Malthus sat on the stone of kings with gentle reverence when he entered his throne room. A rude, rough hewn block of granite, there was nothing special about it. No magic, no enchantment, yet it had been the seat of their first chief, then their first king. Now it was his own.
He sat alone in quiet contemplation as tradition dictated, for one tic of the sundial that sat in the center of the chamber. Only then did the others begin to enter, the traditional roughspun clothing and decorative claws and skulls of dangerous beasts were the norm. A few wore precious stones, uncut and unrefined, very different from their eastern neighbors, none however, was without a sword.
The shaman was the last to enter. An olive skinned old man with white hair, his eyes were milky white and blind, he still moved without assistance to kneel before the king. "Great Lord, King over the Ongeku, ruler of the seven hills and blood right ruler of the western plains, your Fastmen assemble to know your will." Though cracked with age, his voice was still strong, and though his head was bowed to bare the whiteness of the hair on his head, his words were proud and true.
Malthus placed his elbow on the wooden armrest and, raising his arm, he made a fist then rested his high cheekbone on it. He extended his free right arm out to touch the top of the head of his shaman. "Old man, you don't need to use 'the Sight' to know what I'm about to say. You of all people, don't have to bend to me."
He smiled warmly down at his mentor, the man who made him king, only for the old shaman to shake his head. "I am only old Lumase, a common man of common blood. Though I traded my eyes to the Gods for my gifts, I can still see much. I see my place in the world, and yours, and yours is to rule, while mine is to kneel. You are my king, I am only your prophet. I will always kneel, even if you tell me that every day of my life, until I lie down and rise no more."
Malthus gave a chuckle only half bitter, and left his hand upon the white haired head of his mentor. "My friend, I pray to the gods that such a day does not come for many, many years."
Lumase smiled gently from his downward gaze, "As do I, though I am lucky enough to have seen you here, as I saw you in my visions when you were but a babe at your mother's breast…" His words were soft, so soft that only he and his king could hear them.
"Come, take position at my side." Malthus said and let his hand fall away from the old man, but kept it out. Lumase's shaking old right hand, calloused from his staff, wrinkled by an age all others could only guess at, fell into the youthful, powerful palm of their king. The steel fingers of His Majesty folded over them, and with slow ease, he helped Lumase to his feet.
When a few slow steps carried the blind shamanic prophet to the right hand of the king, the court came to life. Various Fastmen positioned themselves to see and be seen by their young king in his great stone hall.
"First, before I hear all other petitions, there is something I wished to know, something I sent out an expedition to learn a year ago, and that expedition has finally come back. Bring out Rashlit!" He shouted, and the various Fastmen looked around at one another with uncertainty.
From the back, a young man in a brown mages cloak began to make his way to the fore, slight of build to the point of being waif thin, he wove his way through the crowd without evident effort and without even being noticed by most of those he passed until they were at his back.
When he made his way out of their ranks, he approached the twenty paces from where they stood, until he was three paces from the king, and knelt. His hood went back, baring his bald, shaven head before the king.
"My King, I come bearing the words you sent me to gather." He said in the raspy voice of someone with damaged vocal chords.
"Then give them to me, what did you find, beyond the eastern sea?" King Malthus asked thunderously, and the Fastmen turned their eyes from the face of the king, to the back of the visitor's head.
"My Lord, I took ship with them at the coastal settlement of Nanjik, from there we sailed for three days to an island, the first island their people touched with their feet, which ours did not know existed. There I found a small port settlement, we took on salted fish, whale meat, and other things. There, I met a dragon." Shouts stopped him cold.
"A dragon?!" Malthus exclaimed and tensed his knuckles, "How did you escape?!" Malthus asked loudly enough to quiet the crowd.
"My lord, there was no need to escape, this dragon was in the service of the Newcomers. It was named Heijenmal, and it was there to work, it helped to find whales and other beasts of the sea above, to kill krakens… this is why they have so much more food from the sea than we did. They would go far out, find the beasts we could not find, kill the beasts we could not kill, and then bring the haul there for preparation." Rashlit said without breaking the stride of his words.
"The dragon told me it came from a great mountain range conquered by their God King, and that all dragons in the west bowed to him long ago." Rashlit stopped briefly as voices of consternation broke behind him, until Malthus cleared his throat loudly, and started catching their eyes with his, and the tumult settled down.
"I stayed there for three days, and then we took ship east, it took three months on their large ship, before I saw land again. The crew was mostly lighter skinned humans, but there were also a few elves, and the ship was sometimes guided by merfolk tribes who took payment and praised the God King like the crew did. Though whether this was from generous pay or for true allegiance, I did not get to ask them. I struck land at a province called 'Re-Estize'. From there I traveled on a cart pulled by undead horses…" Tumult began again, shouts of denial and accusations of lying hit his back, but Rashlit only stayed tranquilly still until the king's fist slammed on the armrest.
"Silence!" Malthus shouted, and quiet returned.
"-by undead horses. These were very common, their God King uses undead labor there as his settlers do on the coast, they farm without hungering, build without tiring. They are controlled by living supervisors, which is good, because simple skeletal undead were not alone. Soul Eaters, Death Knights, and others were plentiful. Undead judges immune from corruption, judge criminal cases, death knights detain the accused. Yet the undead are not the only beings that labor." Rashlit took a deep breath, "I saw black armored figures, warriors of their dark religion and these marched and laughed beside monsters. They called themselves Black Paladins. They were many, many, and then I found their arena."
Ears perked up at the mention of combat. "I saw their warriors pitted against one another in great matches, and their arena, made of intricately designed stonework, held a population the size of a small city."
Malthus looked over to Lumase, his raised eyebrow and pursed lips were not followed by words. Lumase only gave a small nod.
Rashlit continued, "Their roads, true to what we have heard from visitors to their colonies, are enchanted, and they have a road which spans their entire empire, I traveled across this empire, and found black temples in every city, attended, the roads were widely traveled, and the people were without fear. As a test, I bought a vase of gold and paid a whore to walk naked with it on her head for seven miles from one settlement to another. She was unmolested and unrobbed. To traverse their empire, from the human lands of Re-Estize, to the demon-elf lands of Aiwenor, took months more. Monsters are citizens like any other, vampires live and work in the open. Beastmen walk with humility enough to obey human guards. In the South, I visited a place called Crescent Lake, elven country, it is ruled by a halfblood, who has vampires as her advisors and takes council with peasants as easily as with her Fastmen."
"In the far flung lands of a place called the Holy Kingdom, I learned more. Their king is named Valerius Baraja, he is the great grandchild of their first pope, and his grandfather was given the throne by the last independent rulers, Calca and Brain, who married to unite North and South into one land. Their 'Pope' is the equivalent of a High Shaman, like our Lumase. Their first Pope spread the faith by fire and blood over much of the west. Her children carried the banner east twenty years later in a great crusade…" Rashlit paused when he felt the King stir.
"And how many soldiers do they bring to bear for battle?" King Malthus asked as his brow furrowed.
"My King, we have no word for numbers of that kind. While staying in the west, there was a grand military parade done in honor of the late pope, the anniversary of some grand accomplishment, their soldiers marched over the whole of the old battlefields, and though the first in their ranks passed beneath my eyes, I could not see from atop my place on a wall, where the line of warriors stopped." Rashlit swallowed hard, "As to their magic, their God King is said to be able to use beyond the tenth tier, and others who serve beneath him are rumored to be nearly as dangerous."
Tomblike silence ruled the hall.
"You must be lying…" Malthus said with his eyes wide and mouth still slightly open.
Rashlit shook his head violently. "No. I have not described even half of what I saw or what I learned. My King, whatever you do, do with care, or if his eyes turn in wrath to us, the Ongeku will cease to be." He swallowed and kept his head bowed. "I swear on my magic, I speak only truth to my King."
"Lumase?" Malthus asked flatly.
The prophet's eyes went from white, to glowing white, he clutched his head and groaned at the pain, but when it faded, he nodded. "This man speaks the truth as he knows it to be."
"I see, then we have a real problem on our hands. We'll need allies." King Malthus Nai replied as the hairs on his skin stood on end.
"Who would ally with us against that?" A Fastman asked from among the many horrified faces.
Lumase's eyes went white again, he collapsed to his knees, his mouth fell open in a silent scream. He clutched at his head, clawing at it, and Malthus rushed out of his seat to grab the old man by his shoulders. He pulled his mentor into his arms, "Hold on! Hold on!" he shouted urgently, "Don't let this be it! Please old man! Please!" Malthus cried out an inch from the withered face.
The shaking stopped finally, and the old man's milky eyes turned their native hazel, "My boy…" He reached up and touched Malthus's cheek, "Allies… you will have allies soon… ones that can challenge this threat… but… you must be wise, careful. You will know them…" Lumase began to cough hard as pain racked his flesh.
"How?! How will I know them?!" Malthus asked through blurry eyes as he saw the inevitable.
"That's my boy… why you're king, to the end, thinking of kingship, even now. You will, you will know them easily, when they come in power to your court out of the west, and ask what game they're playing…" Lumase did not shut his eyes, but the pain was causing his body to shake, "My boy… my boy… my king… I never regretted the price I paid, but I'm glad to see you once more with my own eyes…" He staggered the words out, and then howled in pain as his body spasmed in the king's arms.
Malthus sniffled, and allowed himself to weep as prophecy consumed his mentor one last time, the screaming went on for half a minute as the King held on, and when the screaming stopped, so did the breathing.
The eyes of Lumase faded to the blank stare of death, and King Malthus Nai reached with a trembling hand to the face of his teacher. With two fingers, he closed the eyes of his prophet, and then turned his face away from the body to look at the lowered, reverential eyes of his Fastmen, who had one and all knelt before the scene.
Malthus looked to the great wide hole above where the sun shone down on the dial. "Summon his acolytes, we will give him his sky burial here in the hall, and then they will choose another to bear his burden."
He stood, slowly lowering the body to the floor and looked down at the haggard face, "Rest well in the next life old man, I'll make you proud while you wait for me." King Malthus said in a solemn whispered voice, and did not look away until the Acolytes of Tomorrow came to bear the body on their shoulders to the dial for disposal.