Hello -
I got the idea for doing this from reading several other great AARs on this boards as a longtime lurker... basically I started playing the Byzantine Empire in 1066 and I've built them up to be quite a powerhouse... and directly in the way of both prongs of the expected Mongol invasion. I'm going to try to roleplay the invasion like my character's would (the Mongols are either unknown barbarians or possible Prester John people), as well as how an empire as large as the renewed Byzantine Empire (about the size of Justinian's at its height) would respond to a threat (mobilize what look to be the necessary forces on that border alone - a general callup would be too risky, to haphazard and almost impossible logistically).
The Byzantine Empire in this scenario is very large, and moderately Arabicized (repeated generations of Greek rulers have "gone native" on the frontiers, leading to two Arab Emperors, and two Russian Emperors, including the present one). The Empire is humungous, but rather shaky - on the frontiers the Emperor's abiltiy to punish errant nobles depends greatly on other nobles (the system of government is feudalism) - so things can get tenuous when a conspiracy is afoot...
Without further ado, here is the opening chapter -
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October 20th, 1207
The Great Palace of Konstantinopolis was known for its architectural grandeur – after its rebuilding by Emperor Konstantinos X in 1080, it was by far the grandest palace in Europe, and according to the reports of Maria’s paid spies, it was larger than anything even in mythical Cathay.
Konstantinos X came to the throne as a boy in 1067, and grew little – he was nicknamed “the Short” or “Half-mail,” because of the small size of his armor. As a consequence, the rebuilding of the palace included special attention to acoustics – some chambers magnified footfalls, to intimidate would be entreators and foreign dignitaries, while others minimized noise, allowing Imperial agents to listen in on private conversations.
Maria Dukas, third cousin twice removed from his August and Illustrious Majesty, Emperor Mstislav, First of that Name, snarled as her dainty feet made rumbling footfalls along one of the numerous intricate corridors of the Great Palace. The noise was amplified by a bevy of followers – petitioners asking her to grant them admittance to the Throne of the Caesars, attendants ready for her beck and call, and finally a small slew of scribes, ready to write her orders. After all, the chief of the vast Imperial intelligence network always had something to say.
“Excellency,” her aide, Kemal Kommenos hustled next to her – Maria might have stood less than five feet in height, but her angry strides made up for their small size with their speed, “you will next have a meeting with the honorable Isaakios Dukas of Homs, late returned from an embassy to the distant lands of Cathay.”
“I know,” Maria spat back as they drew near to her study. Kommenos bowed without missing a stride, and rejoined the bustling pack behind her, slightly pushing aside the young man from Herakleia who was now in his second week of demanding the Emperor’s attention for something inane. Two soldiers, dressed in the shining armor and purple capes of the Heraklion Tagmata of the Imperial Guard, opened the twin bronze doors that lead to one of the most famed (and infamous) rooms in the entire Roman Empire.
Without a blink Maria blew past the guardsmen, ignoring their ornate salute, and hustled into the room. A familiar, musky smell greeted her nose, as she came to a halt in front of a table, covered with neatly stacked maps and reports. None of these were particularly sensitive – her study was where all the official, public reports ended up. The more private information ended up in the Emperors’s personal hands.
All around the room stood mahogany shelves, covered with letters and carefully illuminated books detailing the peoples, customs and military means of every province in the Empire. Without looking she was already at the bookshelf to the left of the great glass window in the room, and neatly picked up a volume labeled “Cathay” in neat, Greek letters.
“Leave,” she waved to the entourage, and immediately the aides began to hustle the petitioners and others out of the crowded room.
Maria waited until the last of the small crowd had left the room, and then slid down into the fine ebony chair behind the main table. She closed her eyes, and calmed her mind. For a moment, she felt at peace, before the wind whispering through the open window made one of the maps on the desk flap noisily into the air.
Without opening her eyes, Maria snatched it in mid flight, and opened her eyes. What momentary peace she had felt before faded away, and she felt anger building up yet again. She glowered at the map, her gaze directed towards the Kingdom of the al-Murabatids, known in Europe as the Moors. The Emperor, in his infinite wisdom, had decided last year that Nubia, under the control of heathen Muslims for two decades, needed to rejoin the Orthodox world. He dispatched his Marshal, a Moor named A’lai Mustafa, along with 20,000 troops from the Alexandria garrisons to launch what was expected to be a quick and relatively bloodless campaign. Maria’s intelligence networks had ferreted as much information about the sheiks of Nubia and Aswan as possible, and she confidently told the Emperor that no one could intervene.
She could not have been more wrong.
The piddling Sheik of Nubia, days before the invasion was to commence, concluded an alliance with the powerful Moorish kingdom, sitting on the Western border of Roman North Africa, and as soon as Mustafa’s troops crossed the Nile, Moorish troops attacked Oranje and Tangiers, crushing the local Imperial garrisons. The Imperial governor of Hispania, Georgii Dukas, brother to the Emperor, called up the Spanish tagmata and brought twenty thousand Imperial troops to battle, reconquering Tangiers and Oranje, adding a little territory, but at the cost of Georgii’s life – as well as twelve thousand of the Emperor’s best soldiers in the West. The Moors concluded peace – at the price of 20,000 silver ducats.
While the payment made nary a dent in the Imperial treasury – Maria’s agents had it pegged somewhere around 200,000 gold ducats in various vaults at the Imperial residences around the Empire – it did hurt the prestige of the Throne. Rome had not lost a war for over a hundred years. Konstantios X killed the dreaded Arp Aslan in battle, and conquered Jerusalem and down to the gates of Egypt. Nikephoros III took the Imperial banners north into Armenia, the Caucasus, and Southern Russia, as well as conquering Sicily. Badr I took Cyrenaica and conquered the Zirids, while Kermaddin I Megos and Iakov I conquered Croatia, Algeria, and Southern Italy. A long, unbroken string of crushing victories, all preceded by active, accurate Imperial intelligence.
And now this – the Empire’s advance was brought to a halt not by a world power, but the Kingdom of the Moors, who barely mustered 30,000 troops. Maria knew she was unfairly blamed for the sheer problem of logistics – the Empire’s vast size meant that at any given point only a tiny fraction of its 600,000 troops in garrisons could be brought to bear - but the fact remained that Imperial Intelligence missed the alliance. If she’d known, bribes and overtures would have made the Moors turn a blind eye to their brethren – but no, and now she could tell that the vultures were beginning to circle above her… rumors abounded that someone was going to try to persuade the Emperor that she was no longer fit for her position, or perhaps that she was even treacherous…
A knock on the door brought her from her reverie.
“Excellency, the merchant Isaakios is here to see you,” Kemal said quietly, and she nodded her head. Kemal turned and walked into the hallway, and shortly thereafter a tall man of Greek stock walked into the room.
His clothes spoke of his complexity – silk and velvet on a simply cut tunic. The outfit told all of his wealth, yet was comfortable for any hot condition. She noted he dragged his left leg slightly, likely from some old injury she hadn’t cared to remember. A slightly worn spot on his left tunic spoke of where a sword would have normally hung, and his calloused hands and muscular frame said he knew his blade. When she looked up at his face, she saw his bright brown eyes peering out amidst wrinkles, weather cutting deep lines into his face long before age could work its magic.
“Ah, Issakios!” she put on a warm smile for her distant, distant cousin, and was rewarded with a smile in return.
“Maria, how good to see you,” he bowed politely. “I see you’ve grown used to this place – your smile seems as natural and pure as a poisoned mountain stream.” He looked up at her, and she saw the wariness in his eyes, despite his large, tight smile.
Maria felt her blood run cold – no one talked to her this way! Even as her smile hung, frozen, on her face, she gritted her teeth. He would get away with it. His father was the Prince of Homs, Syria and Damascus – a powerful vassal of the Emperor, with a claim of his own on the Throne of Caesar. Especially now that word was trickling in about the war against the Moors, the Emperor could not afford trouble at home.
“What is it, Isaakios?” she said, her voice as icy as her smile. Her mind silently worked through the suspects of who could be plotting against her, in her time of weakness…
“News from Cathay, Maria,” he said, his smile disappearing as a look of seriousness covered his face.
“Dour as usual,” Maria waved him towards a chair next to the table, her face growing serious as well. “So I take it that the great kingdoms still seeth at each others throats?” She looked towards Kemal. “Would you like a glass of wine, Isaakios?”
“No,” the merchant held up a hand, “I have become used to the ways of the Muslims, and I do not let alcohol touch me any more – it helps with my spirit and health.”
“Very well. Kemal, fetch me a glass of wine,” she said, growling under her breath, “I’m going to need it.”
“As I was saying,” Isaakios resumed, “I bring news from Cathay. As you know, our caravan left those distant regions in May of last year, hoping to cross the mountains with all possible speed before the snows of winter. At that time, yes, the two great kingdoms of Cathay still were angered at each other, my news concerns the third kingdom, the kingdom of Hsi Hsia.”
Maria raised an eyebrow. She had memorized the contents of the tome on Cathay, hand copied from the travel of Roger of Kornith, a merchant in the time of Nikephoros III. He had described how Cathay was ruled by two great kingdoms, each with walled cities and immense armies. To the north of Cathay were wild barbarians, similar to the Cumans that once roamed the Russian steppe. These barbarians were almost unknown, save they were fragmented and the Kings of Cathay pitted each tribe against the other. One part of these barbarians, calling themselves the Tangut, had set up a civilized kingdom, a Cathay in miniature, to the West of the two great kingdoms. Why on earth this third kingdom would be of concern to the Throne of Caesar’s was beyond her.
“Hsi Hsia is a warrior kingdom, much like the kingdom of barbarians that took over in the West after the Western Empire failed,” Isaakios continued. “They have formidable armies, and given time, they would civilize as well as Cathay. There are even Christians in that kingdom.”
“Why do I have a feeling your idyllic little picture of this ‘Frankland in the making’ is about to be painfully disturbed?” Maria asked sardonically, wishing Isaakios would get to the point. It was not like she was a bored and idle girl.
“Well,” Isaakios grimaced for a second at her abrupt interruption, “it appears the northern barbarians have unified, under a man named Genghis, and they’ve overrun the Kingdom of Hsi Hsia.”
“Hsi Hsia, if I remembered right, has few walled cities and an army that is piddling compared to Cathay’s…” Maria said, disinterested. She knew who was behind the talk against her – Keramaddin Dukas, son of the late Emperor’s son Shaiban. She would need time to plan a move against him… time that was being stolen by Isaakios and his idle chitchat.
“Cathay paid off Hsi Hsia’s rulers because they were afraid of their troops!” Isaakios interrupted, his face starting to become red. “I think you might not want to hear my report!”
“So far I have yet to hear anything compelling enough that I should spend time on it,” Maria replied, her voice without emotion. “Now, if you can get to the information that would be valuable…”
“Fine,” Isaakios growled. “These barbarians, led by this Genghis, are going to conquer Cathay, and march all the way to our very borders.”
Now Maria could barely constrain herself, and an incredulous giggle broke through her restrained demeanor. “What?” she sputtered out, covering up the laughter.
“They will conquer Cathay. They already decimated the Tangut armies of Hsi Hsia.”
“Really? Barbarians beat up barbarians, and this is suddenly news for my ears? Suddenly reason to believe Cathay, not to mention all the empires in between, great and small, will fall?” Her voice went sharp and cold. “Isaakios, I am quite busy, and I don’t need frivolous details. Now, get on to the trade report of your trip.”
“Maria, this is highly important!” Isaakios shot back. “They are all mounted, and fire arrows at a range even the Turk cannot match! They will cut through them like a scythe through wheat, and when they get to us…”
Maria gave a sigh. Enough was enough. She started to stand. “I am sure that the great kings of Cathay might be mildly concerned by this,” she started talking over him.
“But Maria!” Isaakios complained.
“…but I am sure that this minor kingdom’s failure to halt the barbarians on its borders has little to interest His Majesty…”
“Maria! These are no ordinary barbarian tribe! You have to…”
“…at this time. There are other barbarians, the heathen Qarakhanids, Kwarzhim and the Turk between us and whoever these people are…”
“Maria! They destroy armies like a man destroys a beetle! They will…”
“ISAAKIOS!” Maria finally snapped. The merchant’s mouth clicked shut, as she looked up at him, her eyes angry and cold. “I have much more important things to worry about here than a paltry tribe of barbarians led by a madman of some sort of other, especially when those barbarians are literally on doorsteps of Cathay!” She waved her hand towards the door. “Out. I will get the trade report of this embassy from another member.”
“Maria!”
“Out!”
Mournfully almost, Isaakios stood and began to walk towards the door.
“It’s not my responsibility if disaster befalls us because you refused to listen!” he called ominously over his shoulder.
“You don’t know responsibility!” Maria shot back, before returning to her paperwork with a new, angry tone to her writing… a death warrant for Keramaddin. Something worth her time.
I got the idea for doing this from reading several other great AARs on this boards as a longtime lurker... basically I started playing the Byzantine Empire in 1066 and I've built them up to be quite a powerhouse... and directly in the way of both prongs of the expected Mongol invasion. I'm going to try to roleplay the invasion like my character's would (the Mongols are either unknown barbarians or possible Prester John people), as well as how an empire as large as the renewed Byzantine Empire (about the size of Justinian's at its height) would respond to a threat (mobilize what look to be the necessary forces on that border alone - a general callup would be too risky, to haphazard and almost impossible logistically).
The Byzantine Empire in this scenario is very large, and moderately Arabicized (repeated generations of Greek rulers have "gone native" on the frontiers, leading to two Arab Emperors, and two Russian Emperors, including the present one). The Empire is humungous, but rather shaky - on the frontiers the Emperor's abiltiy to punish errant nobles depends greatly on other nobles (the system of government is feudalism) - so things can get tenuous when a conspiracy is afoot...
Without further ado, here is the opening chapter -
==========================================================
October 20th, 1207
The Great Palace of Konstantinopolis was known for its architectural grandeur – after its rebuilding by Emperor Konstantinos X in 1080, it was by far the grandest palace in Europe, and according to the reports of Maria’s paid spies, it was larger than anything even in mythical Cathay.
Konstantinos X came to the throne as a boy in 1067, and grew little – he was nicknamed “the Short” or “Half-mail,” because of the small size of his armor. As a consequence, the rebuilding of the palace included special attention to acoustics – some chambers magnified footfalls, to intimidate would be entreators and foreign dignitaries, while others minimized noise, allowing Imperial agents to listen in on private conversations.
Maria Dukas, third cousin twice removed from his August and Illustrious Majesty, Emperor Mstislav, First of that Name, snarled as her dainty feet made rumbling footfalls along one of the numerous intricate corridors of the Great Palace. The noise was amplified by a bevy of followers – petitioners asking her to grant them admittance to the Throne of the Caesars, attendants ready for her beck and call, and finally a small slew of scribes, ready to write her orders. After all, the chief of the vast Imperial intelligence network always had something to say.
“Excellency,” her aide, Kemal Kommenos hustled next to her – Maria might have stood less than five feet in height, but her angry strides made up for their small size with their speed, “you will next have a meeting with the honorable Isaakios Dukas of Homs, late returned from an embassy to the distant lands of Cathay.”
“I know,” Maria spat back as they drew near to her study. Kommenos bowed without missing a stride, and rejoined the bustling pack behind her, slightly pushing aside the young man from Herakleia who was now in his second week of demanding the Emperor’s attention for something inane. Two soldiers, dressed in the shining armor and purple capes of the Heraklion Tagmata of the Imperial Guard, opened the twin bronze doors that lead to one of the most famed (and infamous) rooms in the entire Roman Empire.
Without a blink Maria blew past the guardsmen, ignoring their ornate salute, and hustled into the room. A familiar, musky smell greeted her nose, as she came to a halt in front of a table, covered with neatly stacked maps and reports. None of these were particularly sensitive – her study was where all the official, public reports ended up. The more private information ended up in the Emperors’s personal hands.
All around the room stood mahogany shelves, covered with letters and carefully illuminated books detailing the peoples, customs and military means of every province in the Empire. Without looking she was already at the bookshelf to the left of the great glass window in the room, and neatly picked up a volume labeled “Cathay” in neat, Greek letters.
“Leave,” she waved to the entourage, and immediately the aides began to hustle the petitioners and others out of the crowded room.
Maria waited until the last of the small crowd had left the room, and then slid down into the fine ebony chair behind the main table. She closed her eyes, and calmed her mind. For a moment, she felt at peace, before the wind whispering through the open window made one of the maps on the desk flap noisily into the air.
Without opening her eyes, Maria snatched it in mid flight, and opened her eyes. What momentary peace she had felt before faded away, and she felt anger building up yet again. She glowered at the map, her gaze directed towards the Kingdom of the al-Murabatids, known in Europe as the Moors. The Emperor, in his infinite wisdom, had decided last year that Nubia, under the control of heathen Muslims for two decades, needed to rejoin the Orthodox world. He dispatched his Marshal, a Moor named A’lai Mustafa, along with 20,000 troops from the Alexandria garrisons to launch what was expected to be a quick and relatively bloodless campaign. Maria’s intelligence networks had ferreted as much information about the sheiks of Nubia and Aswan as possible, and she confidently told the Emperor that no one could intervene.
She could not have been more wrong.
The piddling Sheik of Nubia, days before the invasion was to commence, concluded an alliance with the powerful Moorish kingdom, sitting on the Western border of Roman North Africa, and as soon as Mustafa’s troops crossed the Nile, Moorish troops attacked Oranje and Tangiers, crushing the local Imperial garrisons. The Imperial governor of Hispania, Georgii Dukas, brother to the Emperor, called up the Spanish tagmata and brought twenty thousand Imperial troops to battle, reconquering Tangiers and Oranje, adding a little territory, but at the cost of Georgii’s life – as well as twelve thousand of the Emperor’s best soldiers in the West. The Moors concluded peace – at the price of 20,000 silver ducats.
While the payment made nary a dent in the Imperial treasury – Maria’s agents had it pegged somewhere around 200,000 gold ducats in various vaults at the Imperial residences around the Empire – it did hurt the prestige of the Throne. Rome had not lost a war for over a hundred years. Konstantios X killed the dreaded Arp Aslan in battle, and conquered Jerusalem and down to the gates of Egypt. Nikephoros III took the Imperial banners north into Armenia, the Caucasus, and Southern Russia, as well as conquering Sicily. Badr I took Cyrenaica and conquered the Zirids, while Kermaddin I Megos and Iakov I conquered Croatia, Algeria, and Southern Italy. A long, unbroken string of crushing victories, all preceded by active, accurate Imperial intelligence.
And now this – the Empire’s advance was brought to a halt not by a world power, but the Kingdom of the Moors, who barely mustered 30,000 troops. Maria knew she was unfairly blamed for the sheer problem of logistics – the Empire’s vast size meant that at any given point only a tiny fraction of its 600,000 troops in garrisons could be brought to bear - but the fact remained that Imperial Intelligence missed the alliance. If she’d known, bribes and overtures would have made the Moors turn a blind eye to their brethren – but no, and now she could tell that the vultures were beginning to circle above her… rumors abounded that someone was going to try to persuade the Emperor that she was no longer fit for her position, or perhaps that she was even treacherous…
A knock on the door brought her from her reverie.
“Excellency, the merchant Isaakios is here to see you,” Kemal said quietly, and she nodded her head. Kemal turned and walked into the hallway, and shortly thereafter a tall man of Greek stock walked into the room.
His clothes spoke of his complexity – silk and velvet on a simply cut tunic. The outfit told all of his wealth, yet was comfortable for any hot condition. She noted he dragged his left leg slightly, likely from some old injury she hadn’t cared to remember. A slightly worn spot on his left tunic spoke of where a sword would have normally hung, and his calloused hands and muscular frame said he knew his blade. When she looked up at his face, she saw his bright brown eyes peering out amidst wrinkles, weather cutting deep lines into his face long before age could work its magic.
“Ah, Issakios!” she put on a warm smile for her distant, distant cousin, and was rewarded with a smile in return.
“Maria, how good to see you,” he bowed politely. “I see you’ve grown used to this place – your smile seems as natural and pure as a poisoned mountain stream.” He looked up at her, and she saw the wariness in his eyes, despite his large, tight smile.
Maria felt her blood run cold – no one talked to her this way! Even as her smile hung, frozen, on her face, she gritted her teeth. He would get away with it. His father was the Prince of Homs, Syria and Damascus – a powerful vassal of the Emperor, with a claim of his own on the Throne of Caesar. Especially now that word was trickling in about the war against the Moors, the Emperor could not afford trouble at home.
“What is it, Isaakios?” she said, her voice as icy as her smile. Her mind silently worked through the suspects of who could be plotting against her, in her time of weakness…
“News from Cathay, Maria,” he said, his smile disappearing as a look of seriousness covered his face.
“Dour as usual,” Maria waved him towards a chair next to the table, her face growing serious as well. “So I take it that the great kingdoms still seeth at each others throats?” She looked towards Kemal. “Would you like a glass of wine, Isaakios?”
“No,” the merchant held up a hand, “I have become used to the ways of the Muslims, and I do not let alcohol touch me any more – it helps with my spirit and health.”
“Very well. Kemal, fetch me a glass of wine,” she said, growling under her breath, “I’m going to need it.”
“As I was saying,” Isaakios resumed, “I bring news from Cathay. As you know, our caravan left those distant regions in May of last year, hoping to cross the mountains with all possible speed before the snows of winter. At that time, yes, the two great kingdoms of Cathay still were angered at each other, my news concerns the third kingdom, the kingdom of Hsi Hsia.”
Maria raised an eyebrow. She had memorized the contents of the tome on Cathay, hand copied from the travel of Roger of Kornith, a merchant in the time of Nikephoros III. He had described how Cathay was ruled by two great kingdoms, each with walled cities and immense armies. To the north of Cathay were wild barbarians, similar to the Cumans that once roamed the Russian steppe. These barbarians were almost unknown, save they were fragmented and the Kings of Cathay pitted each tribe against the other. One part of these barbarians, calling themselves the Tangut, had set up a civilized kingdom, a Cathay in miniature, to the West of the two great kingdoms. Why on earth this third kingdom would be of concern to the Throne of Caesar’s was beyond her.
“Hsi Hsia is a warrior kingdom, much like the kingdom of barbarians that took over in the West after the Western Empire failed,” Isaakios continued. “They have formidable armies, and given time, they would civilize as well as Cathay. There are even Christians in that kingdom.”
“Why do I have a feeling your idyllic little picture of this ‘Frankland in the making’ is about to be painfully disturbed?” Maria asked sardonically, wishing Isaakios would get to the point. It was not like she was a bored and idle girl.
“Well,” Isaakios grimaced for a second at her abrupt interruption, “it appears the northern barbarians have unified, under a man named Genghis, and they’ve overrun the Kingdom of Hsi Hsia.”
“Hsi Hsia, if I remembered right, has few walled cities and an army that is piddling compared to Cathay’s…” Maria said, disinterested. She knew who was behind the talk against her – Keramaddin Dukas, son of the late Emperor’s son Shaiban. She would need time to plan a move against him… time that was being stolen by Isaakios and his idle chitchat.
“Cathay paid off Hsi Hsia’s rulers because they were afraid of their troops!” Isaakios interrupted, his face starting to become red. “I think you might not want to hear my report!”
“So far I have yet to hear anything compelling enough that I should spend time on it,” Maria replied, her voice without emotion. “Now, if you can get to the information that would be valuable…”
“Fine,” Isaakios growled. “These barbarians, led by this Genghis, are going to conquer Cathay, and march all the way to our very borders.”
Now Maria could barely constrain herself, and an incredulous giggle broke through her restrained demeanor. “What?” she sputtered out, covering up the laughter.
“They will conquer Cathay. They already decimated the Tangut armies of Hsi Hsia.”
“Really? Barbarians beat up barbarians, and this is suddenly news for my ears? Suddenly reason to believe Cathay, not to mention all the empires in between, great and small, will fall?” Her voice went sharp and cold. “Isaakios, I am quite busy, and I don’t need frivolous details. Now, get on to the trade report of your trip.”
“Maria, this is highly important!” Isaakios shot back. “They are all mounted, and fire arrows at a range even the Turk cannot match! They will cut through them like a scythe through wheat, and when they get to us…”
Maria gave a sigh. Enough was enough. She started to stand. “I am sure that the great kings of Cathay might be mildly concerned by this,” she started talking over him.
“But Maria!” Isaakios complained.
“…but I am sure that this minor kingdom’s failure to halt the barbarians on its borders has little to interest His Majesty…”
“Maria! These are no ordinary barbarian tribe! You have to…”
“…at this time. There are other barbarians, the heathen Qarakhanids, Kwarzhim and the Turk between us and whoever these people are…”
“Maria! They destroy armies like a man destroys a beetle! They will…”
“ISAAKIOS!” Maria finally snapped. The merchant’s mouth clicked shut, as she looked up at him, her eyes angry and cold. “I have much more important things to worry about here than a paltry tribe of barbarians led by a madman of some sort of other, especially when those barbarians are literally on doorsteps of Cathay!” She waved her hand towards the door. “Out. I will get the trade report of this embassy from another member.”
“Maria!”
“Out!”
Mournfully almost, Isaakios stood and began to walk towards the door.
“It’s not my responsibility if disaster befalls us because you refused to listen!” he called ominously over his shoulder.
“You don’t know responsibility!” Maria shot back, before returning to her paperwork with a new, angry tone to her writing… a death warrant for Keramaddin. Something worth her time.
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I love the premise of this!