A New Age Begins

It had finally come to this:

My pride lay shattered before my feet and my mind was doing its best to ignore the situation I found myself in: my eyes firmly locked on the scrolls before me, while my voice continued on autopilot. Crying out loudly, carrying the words over the whole field before me I announced:

"The Khot'aa family!"

I did my best to wear a serious and grim face, even as I wanted nothing more than to sink into the ground right here and there: I had no other idea and now I was falling back onto the Mulan Disney movie. Laughing about the way my words even rolled of my lips like that of the imperial advisor in the movie, might have been something I would have loved to do. But I would doubt the hundreds of Jaffa gathered below me tent would have taken it in equally good humor and the way all the burning myrrh and incense was pushing tears into my eyes wasn't helping me to remain calm at all. The nearly nonstop murmuring and prying of the priestesses next to me was given me headaches and I knew for certain, that at least one of them was not only blessing the warriors and weapons in the name of Lord Apophis and Lord Zipacna, but also in my name. It was bad enough when they believed that praying to me would give them rain, protect their sheep or heal them from illnesses: all things they usually prayed for in private and then simply believed I would hear and maybe even help them: it was a terrible feeling. I had never taken a weapon into my hands outside of a few museum pieces in my human life and I was rather careful with the way I accessed my genetic memory: I wouldn't want to traumatize myself: as such I was not sure about how to feel when watching those warriors flock to this gathering place, ready to kill and be killed to honor their gods.

I looked down at the gathering of chainmail wearing Jaffa below me: there were hundreds of them waiting with their family since the early morning, their voices had been loud enough to wake me in the morning and even with the lack of windows my house hadn't been soundproof enough.

At least the wind wasn't turning into my direction: my chair and my scrolls were standing halfway up the hill, with the monopteros topping it and hiding my villa behind it, while large tripods were flanking it and burning with sacrificial offerings: the bones were cracking in the heat and darkening, while the flesh was being cooked and given out to the Jaffa as soup or shashlik. That I meanwhile had to sit nearly unmoving on my chair since the early morning, was not only annoying my divine tush a little, but also made me hungry thanks to me sitting right between all the fire places on which the flesh for the parish was cooked. Lateus, the smug old man meanwhile was nearly bursting from pride as he stood together with seven other Jaffa "veterans" or patriarchs, whatever you want to call them, holding up the banner for one of the eight maniple that had to be formed today.

"Surinoc of Khot'aa: with my I bring my son and three of my nephews."

The deep voice broke me out of my reverie and I gave the Jaffa before me a faint nod as I took him in: short black hair, a slightly darker tan and how could it be otherwise: trained muscles which carry the chainmail armor and the staff weapon in his hands easily. Age wise he could be somewhere between thirty to sixty, it was a bit tricky with Jaffa and his other looks let me at least guess that his family was one of those which had been native to Chulak before Apophis took over: unlike the more lighter or even darker skinned Jaffa which had immigrated to Chulak at a later date. Behind him stood three young men, all of them at least 19 or older, which meant they had succeeded or rather survived, whatever training tradition their family had to offer. Looking at their faces and then back at the list, I guessed:

"Anok your son, Riet' and Marif, sons of your late brother Hasior?"

My voice remained firm and carried only a light questioning note: omniscience sadly was one of the attributes that were given to my kind. Except from making questions rather awkward, as most Jaffa believed that it was only a test for them instead of being a honest and simple question, it also made me wonder what they would think of Earths equivalent of surveillance equipment, if the sparsely used Gua'old equipment had already served as foundation for that particular widespread believe. Surinor had taken the moment to bow and nod, answering for all of his wards, with a simple:

"Indeed, Lady Anai. For the Glory of Lord Apohis."

Waving him off with my hand, I leaned forward and put my chin on my hand, supporting my elbow on the table as I looked down at the milling mass… those four meanwhile went to the sides, joining one of the standard bearers: from their gesturing an old friend or comrade. I looked over to the next applicants, as they came closer to my table and bowed reverently, before stating their name and watching in awe as I used a Gua'old tablet device to fill their names into the army register. The only thing which stood out on them in comparison to those before was the way the chainmail and breastplate were hanging loose from the frame of the sons and nephews the more experienced Jaffa brought with him:

"Tia'ur district?",

I simply asked and the nodded profusely, voicing their joy at my knowledge of their home region. I honestly only remembered it, because their production was the lowest in my whole reach: in the last few years every drought, earth slide and storm seemed to had hit their fields whenever they came around and they were not far off from becoming social pariahs, because everyone presumed such events were to be interpreted as chastening from the gods. If it wouldn't be for the numerous tokens, trophies and items from other worlds that filled their hamlet and mesmerized especially the younger generations with tales of valor and glory. But while they were known as fearless warriors, as many other families too, there was a bit of a running joke: a friendly teasing which reached back as many centuries as the family was known by their neighbors. It was said that if the maniple ever was threatened by hunger, yearned for something to drink or someone wanted to bring back a token to impress his spouse or fiancée: one of the Catoc family would know where to find something on the march.

"May Lord Apophis watch over you and may Lord Zipacna lead you to victory.",

Intoning this formally usually did the job in getting the Jaffa away from my table again and towards the cooking pots and barbeque of the priestesses. Looking at their retreating backs I shook my head: the armor seemed totally medieval…but the half-plate over the chainmail is surprisingly resilient: shrugging off more primitive firearms and even gracing shots from a Ma'tok staff if one is lucky. Pairing this with the general lack of any decent kind of steel and metalworking's on most of the slave planets, the armors were not only intimidating, but also rather secure, as even the traditional enemies of chainmail -everything with a pointy, sharp end- didn't do much when their tip was made from sharpened stone or primitive alloys. The downside, at least for the Jaffa, was the cost of a single armor set: which was easily more than five times as costly as a staff weapon. As the half plate was usually after a battle either only chipped or completely blasted through by plasma this made a lot of the Lords reluctant to use too much of their resources to buy more sets and thus in turn lead to most of the armors currently arrayed before me having served in the family for generations. The chainmail was even better, for the thrifty Gua'old: it fits all sizes if one only uses a few straps to secure it and cleaning it of rust and such is terrible easy: one simply has to put it in a barrel with sand and roll it around long enough till all stain is sanded away.

The list of families which requested replacement for the armor or weapons was mercifully small: the short scroll I had prepared till now mostly dealing with boots, as each Jaffa would need at least two or three pairs of them and they were made from a mesh of fabric and alloy: protecting them against the more insidious rebels that loved to lay traps. That the clanking they made when walking was unnerving too was only a bonus. But elsewise everything was going quite neatly: Jaffa were flocking to the banners: gathering in groups around the standard bearers and those older patriarchs were keeping the numbers checked to prevent one formation to become bigger than needed.

The Jaffa's usual tendency to never desert in battle, but to switch sides quite often after suffering a defeat was quite similar to the attitude of mercenaries or samurai, but most importantly: it saved me from doing more paperwork! Either they died in service of their god, which would be carried home to their family by their comrades: most often with some heroic additions, or they recognized another god as the stronger one after an especially crushing defeat. In both cases it thankfully wasn`t one of the scribes worries to write down who died or deserted: it simply was noted how many of the original force returned and everyone else was noted under the label lost. A quite elegant way of keeping things to a minimum in the field and the Jaffa culture seemed to have adapted to no one really caring "in paper" if someone died or left: even in peaceful time there only was a counting of the population every few years to save work. That "lost" Jaffa return after a distant battle happened from time to time was most often either seen as a miracle from the grace of the gods or as an infiltration attempt by their new God: the last one was quite common but nothing anyone ever talked about. That mostly stemmed from the fact that Jaffa which became spies were either zealously loyal to their Lords or soon became filled with doubts as their worked continued to prove our claims of omniscience and omnipresence a lie.

Right now my presence at this ceremony was terrible boring enough: I watched the sun rising behind the village at the horizon, its zenith was reached just past the half of the muster and it was slowly sinking again as the last Jaffa were noted on the scrolls: with their numbers per family name of course. Finally finished I reached below the table and shook my wrist a little: writing with ink and feather was becoming quite taxing if you could use the pads for other things: but those were only a few in numbers so I had to finish my work with even more papyri. Dipping some sand onto the paper, I used the moment to stand up with a sigh; everything was finished and the Jaffa milled around in their maniples as a loud soaring sound could be heard from overhead.

A quick memo from my genetic memory already told me just what was approaching before I could spot it, but I soon found myself staring up at a hovering Tel'tak, which was turning to face with the nose towards the mansion, while it held its position above the parade ground before me. Some of the older Jaffa thankfully had an idea what was going on and they quickly let the maniples form up: each of them forming a twenty man broad and twenty-five men deep formation, before they went on their knee and inclined their heads. Only the Ma'Toks were set with their bottom against the ground and their tip pointed straight upwards giving the impression of a forest of 4000 sleek and deadly weapons. My memory supplied what I had to do next: my arms rose on my sides and I stepped up towards the large ash altar the priestesses had created through the door: it was large even if a bit small, but enough to be recognizable. Stepping forward and feeling my boots sink into the still warm ash I cried with my deeper and vibrating voice:

"See! The Gifts of our Lord Apophis towards his loyal servant Lord Zipacna and to you! JAFFA! CREE!"

At my last command their heads snapped up again and they watched at my form, illuminated in the setting sun with my purple cloak swaying lightly in the wind as on both sides of me transport rings started to come down from the Tel'tak. Four times they came down at the four specially build platforms on both sides of my position and four times they left again, but not without leaving something behind in the bright light of their transportation.

So if human weapons do resemble male reproductive organs and those do vaguely resemble symbionts…is this another human thing we have taken over? Uhh…bad mind…no back….

My eyes flicked to my sides and I took in the deadly contours of the strongest weapon Jaffa were allowed to handle: with their size and payload the staff cannons were the meaner and bigger brother of the Mo'Tak staffs and even those could tear head sized holes out of walls and effortlessly mow down trees with superheated plasma.

"Se'ac of Tuska! Men'auc of Sadiz! Fea'c of Persior! Hemio'c of Versin! Step forward, for you have been chosen to wield this mighty weapons!"

At least the genetic memory made things like this easy and stopped me from feeling utterly ridiculous, but at the same time wasn't I enjoying this whole shouting a bit too much? Most likely it was nothing, so I set up a sufficiently serious face and gave them each a sharp nod as I reached into a bag one of the servant girls I had gotten presented to me and pulled out four silver necklaces depicting the Symbol of Apophis on their pendant.

"You will be responsible for these gifts Lord Apophis has bestowed upon this levy, you shall not leave them to the enemy while you still draw a breath: you shall sooner leave your weapons and armor than to leave them behind and you shall invoke his wrath onto his enemy with them."

I didn't even notice myself getting louder but as I came to an end again they seemed sufficiently cowed down and each of them got the necklace put around his neck by me. It was only one more reminder of many: first and foremost they were the Jaffa belonging to Lord Apophis: Lord Zipacna might be able to command them, choose their officer or even demand their presence if his fiefs were in danger, but they were still more loyal to System Lord Apophis than to him. As such they being called when Lord Zipacna was not in mortal danger was officially a sign of him carrying out the orders of Lord Apophis himself and for that he would use the Jaffa gifted to him for such purposes: unofficially the levy would either be used to replace or bolster one of his own Jaffa Levy's from a fief belonging to him. In both ways they would help to spare the lives of his Jaffa for later use, like the following intrigues when new territory had been conquered and needed to be carved up between all people who had participated in that campaign.

Alas: for now I could only watch as they bowed and waved lightly, getting their sons or nephews to come closer to help them carry the staff cannons away after the last deed was done. An action which also involved me as I stepped towards the weapons on the tripods with two priestesses walking behind me and holding candles with sweet smelling wax. Once more I had to gesture my servant girl to come closer, the lack of pockets was annoying, before I could reach into it and pull out a seal, which worked as stamp and was as large as my palm: depicting the dancing piano's or whatever it was that Zipacna had chosen as his sign. Stepping to each of the tripod mounted weapons a time, I gestured for the priestesses to come closer, letting them pour the way onto cannon, before I pressed the seal against the wax finished the transfer of temporary ownership, which this ritual was all about.

"And here he comes…",

I slowly muttered to myself as the ring transporter came down from the ship another time, but this time it deposited no artillery piece. Instead the dark shape forming in the bright light of it was starting to become humanoid and as it died down and the rings returned to their origin again an armored figure stepped from the platform.

"Jaffa! Cree!"

This time it wasn`t my voice that echoed over the field, instead it was a harsher and sharped tone, the new arrival stepping up next to me as the Jaffa followed his every movement. The officer, as that was what he was: a Gua'old who served in command of Jaffa legions, reached out and took my forearm in greeting, giving it a squeeze until I winced, making him smirk as he declared magnanimously:

"Scribe Anai, Lord Zipacna thanks you for rising the levy in this district, from here on I take charge of the eight Maniple and their cannons."

Inclining my head and holding his armored forearm tightly, I intone in reply:

"I'm honored by Lord Zipacna's praise, may he bring our Lord Apophis victories.",

With a look down at the Jaffa I said louder:

"May you all stand victorious over the foes that try to slight our Lord!"

A loud cheer came from the gathered Jaffa and the officer who took them over allowed himself an arrogant smile at he looked at the warriors, which were now his….in a way at least. Letting go of my forearm, the officer, who did not even introduce himself before hand, turning towards the Jaffa:

"Jaffa! Our Lords Brother, the mighty and valorous Ra! Greatest of all Gods was killed by cowardly traitors and betrayers! Now our Lord has to step forward and protect the faithful of his brothers…but why hasn't he done so yet? He has!

But the envious Gods outside of his realm have decided to rob him of his just inheritance! Because of this we are being send out to get what's Lord Apophis right and we shall not be stopped by those, who try to rob it off him!

Jaffa! We stand at the beginning of a new Age! Our Lord is ascending to take the Throne his brother has left behind and we who follow him will see treasures beyond our wildest dreams! Lord Apophis himself has declared that each of you, who will leave his mortal body on the field of honor, will have his soul moving into the afterlife under his protection and your families shall not be forgotten if you fall for our Great Lord!"

It was only a primer for what was to come: for hour long monologues and spirit lifting sermons at the larger gatherings of the army, with constant reminders of the importance of the mission, their own bravery and the rewards that were promised to them in the afterlife, should they die in the name of their gods. That was how it had always been and it worked.

This truly was a new Age: one of strife and civil war, with consequences no one in the galaxy could imagine at this point: neither the Jaffa before me, or the Gua'old next to me, not even the Tok'ra with their spy network had any warning about what was coming and maybe even less of a notion had those, who lived on a little blue planet behind a gate address, that had been forgotten in time and whose nuclear fire had put the galaxy to the flame.

I'm so…

To my Readers (to whom I would recommend looking over to the Spacebattles thread of this fic as the comments there might be interesting or at least lively~):

thunder18: Sorry~ Kinda forgot the update it on this site.

Jack100: My Beta-Readers to not usually hold very long...

OBSERVER01: That`s life~