Years ago, a decision was made. For coin and contact, The Concord gave away a vast tract of grassland in Mukarrem to the magi known as The Idrian Cabal. In the time since, the region has been wracked by war, abandonment, rebellion, and something far darker than the weak hearts of humanity. The Idrian Cabal was as opaque as they always were, their ideals and objectives unknown, but their coin spent as well as anyone’s.
But coin once given did not dull Concordian hurt. With the Treaty of the Al’Mai, The Concord resolved to expel its arcane parasites, by steel if necessary. An army of Bordevarian soldiers were sent and they were not offering terms. Leave, or leave this mortal coil.
Transported and Rapt in Secret Studies
The wind whistled lazily through the flat grasslands of the Priado Expanse, like the idle song of an old Andashi Wreathkeeper, encapsulating the tune of the landscape in their work. Above, a serin trilled, suffusing the sky with life, stir, and colour. Below, the percussion of hundreds-upon-hundreds of Bordevarian boots thumped on the compressed sand, a steady rhythm completing the melody.
Their journey through Lerona Mere from Windholme had, by all accounts, been a pleasant one; though foot-achingly long, the weather had been temperate, and they had remained unaccosted on their walk, save for a few unsavoury fey on their passing by Passage. Flowers bloomed around them as they marched, and their evenings were filled with conversations among comrades.
This genuine peace continued on into Mukarrem - although the quiet of the Shrine of Maloza was certainly a more solemn one than the one they had just travelled through, it was not one that they walked through with discomfort. If anything, for the Common Folk that make up The Iron Brawlers, this quiet was an opportune time for reflection; for a people who had lost so much in recent years, to be allowed and encouraged to sit in their grief for a moment, together as folks-at-arms, was a relief. It was a chance to mourn, and then to move forward; to recognise what was lost in their past, and then pursue what they would make of their future.
It was with this communal knowledge of the glory of The Concord, and the blessings of Cervitas, Stallia, and Panoply, that they would journey deeper into the Expanse, surrounded by nature’s song.
However, as The Iron Brawlers continued their march, the sounds of the environment seemed to dull, as if they were slowly walking below the waters of Lake Ladure. There were still footsteps. There was still wind, and there were still serins singing, until there was not.
As the land cast in shadow not of light but of spirit seemed to grow ever-closer, the whistling of the wind was drowned out by an oppressive silence. The fields, now of glass not of grass, still swayed, but there was no breeze encouraging their dance, simply a magic long-used-up twisting their blades as a puppeteer manipulates string.
The chirping of birds suddenly stopped, as if each winged creature had been grabbed by the syrinx, their tune-filled air stolen from their lungs. Some said that, when they looked out later, they had seen the birds again, singing as they had before. Some said that, when they looked out later, what they had seen were not birds at all, and what they had heard could never be called songs.
Still the Bordevarians marched, their General leading the way. Even as the sand seemed to stop shifting under their feet, and the sun appeared to flicker like a candle in the sky, they marched, until they did not.
An apprentice mage stood, hundreds of metres out from The Idrian Site, waiting patiently for the army to approach. They did not seem afraid of the coming force. They did not seem hurried, or harried. They simply waited.
When approached by Griff Baker, the Brigadier of The Iron Brawlers, the apprentice smiled patiently, waiting for very different news than that which was delivered. At the strongly worded instruction for The Idrian Cabal to pack up their things and leave while they had the chance, the apprentice blinked once. Then twice. Then a third time.
They did not nod, nor say any clear words, but they certainly hurried now as they made their way back to a stone building in the centre of the Site.
Once they retreated, the army stood and waited.
They waited.
And waited.
And waited.
The shifting of aching legs and the clearing of throats soon gave way to the absolute silence of tightly held weapons and keenly tensed shoulders.
The Iron Brawlers had just let a mage apprentice go back to their lair to meet with the other mages on the site. The mages that they knew were willing and capable of doing unspeakable things with their magics. The mages that knew they were here, and knew what they were here to do.
What could mages like that do with the time spent waiting? How many rituals of death and destruction could be prepared in such a time? Had it been five minutes?
Ten?
Twenty?
When several figures emerged, the apprentice who had met them led by a tall, stoic individual known to some of The Concordians, the shields and swords of the army were gripped ever tighter. This was it then, many of the soldiers thought.
Given the damage their unknown magic had wrought upon the landscape, shown in the glass field and the Lost Plane behind them, some of them even prepared to charge the mages before their magic could tear them asunder.
But, the expected ritual magics did not come. Nor did the chanted spells of individual mages.
Even at this distance, those at the front of the Brawlers could see as the masculine individual stood at the front of the group tilt their head at the army arrayed before them, shaking it in the same way that a disappointed master shakes their head in disapproval of an ignorant student. And when Skaios opened their mouth, although their words could not be heard, swallowed by the strange shadowed silence of this place, the murmur of a quiet chagrin reverberated still.
And when it did, the anxious stillness of waiting was shattered, a flurry of movement in the glass-filled sands.
The apprentices began packing up tents and moving equipment to beasts of burden with a militaristic order. They were near silent as they did it, the only noises breaking the quiet being the muted scuffing of Bordevarian boots against glass, and the uncomfortable coughing of soldiers whose orders were being unexpectedly listened to.
Soon, almost all of the beasts and apprentices were piled high with carefully balanced paraphernalia, stood facing the oncoming army. They then turned to face Skaios who, with an order unheard by The Concord, dismissed them to the west, to Nazafeza.
With the greeting apprentice, Skaios faced the might of The Concord, then retreated into a large yurt on the site, remaining inside for a few moments. Upon leaving the yurt alone, some soldiers would swear they saw Skaios smile before they, too, walked away from their once-home.
The Iron Brawlers watched as the mages of The Idrian Cabal began their journey away from their site, leaving the consequences of their actions in their wake.
Game Information
The Iron Brawlers, following the orders of their Brigadier, Griff Baker, marched to meet The Idrian Cabal in The Priado Expanse in Mukarrem. They were to instruct The Cabal to leave, and if they did not agree, to persuade them through their blades and billhooks.
But it did not come to blows, as they feared. Instead, The Idrian Cabal packed up and left with a quiet ease that set many of The Concordians on edge, heading to Nazafeza before presumably making their way home.
However, even after the foreign mages left, their strange magics remained, seemingly permanently tainting the landscape.
The Iron Brawlers have suffered no casualties this past season, but the whole effort of marching across The Concord and preparing for a battle has meant that they do not count as resting this past season and have regained no troops. But The Iron Brawlers have committed themselves well and with tact.
There will be decisions to be made regarding The Idrian Cabal Site by the Archmage, the General of the Iron Brawlers, and the Senator of Mukarrem.
Please, Won’t You Steal This Bloodstained Gift?
The crunch of heavy boots on crystallised glass would turn out to be strangely quiet, despite how it felt to the commoner soldiers of The Iron Brawlers. A truly strange place; there was little to see amongst The Glass Field but the remnants of an old battle and the truly terrifying mass nearby. Called “The Lost Plane” by the truly succinct people of the Bordevarian army, it was left well-enough alone. There was plenty else to see in this arcanely foreign place.
The homes and laboratories of The Idrian Cabal were surprisingly well made, considering how little time they had to call it home. Stone buildings, wooden cabins, barely any canvas tents now that the apprentices had all packed up and gone on their way. There was even a sense of order to the place, a clear definition of what should go where. Cabins were near to the scorched earth of what was assumed to be a training grounds of some kind. Heavy set stone buildings sat lonesomely, a fair distance from any other buildings including others of their own make, assumedly marking the more dangerous of places to experiment with arcane forces, or whatever it was they were doing here.
Truth be told, the soldiers didn’t think too hard about it all. There was some curiosity, sure, but that was quickly cut short by the wise orders of more veteran officers. Even the convicts were kept well in line, each and every soldier all too happy to be safe and sound instead of winding up dead in The Lost Plane. Searching buildings empty of strange arcane threat seemed far more appealing.
The following few weeks were those of collection and sorting. The old homes of The Cabal mages were promptly emptied of any remaining belongings and set up to be storehouses for what remained. While what remained were certainly useful supplies, things like unique glassware, arcane tools and simple goods, they were deemed as nothing too noteworthy to the heroic people of The Concord. Wisely, it seemed the residents took all the important things with them when they left without much of a fight.
Even the large laboratories and buildings made for experimentation seemed empty of anything particularly of note. The odd strange orb and bloodstained hook caused feelings of deep discomfort, but no monsters jumped from the corner of a dark room and no piles of papers marked “Important - Do Not Lose” were found lying about. A tragedy for the mages of The Shardcircle and greater Concord, but a blessing to the army who were sent to kick out the wizards.
But this was not to say that there was truly nothing of note. One building remained, untouched by all but the small number of arcanely trained captains of The Iron Brawlers. A great yurt, covered in strange glyphs and markings, eerie to look at and clearly the personal quarters of Skaios the Winder. Within was described as barbaric, bloody and fucking weird. A single box, locked and with a handwritten letter, was taken from this place, untouched and unopened by the Bordevarians. All else was left as was found, and promptly burnt down by the captains of The Iron Brawlers for what they saw within.
The letter was simply addressed “Fools”
Game Information
After the retreat of The Idrian Cabal, the army of The Iron Brawlers entered the site and began to take stock of what remained. Little of heroic note was left, given the nature of the retreat and the time The Cabal were allowed to do so, however the stockpiled supplies were catalogued appropriately and sent off to The Civil Service to divy up as needed. As per the treaty of the Al’mai, The Civil Service would see these goods destroyed as and where appropriate.
One final item of note would remain, and be expected to be delivered to The Shardcircle as of the coming Summer Summit. A letter and box left by Skaios, unopened and unchecked. What lay within was unknown, and would be the responsibility of The Shardcircle as a whole to discover or ignore.
The remaining damage of The Lost Plane remains and The Concord has had no luck entering the space, or even studying it. There will be decisions for the Archmage of the Shardcircle, The Senator of Mukarrem, The Headmaster of the Andashi School of Gifts and the Council of Six regarding the Lost Plane.
The Cost of a Blade, be it Steel or Grass.
To make something of a life given to a cause younger than a speaking child is a difficult task. Anarch teaches that a fire that burns bright and changes the world is greater than a smouldering ember going unnoticed for hours. Lumos teaches us to reach for change that brings hope, that brings life, that makes the world better than it was. Cervitas teaches that any task done for others is elevated by its very nature, that to lead is the greatest of responsibilities. Arcadian teaches that we should always believe in ourselves, and to seek great challenges. Panoply asks us to never give up, always reaching for the next height. Stallia asks us to grasp and claw at the knowledge of the world, never allowing it to fall into the inky darkness of forgetting.
On the only sombre night of the festivities in Nazafeza, all these duties are reflected upon as the corpse of Kharas Al’Mai, draped in mats of grass and floating on a raft of driftwood burns in the harbour of Big Bev’s Bay. The music was quiet for a single hour and a thousand Nomads watched the form of that young man disappear into ash, ember and wave.The Surgeons and magi said it was likely that he was dead for some time, his wounds suffered during the battle too great, possible that his life was extended through some magic, but this was ended for reasons unknown. It is impossible to tell if Skaios the Winder had lied when he had said the warrior-son still lived. But what is known now is that Kharas does not.
Outside of the funeral for the young Shesti-Warlord, the Nomadic Al’Mai people are present in great numbers across Nazafeza, before, during, and after the festival. They trade Arcstone in small quantities, bring meats to the vast outdoor kitchens from their immense cattle and goat herds, they sing and they dance. Clan Masters meet with Concordian Civil Servants and provide records of births and deaths. The Treaty of the Al’Mai is a document copied and copied again - it is hard to be far from it within the city - it even adorns a sandstone plinth on a grassy hilltop to the south of the town, where beach meets road meets grass.
Over the coming months Civil Servants once again wander the Mitricasa Rise and the vast spaces of the Priado Expanse. Led by Al’Mai scouts and Nomads, they are shown the paths through the rocky forests and into the old camps, already being broken down. The Civil Servants note it all down, hoping to pass it along to the cartographers in The Concord’s employ. One even offers that these forested climbs, with their mild weather, fresh water and abundant resources, would be a fine place for a new settlement; they are quickly hushed before their recently reintegrated allies can overhear.
Most notable in all this, is the Arcstone Quarry nestled away in the Rise. Known as ‘Magli’s Gift’, the quarry takes the form of a sunbaked gully where several streams have been directed, washing away the soil and scrub to reveal the Arcstone beneath. There, Nomadic workers spending time at the quarry work to carve the valuable stone away into usable amounts. Civil Service estimates show that the quarry is not only producing plentiful Arcstone, but also has a small reserve available as well, delighting Exchange overseers and merchants across The Concord.
For their part, Magli Al’Mai, the soft-spoken philosopher leader of the Al’Mai, has not been seen or heard from since the Winter Summit. While the terms of the Treaty of the Al’Mai show that Magli is willing to stand trial for the crimes of treason in raising the secessionist Al’Mai, it has been difficult to get Andashi Magistrates to co-ordinate a case. Short of a Senatorial Inquest, it is unlikely that the leader of the movement will face real judgement for claiming nearly half of Mukarrem.
As spring dawns, the Al’Mai name begins to fade; the need of the Clan has been served and there are new causes, new opportunities and new ambitions for the Nomads of Andash. Once again the Sun and Moon are joined and Andash is mended. They are two people, one nation, and fate being true, they will never be broken again.
Game Information
The Treaty of the Al’Mai has been accepted by both the Al’Mai and The Concordian Senate. This has ended the Al’Mai Crisis and returned Mukarrem to full Concordian control.
The return of the Al’Mai Nomads has made life in Mukarrem far easier and more profitable as the vast stocks of food and resources they hold are once again available. Farm, Herb Garden and Wilderness investments in Mukarrem may be upgraded for one less wain this Summit. Investments may only be upgraded one time per Summit.
The Arcstone Quarry, ‘Magli’s Gift,’ will be available on the Exchange Auction as a Concordian Deed this Summit. It is expected to have more Arcstone available than normal as additional reserves are entered into the Exchange’s warehouses. In all other ways, it is a normal Arcstone Quarry.
Magli Al’Mai has not been held accountable for their role in raising a separatist army to oppose the Concord. To do so would require a Grand Inquest. However, Magli is also not avoiding punishment, so the Grand Inquest would not be expensive, requiring one Vault in funding to accomplish.