lies unconvincingly. “And besides, a little... realignment would be quite beneficial, I think.”

“If the Anakondas fall, Nalixo will be yours...” The way Melandra says it makes it sound like she is a genius for having unravelled this mystery.

A greedy grin spreads on Tisiphone's face: “It'd be a start...”

“Fine... but what if the queen wakes up?”

* * *​

Consciousness feels alien to her, for she does not remember falling asleep. Nor sleeping. Nor dreaming. But what of waking? What is dream and what is reality she cannot say.

In fact... who is she? She grasps at flitting memories but they slip through her fingers. Her self is a series of half-glimpsed images. Broken reams of emotion.

She does not know it, but before she was nothing. After all, she is only now coming into being. Certainly she tries. Tries but fails.

Wait... hasn't this happened before?

* * *​

16.01.2044
“We are w-working on it...” Chief Priestess Tanya almost pleads. Despite her exalted position, she faces the combined ire of the top Sisters of Ganaina. Some truly ancient priestesses are among them, but they refrain from getting involved in the spectacle.

Instead the accusations come mostly from a young Sister by the name of Andromeda. In fact she is so young one might suspect her presence is merely for the protection of the elders' dignity, absolving them of disturbing the harmony of the council with inflammatory remarks.

“The sacrifices from the Tlanxla campaign are needed now, not when it is convenient for the queen!” the firebrand huffs. Small and scrawny though she might be, Andromeda's righteous fury is anything but feeble.

​

Far from shrinking from the continued onslaught, Tanya's resolve hardens. She might agree on the urgency of the matter, but finds the tone unbecoming of a Sister given the queen's critical state.

Rather than let herself be riled up, the Chief Priestess responds calmly: “The queen has authority over prisoners caught on the queen's expedition.”

Displaying less appreciation for the law than her opponent, Andromeda dismisses the argument with an exasperated wave. The sentiment is definitely not universal, however, and Tanya immediately feels the room grow a bit less hostile.

“Be that as it may,” one of the Sisters interjects. “The fact remains that we have found traces of Chaos corruption. In Ganaina.” Her voice is firm and matter-of-fact, but even if everyone in the room have already been informed of this the mere mention of those words evokes worried murmurs.

“Very, very faint traces...” one of the more hopeful priestesses reminds everyone. In fact, anywhere else in this dark world it would hardly be noteworthy, but to a people who have lost so much to the Ruinous Powers even the smallest hint is cause for concern.

Andromeda has no time for minimizing the matter. She stands up and points to the fiery visage of Rigg painted upon the council room ceiling: “Ever since the Great Cataclysm, our covenant with our great goddess has been that she protects us from the Winds of Chaos in return for our faith. Given recent events, we fear the queen has lost the blessing of the Old Ones.”

Tanya finds it hard to argue with that assertion. As Chief Priestess she knows their defences are indeed failing.

“The Chief Priestess is right.” An unexpected source of support, Ekwealor, court priestess to Melandra of Mamazo, cuts an imposing figure as she raises her hand for attention. Stout and heavy with child, the warrior-priestess affects an affable façade – quite the opposite to the inflammatory Andromeda in every way.

“As keepers of Rigg's law it is important that we don't exceed our jurisdiction. Rather than make demands, perhaps we should ascertain who has the authority over these captives in the queen's... absence.”

​

Seeing Andromeda's fury turn away from herself, Tanya happily hangs back to watch these two tear into each other.

“Jurisdiction? Rigg's will has no 'jurisdiction'!” Andromeda scoffs, not at all intimidated by something as inconsequential as “logic”.

“No mortal can fully comprehend Rigg's will. We merely interpret and convey and act within earthly constraints. But we can advise... advise the Matriarchs to consider this matter.”

“You would let the nobility bicker over such an important matter??” Andromeda gasps, blissfully free of any sense of self-awareness.

Seeing an unproductive argument brewing, some of the other sisters look to Tanya to weigh in. She still refuses to get involved and just lets Andromeda and Ekwealor have at it. Back and forth, scholarly reasoning is met with vitriol bordering on invective.

Fed up with the uncomfortable aggression coming from their mouthpiece, some of the elders make their disapproval known, nodding in agreement with Ekwealor's assertions. However, the barrage of wilful ignorance from Andromeda is likewise getting the better of her opponent's temper.

Her patience sorely tested, Ekwealor barks: “If you would only face reality, you would see that such childish tantrums would only hurt the Sisterhood's influence. By assigning the matter to a grand council we are taking charge of the situation!”

Reluctantly, Tanya raises her hand to get everyone's attention. Before Ekwealor can lose her temper and likewise risk losing the argument to the Chief Priestess's most ardent critic.

“The arguments laid forth by our Sister from Mamazo are sensible indeed,” Tanya says calmly, providing the deciding voice. “Now... why don't we t-take the t-time to carefully craft our missive to the Matriarchs...”

* * *

​

18.01.2044
Walking alone, Spymaster Olariche makes her way from the fort she ostensibly oversees to the old governor's mansion of Xocibiki island. It is not a long trek by any means, but not one she enjoys making. However, with so many males taken off the island in the wake of their failed rebellion there are not enough hands to tend the gardens. As distasteful as it is, Princess Maya's little trade enterprise is now integral to bringing in necessary supplies. As such, paying her the odd visit is likewise a necessity.

Of course, Olariche would rather not be on Xocibiki at all, but in light of the recent rebellion she must be seen to keep a closer look on things. Being away from Ganaina makes it harder to do her job, which is more important now than ever. Which brings her to the second reason she must deign to visit Princess Dumpling.

Outside the mansion, Olariche is met by an unusually heavy guard of at least a dozen pirates. Sure, they might dress like Amazons and make half-hearted attempts to understand Amazon customs, but their unhealthy pallor and coarse features clearly mark them as foreigners and Olariche refuses to see them as anything but.

After the usual security theatre, no doubt solely to annoy her, Olariche is allowed to enter. Led into the mansion's ballroom, she finds the mistress of the house along with that insufferable pirate convert Tiziana.

Each woman is draped across a divan, their vision of each other obscured by the extravagant feast arranged on the table between them. So much for food shortages.

​

“...not to mention... a little bird be tellin' me, 'Queen' Elena's dead.” Tiziana says, waving a piece of Westerlander cheese for emphasis. “No scallywag be dumb enough to question who's boss on these islands now.”

“That's some comfort at least...” Maya sighs, then sets her languid gaze on the newcomer: “Ah, long time no see, mistress Olariche! Come to taste the flavours of the East?”

Olariche is not about to admit that the decadent foreign cuisine the two women are digging into looks delicious. Instead she keeps her distance. And a jab at Maya's expense never fails to cheer her up: “This is hardly the time for debauchery. Shouldn't you be with your mother, given her condition?”

“On the contrary, that's why exactly why I should not. I know how much you all would love to get rid of me, if not for the threat of the queen's wrath.”

“Of course not!” Olariche assures the princess. Not that she is exactly wrong, but at the moment there are more important things at stake. “But you are right, there are those who are taking advantage of the queen's illness as we speak, plotting and scheming.”

Rolling forward, Maya leans forward to refill Tiziana's cup. “I know. Why do you think I'm out here trying to hire some extra muscle? Should anything happen to the queen I want to be ready.” Resuming her languid repose, the princess smiles innocently at Olariche: “I assume you already knew, being the mistress of spies and all.”

“Of course...” Olariche grumbles, doing her best to hide her surprise. She had been aware that Maya was making numerous inquires in the foreigner enclave, but until now she had assumed the princess was merely sourcing more exotic food with which to stuff her face. “Be that as it may... if you are worried about your future, you should know that Tisiphone the Younger is calling a grand council of the nobility. With the support of the Sisterhood.”

Idly sampling the dishes before her, Maya does not seem overly concerned: “And why should I care about that? As you keep reminding me, I'm no Amazon.”

“Yes, but your sister is. And we have reason to suspect that Tisiphone will use the meeting to usurp the queen's authority. She is no friend of your family after all.”

Maya scoops up some of the meat stew with a piece of bread and chews deliberately before replying: “And more importantly, no friend of the women holding your leash.”

Olariche manages to let that slide without comment.

“So you're worried that, as the queen's heir apparent, my dear sister is going to mess up and let Tisiphone walk all over her.” Maya takes a long sip from her cup, giving the spymaster ample time to consider her words.

“I must admit, you are somewhat more adept than Inanna in... these matters.” Olariche tries to flatter the princess, but it comes off rather hesitant. “And Tisiphone is pregnant. It goes without saying that should your sister try resorting to challenging her to a duel it would be disastrous for her reputation.”

“In other words, you need me to babysit my baby sister and make sure those vipers don't get the better of her.”

Olariche nods: “You're the one person she'll trust.”

“Sounds like you're in a real bind here...” Maya pops a grape into her mouth and savours both its flavours and the flavour of the moment. Deciding she has allowed Olariche to squirm long enough she gestures for the spymaster to join them at the dinner table. “Please, sit. Let us discuss my terms...”

* * *​

18.01.2044
Glancing nervously over her shoulder, Tanya barely manages to keep herself from shouting when a hooded figure comes up to her.

“Oh thank R-rigg... it's you.” The Chief Priestess puts a hand on the newcomer's shoulder and breathes a sigh of relief. “I stalled for as long as I could to keep the Sisters away from the shrine. How did it go?”

From under her hood, Azu the Younger offers the poor priestess a reassuring smile. She gestures and a small figure comes out of the gloom to join them. In her hands, Coatopoxt the halfling carries a brightly coloured case, the Old One rune of healing engraved upon its lid. Faint traces of other runes and pictographs are too faded and ancient to make out.

“We got everything we need.”

 

[dark_melancholy]

Chapter 47: Internal Conflict​

27.01.2044
Princess Inanna takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself. She has already snapped at Ixchel twice while getting ready, the last thing she needs is to lash out at her lover a third time.

The circlet signifying her nobility slips on to Inanna's head. At once it feels like a snake wrapping around her skull, crushing it mercilessly. She reaches up to free herself, but Ixchel takes Inanna's hand in hers and firmly pushes it back down.

“Stop fidgeting,” the bodyguard says bluntly. “It doesn't suit you.”

“That's easy for you to say.” Inanna sounds more petulant than she intended. Being almost two decades older than her companion, that sort of tone is definitely not something that suits her.

The two of them are alone in Inanna's palatial quarters – for now. Standing behind the princess, Ixchel puts the finishing touches on her outfit and leans forward to kiss her hair: “Just imagine that you're marching into battle.”

“Ugh... I wish...” Inanna groans. In exasperation she tugs at the silk robe she is wearing. It had been a gift from her mother – an unwieldy and overly ostentatious thing, but her sister had insisted she wear it. “That said... this might well turn into a battle.”

Ixchel squeezes her lover's shoulders reassuringly: “Then I will be right beside you, as always.”

Brow furrowed intensely, Inanna mouths her thoughts as if testing them out before committing them to sound. She bites her lip and reaches behind to put her hand on Ixchel's. “No... that's why you're not coming with me...”

“Excuse me, what?” Ixchel demands. If she is touched by Inanna's gesture, her fury over being ostensibly left behind is greater.

“You gotta go back to Nalixo. If things come to blows... we're going to need warriors and you're the only one I can trust.”

In fact the situation is so serious there weren't even snide footnotes on the illustrations in the last chapter.​

If Ixchel wants to protest the decision, she is not given a chance to do so. A knock on the door heralds a visitor, one that does not feel the need to wait to be admitted.

“Hurry up! You do not want to be late for this.” Even the usually jovial Maya is somewhat on edge today.

“Yeah, we're done here,” Inanna nods. If she can avoid any more cloying finery, all the better.

“Good.” Maya clasps her hands under her ample bosom with a resolve that brooks no protest. “Now, remember: The threat of a duel is your greatest asset and everyone knows that. Whatever scheme it is Tisiphone has in mind, she's banking on you being unable to challenge her. That's why you need to settle this thing right away.”

As her sister goes on, Inanna immediately regrets getting up and heading through the door.

“I've made the case to the Sisterhood that you should be the first to speak, on account of your power and prestige. All you need to do is make it count.”

Walking down the palace corridor, Inanna's gaze is distant.

Maya sighs and grabs her sister's hand: “Listen, if you are going to forestall any attempt by Tisiphone and her cronies to usurp authority, you need to demand that the council confirm you as successor to the throne.”

Suddenly Inanna snaps out of her reverie. Squeezing Maya's hand, she brings her to a halt. With an anxious glance behind her, she says softly: “Can we... stop by and see her?”

Maya has to steel herself to refuse the heartfelt request. Reaching up to pinch her tall sister's chin, she forces Inanna to look at her: “There is no time. Now, you have to focus!”

“I know!” Inanna growls. She makes to use her powerful physique to intimidate her flabby sister, but somehow can't bring herself to do so. Instead she dejectedly allows herself to be pulled along.

“As I was saying...if you make the first move, there is no way Tisiphone can challenge the decision with a duel. The nobles would turn on her for that kind of contempt, forcing an Amazon to fight a pregnant woman.”

Inanna clutches the side of her head and groans at all the instructions. Give her a battle plan and she can follow it to the letter, but this kind of petty manoeuvring... “Ugh... why don't you come with me? You can tell me all this stuff while the council is in session.”

Maya gives her sister a pointed look: “Are you joking? The gathering is for nobles only.” She throws out her arms in exasperation: “I'm not even a real Amazon – as you so often remind me!”

“It's so unfair...” Inanna shakes her head. “You've always been better at this kind of stuff.” It's not entirely clear if she thinks it is an injustice to her sister or to herself. Perhaps even she doesn't know.

“All the more reason to make this about settling the succession. Tisiphone can probably get some nobles and chiefs on board with seemingly innocent amendments, but few of them are going to question your authority as heir to the throne.”

If Maya intended her words to be inspiring, she badly miscalculated. Spotting an alcove, Inanna storms off to curl up and hide her head in her hands.

“You were always her favourite...” Inanna mutters as Maya comes panting after her. “Nothing I do is ever good enough.”

Awkwardly patting her sister's shoulder, Maya makes a tentative protest: “Nonsense. For one, you're a brave warrior whereas I'm... well...” Rather than finish the sentence she simply rubs her doughy midsection with her free hand.

“But doing queen stuff is all about... being smart and...” Inanna peers up from between her fingers. All of a sudden she blushes furiously, but is unable to stop herself from continuing: “...and... making babies!”

Coming from Inanna, this catches even Maya off-guard. Rather than address her sister's sudden candidness, she huffs: “I don't even have any children!”

Inanna drops her hands, furious now: “Well, at least... at least you love fornicating with males!”

“I love a lot of things!” comes Maya's rather flimsy protest to that particular accusation. If Inanna's weirdness had her off-balance before, she is now reeling. “But like it or not... yes, it's up to you to continue the royal line now!”

All colour drains from Inanna's face and she springs to her feet. White-hot anger burns in her eyes as she jabs her sister in the chest: “How dare you! Don't speak as if she's already dead!”

With that, the princess stomps off. Perhaps not the reaction Maya was looking for, but at least she is on her way to the meeting hall now...

The lumpy snake princess has a point. It's not looking good for a dynastic succession right now.


* * *​

A soft glow spreads in the gloom of the queen's bedroom as Chancellor Azu activates the Old One artefact. The ancient gears groan and whine as arcane locks unspool. A minuscule crack opens between the cylinders making up the frame of the thing, only for the mechanism to grind to a halt.

Azu wastes no time in grabbing a knife from amongst their crude medical tools and wedges it into the opening. Slowly but firmly she tries to pry open the ailing device.

“Shouldn't we be more careful...” Coatopoxt the halfling ventures anxiously.

Gritting her teeth, Azu instead applies a dab more force: “It's not like we can just return it. If the Sisterhood find out we stole from the vaults it doesn't matter what condition it is, we'll be dead either way.”

Her Miyan protégée swallows heavily, realizing that as a mere halfling she'd be deadest of all.

The two breathe a sigh of relief as the mechanism finally comes unstuck with a weak hiss. It is a short-lived reprieve soon interrupted by a knock on the door.

“D-did you get it to work yet?” Chief Priestess Tanya can barely get the words out for all the panting and stammering.

Azu nods: “We need to figure out how to use it, but we should be able to begin stabilizing the queen's condition soon.”

“What does that m-mean?” Tanya demands, sheer stress rousing uncharacteristic anger in the poor woman.

“Hopefully we can ensure she doesn't get worse.”

“Not g-good enough!” The priestess marches over to get a closer look at the Old One machine. Opened up, it reveals a dizzying array of tubes and sharp implements.

Retaining her calm composure, Azu the Younger puts a hand on Tanya's shoulder. She manages to keep her voice even as she explains: “Waking her up now could end very badly. We both know several weeks without proper nourishment would weaken anyone considerably.”

Azu is a slow-and-steady, risk-averse kind of gal. Or as the Amazons call it: "A disgrace"​

The priestess refuses to be calm, however. “You d-don't understand! When I let the traditionalists call the grand council, it was so you could revive the queen!”

“Eventually, yes!” Azu is not one to be rushed.

Nearly giving in to despair, Tanya buries her face in her hands – but only to compose herself. Meeting Azu's eyes, she says firmly: “The Old One's blessing is not something we can rely on the grand council to handle. They are preoccupied by petty concerns.”

“But we can't risk the queen's life!”

“Only Rigg's regent can p-protect us from the f-forces of Chaos! If you don't do this, we are risking everyone's lives.” Seeing Azu still hesitate, Tanya grabs the hem of her robe and lowers her voice into cold fury. Sweat pours from her brow now, her lip quivering. “And lest you f-forget: I'm the Chief Priestess of Rigg and head of the Sisterhood and I know what you did.”

Eyes wide, Azu swallows nervously, unable to muster a comeback.

Satisfied, the usually meek priestess exhales forcefully and lets go of the terrified chancellor. Nearly doubling over, she staggers over to steady herself against the wall. “G-good... good...” she mutters, almost delirious. “I'll speak with the queen tomorrow, then."

Being aggressive doesn't come easy to poor Tanya and it shows.


* * *

​

The atmosphere in the throne room is very different from the hedonistic parties that usually take place here. Seated in a roughly circular pattern, the participants are much the same – matriarchs, chiefs and other prominent nobles – but the occasion is a lot more sombre. Nothing makes this more clear than the empty throne at the head of the congregation.

Also notably absent is the highly respected Matriarch of Quetzlpan. Still recovering from her wounds, Calypso the Younger could not make it to the meeting. One less supporter – or perhaps one less challenger to the throne.

Watching the proceedings from afar Maya cannot decide which. Although not allowed to enter the room, she peers in from one of the side entrances. Having practically grown up in the kitchen, few know the palace servants better than her. Back then that rapport earned her an extra pastry here and there. Today, access to a closed meeting.

“Come on...” the princess mutters intently under her breath as the Sisterhood representative yields the floor to her sister.

All eyes turn to Inanna who refuses to meet them with her own gaze. As if arguing with herself, she mouths wordlessly. Even from this far away, Maya is sure that she can see tears in her sister's eyes.

She can't do it... Maya realizes to her horror.

Remaining in her seat, Inanna gestures weakly for the meeting to proceed. At the opposite end of the chamber, matriarchs Tisiphone and Melandra exchange smug looks.

Closing her eyes, Maya thinks back to their earlier exchange, in particular Inanna's last words before they parted. To her sister, claiming her birthright would mean admitting that their mother would die. Inanna would gladly fight any foe from Lustria and beyond, but that reality she simply could not face.

And so, for the first time in her life, Inanna had yielded to her enemy without a fight.

 

[dark_melancholy]

Chapter 48: Defiance​

27.01.2044
“The matter brought up by the Sisterhood is clearly a sign of...” Tisiphone's voice trails off in the tense throne room. She shifts awkwardly in her seat, struggling against her very pregnant belly.

Clearing her throat, the matriarch wipes beads of sweat from her brow and inhales deeply before continuing: “A sign of deeper problems.”

Exchanging looks with the pale matriarch, Ekwealor picks up the argument. Looking infinitely more comfortable in her pregnancy, the court priestess of Mamazo lies confidently: “The priority of everyone in the Sisterhood is of course the blessing of the gods. But it is only fair if everyone can voice their concerns.”

“There are several royal decisions that need to be made,” Chieftess Pragya of Tabazco agrees, but warily. Unlike Ekwealor she isn't prepared to outright lie about her motivations, choosing instead carefully vague statements.

“When Queen Thalestris fell in the Great Raid, it was left to the nobility to make decisions until a new queen was chosen,” Ekwealor adds helpfully.

That little history lesson is met with murmurs of approval from those present. Matriarchs, chiefs and lesser nobility of all stripes; Maya watches them all from her hiding place in one of the side entrances.

They like the idea of having that kind of power vested in them, Maya observes from her hiding place. She doubts many of them has given it much thought before, but Maya imagines it must be especially tantalizing after living under the authority of a domineering queen like her mother. And a council dominated by commoners like Marshal Kriemhild and Steward Azu...

In fact, the only one who isn't showing at least tacit enthusiasm is her sister. Slumped in her seat, Inanna wrings her hands under the table, occasionally mouthing silent words to herself. Despite their differences, Maya cannot help but sympathize.

As satisfying as it might be to see her sister squirm at the thought of being the failure for a change, Maya cannot relish the feeling. The discussion continues among the cautiously opportunistic nobles, their suggestions growing ever bolder. Of course, some of them are not even cautious.

“There are also many domains that remain unassigned,” Melandra of Mamazo declares loudly. She doesn't have her court priestess's scholarly way with words, but there's no need for that when throwing out a juicy bait will suffice. “In fact, it seems only the queen's daughters hold grand domains, while Kavanna, Teuinochacal and... others... are left with no one in charge.”

"Others" like that one title me and my mother have been bugging you about since forever​

Anumeha and Pragya, each chief of one of the Kavanna islands, immediately look at each other. Neither is bold enough to come forward and claim overall command of the archipelago for themselves, but that doesn't mean they aren't worried the other will do so.

“If a Matriarch is unable to fulfil her duties, someone else must take command of her Domain,” Tisiphone opines, her words clipped. She has to take a moment to compose herself before continuing. “By virtue of not assigning these domains, this responsibility falls on Her Highness.”

At the face of it, she is arguing for the distribution of the aforementioned domains. But if the queen has forfeited these titles, is not the same true for Amazonia itself?

“I second Matriarch Xenara's motion,” Melandra says formally.

No doubt that dull woman had to practice that phrase many times, Maya thinks to herself. However, her disdain is increasingly giving way to fear. The nobles are getting bolder than she imagined.

Maya looks over at her sister again. As much as she is loathe to admit it, Inanna could be her only hope. Inanna might be in a position to throw away her birthright on a childish whim, but Maya does not have that luxury. As soon as the nobles stop respecting her mother's authority, all that Maya has – her wealth, comfort and perhaps even her life – would be forfeit.

Unfortunately, Inanna does not inspire confidence, sitting as she is with her head in her hands. Around her the conversation continues.

“We should appoint custodians for these domains,” one noble ventures. Maya isn't sure if the woman is deliberately stating the obvious or just stupid. Amongst these muscle-brains, she leans towards the second option.

“Of course, there are other matters where ordinarily the queen would make a ruling...” another points out, pausing for effect. One of Tisiphone's allies, perhaps? Or simply eyeing an opportunity for herself.

“Why don't we decide on the domains first?” Melandra says impatiently. Tisiphone gives her a look that suggests she'd rather her co-conspirator be a bit more subtle.

However, her displeasure pales compared to the expression Inanna reveals as she raises her head. For a moment she surveys the chattering assembly then slams her fists on the table with such force that the hall immediately falls silent.

All eyes on her, the princess leaps to her feet and roars: “You're nothing but disgusting vultures! Sitting here, dividing up the realm as if my mom is already dead. The Sisterhood calls you here 'cause we have to figure out how to honour Rigg, but you're all too busy deciding which... which royal privilege you're gonna steal first!”

The congregation is utterly flabbergasted by the sudden outburst, giving Inanna free reign to continue her tirade. Her eyes burn through tears as she speaks.

“You talk about 'the Great Raid' and the stuff that happened with Queen Thalestris... when none of you have ever known any queen except my mother!”

Many of the nobles look uncomfortable being faced with this truth. None of them are old enough to have any recollection of that calamity. Even the oldest among them, Chimalma - the unassuming Matriarch of Tlachcoatl - was merely two years old when the Great Raid occurred.

It's as if nobility in a crazy warrior culture skews young​

“If you're gonna sit here and decide on royal stuff, you gotta acknowledge that my mom is no longer queen and go ahead and pick a new one already!” Inanna angrily challenges the assembly.

No one seems keen on rising to the occasion. Inanna is right: Lyssa is the only queen they have ever known and declaring an end to her reign would be the end an era. Suddenly they are faced with a decision much more monumental than throwing around a few titles and prerogatives. The threat of a furious Inanna outright murdering anyone willing to suggest that her mother is dying is probably also a bit of a deterrent.

However, if anyone thinks they can simply keep their mouths shut and let Inanna rant until she has said her piece they are sorely mistaken. Seeing the council's inaction, the princess's eyes narrow, loathing writ large on her face.

“Then I say this stupid grand council can just abolish itself. You're not worthy of your power!”

At this, Tisiphone finally protests: “We can't do that!”

“Anyone here can bring forward a motion,” Inanna counters in a moment of eerie calm before she explodes again: “And that's my. damn. motion! If you wanna challenge it, we can settle that once you've recovered from your...” Inanna looks down at Tisiphone's pregnant abdomen in disgust. “...condition.”

Well that's one way to centralize power​

It is a sneer that opens the floodgates and suddenly the whole throne room is in an uproar. Heated arguments are made for and against the princess's behaviour. Violence is threatened, with or without cause. Petty grievances suddenly flare up. And in the middle of it all, Melandra stands up and glares at Tisiphone: “What the crap was that?? You promised me Camaca!”

“Ladies, p-please!” Stepping into the middle of the room, Chief Priestess Tanya desperately tries to get everyone's attention.

“Let the Sister speak!” someone shouts. Gradually the crowd calms down, out of respect for Rigg's foremost servant. Or failing that, respect for the spears of the priestess's shrine guard.

“By the p-power vested in me by our g-great goddess I request that we p-postpone this meeting. Let us reconvene tomorrow so everyone can settle down.”

Mutters of begrudging assent spread through the crowd. Amazons let go of their neighbour's neck and put away ceremonial weapons – ostensibly acquiescing to the priestess's authority, but for the conspirators it is a chance to regroup and get on top of the situation again.

All of a sudden things aren't so urgent after all? Maya observes. After having pushed for this meeting the priestess now suddenly calls it off. Perhaps Tanya has a plan? Maya finds herself praying to her goddess that she does.

 

[dark_melancholy]

Chapter 49: Blessing of the Old Ones​

28.01.2044
Arcane beeps break the silence of the royal bedroom to their own strange rhythm, accompanied by the occasional hiss of ancient machinery. The Old One artefact sits unfolded upon a table to one side of the queen's huge bed, illuminating the secluded room with its magical runes. Spread across every other available surface are arcane scrolls liberated from the Sisterhood library, along with an array of more mundane remedies of all sorts.

In the middle of all this lay the queen herself, pale and unmoving but for shallow breaths. One arm is free from the silk sheet covering her body and on this arm she wears part of the High Age artefact like a bulky, metallic sleeve.

At Lyssa's side stands the diminutive Coatopoxt, carefully dripping honeyed water into the queen's mouth. Hardly sustenance for such a great queen, but devouring a small herd of capybara is not an option for the comatose patient.

“Are you going to do it, mistress?” the halfling asks, speaking softly so as not to disturb the queen – or anger her patron.

Azu the Younger looks up from the parchment she is studying. It's nothing more than a hastily scribbled list of herbs and mushrooms from the Swamp of Death, with little to no explanation of their properties, but at this point she is willing to look anywhere for help.

“There must be another way,” Azu insists, resisting the urge to throw the old parchment across the room.

“The chief priestess will be expecting to talk to the queen when she arrives.”

Azu winces at this “helpful reminder”. “Let me worry about the priestess. Our duty is to the queen.”

Coatopoxt carefully dabs the queen's parched lips, then turns to her companion with a worried expression: “The chief priestess is the head of the Sisterhood. That gives her authority over us...”

“As long as the queen lives, Tanya wouldn't dare...” Azu pauses, unbidden images of all the punishments the priestess could visit upon them if she so chose. As a Sister of the Sisterhood it is true she is beholden to the chief priestess, but...

Azu shakes her head: “It's complicated.”

“You're hoping the chief priestess's respect for the queen will protect you. But the queen is unconscious.”

“If she is unconscious, she might still wake. If she is dead...” Azu cannot bring herself to finish the sentence, both for the heresy of speaking of a queen dying and her fear of what that would lead to. “We can't risk it. In her current state, the queen would be much too weak.”

Leaving the useless scroll behind, Azu drags her chair closer to the humming artefact. Her face is bathed in its soft glow as she scans the runes and dizzying light displays. “There has to be something... maybe if we try scrying again, the results might give us a clue.”

Muttering a prayer to merciful Serena, Azu pushes the rune associated with the serpent goddess. As expected the runes shift and rearrange themselves. Even to someone as knowledgeable as herself, the magical glyphs are hard to understand. But perhaps this time she will hit upon the Sacred Sequence.

Regardless, Azu tilts her head to the heavens to plead for the guidance of Wendala, the watchful spirit of the sky. Then she reaches out to touch the corresponding rune – and breathes a sigh of relief when it is clear the gods are pleased and the artefact whirs into action.

The sleeve around Lyssa's arm lights up and hums with a mystical, throbbing sound. In response, the glyphs conjured by the artefact disappear into a swirling maelstrom of magical energy before Azu's eyes. All she can do is wait with baited breath.

After what seems like an eternity the pulsating vortex breaks apart, releasing its energy into runes and lines of light. Azu gasps – and not just because it is working. She cannot completely comprehend the meaning behind the gods' message, but one thing she knows: Green light means “good”.

“I can't believe it. How can anyone be in such good condition after so long without fresh air and proper sustenance!”

Her Miyan apprentice squeezes past the tables and stools laden with poultices and stares, enraptured, at the divine verdict: “Truly Her Highness is blessed by the gods!”

Eyeing an opportunity to both save the queen and her own skin, Azu turns to her companion and declares eagerly: “Coatopoxt, ready the Breath of Shaekal!”

* * *​

She is lying in her bed. Her body is heavy and unmoving. Upon bedsheets of silk that ripple and rushes like the Amaxon River.

The bedsheets are the Amaxon. She is Amazon Island itself, floating in the current. Ganaina is her crown, heavy on her head.

She sees all. Little by little at first, then all of Lustria becomes clear to her.

The mighty temple-city of Tlanxla, standing proud, always out of her grasp. Beyond it lies Gwangee Valley as a whirling dream-mass: Memories of days spent feasting with its ruler, Parthenia. The imposing presence of their great war-beasts. The sting of betrayal.

Her eyes spin in her head, without a care for physical limitations and refusing to respectfully stay in their sockets. A rotating cavalcade of agony: Her friend Calypso's last moments, a scene she did not witness yet now recalls with brutal clarity. Always just out of sight: little Quihuatzin begging for her favour, but as usual it is too late and fire consumes her.

And below her: Nothing. A gaping void. The end of her line. The faces of her daughters, eyes closed, fading away forever. She tries to reach out, but the land itself turns to dust in her hands. Amazonia slipping through her fingers.

Yes, she sees all. All her failures. Everything ends with her and she has failed.

Suddenly the universe grips her, cosmic fingers digging deep into her flesh, holding her chest in a vice. She ascends, being hauled upwards to Rigg's realm. Then a violent reversal, the force of which surely snaps her spine! For an eternity caught within the tiniest of instants she hovers in the nothingness... then she is slammed into the ground with overwhelming force.

Existence itself folds upon the impact, crumpling around her, enveloping her. Smaller and smaller she is crushed until reality is so compressed it turns itself inside out. Her confines expand exponentially and she swells along with them, growing larger and larger until...

She is spit out of the cocoon cradling her, thrust out and into an all-encompassing flash of light that blinds her. As her vision slowly returns, her perception is torn between dream and reality. Yes, the walls are covered in a veneer of surreality, but still they feel familiar somehow.

Lyssa looks around. Her eyes politely remain in her unmoving head. At her bedside stands a small woman, bags under her eyes from lack of sleep. To her chest she clutches an ancient sceptre, its glowing runes slowly fading now.

“Quihuatzin...?” the queen exhales hoarsely, barely able to form the syllables.

“Your Highness,” a seemingly disembodied voice says softly. “This is Coatopoxt. She helped save your life.”

Life? Lyssa thinks, mind reeling in confusion. With a heavy sigh she closes her eyes, suddenly overwhelmingly exhausted. The faint outline of Shaekal's glowing rune is seared into her mind's eye as her consciousness also fades.

"Life?" indeed!


* * *​

“D-does anyone else know?” Tanya says softly. From a fair distance away she and Azu the Younger are watching the queen, snoring softly while Coatopoxt busies herself checking all the equipment.

Azu shakes her head: “I haven't even sent word to my mother. If the nobles catch wind of it I worry what they might do. Not to mention, Inanna would have already broken down the door if she knew.”

Yup, Azu the Elder is still in Xahutec​

“Would it not be b-best to reassure everyone?” Tanya counters. “Surely everything would calm down if everyone knew the queen is fine?”

“Her Highness is still... recovering,” Azu explains – again. She understands the chief priestess's hurry, but prefers to be a bit more careful. Especially when they don't really know what state the queen is in.

“But she can still perform the ritual, right?”

Azu hesitates, then nods: “We'll figure out a way to make it work.”

Realizing there's no avoiding it, the chancellor motions for her companion to approach the sleeping monarch.

Tanya clutches her chest in anticipation as she watches Azu gently nudge Lyssa, whispering for her to wake up.

Slowly, the queen stirs. She blinks in confusion, her eyes flitting around the room before finally settling on the women before her.

“Where is Quihuatzin?” Lyssa asks, her voice trembling.

“She's... not with us at the moment,” Azu says diplomatically before giving Tanya a meaningful look.

“Right, right...” Lyssa looks away, pausing to think. For a while it seems she has completely spaced out, but eventually her attention returns to her visitor.

“Wait... you're not Harmothoe...” The queen's eyes linger on the chief priestess's plaque hanging around Tanya's neck, then snap up to glare angrily at the poor woman. “What's going on here??”

“Your Highness... Chief Priestess Harmothoe has been dead for over a d-decade!” Tanya blurts out. Desperation rises in her voice when she realizes this will not be as easy as just letting the queen wake up.

“Dead...” Lyssa's confused rage abates, pausing as if tasting the word in her mouth. She shakes her head, ever so slightly – the most she has moved since waking up. “Right, of course. Of course. Just like Calypso... and...”

The queen's brow furrows as if trying hard to recall something. Instead she gives up, her expression vulnerable when she asks: “And... my daughters...?”

“Your daughters are doing well, Your Highness.” Azu explains slowly and clearly. “You have been in torpor for some time. Everything is fine, but we need you.”

“Then there's still time...?” Lyssa mutters to herself.

“Time to do what, Your Highness?”

Instead of answering, the queen suddenly gasps: “The vanguard!”

She makes to sit upright but can barely lift her head, groaning helplessly.

“Your Highness, please! You still need time to recover!” Azu rushes to her side and gently but firmly pushes her back down. “The Tlanxla expedition is over. You are back in Ganaina.”

Tanya wrings her hands, resisting the urge to speak the truth and tell the queen that they had failed to conquer the temple-city. Choosing her words carefully, she tries to put a positive spin on it: “You returned with much plunder and many sacrifices, Your Highness. Perhaps we should use them celebrate your recovery in Rigg's name?”

Lyssa seems not to hear, instead looking around aimless and asks: “Where did the halfling go...?”

“Oh I'm sure she's around here somewhere,” Tanya says, impatience starting to creep into her voice. “So, as I was trying to say...”

Suddenly Lyssa's head snaps up to look straight at the chief priestess. For a moment her gaze is clear and strong when she declares firmly: “No. We must celebrate all the gods.”

Azu and Tanya exchange worried glances, but then bow in unison: “As you command, Your Highness.”

Pretty sure Option 2 is a localization error, but it does sound on-brand for Lyssa.​

 

[dark_melancholy]

Chapter 50: Confusion or Clarity

03.03.2044
Woops and cheers drift up from the large plaza at the foot of Rigg's Shrine. Thousands have gathered here today, pushing in from all sides, the capital's boulevards clogged up as far as the eye can see.

The crowd erupts as one as the sacrifices are led up the innumerable steps to the top of the shrine. Weak from hunger, the lizardmen shuffle along, paying the excited Amazons no mind.

On the opposite side of the plaza from the shrine, the doors open on the uppermost balcony of the royal palace. A burly woman from the queen's guard blows in a massive horn. The booming call quickly gets everyone's attention.

Apart from scattered screams and cheers the crowd falls silent. The queen has not been seen outside her palace since her return from the Tlanxla expedition. Now, no Amazon would ever imagine that the queen's council would hide her condition from her people, but there have been rumours...

“Liberator of Kavana, Uniter of our People, Breaker of Invaders; Her Highness, the Custodian of Rigg's Throne and Protector of Amazonia, Lyssa Anakonda!” a herald announces, putting extra emphasis on the last of the titles.

Resplendent in a vast gown of red silk and covered in golden jewellery and precious gems of all kinds, the queen glides onto the balcony. Her back straight and proud she sits upon an imitation of Rigg's throne, gilded to shine brightly in the radiant Lustrian sun – and distract from the slaves carrying it.

For a while the crowd is in silent awe, taking in the radiant form of their queen. Even at this kind of distance they can clearly see the vibrant colour on her full features. There is a palpable sense of relief that washes over the crowd when they see their queen watch over them, resplendent in her vigour.

“Praise the gods!” Sporadic cheers break out among the onlookers, gradually gaining momentum. “Praise the queen!”

Soon the crowd is unified in chanting their approval. For her part, the queen acknowledges their praise with a slow, dignified wave from her opulent platform.

​

None of this penetrates down into the bowels of the temple, even as the first victim tastes the kiss of the sacrificial knife and the city erupts in cheers.

Standing alone in the darkened vault, the only thing Chief Priestess Tanya hears is the faint, fading hum of ancient magic. A delicate, dying sliver of magical light emblazons the ancient machine standing before her. Only the most trusted members of the Sisterhood's inner circle has ever beheld it and now its arcane power is expriring.

A rushing sound grows from being barely noticeable to getting closer and closer. Tanya closes her eyes and silently mouths a prayer. It starts as a soft drip-drip, before the torrent is unleashed around her. Creaking pipes reverberate with the flow of sacrificial blood, drowning out all sound.

Tanya's jaw tightens as she steels herself. Her breath catches in her throat once she dares to open her eyes. Keeping pace with the incoming flood, the light emanating from the machine grows stronger, rising towards the sky. What was once a faltering sliver gradually becomes a proud column of light.

The chief priestess breathes a sigh of relief and offers a prayer to each of the Old Ones in turn. The queen had been right to insist they honour all the gods and thanks to her wisdom Amazonia was once more under their protection.

A smile appears on Tanya's lips, allowing herself to feel hopeful for the first time in months. With a spring in her step, she turns and leaves the High Age chamber. After so long she can step out among her sisters and give them good news. Once more Amazonia has the Old Ones' protection.

* * *​

Passing through the massive double doors to the balcony, the royal procession suddenly picks up the pace, rushing inside.

“Wine...” Lyssa demands in a croak while she is swarmed by numerous servants. Chancellor Azu stands aside to let them work, obviously worried from how she is biting her lip.

Liberated from the heavy necklace covering her chest, the queen slumps forward. A veritable harness of jewellery has kept her majestic pose until now, tightly fastened to her throne. Her pallid flesh is revealed in spots as her vibrant make-up sloughs off in pouring sweat from the burning sun.

It is clear the queen is not quite so magnificent close up as she had appeared to the jubilant crowd.

A servant brings the requested wine. Swollen fingers close stiffly around the stem of the goblet. Angry with her own weakness, Lyssa slaps away the servant's attempts to help, but the sudden motion leaves her winded.

“Your Highness...” Azu pleads, reluctant to outright chide the ornery monarch.

“My queen!” Stepping in between the queen and the distraught servant, little Coatopoxt has to climb onto the the throne palanquin itself in order to be seen. Despite this, she addresses Lyssa with firm candour. “You have already done enough today, I recommend you go and relax.”

Pretending not to hear – or perhaps lost in thought – Lyssa wipes a glob of make-up from her cheek with a clumsy hand. Staring at it she suddenly bursts into laughter. It is a faint, reedy chuckle, a far cry from the jovial belly laugh that once would dominate an entire party.

“What a miserable charade!” Lyssa grins bitterly and wipes off the greasy substance on her dress.

A stiff flick of the hand from Azu hastily dismisses the servants. “Your Highness, please, it is necessary to avoid shaking the confidence of the realm.”

Lyssa leans back with a heavy sigh, slipping further towards the horizontal in her seat. With great effort she manages to bring the cup of wine to her lips and drinks greedily.

“At least the bloodwine still tastes the same,” she muses after some deliberation.

“My queen, if you would just listen to my recommendations I believe everything could be the same.” Supporting herself on the armrest of the throne, Coatopoxt leans forward to make sure she has Lyssa's attention.

Sheer physical proximity snaps the queen out of whatever reverie she has lost herself in. She tilts her head and gives the Miyan a meaningful look: “Can you raise the dead? Can you restore my Phaedra's mind? Can you deliver me Tlanxla?”

“My queen, I–” Coatopoxt manages to catch herself at first, but her indignity over these unreasonable demands is simply too strong. “With all due respect, your words are most unfair! I will do what I can to help you get better, but miracles are the sole provenance of Rigg.”

Anger and frustration flares in Lyssa's eyes when this mere halfling has the temerity to stand up to her. Then in an instant it is as if an entirely different person inhabits her body and her expression softens.

“The past is the past,” Lyssa nods, as if suddenly realizing this for the first time. She offers Coatopoxt a weary but apologetic smile. Then her head tilts backwards as if on its own volition and she if left staring at the ceiling for a long time.

Left untouched for millennia, the ancient stone has survived remarkably well. Nevertheless, what were once intricate carvings have long since faded into unrecognizable shallow grooves. In all these centuries, no one has thought to touch up the painted mural that might have graced the vaulted ceiling – much less paint a new one.

“But the future...” Lyssa's voice trails off. Azu and Coatopoxt exchange worried looks while the queen just lies there in silence.

Then all of a sudden Lyssa shakes her head in confusion, staring at each of them in turn. She pauses to think, then motions for the palanquin to keep moving as she mutters: “I... I should sleep...”

* * *​

04.03.2044
Gingerly, Princess Maya unlocks the padlock that keeps her bedroom door closed from the inside. A crude but helpful device from the East. Opening the door ever so slightly she mutters something about wishing she could have brought certain other security measures originating in the Old World.

With her mother incapacitated when she arrived in Ganaina, Maya could not expect to get dispensation to bring Tiziana and so had to leave her pirate friend behind on Xocibiki.

Of course she doubted that the woman would be much use if some Amazons decided to take matters into their own hands to exile or even kill the Unworthy princess. Still, there would have been a small comfort in having someone loyal at her side. Well, perhaps not so much loyal, but at least so disliked no one would stoop to turn her against Maya.

And so, for her own safety while in Ganaina, Maya had to turn to the next best thing. Outside her door, lounging in an alcove, a young Amazon warrior happily tucked into a bundle of imported jerky. Maya still isn't entirely sure why, but she had noticed no one seemed to like young Étaín much.

A few kind words to stroke the young warrior's ego over a lavish dinner or two and Maya has someone to stand between her and angry spears while she is in the capital, if nothing else.

Standing in the way of speartips might in fact be her greatest talent​

“I'll be going out for a while, why don't you you take a break. Stop by the kitchen and tell Alek that Princess Maya sent you.”

“Are you sure?” To her credit, the girl at least worries about her patron's safety.

Maya nods, feigning confidence. With her mother seemingly recovered, the princess feels fairly certain no one will dare harm her. And of course, recent events have disorganized the would-be coalition of disaffected nobles that might see her as a threat.

Credit where credit is due, certainly her sister Inanna's outburst at the assembly meeting had made the nobles wary of reconvening – lest the motion to abolish the council would actually pass.

Secondly, the conspirators were left leaderless when Tisiphone Xenara suddenly withdrew home to Tetla. Maya suspects pregnancy complications, and so far Tisiphone is yet to return.

Finally, with the Old Ones satisfied with yesterday's sacrifice the original premise behind challenging the queen's authority is no longer valid.

However, all these small victories remain uncertain so long as Lyssa's health is in jeopardy. Yesterday's display may have convinced Amazonia that their queen is in full vigour. But if that is truly the case, why has her children not been allowed to see her?

These are the worries that haunt Maya as she moves through the palace corridors, heading towards the queen's quarters. As expected, Captain Valasca of the royal guard stands outside. Not the Amazon most hostile to the disgraced princess, but clearly not about to let her pass.

“I assume Mistress Olariche has informed you that I have urgent business to discuss with the queen?” Maya declares confidently, drawing herself up to her full height – and remaining half a head shorter than the captain.

Valasca is unable to mask her surprise, but rather than admit that yet again the council has ostensibly left her out of the loop, she offers a weak “The queen is resting.”

“No problem, I shall simply wait in the antechamber until she wakes up.”

When the captain still refuses, the princess sighs theatrically: “I'd hate to go all the way back to Olariche and the others...” She expertly couches the threat in an exaggeration of her own laziness. Come on too strong and an Amazon will simply grow even more obstinate.

“Well I would not want you to wear out those feeble legs of yours,” Valasca scoffs and steps aside.

You're welcome, Maya thinks wryly for having offered Valasca an opportunity to confirm her own superiority. A small price to pay.

Making herself look even more pitiful for good measure, Maya slips inside. Once the door closes behind her she immediately breaks her promise and steps through the vestibule to peek through the curtains separating it from the bedroom.

She has to wince at the sight. All her life her mother has been this larger-than-life, jovial figure. Even in her darkest moments, after the death of her friend Calypso, Lyssa's vigour and appetites were hardly diminished. Now she lies unmoving, haggard and pale as a ghost.

“You can leave the food on the table. The queen is still... ah, wait... you are not the queen's bodyguard.” Looking almost as drained as Lyssa – if not as sick – little Coatopoxt looks up at the intruder and takes a wary step back.

“No, I am the queen's daughter,” Maya retorts, sounding more amused than offended.

The halfling looks the princess up and down a couple of times, then nods to herself: “Yes, that sounds about right.”

Maya raises an eyebrow at the insinuation. “In that case, it doesn't look like you are doing a very good job of, ah... maintaining the 'family resemblance'.”

“Apologies, Your Highness. I'm doing my best, but the queen will only eat intermittently.”

Ignoring the misplaced deference the halfling shows her, Maya brazenly steps into the bedroom.

“Please, the queen should not be disturbed.” When Maya refuses to heed her warning, Coatopoxt elaborates reluctantly: “The queen... your mother... her mind is... in many places.”

A snarl is as uncharacteristic a sound as the jovial Maya might utter, but this is what she does now as she spins around to demand an explanation.

Coatopoxt shrinks before the distressed woman – neither of them is much of a fighter, but the princess outweighs her at least four times over.

Not good at standing in the way of speartips​

“Maya!”

Even more confused, the princess turns back towards the bed. Evidently the queen is not resting so soundly after all.

“I was looking for a future...” Lyssa mutters, apropos of nothing. Her gaze travells far away before it returns to reality and turns hard upon her daughter: “It figures I would be met by you instead.”

This is the final straw. For over three decades Maya has suffered the insults and contempt of her would-be sisters. But to hear such disdain from her mother. Her only protector. Her one true friend.

“Excuse me... what? Do you have any idea what's been going on while you've been... gone?” the princess yells, anger overriding any concern for her mother's fragile health. “Because if you did, you might not be so quick in tossing out accusations like that!”

The queen looks shocked at the outburst and it anchors her firmly in the here and now. Certainly her daughter grew up as a spoiled brat, but all the while Lyssa has been the only thing between Maya and exile, the woman has known better than to challenge her mother too openly.

Chins quivering with poorly contained rage, Maya points towards the exit: “You think I'm the one who stands in the way of your perfect future, or whatever it is you're babbling about? Your 'heir' nearly threw away her birthright, willing to doom as all just because...”

The princess falters, tears appearing in the corners of her burning eyes. “Because... she can't accept a world without you in it...” The brave façade she had put on for her sister now breaks, releasing all the pent up anger and fear – only to leave her deflated and exposed.

Coatopoxt takes the opportunity to wisely make her retreat, leaving mother and daughter alone in oppressive silence.

For a small eternity, Lyssa's thin lips are set in a harsh line, but then quickly melt into a patient smile. A hand slips out from under the silken sheets to beckon her daughter closer.

Maya complies instantly, falling clumsily onto her knees at her mother's bedside. She grabs Lyssa's hand in both of hers and pleads. A small measure of righteous anger still dwells in her voice: “Don't you see?? If you want any future for us at all, you have to get better! You have to stay with us!”

With this off her chest, Maya composes herself and releases her mother's hand to dry her tears. She speaks more evenly when she continues: “I would be in big trouble and Inanna...” She shakes her head. “Inanna just isn't ready to be your heir, mother.”

Lyssa gives her daughter a wry smile, like a bright spark of her old self on her weary face: “Well, do you want to be the heir instead?”

For a moment Maya just stares at her, dumbfounded. Then she bursts out laughing.

Lyssa joins in, though hers is a hoarse chuckle. Wincing against her aching joints she pats Maya's cheek. “It would have been worth it just to see the shock on everyone's faces,” she muses. Her gaze grows distant once more. “Yes. You're not the ones to extinguish the future, my daughters. Our people has never had a future.”

“What?” Maya blurts out.

“What?” Lyssa repeats, brought out of her reverie.

The princess gives her mother a wary look. “Well if you want there to be any kind of future, you have to stick around, mother.”

“Of course,” the queen smiles, her eyes focused once more. “I'll always be here for you, darling.”

The Anakonda girls might be wildly different in some ways but they all have a temper​

 

[dark_melancholy]

Chapter 51: To Progress​

06.04.2044
“We still have not addressed the grand assembly meeting that was held in your, uhm, absence...” Azu the Younger ventures.

Along with spymaster Olariche and marshal Kriemhild, the chancellor sits at the queen's bedside. For now the royal quarters must serve as a temporary council chamber – being able to convene in her presence at all is a small miracle and no one is willing to rush things.

And so the queen's advisors crowd around the queen's opulent bed in an attempt to decide on policy without risking her health. Rummaging around in the background, Azu's protégée Coatopoxt is on hand to make sure the queen does not take a turn for the worse.

As soon as the chancellor finishes, Lyssa's attention quickly turns to the grilled chicken leg in her hand instead. After a few feeble attempts to lift it to her mouth, she digs into it with gusto, content to let the others wait for a reply until she is finished.

Satisfied, Lyssa lets the stripped bone fall onto the platter in her lap. Her head tilts back, as if pausing to gather her thoughts and her strength.

“Even after all this we still live in the past,” she muses, apropos of nothing. The attention she had been paying to her chancellor might not have been so sincere after all – or perhaps she simply doesn't care.

“Your Highness, the meeting itself might be over but the opposition among the nobility still remains.” Somehow Azu manages to mask her exasperation.

“Huh? Oh... the meeting.” The queen makes a half-hearted gesture, dismissing Azu's concerns. “This Tisiphone girl was behind it, right? My Inanna saw her when she went back to Nalixo last week. I hear she has completely wasted away.”

“Giving birth hit her hard,” Olariche nods.

“There you go. Hardly a threat.” Lyssa picks up another piece of chicken, with a bit more grace this time. “That's what excessive temperance leads to.”

Not enough meat in her diet, surely​

“There are others,” Azu reminds her. “Melandra of Mamazo is the loudest, but if they sense weakness other nobles will also start seeing things her way.”

“Getting rid of her might help...” Olariche suggests, careful to keep her words at least somewhat vague.

“Our forces haven't fully recovered from the Tlanxla campaign,” Kriemhild says, clearly assuming that the spymaster has a more direct – and more honourable – approach in mind.

“Her conduct at the assembly could perhaps convince our sisters that she is not fit to be matriarch of Mamazo,” Azu adds, eyeing an opportunity to avoid bloodshed.

So far content to let her advisors talk amongst themselves while she enjoys her meal, Lyssa suddenly blurts out: “Out of the question! Melandra is like her mother, and like her mother she can be controlled. You would open up for her sister Elissa to succeed her...? That girl only has thoughts for military matters. She can't be reasoned with.”

“She has acquitted herself well in raids against the elves,” Azu nods, but it is clear that she regards this with concern rather than admiration.

“Surely the most worthy should be matriarch...?” the guileless Kriemhild wonders, but everyone just ignores her.

“Azu, why don't you pay Melandra a visit. Bring a cask of that nice eastern spirit Maya sent over the other day. I'm sure she'll see things our way.” The sickly queen is suddenly animated, recalling how excellent her first taste of that particular batch had been.

Only matriarchs who know how to chill out and party are allowed​

“That... might work, yes,” Azu agrees. “As for the other domains...”

“Calypso won't be happy until you let her take back Zarmuda, but she is still recovering from her wounds,” Olariche states plainly.

“Kavana is secure. All subversive males have been dispersed to quarries and construction sites. No sign of that disgusting cult remains.” Kriemhild is confident in her assessment, having been responsible for rooting out worship of the pirate god Stromfels among the males of the island province.

No more Pirate Cthulhu (on the main island at least)​

“That just leaves the domains ruled by your daughters, Your Highness.” Azu relaxes visibly, satisfied that the remaining domains are in good – or at least non-threatening – hands.

Lyssa, on the other hand, just sighs wearily. She looks lost in thought for a moment, then shrugs: “Inanna is loyal, at least.” She refrains from listing her many worries about her daughter's ability to rule. “But poor Phaedra...”

“I hear a certain Melaina is effectively in charge on Phaedra's behalf,” Olariche informs her.

“Does she have daughters of her own?” Lyssa asks, her gaze distant.

“One, Your Highness.”

The queen's attention snaps back to her chancellor: “Children can be such a handful, don't you agree?”

Azu hesitates. She is, after all, still childless.

“Why don't you ease this Melaina's burden and offer to take care of her daughter? I'm sure she will enjoy it here in Ganaina.” Lyssa's altruistic smile can't really hide the fact that her suggestion is more of a hostage situation than anything else. “Besides, you did help raise Coatopoxt and look how well she turned out.”

At first Azu is taken back by the idea, but ensuring the stability of the realm more than makes up for any misgivings she might have. “I will pay a visit to Amocan while I'm on the left bank,” she nods. Conveniently, both Amocan and Mamazo are on the left bank of the Amaxon river.

“Good. It's so important to raise kids right...” As she speaks, Lyssa is clearly talking less and less to her chancellor and more to herself. “Children are our future, after all...”

The assembled councillors look at each other, silently deciding the meeting has effectively been adjourned. Not that they have any reason to complain. All things considered it has been the most productive meeting with the queen in a long time.

Keep a close eye on the child of the person who is keeping an eye on your child

* * *​

With the agenda set and the queen content to mutter to herself, the three councillors file out of the room. Once they have left, Coatopoxt comes over to take the empty platter in Lyssa's lap. At first she hesitates to speak, but concern overcomes any misgivings she might have: “Apologies Your Highness, but... what did you mean earlier... about living in the past?”

At first Lyssa doesn't reply – or seem to notice the halfling at all. Her hand reaches into her lap, grasping in confusion when the expected meal is nowhere to be found.

“Uh? Oh...” Lyssa pauses to think, her brow becoming increasingly furrowed as she visibly struggles to do so. She shoos Coatopoxt away, angry now: “It was probably nothing!”

“It seemed more important to you than whatever Mistress Azu was talking about,” the Miyan states plainly – but reflexively holds up the platter in her hands like a makeshift shield.

“Are you always this annoying?” Lyssa snaps before she has to clutch her head, groaning in pain. “Ugh... I should have you thrown in the dungeon for your impudence...”

“You keep saying that, yet you still haven't. Why is that, Your Highness?” Coatopoxt sounds genuinely curious.

The queen's discomfort seems to subside and her hands fall limply to her sides. Her eyes slowly focus on the halfling: “You... remind me of someone.”

“I see.” The Miyan nods. “Memories are important. That's why I won't let you let go of them.”

Suddenly exhausted, Lyssa just gives her an exasperated look of confusion.

“After your mishap, it seems your mind has been having trouble holding on to them. The memories, I mean. And if you let them go... I worry you will lose them forever.”

The queen remains at a loss. “Is it... some kind of spell...?”

“I don't know,” Coatopoxt admits. “But even as you work hard to heal your body, I believe you must also work hard to heal your mind.”

Lyssa slips down in her bed with a groan, this time in irritation rather than pain. “Healing the mind is not going to involve getting enough hearty food to eat, is it...” she mutters, anticipating a less enjoyable remedy than what has so far sufficed for her physical ailments.

“Well... the more comfortable you feel, the better you tend to, uh, respond.” As forthright as she tends to be, even Coatopoxt thinks it's best not to tell the queen that she is a lot less likely to bite her head off on a full stomach. Instead she hastily adds a deferential “Your Highness.”

“Well it would not do for 'Your Highness' to waste away like that silly Tisiphone girl,” Lyssa huffs. However, her defensive attitude is half-hearted – and also brief.

Suddenly her gaze becomes distant and she mutters, as if to some unseen presence. “I can't go yet...”

Coatopoxt observes the queen closely. Seeing her drift into reverie, she puts a hand on her arm and implores her: “Please, I'm only trying to help...”

This seems to take Lyssa out of her befuddled state. She shakes her head weakly, then slowly manages to come back to reality. Her expression is suddenly suspicious when she speaks: “Why are you so keen to help, anyway?”

“Your Highness?”

“You're not an Amazon. In fact we used to hunt your people. Why do you care what happens to this old, decrepit queen?”

The self-deprecation takes Coatopoxt by surprise. She so adamantly refuses to admit that her memory is failing, but now seemingly admits her physical frailty...

“Yes, sometimes Amazons came into our lands and treated us as enemies. So did the lizardmen. And so did our own kind. But we also lived side-by-side with Amazons. Well, that's what my parents told me. By the time I was born, chief Ikengrim had sown distrust between the tribes with his wanton cruelty.”

“You're from Amocan,” Lyssa realizes. The domain to the west of Ganaina, where now her daughter Phaedra nominally rules as matriarch.

Coatopoxt nods: “It was only when you defeated Ikengrim that the people could rise up against him. My father was one of the rebel leaders. And this new queen let him do it. We were pretty much left to live as we pleased.”

“After my father died, my mother brought me here. She had heard of the queen's Miyan bodyguard. Perhaps that was a bit of an exaggeration – we lived with them outside the walls for a while. But even when we aren't treated as equals, at worst people just ignore us. That's a lot better than being kidnapped and sacrificed to the Cannibal God!”

Lyssa's worried expression eases up, if just a little. “I like to think I protected my subjects fairly, if nothing else.”

“Is that going to change?” Coatopoxt looks puzzled by the queen's pessimistic tone.

“Oh not if I can help it. But many Amazons are stuck in the past. They can't move beyond what happened fifty years ago. The Great Raid...” Lyssa pauses and shakes her head. “No... further back than that.”

“Living in the past,” Coatopoxt nods, sensing that perhaps the queen's memory has been jogged.

Lyssa mutters a vague affirmation before glancing at the bedside table. Right now a pitcher of wine and various ointments litter its surface, but a few weeks ago it would have been home to a humming machine from the High Age. A machine that is now safely back in the temple vaults. At least one would assume it is, since Azu and her halfling protégée have not been caught and punished for “borrowing” it.

“Wine!” the queen demands with a heavy sigh, staring wearily at the pitcher. While Coatopoxt scrambles to comply, she starts thinking out loud: “I didn't fail when Xahutec proved to be an empty ruin. Not even when I couldn't take Tlanxla. No, I failed the moment I thought Amazonia could be restored at all. Why search for High Age artefacts when the Sisterhood will just hoard any trinket the priestesses can't be bothered to understand?”

“Surely the mistresses are just trying to save everyone from the dangers of High Age magic...?” Coatopoxt offers weakly along with a cup of wine, feeling compelled to defend the organization she is ostensibly part of. Practising what she preached about keeping the queen comfortable, she follows up her argument with a platter of exotic cheese.

Lyssa seems unconcerned with the offering, instead drinking deeply before she continues. “But not worried about saving their queen?” she counters sharply and takes another sip. “I know you and Azu took the healing device without permission.”

Coatopoxt shifts uncomfortably and looks away.

“Do you know what would have happened if I had...” Lyssa has to pause. “If I had not woken up. Nothing. There would have been nothing.”

She tips her cup for emphasis and now eats a piece of cheese. “This soothing grape wine. This curdled... cow-nectar snack. We would have none of this if it wasn't for me. And yet, after all these years, there are still Amazons who don't want to move forward. Who would rather scrabble in the dirt for scraps than feast like gods.”

The queen is getting agitated now, casting off her frailty to rail against the injustice of it all. “Everyone is still mourning Queen Thalestris, but did Thalestris ever cross the Great Sea? Did Thalestris take from the Menfolk of the East after they have been taking from us for centuries?”

“I'm sure every queen faces different challenges,” Coatopoxt offers diplomatically.

Lyssa is too busy sampling the aforementioned luxuries to pay attention to the argument. Her ire and passions have been aroused in equal measure.

“Inanna was right about one thing,” the queen muses, as if she found this revelation at the bottom of the wine goblet. “The nobility can't be trusted with the power to rule. Not even the Sisterhood. They're all too blind to see what I have seen. Amazonia's prosperous future is my responsibility.”

“Didn't you just say it was hopeless to try?” Coatopoxt ventures warily.

Lyssa hardly seems bothered by the contradiction. “Perhaps. But I'm not going to let some myopic fools take away all that I have accomplished!”

Coatopoxt wisely assumes this means she should not be stingy with the wine. The queen watches the halfling refill her cup and smiles imperiously: “You aren't one of those myopic fools, right?”

“Uh, n-no. Of course not.”

“Good. Then let us enjoy the taste of progress together.” Lyssa gestures for the distressed halfling to take a cup for herself.

“T-to progress!” Coatopoxt squeaks, raising her goblet. The queen reciprocates the toast and downs her drink in one go.

“We have a lot of work to do,” Lyssa mutters to the empty cup. Where a moment ago she had been full of vigour, now her eyelids are heavy and her body limp.

“Tomorrow...” she whispers as she drifts off to sleep – and perhaps slightly more optimistic dreams than before.

Progress isn't just measured in luxury food: The Amazon capital standing out as the most technologically advanced place in Lustria​

 

[dark_melancholy]

Chapter 52: Dream World

Yes, it's another world update at long last. For context you can find the previous one here​

Last she knew she was lying in her bed. She had been speaking to Quihuatzin. No, the face fades when that name enters her mind. In fact everything fades.

In the black void she sees it all; the whole world as a tiny speck below. Was this how the Old Ones saw it when they first arrived to bring salvation to it? Great gods watching from afar.

* * *​

Lustria
In Lustria the borders of Amazonia now spread out along the Scorpion and Tarantula Coasts. Into the deep jungles to Xahutec and up the Amaxon river – tantalizingly close to Tlanxla, though of course that great city still remains out of reach.

​

On Amazonia's expanded eastern border the Miyan domain situated on the Lambada river is in turmoil after years of bitter infighting. Unlike the halflings of Amocan, in Lambada they worship the Kukaili the Cannibal God. Perhaps it is their dark deity that encourages such discord. Or perhaps it is more worldly concerns for it all began with the death of the great chief Hun-Chowen in 2038.

Rather than allow Hun-Chowen's grandson to succeed, a conspiracy elevated a young boy born to the chief's second wife. Young Cuautalte soon met an unfortunate end, however and the aforementioned grandson finally succeeded as Hun-Chowen II. However, when it was discovered that the unfortunate Cuautalte had been murdered by Hun-Chowen's wife things quickly unravelled.

The two great non-royal families of the realm each raised up their own candidates. The usurpers in-laws in the Tunsiba clan showed him little sympathy, pushing instead the claim of his aunt Imacac. Meanwhile the Tuncita clan of Chotec supported Ixtab, another aunt, but could not stop their rivals from taking the capital. They would continue the fight, however, and in 2044 they have just defeated Imacac's forces. Ixtab takes no chances, sacrificing both Hun-Chowen and Imacac to Kukaili. Still the Tunsiba vow to continue the fight, now supporting Imacac's teenage son – ironically a bastard she bore the former Tuncita clan patriarch before the civil war. It remains to be seen if this might unite the warring factions or if Ixtab's ruthlessness can keep her in power.

By now word has reached Ganaina that Matriarch Parvati of the Gwangee Valley Amazons is dead. She was succeeded by her granddaughter, but in reality Parthenia Tollsa rules as her regent. The Tollsa clan are still bitter from losing their Tarantula Coast domain to Lyssa and this is the kind of anti-Anaconda sentiment the young Parvati II grows up with.

The domain faces a much more immediate threat than the Amazon queen, however: Having conquered and enslaved the Qurveza Amazons, the vile pirates of the Aswad Emirate sail up that river to raid Hualotal. Perhaps the Gwangee Amazons will be the next to suffer subjugation...

Naggaroth
The Dark Elves are still fractured following the death of their king and his mother Morathi succeeding him suspiciously quickly. Still trying to subjugate the rebellious dreadlords, Morathi must dedicate more and more of her magic to prevent the encroaching Nurgle's rot from marring her legendary beauty. However it seems the disease is not the result of any allegiance to that dark deity. Certainly she has instead worked tirelessly to expand the Cult of Pleasure, even going so far as to root out worship of Khaine in what was once his holiest city. Now the temples in Har Ganeth have been reconsecrated to the dark beauty of Atharti. Hellebron, once Blood Queen of Har Ganeth must be rolling in her grave (she was murdered by Malekith before his own untimely death).

Morathi's attempt to unite her people with an invasion of Ulthuan has failed, allowing her greatest rival to make a similar attempt. Uthlan Tyr, the Dragon of Hag Graef commands both that city and the loyalty of the Turrix family of Clar Karond, but he might have underestimated the Hag Sorceress's cunning. Calling upon the wild tribes of Ruath she seeks to take advantage of Uthlan Tyr's arrogance and retake Clar Karond.

The Empire
With the Vampire War over for now and Vlad von Carstein preoccupied with internal rebellion in Sylvania, it seems the already fragmented Empire has become even more divided. It now seems unlikely that one of the four claimants could reunite the realm any time soon, as each great family turns inward to deal with their own problems. Increasingly the Empire finds itself divided along religious lines, no longer merely accepting each other's faiths as different aspects of the same pantheon. The followers of Sigmar in the west and those that hold to the old Taalite faith in the east are increasingly at odds - and both refuse to bow to the Cult of Ulric in the middle.

In 2040 “Empress” Magritta van der Maacht of Westerland died and her oldest daughter Kim was elected to carry on her imperial claim. The new “empress” lacked her mother's skill and authority and so the succession was challenged by her younger brothers. Kim had also been embroiled in her husband's war against his father, “Emperor” Siegfried of Reikland. The rebellion ended with the upstart's death on the battlefield, but since then Kim's only child has resided in Altdorf with his grandfather – as heir to two imperial claimants.

Many nobles and merchants were loathe to see the two realms unite, giving stronger support to the pretenders challenging “Empress” Kim. In an attempt to gain support, she made her brother Clais graf of Nordland and giving him control of the eastern part of her realm. This was not enough to prevent Kim's defeat at the hands of the Graf of Stirland and her half-brother Pepijn in 2043.

Never an ambitious man, Pepijn was made “emperor” in the resulting negotiations: a convenient puppet for the nobility. As such it remains a rather hollow title, with his brother Clais holding Nordland and his sister Kim holding Westerland – leaving only the capital of Marienburg in the new “emperor's” hands.

It is clear that the van der Maacht siblings have little time for their realm outside of the wealthy western part. All three reside close to the capital, even the so-called Graf of Nordland. Upset by years of neglect the Nordlanders have risen in revolt, led by a brave warrior astride a mighty pegasus. This Sigrid von Salzon has every right to hate the van der Maacht family: her own father was killed in the dungeons of the late “Empress” Magritta. Time will tell if this hatred will be enough to liberate Nordland

Westerland and Nordland, united under "Emperor" Pepijn... but barely controlled by anyone.​

Further down the River Reik in Altdorf, “Emperor” Siegfried the Hunter of Reikland still maintains his piece of the Empire. He has fended of the two great threats to his reign: Vlad von Carstein's invasion and his own son's rebellion – killing the latter in battle by his own hand. The peace and stability of his realm is now in peril, however. The “Emperor” is old and infirm and the capital of Altdorf wracked by an outbreak of Nurgle's Rot. His grandson Otho is favoured to succeed, but growing Chaos influence could throw the succession into jeopardy. His uncle Erzbet is secretly a mutant... merely a victim of the warpdust that blows over Altdorf or a pawn of the Ruinous Powers?

​

Among the four imperial pretenders, the rising star of the last two decades has been “Empress” Ottilia III, Grafin of Talabecland. With the support of the Graf of Osterland, she successfully resisted the vampire invasion and expanded the influence of her dynasty through shrewd marriages.

Her children were married to the imperial claimant Mannfred of Middenheim, the Tzarina of Kislev and the Graf of Averland's oldest daughter (although the youngest had to settle for the daughter of the man who drove out the ancient vampire Urzen the Unrelenting from the small county of Eiskalt). In 2032, the Tzarina died shortly after giving birth to her first child, thereby putting an Untermensch on the throne of Kislev.

However, Ottilia's growing eccentricity prevented her from leveraging her position. She forced the Sisters of Sigmar to open their citadel in cursed Mordheim to her, and moved her court there. Thus removed from the affairs of her realm, the scene was set for a succession crisis upon her death in 2034.

Her oldest child and successor, Ottilia IV was not the person to bring the realm together. Having spent most of her life at her husband's court in Middenheim, she would keep to the Ulrican faith she had picked up there. This angered the primarily Taalite nobility of Talabecland, prompting them to conspire with the Graf of Osterland to make his mother Grafin instead.

Left with only accursed Mordheim in her control, the desperate Ottilia called upon her husband to intervene. Despite the death of a succession of Taalite pretenders, the rebellious nobles would continue to resist the heathen intervention. The death of her husband in 2037 forced Ottilia to acknowledge defeat, leaving her little more than a figurehead.

Her attempts to reassert control over her birthright quickly sparked another civil war, one which continues to this day. To make matters worse, Ottilia's stepson, now “Emperor” of Middenland has recently taken advantage of the turmoil to invade the border counties. It seems the Talabeclanders could be saddled with an Ulrican overlord no matter what...

​

Kislev
Following the death of the last Tzarina of the indigenous Bokha dynasty, the royal court is now dominated by Imperials who rule on behalf of young Tzarina Brigit. With the only real pretender being her mutated monstrosity of an aunt, the succession went surprisingly smoothly – especially when said aunt conveniently died in an accident shortly after.

Perhaps unsurprisingly in a realm long ruled by a conquering minority, the Kislev nobility has so far tolerated this foreign rule. Some have even converted to the Taalite faith of their new Tzarina to curry favour at court. Time will tell how deep this change of faith sticks. For now Kislev remains dependent on good relations with the Empire to maintain trade with the outside world, for the great port city of Erengrad is still in enemy hands.

The Untermensch dynasty, including "Empress" Ottilia IV and her niece, the Tzarina Brigit​

Bretonnia
The vaunted Bretonnian knights failure to stop the vicious Red Duke has seen the peasantry of Aquitaine organize a holy crusade against the vampire. With the support of the Fey Enchantress herself they have met with surprising success.

Perhaps emboldened by this – and the king's apparent lack of interest in offering his support – the rest of Bretonnia has seen a large peasant uprising. The long-reigning King Eduard the Just proves his nickname a hollow title as he ignores the war against the Red Duke in favour of crushing this unrest with tyrannical brutality. So far the nobles have successfully kept the status quo, but if mere peasants can defeat a vampiric tyrant who is to say they cannot also overthrow a mortal one.


Estalia
The brief equilibrium established in Estalia after seemingly the whole peninsula united to grab territory from the once-mighty Communard League. Now the imminent collapse of the Kingdom of Obregon promises to restore the region to its usual chaos and backstabbing.

Following the death of King Chulian, his teenage son became King of Obregon who would severely weaken royal power by handing out his newly inherited demesne to various nobles. Making matters even worse, he died young and left his newborn daughter to inherit. A fragile peace lasted until 2039 when the nobility grew alarmed by the growing power of the regent. After all he is the kind of man most despised by Estalian nobles: of common birth and, worst of all, one who has integrity.

The de Garces family supported young Queen Conchita's aunt Magdalena, while the Vargas dynasty backed the claim of her other aunt Tia. Now in 2044 the loyalists have managed to take advantage of the usual infighting amongst the rebels to imprison Andres de Garces, but for the young queen the troubles have just begun. The growing power of Tigarre has taken advantage of their rival's weakness to take up the fight on behalf of Princess Magdalena. The odds are thoroughly stacked against the young queen, paving the way for Tigarre to dominate the peninsula.

Apparently no one cares about poor Fronilde though​

Being a power on the rise in Estalia is always a dangerous proposition, however. One need not look further than across the Irrana mountains from Tigarre. Fighting alongside his wife, the warrior-princess Xene the Lawless of the Island of Sapphiro, King Sancho of Cantonia managed to conquer Magritta, the richest and most powerful city-state in Estalia. Wisely biding his time to consolidate his conquest, the realm remained stable even after his death in 2040 and the succession of his underage son Miguel.

It became clear that this feat was in large part owed to the boy's redoubtable mother when she died in 2042. After being forced to intervene in a hopelessly mismanaged war instigated by her half-brother, Xene met her fate in battle a backwater province of the Border Princes. The island of Sapphiro was bequeathed to her son, where now her body rests alongside her ancestors.

Cantonia's neighbours are already taking advantage of the power vacuum. As if a metaphor for the kingdom he has inherited, the young king has stopped growing in stature. It is clear that neither literally nor figuratively will he be able to fill his mother's shoes.

​

Tilea and the Border Princes

Tilea and the Border Princes are also the scene of rise and fall of great ambition as the machinations of the evil Sieghard the Black come undone. As Duke of Kyphria and married to the powerful Princess of Trantio he had been close to creating a powerful realm on both sides of the Apucinni Mountains. As expected his wife died of poor health as a result of her strenuous and hedonistic lifestyle, leaving their son to inherit in 2027.

Things started to fall apart when that son died very young after merely four years. For over a decade Sieghard managed to keep his daughter in power as Princess of Trantio, but in 2043 he lost his power base in Kyphria. Several Norscan slave raids devastated the duchy and Sieghard lost his position to his rival Ernesto von Schnabel.

Without Sieghard there to manipulate them, his two daughters started fighting over Tranto. The two had originally split their brother's inheritance, but now the youngest saw a chance to claim the principality for herself. Chafing under the rule of heathen foreigners and their petty infighting, the people of Trantio finally revolt in 2044, thus putting in jeopardy the last remnants of Sieghard the Black's machinations.

Maybe Sieghard can ask one of his daughters if he can sleep on the sofa. Once they're done fighting over whose sofa it is​

With Trantio descending into chaos, Prince Callisto of Luccini emerges as the strongest ruler in Tilea. Already ruling the prosperous city of Luccini itself he has also added the infamous pirate stronghold of Sartosa to his realm. With the help of his genius steward, a former pirate named Demetrio, he has turned Sartosa into a thriving trading port to compliment his capital.


In Aegos, between Tilea and the Border Princes, the aforementioned hapless half-brother of Xene the Lawless now finds himself embroiled in yet another misguided war. In attempt to remove a weak vassal from power he has somehow managed to lose control of half his principality. Aegos could be up for grabs, if only the Cantonian claimants can get their affairs in order.


The Border Princes themselves received a stay of execution when the greenskin horde poised to annihilate them all fell into the usual squabbling. The frighteningly cunning warboss Dorum was slayed in 2039 and his killer and successor was unable to keep the Bone 'Ead Horde together. The Troll Mangla, Grimtooth and other smaller tribes descend upon the weakened Bone 'Eads, but the power vacuum only opened the Badlands to a perhaps greater threat.

At the end of 2043, the largest Waaagh! since the days of Gorbad Ironclaw pours in from across the World's Edge Mountains. The huge warboss Imbus Gubbin' Boy has united all the orcs and most of the goblins of those desolate lands. In one fell swoop he seizes half the Badlands, subjugating many of the tribes feasting on the remains of the Bone 'Eads. So far he continues his march through the Badlands to unite more of his kin under his banner, but when Imbus decides to bring that banner to the civilized world he does so with the largest military force in the world.

For a sense of the scale of the Gubbin' Boy Waaagh!, see the big green blob on the right side of the world map at the start of this chapter​

At least some good has come out of the Border Princes' continued existence. In 2041, the rule of the beastly vampire Vorag Bloodytooth came to an end at the hands of an army of Bretonnian errant knights. Although the newcomers occasionally squabble with the Bretonnians already present in the area, together they command most the the eastern parts of the Border Princes – with scattered Strigany managing to remain independent in between their castles.

Also taking the fight to the vampiric tyrant was the Duke of Hvagir, an Imperial adventurer with long ties to the region. Seizing the Duchy of Galat from Vorag as he fled, the Duke can be counted among the Big Three of the Border Princes.

Along with the Bretonnians, the Norse Jergdom of Varmrland makes up the final member of that group. Now a new duke has succeeded in Hvagir and he has declared a holy war to banish the Norscans and bring Sigmar's light to them. Should he succeed, he will surely be close to finally uniting these squabbling fiefs...


Nehekhara, Araby and the Southlands
The world breathes a sigh of relief as Settra the Imperishable remains in his grand city of Khemri. Having put the rebellious tomb kings in their place, he bides his time for his patience is endless and the mortal world will feel his wrath soon enough. Perhaps first he feels compelled to unite the rest of ancient Nehekhara, the great realm that he once ruled in life.

He's "the Imperishable", not "the Impatient" after all!​

This is a welcome reprieve for nearby Araby. Here the meteoric rise of the small Nahdi Sultanate has seen it grow to the region's dominant power. The sultan himself is a humble and unambitious man, leaving little doubt that his brilliant wife is the real power behind the throne. However, the favour he shows to the children of his concubines takes its toll and the poor woman has been driven to drink. Time will tell how long she can put up with this for the sake of her children.

Also they're cousins​

Further east, the Gulf of Medes has come under the complete control of the League of Atiq. Uniting several mercantile city-states, under the wise lord Narimanzadeh the League has finally managed to dislodge the pirates from their stronghold at Petrum. The death of the imposing pirate lord Samund Ironside in 2039 left his half-wit daughter in charge. She managed to hold out for about a year before running off to Port Reaver for refuge. Thus the Atiq League now commands the Arabyan Sea and is poised to expand their influence at the expense of the rival Olohrad League. This endeavour will no doubt be greatly aided by the latter being gradually encircled by the mysterious Shadow Realm.

* * *​

From her cosmic vantage point, Lyssa's gaze drifts across the world below. From Lustria, through Naggaroth to the Old World in a familiar circle. Once upon a time, this was the path taken by the queen's grand voyage. The furthest any Amazon had sailed. The first time an Amazon raided the shores of wicked men rather than the other way around. A true show of strength.

Opening her eyes to the royal bedroom, the queen knows what she has to do.

 

[dark_melancholy]

Chapter 53: Abdication of Responsibility​

With the grand sacrifice to the Old Ones over, Amazonia's warriors begin to return to their homes. For those that remain in Ganaina there is a sense that something is brewing. At first it is assumed that another military expedition is being prepared, but the rumours that gradually spread among the well-connected seem to disprove this.

While the queen sits upon Rigg's throne once more, most assume that she seeks to guarantee its continued custodianship. After all, the gossiping aristocrats reason, the grand assembly never settled the matter of the queen's regent or successor...

Thus it is that halfway through 2044 the nobility of Amazonia prepares to meet so they may continue their deliberations. Then it turns out the annual Serena Ritual happens to fall on the week leading up to the assembly, but there's no accounting for the whims of the Old Ones... The auguries are clear about when the celebration is to take place – and the queen intends to make it a grand one.

​

The war against Tlanxla has been vindicated by the blessings bestowed in its aftermath and deserves celebration. As does the return of Matriarch Calypso, having recovered from the wound suffered during the aforementioned campaign. And the matriarch is certainly not one to shy away from an excuse to party.

Food and drink of the most exotic varieties flow freely, for the queen spares no expense. Even the mutinous matriarch of Mamazo, Melandra Pantheros, is offered a seat at Lyssa's side. Whether because of the great honour of such a gesture, the copious amounts of wine or Chancellor Azu's earlier amicably couched threats, Melandra is uncharacteristically well-behaved.

Putting her companions to shame, the queen seems intent to outdo them all in excess. The gusto with which she indulges in the delights of her realm makes it clear to all that Lyssa is back to her old self. As the party grows ever wilder, no one pays much attention to Chancellor Azu and her cronies hovering around the monarch. Here they stand ready to interfere at the first sign of frailty – or whenever she seems to lose the thread of a conversation. A new dish brought to the table here, a message of supposed importance there...

As usual for such a grand celebration, the most avid – and, in Amazon eyes, the most virile – continue the revelry until the first rays of the sun shine over the great temple. Thanks to the wholehearted abandon with which they have indulged in both exotic and familiar libations, no one seem to care that Matriarch Calypso has at some point taken the queen's place as the centre of attention. One moment they are drunkenly complimenting the queen's wise rule, the next they gush over Calypso's fresh scars. What matters is the sense of camaraderie.

"Love you too, bro"​

The queen's absence is not the only thing put far from everyone's minds by the sheer extravagance of the celebrations. With the fertility ritual itself concluded and the subsequent overindulgence taken to its most pious heights, the morning after comes with a rude awakening.

Although scheduled, the call to assembly catches many a devoted noblewoman off guard. One moment she is passed out in a palace hallway, the next she sits in council, wondering what just happened. She need not wonder for long. As soon as enough poor souls have been rustled up to provide an impression of quorum the agenda picks up where the last assembly left off: By addressing Princess Inanna's call to abolish the assembly entirely.

The implication is that the assembly has not been worthy of the responsibility given to them. This is not something the befuddled nobles are eager to admit, but most of them are too hung over to provide a good counter-argument.

Even beyond the shock and surprise, support also comes from surprising places. In the previous session she was the most avid of the insurrectionists, but today an uncharacteristically subdued Matriarch Melandra seconds the motion.

One by one, former conspirators come out in favour of deferring to the queen the authority they previously argued the aristocracy should possess. On the face of it a complete reversal of their previous position, but quite understandable when framed as a clarification of royal power. The nobles relinquish formal influence in matters of state, but in their own domains they retain unquestioned authority.

When the choice is either higher centralization or higher tribal organization, the matriarchs prefer the one that means the queen stays out of their business. ​

With the celebrations, fertility ritual and politicking over for this time, visitors from the outlying domains return to enjoy that authority. After all, once back to their tribes, who cares what goes on in far-away Ganaina.

In the end, perhaps buoyed by good feelings engendered by the fun and games, everyone goes home feeling rather good about events. Well, almost everyone...

Nalixo​

02.06.2044
Light streams into the darkened hut as Ixchel pulls aside the curtain covering the doorway. The only response is a pained groan – not pitiful, but very, very angry. Ixchel is unfazed by the growls from the bed, instead calmly placing a bowl on the nightstand. A towel is slung over her arm.

Seating herself on the bed elicits a particularly fierce snarl. “It's just me,” Ixchel states firmly.

“I know...” Inanna's tone is almost apologetic. “It just... urrgh!” The princess writhes onto her back with a frustrated roar.

Ixchel unwraps the towel and dips it into the bowl of warm water. She turns towards her lover to offer a sympathetic, if somewhat patronizing, look: “What did you expect, taking Serena's elixir but, ah, failing to complete the ritual.”

“That's easy for you to say... you've never been pregnant. Haven't had to... with... ugh, never mind. It's all awful!” After several failed attempts, Inanna's earlier pregnancy had been a hard and ultimately futile one. Above all, it had kept her away from the one thing she is good at: Fighting.

Briefly lost in thought as she watches Ixchel put the warm cloth on her abdomen, the princess eventually just sighs angrily: “But you wouldn't know, would you...”

“I don't. But then I'm not heir to the Queen of Amazonia.”

“Don't remind me...” Inanna growls before biting into a blanket against the pain. She may have evaded the fate her mother had planned for her – and now suffers the consequences of that deception – but there's always next year. And the year after that. And if she's unlucky, perhaps even a few years after that.

When she left the ritual bedchamber without fulfilling her duty she had not thought that far ahead – and she doesn't want to start doing so now.

“Ugh... Phaedra, why'd you have to lose your fucking mind...” Inanna laments, then sighs. “Even Maya is better at... all this queenly stuff than me.” Through clenched teeth, she channels her anger at her sisters, as if her own shortcomings are their fault.

Ixchel lies down next to the despondent princess and gently massages the warm cloth against her skin. “Hey, everyone has their strengths, okay? Maya might be easygoing and clever with words, but can you imagine her wielding a macuahuitl? Or lead women into battle?”

Inanna can't help but snort derisively at the thought, her chuckle devolving into a groan as she quickly regrets clenching her abdominal muscles.

“You're lucky the queen is recovering. That gives you time to study what your mother is doing, while finding your own way to be queen – when the time comes. You don't have to become your mother.” Ixchel gives her lover a mischievous look as she runs her hand across Inanna's washboard stomach. “In fact I'd prefer if you didn't,” she chuckles. “For one, I'd rather not be crushed to death in bed.”

About to give Ixchel a kiss of appreciation, Inanna quickly pulls back with a look of disgust on her face: “Nooo...! You made me imagine my mom... ugh... doing it!”

Giggling at her lover's discomfort, Ixchel hugs herself close. At least it takes Inanna's mind off her cramps for a moment.

 

[dark_melancholy]

Chapter 54: Familiar Footsteps​

The year 2044 has been one of uncertainty for the Amazons, not knowing whether their queen would live or die – nor who would succeed her should the worst happen. Her eventual recovery would not be a solitary blessing, however. Rather it heralded a series of events on the path to normalcy.

Queen Lyssa rose from the dead to bring the blessing of the Old Ones upon her people once more. Her position thus strengthened – and the conspiracy arrayed against her fractured – the queen wisely ensured the unity of the realm by abolishing the bickering assembly.

Content that things have returned to normal, the brave Amazons grow restless. Although recovered from the Tlanxla campaign, the new year does not bring them renewed warfare. While the queen busies herself with affairs of state, the chiefs sail forth with their tribes to raid. Some are more motivated than others.

Hellothern​

12.09.2044
Arm wrapped around the mast for support, Inanna stands on her toes and cranes her neck. As if getting just a little higher up will allow her to peer through the fog ahead.

Content to stand on the deck of the large war canoe rather than precariously perch herself on the thwarts, Ixchel keeps her attention on their flanks. To their right a pale blue light shines from on high, not enough to fully pierce the fog but sufficient to guide their way.

“We've passed the outer archipelago. If we are to turn around we have to do so now,” she warns the princess, but it is clear from her tone that she knows it is a perfunctory gesture at best.

“We won't turn back,” is Inanna curt retort.

Perhaps it's more accurate to say she will not turn back, but the princess is not built for that kind of introspection. Going home empty-handed would be shameful enough, but more importantly returning at all would mean facing her mother. No longer is it possible for her to hide the fact that yet again she has failed to conceive an heir, so the further away the better.

“If the fog lifts we'll be spotted immediately.”

“Wendala is with us,” Inanna assures her companion. “Besides, if Phaedra can do this so can I!”

As if on cue, large shapes appear in the fog to loom over them. In front of them, around them. A flickering light in the gloom, then another, then dozens more. Hundreds of lanterns lighting up almost as many elven ships lest they collide as they crowd into the narrow strait.

And then, rising up before them to blot out the night sky: The mighty Emerald Gate that blocks entry to Ulthuan's Inner Sea. The pair of gargantuan locks that denies entry to unwelcome guests are invisible to the Amazons thanks to the fog, but they know they are there. And they are closed for the night.

“Abandon ship,” Inanna says firmly.

Ixchel nods without hesitation. Soon urgent whispers spread throughout the ship. One by one the Amazon warriors slip silently into the water. The princess is the last to do so, climbing down to come up beside Ixchel.

In the darkness they can't see each other, but Inanna can feel her lover's presence and that's enough. “I'll see ya there,” she whispers, then curses herself for not thinking of anything more elegant.

What would mom say... the princess muses to herself, but there is no time for second chances. She feels Ixchel's lips on her cheek before she slips away. All they can do now is swim.



Even carrying her weapons and equipment, Inanna glides through the water with ease. However, even the strongest Amazon can see in the dark. Moving slowly and methodically she can try to use the faraway lantern lights to orientate herself – but patience has never been one of Inanna's virtues.

Realizing she has lost track of the lights in the swirling fog, Inanna quickly decides she never needed such a crutch to guide her anyway. Hardly missing a beat she keeps her eyes fixed forward, willing herself to swim in a straight line.

Stroke after stroke and still no land in sight. Doubt starts to creep in. She doesn't fear for her life, but what if she fails... She would return to Amazonia twice-shamed. Even her mother might be lost for words in berating her for her failures.

Unable to process her worries, Inanna starts slowing down. Then in the distance: a flickering light. At first glance a torch fluttering in the wind, but on closer inspection it twinkles in a curious pattern.

The sight immediately reinvigorates the princess, her woes quickly forgotten. Guided by the light she soon reaches the shore, where she is met with a helping hand. The faint glow of a dying High Age mana battery in her other hand reveals Ixchel's face. Its purpose served, she quickly stuffs it into her uniform.

Neither of them say anything. Instead Ixchel leads Inanna away from the water, feeling her way around the rocky outcroppings as she goes. Hidden in the broken terrain the rest of her troop is waiting. Only the occasional whisper betrays their presence, but it's enough to recognize that most if not all of them made it.

“Get ready to move out.” Even in a hushed tone Inanna manages to be commanding.

It is none too soon. Already by the time they are formed up to head out the night has become noticeably brighter. Dawn is approaching.

​

Inanna leads the way up the craggy hillside. There is just enough light to navigate the treacherous path, but the broken terrain also provides plenty of cover. Enough to keep them hidden from preternaturally keen elven eyes. Just as Inanna expected.

She might have been more tolerant of Phaedra's boasting had she known the tales of her exploits would later help her like this. Now Inanna is literally following in her sister's footsteps. The first Amazon to brave the Straits of Lothern.

That was almost two decades ago. The warband can hope it is enough time for the elves to have grown complacent, but even so there is likely to be more security on this route than it was back then. Elves might be fickle creatures, but they are not stupid.

A slight change in tactics is necessary. Which is why the Amazons now huddle together under a rock shelter overlooking the bay. The sun has risen enough to reveal the outline of myriad sails, a forest of masts of stately elven ships at anchor. They come in all sizes, but there is one small craft whose silhouette is noticeably out of place.

Inanna assumes the elven mariners have begun to notice this by now and she can imagine their confusion. Perhaps a few of the Lothern Seaguard will be sent to investigate. Barely a diversion. For now.

“Let's see if that dirty foreign magic is any good...” Inanna almost spits, but she can't keep hopefulness out of her voice. Amazon magic is obviously better, but the Sisterhood jealously hoards anything from the High Age. Foreigners on the other hand are easy to fool, or so Maya says...

Suddenly the derelict war canoe disintegrates in a thunderous explosion as the fuse finally touches the barrels of gunpowder onboard. The flash of light completely banishes the murky gloom of the early morning hours – if but for a moment. Still, it is long enough to temporarily blind anyone who sees it. The elves most of all, with their keen vision. Or so Inanna likes to think, not without a measure of glee.

“Oh I could kiss you, Maya...” the princess grins as the harbour descends into confusion. Several ships have caught fire and as the first alarms start to sound, the Seaguard scramble to close the gates that had just begun to open for the day. Procuring all that alchemical powder has left Inanna deeply indebted to her sister, but the results make it all worth it.

Prepared for this moment the Amazon warband wastes no time heading out. Under the din of chaos and the sound of warhorns they crest the top of the hill and come up along the walls of the great fortress itself. The Emerald Gates were built to withstand attacks from the sea, leaving its flanks vulnerable to a small force – as proven by princess Phaedra's raid. Against the rocky hills to the east, where no army could advance, there are no bastions or war machines. The elves are not the kind of people to change the design of their millennia old fortress just because of a minor incursion by some uppity apes.

Finding the place where the wall is lowest, the Amazons throw their grappling hooks and quickly climb up it. Inanna leads the charge as always, vaulting over the feeble parapet to catch the few guards stationed there by complete surprise. By the time the next shieldmaiden scales the wall, two elves have already fallen to the princess's mighty macuahuitl.

Inanna's sisters make quick work of the others before the hapless militia can give as much as a cry of alarm. Clearly it is not Ulthuan's finest that get saddled with the ignominy of watching this unimportant post.

“Where to?” one of the shieldmaidens asks her commander.

​

Inanna pauses to look around. Ahead of them the magnificent white towers of the Emerald Gate rise to the heavens, surrounded by a bewildering maze of redoubts and bastions. Even with the element of surprise the fortress cannot be taken, even by a force one hundred times their number. Fortunately they don't need to.

Here in the shadow of the massive fortress the ancient spires do nothing more than help them orientate themselves. In that direction lies the sea and, by now, thousands of guards. That leaves the opposite direction as the most obvious choice.

Barely even thinking that far ahead, preferring to act on instinct, Inanna gestures for her warriors to follow. Resting her macuahuitl on her shoulder she starts jogging along the wall. In a matter of moments the battlements blend into the city wall surrounding the city itself. The town guard are even less of a threat, busy gawking at the smoke rising up from beyond the Emerald Gates when the Amazons storm their little keep.

Before they know it the warriors are pouring into the maze-like merchant's quarter. The curious blend of elven and non-elven architecture squashed into each other is quite lost on the Amazons, but they know to appreciate the cover the narrow, winding streets and lurching buildings affords.

“It's almost like being back in the jungle,” a fresh-faced shieldmaiden exclaims.

There is no time to admire the sights, however. The warband quickly splits up into designated teams, with no mission other than to smash and grab as much as they can. The hard part is over. Now it's all about getting enough loot to make it all worth it.

Surprise!​

Let loose in the city's winding streets, there's not much an army of Lothern Seaguard can do to stop the Amazon raiders. By the time the elves realize what is going on they have already looted enough shops and storehouses to have more than they can carry. The occasional city guard patrol does little to dissuade them.

Laden with plunder the warband hit the same keep on the way back. Opening the gates from inside they slip out of the city and into the hills. Now there is nothing left to do but travel overland to where the rest of the fleet lies in wait... and sail like hell.

 

[dark_melancholy]

Chapter 55: Home, Accursed Home

The Three Islands. Triad Islands. Kavana. An archipelago by another name...​

21.09.2044​

With the setting sun ahead, the small Amazon fleet rounds the southern cape of Xocibiki island. Out of the jungle the town of Pe-acuil comes into view. Before its liberation it was Ville Mêlée, pirate capital of the Three Islands. Thankfully, most of the ramshackle flotsam shacks have since then been cleared.​

​

Since her recovery, Queen Lyssa has increased efforts to restore the underlying Amazon architecture. A few years before, Xocibiki was the focus of a large-scale uprising by the island's males. Now banished to the quarries of the realm, the surviving rebels help provide the necessary construction materials to rebuild Pe-acuil.​

​

As her flagship heads into the harbour, it warms Inanna's heart to see a beautiful Amazon town rise up from foreign filth. The islands were already in pirate hands by the time she was born, making this a reincarnation of a past the princess has never witnessed. That hardly matters, of course. Her imagination has granted her a better vision of the good old days than mere reality ever could.​

​

“At least mom gets something done...” Inanna mutters to herself. As usual, at first the princess had been agitating for war instead – preferably to liberate their sisters in Qurveza. Admittedly, she never imagined that such a construction project was even possible. But now that her mother has proven that it was it seems like the most natural thing.​

​

Not that Inanna knows exactly how it is done, but she understands enough that she prefers a measure of ignorance. She does not mind the many males that must toil in Amazonia's quarries to realize the queen's ambitions. They threw in their lot with dark gods and deserve much worse. All she knows is that foreign elements are involved in this Amazonian resurgence – as evidenced by the welcoming committee that awaits her.​

​

Her sister Maya stands ready to meet Inanna on the docks. As usual, that two-faced ex-pirate is at her side. With Tiziana's garb becoming more and more Amazon and Maya's outfits increasingly inspired by comfortable Eastern styles, the two seem to grow more alike each time Inanna sees them.​

​

The princess keeps her concerns to herself, however. She owes too much to her sister this day – and unlike Maya she will not besmirch her Amazon dignity.​

​

“How did it go?” Normally languid, the rotund royal greets Inanna enthusiastically. No doubt excited to have her sister indebted to her.​

​

Inanna grows tense in Maya's embrace, and for a moment she worries the pirate is going to follow up with a hug of her own. Is it anathema to kill your sister's companion if that companion is a foreign convert, she asks herself. Just in case.​

​

Fortunately it doesn't come to physical contact, relieving her ability to answer that hypothetical. Inanna's grasp of Amazon tradition is more emotional than cerebral and ill suited to that kind of introspection.​

​

“I got you some spices...” Inanna mutters once she is released.​

​

Maya replies with a soft chuckle. “That's very thoughtful, but I was thinking of the flashpowder I got you.”​

​

Inanna hesitates, torn between her need to brag about her exploits and her desire to downplay her sister's involvement.​

​

“Well, why don't you join us for lunch and you can tell us all about it!” Not waiting for an answer, Maya puts her arm around Inanna's waist and starts leading her along the pier. “Don't worry, I've told the cooks to prepare all your favourites. Remember how cranky you'd get when you had to share the grilled peppers?”​

​

Inanna is blind-sided by the sudden reminder of their childhood and finds herself following along without protest. As strange as it seems now, Maya was much bigger and stronger than her younger sister back then. If little Inanna didn't want to share something, she could do little to stop her. Not that this has led to a lingering sense of inadequacy or anything, of course!​

​

Troubled by the excesses she will no doubt be exposed to should she stay, Inanna hesitates. “I should get going...”​

​

“Inanna, you've been off scrambling around in enemy territory for Rigg knows how long. You are allowed to take a breather every now and then, you know?”​

​

“Tell that to our mom...” Inanna grumbles. She might return in triumph, but no matter how many riches she brings with her, her mother will not be satisfied until she brings her a granddaughter.​

​

Maya shrugs and gestures towards the palanquin waiting to carry them up to the old governor's mansion that she now calls home. “She's just jealous that you are out fighting and pillaging while she's stuck in Ganaina, tending to boring matters of state like an old woman relegated to garden duty.”​

​

As always Inanna is taken aback by the casual disrespect with which her sister can refer to their mother, the Queen of the Amazons and Custodian of Rigg. Presumably it is the audacity that comes with being the one that can do no wrong in her mother's eyes – even after literally failing her trial to become an Amazon. Nevertheless, the way Maya's words makes a human out of the nearly mythical queen does offer Inanna a measure of comfort.​

​

“Well, maybe I can stay for a bit...”​

* * *​

There is definitely a measure of jealousy to be found in Queen Lyssa's mood. It is as if aching joints, fainting spells and affairs of state conspire to keep her trapped in her palace. On top of this, Inanna's defiance weighs heavily on her mind, keeping her distracted even in her most lucid moments.

However that is not the failure that preoccupies her the most. Just as she looks to the future in exhorting Inanna to bear an heir, Lyssa sees a way to redeem the conquest of Xahutec. What was intended to be her crowning achievement became anything but, with the great temple-city turning out to be an empty ruin.

Steward Azu has been out there for years now, trying to resettle the ruins in order to salvage the situation – and soothe the queen's pride. So far her efforts have made little headway, lending credence to the belief that the city is cursed.

Eager to reassert herself, any mention of curses only serves to make Lyssa even more determined to defy it. If the ruins are too remote and vast to colonize on their own, perhaps assistance could be found elsewhere. Even if that means sending out another Azu to do the convincing.

At least Xahutec now has the largest population of Azus in the Warhammer world​

03.05.2045​

Kriemhild's voice is a distant drone to Lyssa, preoccupied as she is with tugging at the sash on her resplendent gown. She deeply regrets agreeing to have the council meeting in the throne room. It is a show of health, certainly, but so much more comfortable to hold court in her bedchamber. Instead her back aches against the hard stone of Rigg's throne, forced display her wealth and power in this uncomfortable outfit.​

​

Above all Lyssa regrets sending Azu the Younger out to Xahutec to assist her mother. At least the chancellor knows not to annoy her sovereign, unlike oblivious Kriemhild. To be sure the woman is a genius when it comes to military organization, but could she shut up about it for just one second...​

​

Giving up trying to adjust the pageantry in which she is clad, Lyssa looks around for a servant. She's already had a few cups of wine, but perhaps something stronger could get her through the day. Sadly there is no salvation in sight. Yet another reason why sending Azu away was a mistake.​

​

“Pressing so many shieldmaidens into garden service is making it hard to keep enough women under arms,” Kriemhild argues. Always harping on about the same things, unable to see the bigger picture of running the realm.​

​

If anything we need more women on garden duty, Lyssa notes to herself, a wry observation on how her snack platter has somehow become empty again.​

​

“We'll have to make do,” the queen says instead. She is no mood to explain for the hundredth time how resettlement efforts and construction works skew the availability of warriors and males for other tasks. At least she feels like she explained it earlier. Or was it the other day...?​

​

Lyssa stifles a groan through clenched teeth and rubs her forehead. The council looks at her in apprehensive silence. It doesn't last long, but it is not they who break it.​

​

Bursting into the hall, Matriarch Calypso II wastes no time waiting to be admitted, just as she clearly wasted no time coming to the palace. Her clothes show the wear of a long campaign, and the trinkets that adorn them show it was a successful one.​

​

“Forgive the intrusion, friends,” the matriarch says, but there is no humility to trace in her voice. In fact the grin on her face only grows more smug as she continues: “I just returned from Araby and couldn't wait to share its bounty with you all!”​

​

While Calypso continues to list her successes, the councillors look to their queen in wary anticipation. They are aware how stir crazy she has been getting the last couple of months, exacerbated by each report of successful raids.​

​

Indeed upon seeing how proud and reinvigorated Calypso looks, the discomfort of Lyssa's throne seems to grow tenfold. Considering how long the queen has wanted to repeat her grand voyage across the ocean, Calypso's triumphant return is like a slap in the face.​

​

It is, however, also a welcome relief from the tedious meeting. Swallowing her pride, Lyssa seizes the opportunity and puts on her most genuine of false smiles. “We're merely surprised to see you back so early,” she assures the matriarch.​

​

“We did make very good time – both ways in fact! Sailing to Araby the winds take you far enough south to avoid any Elven interference too.”​

​

“Oh really? Well this certainly calls for a celebration!” Lyssa's enthusiasm is getting more and more sincere. She bids her advisers to handle the necessary preparations and makes it clear the meeting is adjourned by motioning for two servants to help her to her feet.​

​

“We can talk more about your travels at the feast,” the queen tells the matriarch, carefully concealing her fatigue. It's not quite the repeat of her grand voyage all those years ago, but if reaching Araby is as easy as the Quetzlpan matriarch makes it out to be... “You simply must tell me everything about it!”​

​

04.05.2045​

Laughter and drunken boasts emanate from the main hall of the royal palace. Spirits are high as the promised celebration grows increasingly rowdy, fuelled by the queen's personal stores and exotic delights from Araby.​

​

“So it's the desert people who make these?” the queen inquires before languidly popping the delicate sweet into her mouth. Powdered sugar lingers on her lips and fingers as she chews with great deliberation.​

​

“I would assume so,” Calypso shrugs. Her nonchalance quickly turns to boisterous laughter as she adds: “I don't think there were anyone left in that town to ask!”​

​

The women seated around them at the head of the table join in the laughter, all but fighting amongst each other to toast with the returning raider. Finding herself outside the centre of attention for a change, Lyssa does her best to grin and bear it. She finds distraction in delicacies both foreign and local while the nobles offer their congratulations.​

​

Carefully inserting herself back into proceedings by handing Calypso a fresh cup of red wine, Lyssa pretends she is simply making conversation: “And the journey was not strenuous at all?”​

​

“The most exhausting part was transporting all the loot!” Calypso boasts, pausing to gulp down half the cup before she continues. “You haven't tasted even half the spices we grabbed. Not to mention... wait a minute... ah, there it is!”​

​

The matriarch shifts unsteadily on her cushion and with some difficulty manages to fumble a dagger from her belt. The steel seems to run like water across the blade, reflecting the light from burning braziers in a mesmerizing pattern.​

​

“Do you have more?” Matriarch Melandra of Mamazo asks greedily, nearly spilling her drink as she leans in to look at the exotic weapon.​

​

Only Lyssa seems unfazed by the display. There's no denying the elegant beauty of the blade, but she has more important things on her mind. Her apparent disinterest does not go unnoticed by the guest of honour, however.​

​

“Not to your liking, Your Highness? I'm sure we brought back something other than sweets that will be of interest to you. Oh, we also found this exquisite fabric, so soft it might as well be blessed by Serena herself! I'll have some sent over...” Calypso takes a sip of her drink. A small smirk forms around the rim of her cup as she examines the queen. “Although, considering how well you've... convalesced while I was away, we might have to go back for more!”​

​

If Lyssa takes offence at the jab she does not show it, instead making a point of laughing the hardest. As if to congratulate Calypso on her “hilarious joke”, the queen leans over and puts her arm around the matriarch. “I'm feeling much better, thank you!” she smiles as the grip on Calypso's shoulder tightens.​

​

“Now... if you were in fact going to go back to Araby, how long would it take to prepare an expedition?” The question is quite direct, leaving Calypso little room to wriggle away from it – both physically and figuratively.​

​

“I didn't mean it like that Your Highness. You'll have all the fabric you want, I swear. There's no need to go back right away, really.”​

​

“But if you were to do so anyway?” Lyssa does not relent, although this goes largely unnoticed by the other guests who have already moved on to other conversations.​

​

“A few weeks, maybe. If you're in a hurry.”​

​

Realizing she has perhaps been a bit to eager, Lyssa lets go of the matriarch and makes to relax. “Oh these sweets are just so good, you know?” she says off-handedly, rather than admit how desperate she is to 'get out of the house'.​

​

For good measure Lyssa reaches for said treats – but what she finds is Kriemhild's hand. Taking advantage of the queen focussing on her conversation with Calypso, the marshal has made off with the sweets. And she shows no sign of ending the plunder.​

​

Instinctively Lyssa swoops down to steal back a bowl of sweet porridge, but Kriemhild doesn't seem to take the hint – despite how defiantly the queen devours the reclaimed dish. The skirmishing continues for a while until the marshal realizes what she has gotten herself into. This is now a duel and honour dictates there's no backing down.​

It was at this moment that Kriemhild knew she fucked up​

 

[dark_melancholy]

Chapter 56: Hungry For More

Our great queen can always go on when there's food involved!​

04.05.2045​

Amidst the growing cheers and jeers, Marshal Kriemhild steels herself and with great daring reaches out to snatch a sweetcorn pie from under the nose of her queen. A playful gasp rises from the crowd as more and more nobles and high-ranking huntresses gather around.​

​

At the centre of attention, Queen Lyssa and Kriemhild are locked in mortal combat, a small misunderstanding escalating into an intense culinary duel. The marshal receives cheers of support for daring to challenge the queen at her own game – and just as many humorous taunts for her hubris, however unintentional.​

​

Perhaps sensing the growing support for the fiery redhead's bravery, Lyssa leans forward to scoop up stuffed pastries with both hands. Seeing her opponent's resolve flag in the face of such an intense onslaught the queen is emboldened to deliver a killing blow. Affecting an air of supreme confidence, she motions to one of her attendants. Only pausing to give her opponent a haughty smirk, Lyssa tears into the roast capybara that is brought before her.​

​

Mouth agape, Kriemhild just stares as the queen devours the substantial rodent. Only by the time Lyssa is halfway through does the marshal continue to eat, but her heart is no longer in it. Doing her best to match Lyssa's huge finisher, Kriemhild crams a fistful of pudding into her mouth, lets out a tortured croak and falls over.​

​

Emerging from the remains of the depleted roast, Lyssa flops back on her throne with a triumphant groan. “Need a hand?” she grins, although clearly in no position to help.​

150 Prestige!? Glorious victory!​

There's a brief moment where everyone processes the smug quip, then the crowd goes wild. Cheers and laughter spreads amongst the onlookers. Two of them go over to help the limp Kriemhild and offer a sympathetic pat on the back and a not-so-sympathetic pat on the stomach.​

​

One by one the other revellers approach the queen to congratulate her on her victory.​

​

“It's good to see you're back to your old self!” Melandra of Mamazo bellows and Lyssa does her best not to wince as her full belly is jostled by a hearty slap on the back.​

​

Puffed up with pride, not to mention copious amounts of food and alcohol, the queen raises her voice to make sure everyone can hear her. “Oh, you've seen nothing yet! Tomorrow we start preparing to cross the ocean,” she declares with such confidence that one might be forgiven for not realizing that this is entirely a spur-of-the-moment decision. “Your queen is going on another grand voyage!”​

​

The inebriated crowd switch between nodding solemnly and whooping excitedly. People start clamouring to know the target and if they can join this honourable venture.​

​

“Well, I was just talking to Matriarch Calypso, recently returned from the Lands of Sand. I'm sure she wouldn't mind taking another trip there. Isn't that right, dear?”​

​

“Of course, Your Highness...” Calypso replies curtly, well aware of the position she is put in by the queen making such a public declaration.​

​

“I can't wait!” Princess Inanna shouts, excitedly slamming a beefy fist into her palm. “We can look for our missing sisters, too!”​

​

After all these years, perhaps the lost Amazons rumoured to have been brought to the cursed city of Mordheim following the Great Raid can be found. However, Inanna's hopes are quickly dashed. Her mother's jubilant expression quickly turns stern as she points a drunkenly unsteady finger in Inanna's general direction.​

​

“'We?' I think not! You will be staying here to do your duty at the Serena Ritual, girl! And when I come back you had better greet me with a granddaughter in your arms!”​

​

All the excitement drains from Inanna's face as she feels all eyes fall upon her. Lip aquiver she begins to protest, but seems unable to find the words. “I... gotta go...” she mutters before storming off.​

​

Lyssa watches in stoic silence as her daughter leaves, soon followed by her bodyguard Ixchel. An awkward silence and the occasional whisper descends on the palace hall. At last, and with great effort, Lyssa manages to tear her eyes away from the door and turns back to Calypso. It is with forced cheerfulness that she addresses the matriarch: “So... about those preparations!”​

* * *​

The mood in the capital is electric, as if the queen's excitement serves to animate her subjects as well. Those who have felt listless and without direction find purpose in the upcoming expedition – although Matriarch Calypso just returned from such an endeavour, anything carries more weight if the queen leads it. And Lyssa's new-found enthusiasm is quite contagious, even though she does not involve herself directly in any of the preparations.

Despite high spirits, the lucky ones accompanying the queen do not do so without sacrifice. In parallel with the gathering of supplies and careening of war canoes, preparations for the yearly Serena Ritual are under way. Those shieldmaidens vulgar enough to crave a male's touch might lament that the queen's haste makes them miss out this year.

This urgency also complicates preparations for the expedition itself. Fortunately the voyage is not quite as grand as Lyssa's declaration might have suggested. For now she will only be sailing to Araby. As much as she would like to recapture old glories another Old World Tour will have to wait.

09.09.2045​

Stifling a groan between clenched teeth, Lyssa pulls the satin sheets over her head as if to shut out the sound of waves lapping against the ship's hull. The royal flagship is a robust vessel, much larger than Amazon-built ships, but every little dip and roll feels like an earthquake and makes her head spin.​

​

Sailing never used to be this bad... she laments for the tenth time that day. Or perhaps the twentieth. It's all been a blur since they rounded Cape Tecnotici. All she knows is that it's been long enough since they left Lustria that the bloodwine has started to go bad.​

​

“I need a drink,” Lyssa moans and emerges from her satin cocoon to survey the treats on offer on the bedside table. Just as she thought there's only bloodwine, tamales and some corn biscuits.​

​

With an even louder groan the queen retreats back under the covers. She isn't quite that desperate... yet. The taste of the sour wine still lingers in her mouth, even after who-knows how many hours... or is it days?​

​

I'd kill for some decent Easterner bubble-wine right now. And she'd start by killing whoever was in charge of supplying the expedition. Neither the food, nor the drinks, nor the accommodations are up to her standards – but the queen is not about to admit that her standards might have gotten a bit more demanding. It's been a full two years since she last left the comforts of Ganaina. Even if the hardships of this journey makes it feel more like a decade to her.​

​

Thinking about it, when was the last time she went hungry? The wasted year she spent hunting for the Fountain of Youth? Well, not entirely wasted... Unlike this current expedition.​

​

It's not too late to turn around, a voice tells her but her pride dismisses it without further consideration. And then that thought is lost to the swirling waves in her head, mimicking that accursed ocean under her.​

​

“Maybe just a little wine...” Lyssa says to herself. As she reaches for the cup she is interrupted by a knock on the door.​

​

“Your Highness! We have spotted land!”​

​

​

The Arabyans try to hide their army numbers behind a random flag, but surely Lyssa can see through their clever disguise!​

The Amazon fleet arrives on the south-western coast of Araby, ruled by the great Nehdi Sultanate. Last time Lyssa sailed east, almost two decades ago, the sultan was just a boy of 12. Since then he has expanded his realm and commands the greatest army in Araby. An army that is raised and on the alert because of Calypso's earlier raid.

Between the unfamiliar desert terrain and superior enemy numbers, the Amazons are forced to leave the rich provinces in the south alone. Sailing for easier prey further north means even more time spent at sea, much to Lyssa's displeasure, but there is little she or anyone else can do. Just as the Amazons are unmatched in their jungle home, the people of Araby are fearsome foes on the open field. Most importantly, already suffering under the lack of quality comestibles, the last thing Lyssa wants is to brave the desolate desert.

Much better to grit ones teeth and make for the greener hills of Copher, shielded from the great desert by the Aguidi Mountains. First the trade port of Dahar, where they meet little to no resistance. As luck would have it, most of the local emir's troops have been raised to deal with a massive Greenskin incursion from across the Southern Sea. The city militias might be prepared to deal with pirate raids, but the full fury of Rigg's children is something else entirely.

I guess Calypso II is doing the heavy lifting here and Lyssa and Valesca are mostly there to look pretty​