Tartaria: Thrones Of War

A game of Queens. Part 1

The hideout hidden amongst the valley was much more advantageous then we had first anticipated. Despite the country of Quorak being mostly consisting of deserts, some parts did get some rainfall. This was mostly along the coast of Caboor, a good weeks travel from the capital of Sharitz.

The mountain range shielding the valley from from outside view were consisted of some of the tallest in the region. So tall that their peaks were covered in fine caps of snow. This of course led to small amounts of ice melting off and coming down into streams, enriching the valley further. The former occupants of the hideout, the Black Hawks had dug out a pool and had leg one if the streams to it, giving us our own reservoir of clean drinkable water.

The next few weeks, I had mostly spent my time on hunting trips with Farija. We had been frequenting the forest north of the Caboori fishing town of Falez, aptly named the Falezi woods.

"As a child, I had always wondered of the marvelous snow tipped Caboori mountains. Now to think that we would be living within amongst it and those very snowy tops supplying with nourishment? Amazing!" She marveled as she took down another hare.

The mere fact that she could soo casually converse whilst simultaneously ending a life was both impressive and unnerving. Despite spending alot of time hunting, the exact prospect of the hunt itself was never enjoyable. Most times I would just stay with the wounded animal until it died. It felt right. Giving them some comfort in their final moments. It only felt right, given they were to nourish me.

This very thought brings me to the memory of the defense of the village. Particularly the sheer magnitude of death that it had. Twenty three mercenaries died that day. Twenty three.

Yet, I did not feel the familiar guilt as I observed Farija collect the hare's carcass and place it in our pouch.

It was as if my mind had blocked of all emotional attachment to the events of that day. Whether it to protect me from the overwhelming guilt, or to symbolize my growing sense of numbness to death, I did not know. Yet, the immense pain each hunting trip entailed surely meant that the latter could not be true.

On our way back, I reached out and cupped Farija's hand. I know I had made a vow to myself to protect her and allow her to be her natural cheerful self, yet I cannot help but reap the benefits of the comfort her company would bring.

She was the most empathic person I had ever met. She would never address my moments of vulnerability, just offer her understanding silence.

Being blessed. Yes. I was blessed.

-x-

The very same night Farija's grandmother had called me in to where they had been sleeping.

"It should be here soon." She said.

"Sorry?" I asked.

"You will know what it arrives," she assured, "But before, we need to speak."

I sat down opposite to her to listen.

"You see," she continued, "we are not really Quaraki. These deserts are but our ancestral lands. The Quaraki are not actually from the continent. There were refugees, like we are now. They had first docked on the shored of Caboor during the reign of Emperor Prefth. That was a few hundred years ago though..."

"But won't staying for that long in a place technically make you a native? Where I am from, I could become a citizen of another nation by simply living there for a few years and following their policy."

"A bizarre land, you come from my dear. But no, I have no issue with them settling and claiming the land for their own. Except for the fact that they killed most of our people and relegated us to a life of servitude," the sarcasm in her tone was palpable, albeit alien to her.

"I may be one of the remaining Yetrasi alive who has first hand recollections of the times before the Quaraki takeover?"

"But doesn't that-"

"Yes my dear; I am well over a hundred years old. I often question the curse of my lifespan, but I realize that it might be to have been able to be meet you." She said as a tear rolled down her cheek. "And before you ask, yes: I am not Farija's actual grandmother. I am merely the nurse that failed to deliver her properly, resulting on her mother's death."

I could only give a nod in acknowledgement.

"It only felt right to atone for my failure. To be there for her when it was my incompetence that led to her loosing her sole remaining relative." She took in a deep breath as she composed herself.

"But to a more pressing topic, the messenger is almost here. You need to know about the Quoraki, and our history. We offered them shelter and and tried integrating them into our communities, but within a generation they had taken over all of our major commercial enterprises and soon commenced an ethnic cleansing. All of our major noble houses were wiped out. I was the daughter of a Lord. The only reason I didn't share the fate of my ancestors is because they sent me away as a baby with the fleeing refugees."

"Why are you telling me this?" In asked.

In response, she mainly pointed at the moon, and slowing appearing in it's silhouette, was a remarkably large raven. And in it's talons, was a message