I do not own Chaotic nor anything related to it. It belongs to TCDigital.

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The Unsteady Peace

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The war with the M'arrillians has been over for the last two solans, and Perim, for the first time in over a thousand solans, enjoys peace. A shaky, unstable peace, but peace all the same. A peace nearly shattered when a mandiblor named Kas or something like that won the Perithon race and a ton of accusations of cheating were thrown around.

The uncertainty of this peace is the fault of several splinters from the tribes of Perim, groups that act independently of the majority of the tribe. Lord Van Bloot of the Underworlders leads one such group, and several of the more secluded towns and villages in the Overworld form another. Some of the more radical conjurors among the Mipedians form a splinter group, too. The Danians are only tribe without a splinter counterpart, mainly due to the unity they've needed to repair Mount Pillar after the war.

Today, I meet with the Mipedian conjurors. I hope this goes well.

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Bylkian is a pale green, muscular Mipedian with red geometric tattoos on his head, limbs, and tail. He wears the red cloak most conjurors wear, but with it he also wears a few scattered pieces of pearl white armor with gold trim, symbols of the royal blood he shares with King Iflar. With Bylkian is Ranun, a larger, heavyset conjuror, and Drimesse, a shorter and thinner conjuror. Ranun and Drimesse give me suspicious glares, but Bylkian has a hospitable grin.

"Welcome to our home, Prince Osiris," Bylkian says as he spreads his arms, gesturing at the scattered tents that make up the nomad camp. "I hope your trip has been pleasant?"

I slide off my kozorr, as do Maliph and Malvadine. "A pleasant trip through the desert?" I grin. "Surely you jest."

Drimesse's scowl cracks for just a moment before returning to stony silence. Ranun just glares. Bylkian, though, laughs loudly. "Indeed. These parts are quite harsh." He glances around. "You travel light."

"We won't be here long," I respond. "Al Mipedim doesn't run itself."

Ranun snorts. "You don't run Al Mipedim."

"Show some respect, Ranun," Bylkian glares. "He is royalty, regardless of the blood he doesn't share with our king."

Ranun growls, but doesn't reply.

It's best I get right to business. "I'm here to deliver the message that all hostilities against the Overworlders must stop."

"Ah," Bylkian frowns. "I feared as much when I heard you would be paying us a visit. Unfortunately, I do not have the same level of authority nor respect among the conjuror clans that King Iflar has with the rest of our brethren. There is very little government among the conjurors."

"I understand," I say, "and I am grateful that your clan has chosen to obey. Still, you have regular contact with the other clans, no?"

Bylkian nods. "That I do."

I feel my heart pound. I'm not looking forward to the reaction I'm going to get to what I have to say. "When you speak with them next, tell them that, by King Iflar's orders and authority, any clan that continues to attack the Overworlders, or anyone else, will be held in contempt and treated as an enemy to the Mipedians."

Ranun and Drimesse bare their teeth and step forward. "You would wage war on your own people?" Drimeese spits.

"Silence," Bylkian growls, and the two conjurors freeze. "King Iflar has every right to punish those who defy him." To me, he says, "I will pass on your message, Prince Osiris."

"Thank you, Bylkian," I say as I turn to my kozorr.

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It's only a couple hours' ride back to civilization. A few minutes into it, I hear Maliph say to Malvadine, "I expected something a little more... dramatic than that."

"Two hours there and back for a simple message?" Malvadine agrees.

I call back, "There needed to be some weight to the words. And besides, aren't you glad that violence didn't break out?"

I can almost hear them cringing. "Well, yes, but we've grown accustomed to these big events happening around you," Malvadine mumbles.

"Not everything is big a dramatic," I grin. "Some of the best things in life are the small and quiet ones." I tighten my grip on my kozorr's reins and say, "But if you want some excitement, how about this? Yah!"

My kozorr darts ahead, and my guards' kozorr follow, nearly knocking their riders out of their saddles. I hear whoops behind me as we dash across the desert sands.

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Up next: The Simple Things

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Like I said before, Chaotic belongs to TCDigital.

Two chapters today, because you guys waited way too long for me to start this back up.

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