Unscoured - Trials Of The Great Khan

by GamprHabanero

Five dragonets find themselves thrust into the world with only an enigmatic 'scavenger' for aid and protection. A man awakens to find that everything he's worked for is completely and utterly destroyed, with only a group of dragonets for company. Can these dragonets keep him sane and help him gain back what he lost? Who will be the heroes' hero, and who will be the hero's heroes?

5. P1A2C2

Ugh...how long has it been since the last update? Just over five and a half whole months? Too long. Way too long. Stupid writer's block...

Anyways...this is going to be the last big chapter of this 'prologue' before we get into the main story. Don't worry, we'll get to our favorite characters soon.

Though, I will admit that this will also be what is likely the story's longest chapter.

---

CHAPTER 2: LIBERTY OR DEATH (WAR AGAINST THE TARANTINES)

Late April, 1531 B.S.

There were times when Altamir felt that life was specifically out to get him. He knew full well that many, many, MANY people and dragons had such moments...but he in particular felt such very strongly. Having to put up with (and then, at nine years old, kill) his older brother, having his father die particularly unpleasantly when he was ten years old, nearly losing Tamuriyah to birthing complications, having to lead a war at only seventeen years old...

...and now this. "Aldy? What happened tae Somayeh? Why did she never wake up? Is she..."

"She is, Avi. She is. I wish it was naet sae, but she is."

It had been nearly two years since Altamir had defeated the late Panjian Tyrant Wērōd on the battlefield. In that time, he'd grown one final inch of what would likely be his full height (63 inches, which, given that the average was at least 68 for the men among his people...indeed, he was always going to be small, as he was now nineteen years old). His dragonets (who, at ten years old, were nearly at the point where he well and truly couldn't consider them to be 'dragonets' anymore)...they'd done what would be some of the last of their growing as well and were nearing what would just about be their full size, as, from nose tip to the base of the tail, Togay was currently 57 feet long (and 26 feet tall at the shoulder), the others were currently anywhere from 38 to 48 feet long (and anywhere from 17 to 21 feet tall at the shoulder), and Gunesha was currently 34 feet long (and 15 feet tall at the shoulder).

A lot had happened ever since Altamir had struck down Wērōd in what was now known as the Battle of Qizil Qirghaq. The news of how badly the now-dead former Shah had been defeated had inspired varying reactions through Panjistan, as Altamir had found out when he and the Parlataean contingents of his army had escorted Tahmasp and the Panjians who had defected with him back to Gurganj to install the Shahzadeh upon the throne so that he would be the next Shah. The common people of the country had more or less rejoiced when they heard that the hated tyrant was dead, and that his infinitely kinder son was the new Shah. Many of the aristocrats and nobles, however, were far more mixed, with the ones who in particular had been Wērōd's lapdogs receiving this change quite badly, as they seemed to realize that, now that there wasn't a tyrant to protect them, there was nothing stopping that same common populace from flocking to the new Shah and demanding retribution against them.

Which, to be 'fair' to them, was exactly what happened, with such nobles and aristocrats as well as others who had taken part in Wērōd's insane reign of terror being ferreted out and exposed, and Altamir then having to track such individuals down and execute them in order to gain favor for himself and Tahmasp with the Panjian populace. It was busy work, having to shake down a great deal of the Panjian upper class to make sure that those who had abused their citizenry paid for that abuse...he'd lost track of just how many condemned he'd personally beheaded for doing such things, whether they'd done them on Wērōd's behalf or because of their own callous cruelty. That, and having to juggle that with helping Tahmasp tend to the needs of the battered populace, with many, many, many Panjians having suffered both directly and indirectly under Wērōd's tyranny.

But now, it had at least seemed as though everything had paid off on that front. The people of Panjistan seemed to have recovered somewhat, as the last time he'd visited Tahmasp in Gurganj, the average citizen there seemed far less gaunt and far happier than when he'd first escorted the young shah into the city. The streets weren't awash with fear anymore, and people no longer needed to take great care of what they said in those streets on the pain of losing their tongues or their freedom or their lives. The local economy was doing better also, with a fair few less people being impoverished than before (though there were still some), and quite a few less having to resort to begging for scraps.

There was also how he was now the 'Padishah' of Panjistan (and, by extension, the 'Megas Basileus' of Baktria and Sagartia, 'High King' of the Galatians, Gergovians, Gothians, and Polabians, and 'Khagadyn Khagan' of the Parlataeans). Indeed, after he'd struck down Wērōd, Tahmasp had kept his vow to recognize Altamir as his suzerain, and, soon after, Kings Dumnualos, Ptolemy, and Kleomenes had, in turn, kept their promises to recognize him as their 'ruler of rulers'. This, along with his own uncle Khingila and also King Lugobelinos, King Ragnar, and King Lech following suit, meant that, land-area-wise, Altamir technically now ruled at least two thirds of Pyrrhia at the moment...and he'd attained it when he was only seventeen years old. Well, in practice, 'technically' was emphasized for a reason, as he still let those kings and his uncle do their jobs as usual, and was only really intervening on Tahmasp's behalf to make sure that he could rule well and with stability, but still...

Altamir knew that he should have been proud of this, having been able to unite so much of the continent under what was basically one banner at such a young age...ensure that so many people no longer had to war with each other, and instead could stand together united against shared foes. He should have been proud of that. He should have. He really should have.

But at the same time...could one truly feel pride if they were currently dealing with the death of a spouse?

Somayeh was a Panjian Princess who was Tahmasp's older sister and roughly Altamir's age, and was the one whom Altamir had finally taken as his second wife. In the aftermath of Tahmasp's ascendancy, many of the remaining nobles and aristocrats who hadn't been purged for willingly aiding in Wērōd's tyranny were nonetheless 'uneasy' about Tahmasp being backed by Altamir, believing that he was only in it for his own gain (yes, the hypocrisy was palpable), so Altamir's solution, upon finding out about Somayeh and meeting her to go over it with her, was to dangle in front of those same nobles and aristocrats the possibility of his potential heirs to his now massive realm perhaps being half-Panjian. The nobles and aristocrats, either swayed outright or realizing that they had too much to lose to not do so, accepted the offer and backed down, and so Altamir ended up wedding Somayeh two weeks after Tahmasp became the Shah, and taking her as his second wife alongside Tamuriyah, and taking her retinue with him as well.

Given that the marriage was an arranged one born of political expediency, rather than love or romance, Altamir and Somayeh...weren't exactly supremely-affectionate with each other. Now, it wasn't an unhappy marriage either, and they didn't hate each other or anything like that; they got along with each other just fine, and Somayeh also got along just fine with Tamuriyah and her children. It was just that Altamir...simply never had or developed any sort of real 'flame' for her (like he'd ironically developed for Tamuriyah after the latter was already past the point of having any more children due to health concerns), and the same was clearly true in reverse. That might have partially been because the political nature of the marriage meant that they were mainly with each other out of duties to their respective peoples, but regardless...things were only ever lukewarm between them.

That had not made things any easier when it had happened.

Even from the start, Altamir had early concerns that Somayeh was going to be in trouble when childbirth came. For one thing, she was a full nine inches shorter than Tamuriyah was (Tamuriyah, for reference, was a rather tall young woman, currently being 70 inches tall, and having still already been at 68 inches tall when she had Altamir's four oldest sons; Somayeh, on the other hand, was two inches shorter than Altamir), and for another thing, she was rather waifish in physical nature by comparison to Tamuriyah (thanks to having been in far better living conditions than when Altamir first met her seven years ago, Tamuriyah had revealed herself to be relatively robust by physical nature, and was seldom ill with...anything; Somayeh, by comparison, was often ill thanks to a condition referred to by Yasagur as "Asthma", as well as having a rather weak constitution in general). Given that Tamuriyah had almost died despite those physical advantages health-wise, Altamir was worried that what nearly happened to her would indeed happen to Somayeh, especially given that, due to the nature of the marriage, neither could back out without there being potentially serious political consequences.

However, the first time around, things went...surprisingly well, all things considered. At the beginning of the previous spring, Somayeh gave birth to now-one-year-old fraternal twins named Bleda and Khochen (a boy and a girl respectively). The process for that round hadn't many hitches, if at all, and while it wasn't easy, human births basically never were easy, and a fair few had commented on how Somayeh endured the whole process much better than they thought that she would, given her usual general health.

That, along with how those in the tribe experienced in medical matters said that it would likely be safe for her to go for another round if her health stayed steady enough, had likely been what had given Altamir false hope, as he'd begun to think that perhaps things wouldn't go so badly in this regard. Much as he wasn't massively affectionate towards Somayeh, she was still his wife, and he had not wanted to have her die on him in childbirth like Tamuriyah almost did, so he'd gradually thought that perhaps he could avoid this fear from coming true...

...a vain hope that had only resulted in what had happened the second time around hit all the harder.

Things had been seemingly going well once again initially...in fact, they seemed to be going better than last time, as there were seemingly even fewer of the 'hitches' that she'd indeed had that time. This had given Altamir confidence that she'd get through this one also without dying. Oh, how wrong he had been. The things that went wrong literally didn't start going wrong until she went into labor two days ago...but when they went wrong, by the gods they went wrong, because, just like Tamuriyah...it turned out that Somayeh was having quadruplets as well (Altamir had no idea what it was with him and fathering multiple-births). Thirteen hours of intense labor that pushed everyone around to their breaking point ensued...Altamir was not going to forget the screams or, at the end, the blood anytime soon. Given her constitution, the effects that this had on poor Somayeh were catastrophic...and just after the fourth infant was born, Altamir had realized that while all four infants had survived...

...Somayeh had not. He, most of all, wasn't going to forget the moment where he saw her body...simply give out. There was no saving her.

Alakhai, Tümelün, Altalun, and Checheikhen. Four little girls that had been the 'fruits' borne from this tragedy. He was not going to be a delusional arsehole and blame his own infant daughters for this happening, as he never could have anticipated quadruplets happening twice with him (if anything, he couldn't help but blame himself, as he'd been the one who had sired them, which had led to this happening), but...gods, if only they'd been given the opportunity to have their mother alive with them, for while Somayeh may have been lukewarm with him, she truly did love her children, and she'd spoken with some of her retainers closest to her about the joys that she'd have with them as they grew up...joys that she'd never be able to have now.

---

"Aldy?" His pondering of what had happened recently was interrupted by a voice of a tall, slightly older young man (21 years old, specifically) who now lived his life with fervor. "Oi, ye there?"

"Huh? I...I'm there, I'm there..."

"Really? 'Cuz ye dinnae seem like ye're there, lad." It was Rautastaxma. Yes, that Rautastaxma. The one whom Frahatava, his own father, had sold into slavery under the now-gone Wērōd. "Dinnae tell me ye're blaming yerself for this whole thing again."

"Daes it? I...sorry...I-"

"'Sorry?' Aldy, ye need tae hear me on this: nae amount of blaming yerself is going tae bring Somayeh back. Ye could do sae until ye were blue in the damn face, and it still would naet happen. I'm naet denying that it was a focking horrible thing even though ye never had any spark or whatnot for her, but it was something that happened because life likes tae throw lots of shite at us at times. Trust me, I ken what getting shite thrown at me is like. And I ken for a fact that nae amount of stabbing yerself in the heart or punishing yerself or whatnaet is going tae change that."

"I...ye...nae, ye're right. I...I'm still in a bit of a haze, I'll admit. I...was...I was hoping it would never happen, but..."

"...but it did. Ye and I and many others kenned in advance that it bloody well was a possibility, Aldy. Again, shite happens in life, and that's haew life often is. I ken I'm being blunt as all the hells here, but I'm saying this because I care aboot the lad who put an end tae my enslaver and freed me from him. I'd naet like for him tae fall apart naew, would I?"

"..."

"Come on, lad. Tamuriyah and yer dragonets are worried aboot ye. They told me that they're worried that ye might try tae do something drastic tae yerself. Best way tae allay that is tae stop blaming yerself for this whole damn thing and stay with the living."

"Do something dra...I'd do nae such thing-!"

"If that's the case, then go and show them that! This way, lad!"

Two years older than Altamir or Tamuriyah, Rautastaxma had been forced to be a household slave for all eight years of his captivity under the late Panjian tyrant, from age eleven to nineteen, and he was not treated very well at all by that tyrant or his minions, needless to say. Tahmasp, having recognized the injustice of what had happened to him, had worked up the nerve to sneak him out of the palace on his quest to defect from his father's ill-fated 'campaign', and had sent him with Khamsin to Altamir as that 'token' that had showed that he was serious about defecting. Having unfortunately been too ill and in too poor of shape to fight at Altamir's side against the tyrant, Rautastaxma had nonetheless been delighted and more than ecstatic when Altamir had shown him Wērōd's head on a spike, and his reunion with his little sister Tamuriyah was very, very emotional.

Clearly having a great deal of respect for the one who had managed to end both of his tormentors-in-chief (Altamir remembered very well the young man's hysterical laughter when he found out that his depraved, child-abusing slime of a father had been beheaded for his treachery by a twelve-year-old), Rautastaxma had made it very plain that he intended to repay all that the young Khagan had done for him. Once he was well and strong enough and in good enough shape, he'd started seizing his own life back at a tremendous rate, doing his damndest to relearn his accent and the ways of the steppe, jumping head-first into relearning (or just outright learning, given who his father was) things like horsemanship, swordsmanship, and archery, and soon building a reputation for besting an increasing number of soldiers and warriors in the tribe in sparring battles and the like, to the point where there was apparently a reward being offered by someone for whoever was able to best him without resorting to dirty tricks. This fire that he now had in him...it was enough to win over Sibel. Sibel, of all people, who wasn't impressed by the various attempts to court her by suitors, had actually fallen for him after losing a fair few sparring battles against him.

There was also his level of devotion to Altamir himself as an aide of sorts. Altamir didn't know if he deserved this level of devotion, but he couldn't bring himself to stop his slightly-older brother-in-law, and he had to acknowledge the other man's newfound zeal for life and reliability (even with how impulsive he could be). He also had to acknowledge the man's ability to bluntly bring him back to reality.

Like right now, as Rautastaxma was adamant that Altamir follow him. Yes, Altamir vastly outranked him, and was also far more physically powerful despite being 14 inches shorter than his 77-inch tall brother-in-law...but he couldn't bring himself to turn away from wherever Rautastaxma was going. It had to be somewhere that his dragonets and Tamuriyah were...damn it, if he'd had to ponder that, he truly was out of it.

Rautastaxma went ahead towards them, beckoning Altamir to follow again, which he reluctantly did. As he did, he noticed little Baidar in front of the tent, looking at him.

"Aba?" Baidar's little voice was hard to ignore. "Are ye-?"

"Aba's naet doing well." Tamuriyah said to the little two-and-nearly-a-half-year-old. "Can ye go be with Fran for me, Bai?"

"But Eje-!" Baidar tried to protest.

"Please, Bai? Aba needs some time. He's naet feeling well."

"...okay..." Baidar's little head drooped down as his mother said this to him. Then, he waddled over to Farangis, the 'Fran' in question, who picked him up and went back inside the tent with him.

Farangis...she was a Panjian who had been one of Somayeh's retinue and retainers. Why they'd all chosen to stay with him after their liege princess died...Altamir did not know. It was probably because his children with her were...well...her children also. That was...probably the only reason why.

Regardless, Altamir trudged forwards until he and Rautastaxma were in front of Tamuriyah and the Dragonets. The worry and fear in their eyes was very apparent now.

"Ah, he's here." Tamuriyah seemed to be releasing a breath that she'd been holding. "Thank ye, Rautastaxma."

"Naet a problem, sis." Rautastaxma responded. "Though, as tae whether he's 'here', I'd more likely say that he's only sorta 'here'. He was kinda out of it when I found him...still seems like he's out of it naew. Ye might need tae help him with that."

"Right...we will, as best as we can." Tamuriyah replied, and to that, Rautastaxma left.

Altamir stood there in awkward silence for a bit, not knowing what to say. He looked at Tamuriyah and all of his dragonets, and then down at the ground again.

"Are ye with us, Aldy?" Togay asked. "Can ye...at least say something? Please?"

"...what would it gain...?" Altamir finally said something...at least tried to, anyways.

"'What would it gain'?" Shiban repeated the question back at him. "Well, it would allow us tae at least see what's going on in there. We can tell that ye've been taking this whole matter really, really, really hard. That we dinnae ken why...that worries us, Aldy."

"I..." Altamir couldn't really bring himself to say anything, not knowing what words to reply with. "I...I..."

"Come on, Aldy, we're naet going tae hate or shame ye for whatever ye do say." Chagatai was clearly trying to be reassuring. "Again, we just want tae ken what it is." Then, the Night Dragonet looked around. "...are ye worried about being seen like this?"

"I...uh...I...well..."

"We can help ye with that." Gunesha, as she said this, extended a talon to Altamir. Altamir didn't know what to make of it, but then Gunesha gave him a pleading look. "Please, Aldy? Please? Just...humor us on this one?"

Those pleading eyes...Gunesha's were impossible to ignore. She'd always used that look on him when she wanted to get her way on something...and it was always quite persuasive. Especially now, he couldn't say 'no' to those eyes.

So, Altamir reluctantly stepped forward and, after a bit of hesitation...took her (comparatively large) talon in both his hands...

...and then, as if on cue, the other dragonets stood up and circled around until they all sat down again...and now, they were all sitting around him in a way that formed a ring, their wings folded but nonetheless blocking out prying eyes, with Tamuriyah and Gunesha in the middle with him.

Gunesha carefully got down further to the ground until she was practically laying against the ground in what might have been considered lounging had the general mood been different. "Do ye need...?" Now she had her talons in front of her in a way that...

...Altamir couldn't say no any longer to a gesture like this from someone he trusted, especially given the events of the past few days. He felt himself stumbling forward alongside one front limb of hers until he found himself flat against the scales of the Sand/Night Hybrid Dragonet's base-of-neck, doing his best to embrace her there as much as he could without doing damage, while feeling her in turn carefully bring her front limb around him to complete the embrace. Gods...even as the smallest of the dragonets, she'd gotten so damn big...it felt as if, only yesterday, he'd been able to cradle her in his arms, and now things were about the other way around.

"I've got ye, Aldy." Gunesha's voice was so...gentle. "I've got ye. We've all got ye."

For who-knew-how-long, Altamir clung to Gunesha like he would have his own mother when he was very young. As he did this, the mental wall preventing him from facing what had happened and speaking more than a few words crumbled piece by piece, and the roiling waters in his mind gradually quieted down more and more as long as he held close to her. He didn't know how to put it, but being able to feel the scales of his dragonets beneath his hands...it had that sort of 'quieting' effect on him, as if being able to do so could pierce through the darkness clouding his head and bring sanity back. It always had...sometimes, when he and the dragonets were younger and he was jolted awake by a nightmare, he'd find his dragonets and rest against and embrace them until sleep finally returned...and even years later, he always felt steadier and less in danger of losing a handle on his mind when astride one of his dragonets, leaning against them, or embracing them.

They were like the sound foundation of a building...a solid rock that wouldn't crumble. That was something he was always glad for...a refuge in times of adversity.

Eventually, Altamir deigned to look up again, and he saw Gunesha looking over him, with Tamuriyah having come and sat down against the dragonet's side. The other dragonets, meanwhile, were still patiently sitting around them, clearly not intent on letting come about a 'hole' in the ring that they formed around him.

"Better naew, Aldy?" Gunesha asked once she saw him look up at her. "Or, at least, better than before?"

"...better than before." Altamir sighed. "I wish ye did naet had tae see me like this..."

"And yet we are." Gulay replied. "Come on, Aldy, it's naet an 'offense' or whatever tae naet always be a hundred percent composed in front of us. We ken ye're a person. A person and 'perfect' dinnae go in the same sentence. People feel. And it's never always joy that they feel. All we want right naew is tae ken what it is that's gotten ye like this. Could we at least have that?"

At this, Altamir looked down again and sighed. "She...she did naet have tae..."

"Hmm?"

"...tae die. She did naet have tae die like that. She deserved better..." Altamir clung closer to Gunesha. "She deserved tae live...tae be able tae see her lads and lasses grow up...instead of dying like that..." He shook his head. "...Tahmasp will naet take this well...even if his sister and I were naet close, she still deserved better than tae tear herself apart having the children that I...put in her..."

"That ye..." Sorkhagtani exhaled in a rough sigh at hearing that. "Aldy...even IF ye put them in her, that daes naet mean that ye were the one tae have caused her death. Ye could naet have kenned for sure what would have happened, given that things had gone well the previous time, and that this time, things were at least seeming tae go well this time taew, and they only started going wrong at the very last minute, just about. Everything had seemed fine tae everyone else beforehand. Us included. Ye were doing everything right, as were the rest of us."

"Tahmasp will definitely be very, very, very upset that his sister is dead..." Peksen added, "...but he'll understand. He's naet the vindictive type, and given the message that was sent with her body back tae Panjistan yesterday, he'll ken very well that even if ye and his sister were never exactly 'massively-affectionate', ye never mistreated her, and ye never intended for this tae happen. Sae dinnae worry about him ever wanting some sort of 'revenge' or 'retribution' or whatnot." Then, she looked closer to Altamir. "Ye'll be alright, Aldy. It may take some time, but ye'll be alright. I ken ye would have wanted her tae live, but sometimes, these things happen in life. Ye dinnae have tae throw away yer own happiness and yer own life just because someone else lost theirs, alright? If anything, we'd rather ye naet do that; it would achieve naething but make us pluck out all of our scales. If ye want tae make us happy right naew, then live for the living, naet for the dead. Got it?"

"G...Got it..." Externally, Altamir nodded, but...internally...he didn't know. He just didn't know. He didn't want to say this with regards to the dragonets that he so loved, but on this instance...he didn't know if he could trust their words. He knew they intended well, but he couldn't forget that his wife had literally died on him. His wife, whom he'd promised would be able to see her children grow strong before her very eyes.

What right did he even have to happiness if things like this kept happening because of him or around him? Was it fair to those good and innocent who died, for him to enjoy life while they had the opportunity to do so stolen from them? Would it not be crass and cruel of him to seek out life's pleasures while he treaded a sea of the blood of those good and innocent whom he failed to save, or worse, himself killed?

These days in particular, it felt as though everywhere he went, every step he took...blood was spilled. Spilled by him. And he just could not seem to avoid spilling it or having it be spilled. Blood never slept...no, it flowed, it pooled. And it would flow and pool until, one day, it became a flood...a flood that could consume and devour everything and everyone that he...

No...he couldn't let that happen. He couldn't. He simply couldn't. He had to make sure that all he loved wasn't lost to the sea of blood and flames. He had to. Just because his name meant "red iron" didn't mean that he wanted his loved ones to be claimed by the stuff.

He wouldn't let them be, no matter the cost.

---

For much of the rest of the day, his Dragonets in particular were very clear that they weren't keen on the idea of leaving his side. Wherever he went and whenever he went anywhere in Avraga, they went with him. This often made things awkward due to how they weren't nearly as small as they used to be, but Altamir couldn't bring himself to see them off, and he'd acceded to the fact that they were not going to be at ease otherwise, given the scare that he'd apparently inflicted on them.

It was times like this that Altamir was glad that those who lived in Avraga were more or less used to the Dragonets' presences. While humans and dragons in general very rarely had any sort of animosity to each other, humans who weren't used to living in close proximity to dragons were often intimidated by such a prospect due to the latter's large size and vastly superior physical abilities in everything but dexterity, and ability to accidentally trample their smaller counterparts if one or both weren't careful. As a result, it was not common for humans unfamiliar with living right next to dragons to be very skittish around them, afraid of being squashed.

Here in Avraga, however...while the average resident of the area would certainly take care not to be unintentionally stepped on or knocked about, most were quite familiar with the presence of seven now-nearly-adult dragons, and it was generally such that those who knew Altamir (or at least of or about him) were accustomed to the Dragonets being by his side, as they were among his closest allies and also held positions as trusted close advisors. If anything, the Dragonets were fairly popular for being good at the aforementioned advisory positions, and also for being competent and fair leaders and judges in their own right despite their young ages, not to mention their generally kind personalities all-around (even if they could all also have a sharp tongue, and Sorkhagtani and Peksen could be rather rowdy in sparring with each other).

As a result of this, as well as the recent death of Somayeh, they likely didn't notice that the Dragonets were even closer by than usual today due to their being particularly worried about him (either that, or they did and dismissed it as something that would be understandable and/or predictable)...which was for the best, as Altamir wasn't keen on getting any awkward questions about this matter. So, for the time that he was indeed able to attend to matters and whatnot, things went...relatively normally, and Altamir was hoping that this would continue so that, by tomorrow, his Dragonets would be a little more comfortable and more at ease.

But, alas...it was not meant to be, for, in the afternoon, he received a Sand Dragon who was clearly playing the role of messenger.

"Your grace, a request for aid from Shah Tahmasp of Panjistan."

"Aid?" Altamir raised his eyebrow upon hearing this. "Let's hear it."

So, the Sand Dragon went on. "Three weeks ago, the Shah's soldiers, led by a general named Nader, intercepted and defeated a Tarantine raiding party near the town of Pushang, near the border with the Tarantines, and captured its leader, a prominent noble known as Valentinianus. The Tarantine Emperor, Honorius, has demanded Valentinianus' return, but given that the raiding party's objectives was to kidnap Panjian citizenry to be sold as slaves in Tarantine lands, Tahmasp has rejected the demands, and requests that you, his suzerain, aid him against the Tarantines."

"...I...I see." Altamir did his best to keep his voice level at hearing all of this, but...it was a struggle. "Um...this...this request..."

"Er...your grace?"

"T-Tell him that we shall fulfill it." Altamir, picking up the Sand Dragon's concern, did his best to make it clear that he wasn't saying 'no' to it. "Go and let him ken that I accept his request and shall bring whoever I can with me tae his aid. Leave me tae ponder with my companions on exactly haew tae bring that aid. The faster that ye're on yer way tae get this message tae the Shah quickly, the better, if ye will."

"Erm...as you wish, your grace." The Sand Dragon, with a bit of hesitation, nodded, and made to leave. "Good luck with your efforts."

When the Sand Dragon had left, Altamir sighed harshly as he buried his face into his hands. "Godsdammit...naet again..."

"Uh...Aldy?!" Togay's worried tone had meant that his dragonets were startled by how quickly Altamir had agreed. "Are ye sure that-"

"This one was going tae happen at some point, Togay." Altamir shook his head. "Especially given Honorius' personality and the general...culture of the Tarantines compared tae its neighbors. But still...another war. Naet even two years ago, we concluded one. Naew, we're in another one. Here we go the hells again...all we can do naew is prepare and then move out once ready."

"And...haew are ye going tae-?" Chagatai began to ask...

...before Altamir answered him mid-sentence. "I'm going tae inform all of the peoples of the steppe of this, and then I'm going tae do the same with the Galatians as well as the Gergovians and have them join the war immediately. As for the Atticans, they're too far away from the Tarantines for them tae get tae our side quickly enough tae join us in the first battles against them, sae I'm instead going tae give them the option tae naet join in this particular war effort if they wish such tae be the case, as we need someone behind tae keep up things like trade and whatnaet. But, regardless...once I've gotten thaese messages tae thaese peoples, I'm going tae try and get an exchange going between the Gergovians and the Dardanians. The Dardanians may naet have 'recognized' me yet, but they are at enmity with the Tarantines and have been at such for centuries, sae the hope there is that they either outright join us themselves, or at the very least let the Gergovians get through tae join us unopposed. Once we get one of those two things happening, I'll make sure the same thing is the case with the Atticans if they decide tae join us."

"...well, I mean, at least ye're focusing on stuff again..." Shiban muttered. "...wish it did naet take a literal war breaking out for that tae happen..."

"I ken, I ken..." Altamir acknowledged. "This...this requires my full attention...I cannae afford tae be distracted." If he got distracted by this...he would lose those he loved. He could not let that happen. He simply could not. "Let's go and let my uncle ken about this. He's going tae be the first of several tae learn of it."

Here they went the hells again. Now to make sure that he didn't lose any more of his loved ones.

---

Late July

By the gods, this heat was intense. Altamir may not have been affected himself due to his...far-from-normal abilities and whatnot, but his army certainly was. Made him appreciate that there was a river nearby, and glad that he'd made sure to advance along it carefully so as to not wear that army out.

An army that consisted of a great many soldiers from the Parlataeans, the Galatians...and the Panjians.

Altamir had to admit that he was still surprised that the Panjians didn't bat an eye to the fact that he'd burned thousands of their countrymen on the battlefield two years ago. Those men had not died well...and it was by his hand and order that they had died in such a manner...surely, there should be pushback, scorn against him, right?

But...no, they didn't really seem to hold anything against him for that. Not even those who had relatives that died there on that day. If anything, it was the late Wērōd who got the blame from them, and Altamir had to concede that the reason for why made sense; the now-gone tyrant HAD not only made the decision to attempt to invade the steppes, a decision that any sane leader would have derided as 'mad', but also because he had led that aforementioned invasion with an 'army' that was very ill-suited to fighting a mobile, well-disciplined, high-morale hybrid-steppe army and so was going to get destroyed anyways.

By contrast, even though he'd technically conquered them, they seemed perfectly fine with fighting under Altamir's banner (if anything, their morale was quite high), and they seemed to regard him just as well as they did their new Shah Tahmasp. It might have had something to do with the fact that he'd killed at Qizil Qirghaq the man who had abused them for 15 years, and also helped that aforementioned new Shah take the throne, not to mention assist the young lad's efforts to undo the damage that Wērōd had inflicted upon them, so it was somewhat obvious that they saw him as a liberator, not really a conqueror. It might have also had something to do with him now having led an army to aid their defense of their land against the Tarantines, who'd started this conflict in the name of enslaving and plundering Panjistan in a 'punitive expedition' for defeating that raiding party that Valentinianus had led.

Oh well...if they were this intent on fighting under his banner...then he wasn't going to waste them or throw them away senselessly. No, he was going to lead them well, and command them well. He had to, if he wanted to win this battle.

Speaking of battle...

"...haew's the army doing?" Altamir tentatively asked his generals and commanders as he rested in a leaning stand against Peksen's side. "Morale? Discipline and order? Resources, particularly water? All the necessary things?"

"We're doing just fine in those regards, your grace." Nader, the very same Panjian who led the battalion that defeated and captured Valentinianus, and who now led the Panjian contingent of the army, answered. "Well, my people in this army are, at least...as for the others..."

"We're doing fine as well, Altamir." Babur cut in. "This may be somewhat different from the steppes...but it's naething that we cannae handle."

"If we keep watch of our water supplies, that is." Toregene added, for emphasis. "That may be a particular issue for the Galatians."

"Oh, we're used tae living in places where water is hard tae get tae." Oinogustos, a general and second-son prince of Galatia who led the Galatian contingent, replied. "The problem is this heat...which we are naet used tae. We'll have tae be efficient in haew we move, maneuver, and battle. We envy haew ye and yer dragons could simply fly over tae the river and dunk their heads in for a quick nip and then fly back intae the action, yer grace."

"Our condolences, lad." Sorkhagtani grinned, before turning serious again. "Sae, is everyone in the ken for the plan?"

"We are, Sora." Rustam, who, yes, was with them, clenched his fist in a sign of confidence. "We're naet letting them reach that river. Ye can count on that." As for the rest of Altamir's family...he'd decided that, after the whole matter with a certain young Baktrian soldier two years ago, that it would be better if they were to stay back home on the Parlataean Steppes and coordinate the home-front. He did not want to risk them to death.

"Good." Gulay nodded. "All that's left is tae wait for the message from Khamsin that the Tarantines are moving again and are away from Volubilis. Then we begin the first phase of the battle proper."

"But of course, milady." Nader bowed slightly, wearing a grin himself. "Let us turn this place into their graveyard."

Altamir and his army had their main camp in-between the river and a hill overlooking a fork in the road leading to Chaharjuy. The Tarantine army was coming from Volubilis, a border city of their own, roughly 10 miles to the southwest, undoubtedly having stopped there for water. As far as he could tell from intelligence, it was an army made up of legionnaires, which were well-armored and (at least ostensibly) well-trained. This would make that army a far more dangerous opponent than Wērōd's 'army'...but there were ways to negate these advantages. Good thing, too, because while Altamir was sure that he had the LARGER army in terms of numbers...he'd have to render the armor and training useless or near-useless if he wanted to guarantee being able to win with few casualties without having his dragonets burn thousands of enemy soldiers again (he did not want to put them through that again; he still remembered how nightmares had plagued them for months after Qizil Qirghaq, and still did to an extent even now, and even if the Tarantines here were foes that they were FAR less sympathetic towards, he was worried that them having to use that tactic again would rend their souls anew regardless).

The environment of the 13-mile stretch between Volubilis and Chaharjuy was dry scrubland without any other water sources, and it was a little past noon and very hot and dry with no breeze, which meant that the heavily-armored Tarantines would overheat much faster under the scorching sun, so it was clear that the Tarantine army intended to try to cross the distance as quickly as possible so that they could either attack Chaharjuy as soon as possible or at the very least reach the river so that their troops could get water. Which meant that the objective was to not let either happen...and also to not let them retreat back to Volubilis for more water and a protracted siege.

Thus was what the plan was made around. Once the Tarantines were far enough away from Volubilis, detachments of fast horse archers (both Parlataean and Panjian - the Parlataeans had the best cavalry on the continent, but the Panjians tied admirably with the Baktrians for second place) and skirmishers would descend from the hills surrounding the road and start harassing them with volleys of arrows, using their mobility to keep out of reach of any counterattack. Given that the Tarantines were heavily armored, this in of itself would not destroy them...but then again, destroying them this way wasn't the intention. See, while the Tarantines had formations (particularly the Testudo) that allowed them to block out most arrows, the acts of forming ranks to assume such a formation, holding such a formation, and then breaking such a formation to be able to move again only to be made to reassume the formation again by the intermittent clashes and volleys of arrows...this cycle of action would be sure to slow the Tarantines to a crawl, preventing them from moving forward or backwards quickly, if at all, and the fact that this would all come from every direction if it was pulled off properly would mean that they'd be cut off from escaping back to Volubilis. Thus was the true intention; to leave the Tarantines stranded in a place where no water was present, thus giving new meaning to the phrase 'being left high and dry'.

Dehydration alone wouldn't start killing humans until it had gone on for at least three days...but it sure would start exhausting them long before then. Especially, in this case, when it would be paired with the constant combat readiness and formation cycling and action all-around that the Tarantines would be forced to perform in an attempt to keep the arrows and the skirmishers at bay. That was the objective; to wear them out until they were simply too fatigued to put up a real fight...and then Altamir would order his comparatively-fresh troops to start properly engaging the enemy.

"Quite the plan we've got going here." Shiban remarked as they all looked from their perch on top of the hill towards the direction the Tarantines would be coming from. "Luring them in and wearing them out and then dashing them tae pieces after they've dried themselves out under the sun long enough."

"Our troops are eager tae get tae the 'dashing to pieces' bit." Peksen noted. "Partially because their blood's up, but probably also because of this heat. Makes ye wonder haew long the 'wearing them out' bit will take."

"If we properly cycle our skirmishers and other troops taking part in the harassment of the enemy sae that we can keep the pressure up on them all the way through the night while staying fresh ourselves," Chagatai replied, "we might just be able tae get to the 'crushing' part of the battle by tomorrow. Heavy armor is a double-edged sword in conditions like this, ye ken."

"It definitely is." Togay agreed. "Though, it'll be a pretty interesting sight sae see them stumbling about with sae many arrows in them like a swarm of drunken porcupines by the time tomorrow comes."

"A swarm of..." Altamir couldn't help the snorting chuckle that escaped him. "A-Aye, aye, it'll be an interesting sight indeed!"

"At least porcupines are cute!" Gunesha grinned. "Cannae say the same for the Tarantine Slavers here. I dinnae ken whether tae loathe them or tae pity them for doing this whole thing. Them relying on enslaving and pillaging other peoples just tae make themselves feel better...their whole existence sounds like a pretty sad, sorry thing. Who kens? If anything, we might just be doing these ones and the gods a favor!"

"Oh m-my...er, w-we probably a-are!" Altamir probably shouldn't have outright laughed at that, but the sheer brutality of the brief-but-merciless castigation of their oh-so-high-and-mighty foes by Gunesha...sweet, loving, cheerful Gunesha, of all of his dragonets...he couldn't help himself for a bit. Even with the knowledge that, kindly and compassionate as she was, Gunesha very clearly had no fondness for their Tarantine foes and their slavering ways, the way that she'd said what she'd said with that damn smile and the same cheery tone that she usually used day-to-day...it was such that it took a little bit for him to get ahold of himself. "A-Alright, alright, alright...alright...let's...let's focus here! We're still waiting for Khamsin..."

It was just then that a certain sandy-yellow shape began approaching for a landing nearby. Sure enough, it was Khamsin. Yes, that same Sand Dragonet, now eight years old, who was a prince of his tribe and Tahmasp's closest friend was here with them, acting as an airborne scout for Altamir. Tahmasp had begged the Sand Dragonet to at least take care of himself, as Altamir vividly remembered, but, in his charming manner, Khamsin had reassured the young Shah (quite playfully) that none of the Tarantines would have the mind to look up that high when throwing their pila.

"So, your Khanliness, ready to start things?" Khamsin grinned, still charming as ever. "The Tarantines are past Volubilis. If you wanna keep them from getting to the river..."

"Aye, we will." Altamir nodded, before giving the order. "Alright, lads and lasses, send the horse archers and skirmishers! Time tae grind these arrogant slavers daewn sae that we may strike them daewn!"

And so...the battle began. At Altamir's command, those aforementioned horse archers and skirmishers, who were already waiting behind those hills, topped them before descending down them to begin the onslaught, and before long, the arrows and javelins were flying through the air in alternating volleys aimed at alternating targets in the enemy army.

And sure enough, the cycle started. When set upon by the driving showers of arrows and javelins, the enemy formed ranks to protect themselves against the onslaughts...but this meant that they weren't advancing, and they couldn't stay in someplace as hot and dry and lacking in water as this...so when the arrows and javelins abated, the enemy had to shift back into marching formation to try to move again...but then the arrows and javelins would start falling upon them again, and the enemy would form up again...but then they needed to move again, so they went back into marching formation again...and so on. And because these arrows and javelins never fell on the same targets every time, let alone at the same time, this soon meant that different sections of the enemy army were trying to march, and different sections were trying to march and advance, which, along with feeble attempts to counterattack the much-faster skirmishers and horse archers, caused the enemy army to get split up in places, leading to frantic efforts to reassemble and close gaps and openings. And with all of those things put together, the army's overall advance was slowed to a crawl, and there was an increasingly dense trail of dead soldiers and horses that was following it as casualties steadily added up.

Needless to say, the Tarantines were not having a good time, and fatigue was clearly being inflicted upon them more and more by all of this and also the heat.

"I don't think they like our skirmishers and horse archers, your Padishahness." Khamsin remarked after a while as Altamir and the others watched from their hilltop lookout as a fresh wave of horse archers and skirmishers went forth to carry out their deadly task and relieve an earlier group of horse archers and skirmishers that needed to pull back and rest.

"They dinnae like being on the receiving end, anyways." Altamir shrugged. "Against them, those formations, shields, and armor sets can only do sae much."

"We just got tae keep cycling our lads and lasses." Shiban restated what had been said earlier. "Then we can squash them the hells flat tomorrow."

"Exactly." Peksen agreed. "Naew...haew tae go about pressing the offensive against the Tarantines as a whole after we wipe this army of them...questions for later, I guess."

So, for the rest of the day, arrows and javelins rained down upon the Tarantines, who, no matter how or what they tried, just simply could not stop the constant onslaught of projectiles. Taking apart an army piece by piece...it would be cruel if it weren't for what the Tarantines had been intending to do to Altamir's new subjects, which meant that Altamir was more concerned with making sure that such didn't happen than he was with having pity on the enemy army (like he had at Qizil Qirghaq), so he instead put all of his focus on making sure that the Tarantines couldn't and wouldn't be able to get past his own army and get to either Chaharjuy or the Panj river, and that they would utterly exhaust themselves from the heat, the constant action, and the lack of water.

Eventually, it was at a point where nightfall was quickly approaching.

"Well, your grace, the sun's setting." Nader noted. "What would you have us do?"

Altamir put his hand to his chin for a bit before he responded to the Panjian general. "Well, obviously, I want most of our army tae get some sleep sae that they'll be well-rested for when the final phase of this battle comes."

"'Most'?" Qarachar, who had indeed come with them to this battle and was standing off to Rautastaxma's left, tilted his head.

"I still want the horse archers and skirmishers tae keep up the pressure on them throughout the night. Keep on cycling them sae that they dinnae get taew fatigued. Keep raining arrows and javelins upon the enemy, and if the enemy camps where they stand, set fire tae the tents if ye can. Though, at some point in the night, I want things tae quiet daewn sae that we can ready ourselves for the final push against them."

"Erm...very well, but...throughout the night?" Babur clearly seemed a little skeptical of this, and Altamir could understand.

But there was a reason why he said what he said. "Aye, throughout the night. If ye need tae get some sleep yerself, find someone else who can manage the task of leading and cycling thaese horse archers and skirmishers in yer place while ye sleep. And while my dragonets and I sleep."

"Got it." Toregene nodded. "Whatever gains us the victory against these slavers and kidnappers."

So, shortly afterwards, Altamir and his dragonets, as well as those who were not 'working the night shift' with regards to the Tarantines, turned in for the night in their place in the main camp (and Khamsin, last time he checked, had turned in in his place). As he walked a circle around his dragonets, who, in what was a tradition for them now, had huddled together around each other for easier sleeping when sleep came, Altamir thought about the tactics he was using against his foe.

"Slowly dissembling an enemy army and draining its energy resistance from a distance tae 'prepare' it for a final ripping-and-tearing-apart..." Altamir mused, "...it would be very cruel if we were doing this tae almost any other foe. But these...these are Tarantines. Arrogant, prideful, supremacist, thinking themselves as having a right tae enslave other peoples simply for being 'savages' and 'barbarians'...including my peoples and others...I simply cannae afford tae lose tae them. This is my way of ensuring that I dinnae lose taew many brave men and women against these bringers of cruelty and misery...I will use whatever tactics I need tae use against them. I must do sae...for my subjects, my friends, my family...for everyone who follows me...for Pyrrhia."

'For Pyrrhia'...heh...he really was slipping into the role of the one who would run the entire continent, wasn't he? He'd never wanted to become such...but if he wanted to ensure that war's cruel claws didn't rip apart the good and innocent, then it was going to be his way forward, whether he liked it or not...

"Hey, Aldy?" Altamir then heard Gunesha's worried voice. "Ye alright?"

Altamir was startled enough that he accidentally breathed in a small cloud of airborne dust and was sent coughing and sputtering and spitting until he got the foreign dirt out of his mouth and throat. When he did... "I...I'm fine...I..."

"Ye were thinking really hard, that's why I asked."

"I...I just...I was just thinking of haew tae handle the final push, that's all." Altamir knew that that WASN'T what he was actually thinking...but it was close enough. "I...I guess it's time tae actually get tae the 'sleeping bit', then?"

"Ye're lucky there's a spot here, Aldy." Sorkhagtani muttered with the voice of someone who had to put up with a lot of brooding. "Come on in."

"Right...coming."

So, Altamir carefully stepped into the huddle that his dragonets were in, making sure not to put his foot down on one of their heads or talons by mistake. Again, he didn't know why, but when he slept against one of his dragonets, the nightmares that plagued him oh-so-often otherwise seemed to either go away or lessen in intensity. Perhaps they knew that this was the case...perhaps this was why they were insistent on him sleeping among them, why they were more than happy to be living cushions for him to sleep on and against. Either way, he unsummoned/put aside anything he he wasn't intent on sleeping in, before carefully getting down and resting against Peksen's neck, looking up at the star-studded sky for a bit in the 'hole' in the center of the 'roof' formed by the dragonets wings, which they had unfurled after he'd gotten in the middle of them to cover each other with as blankets, before he turned his head to the side and closed his eyes.

Tomorrow...tomorrow...this battle would end. As Altamir drifted off to sleep in the desert air, he could only hope that he'd secured victory for his side.

---

The next morning, Altamir was up from the previous night's slumber and carefully clambered out of the pile that his dragonets had formed, trying not to wake them up (or, at least, not wake them up too roughly), to find that the sun was just starting to rise in the skies above the desert. Upon doing a quick look around, he saw that there were a few soldiers walking and meandering about...and they weren't Tarantines, so, hopefully, that meant that nothing had gone wrong during the night.

Hopefully.

Soon after he'd done his switch into his usual outfit behind one of his dragonets' wings and had stepped back out from under that wing, he noticed Rautastaxma coming his way. After a moment's hesitation, Altamir started walking towards him in turn until there was only a few feet separating them. Altamir checked the other man's face for any sign of worry, but there didn't seem to be much, if at all.

"Ye're up, Aldy." Rautastaxma said simply.

"I am...I think." Altamir scratched the back of his head. "Sae, uh...haew's things with regards tae the Tarantines? I hope nothing went awry."

"Naething went awry, dinnae fash yerself." Rautastaxma did seem confident. "We kept the cycling up for a fair bit of the night, but we called it off around halfway through the night. Naew, I dinnae ken if that's a problem with ye..."

Altamir shook his head. "Halfway? Nae, that's naet a problem...that's roughly what I'd have been asking for had I been more specific. I mean, I likely should have been specific, but...whatever."

"Ah, good. Naew then...uh...the Tarantines are still there. We still have them surrounded, and we're ready tae deal with them by whatever means ye want tae deal with them."

"That's good tae hear." Altamir nodded. "I'll go get my dragonets up before we continue this, though. Give me a little bit here..."

At Rautastaxma's nodding, Altamir then walked back over to where his dragonets were, and, one by one, he gently roused each of them from sleep. Once they had, and once they'd shaken off their morning grogginess and had been filled in on the status of things, they were more than ready to join in on the decision process as they followed Altamir and Rautastaxma to meet with the other leaders (and also Khamsin, who was up and about and had flown in with more information on the Tarantines' status).

---

"So then, what do you wish for us to do, your grace?" Nader asked at the ensuing meeting after Altamir had confirmed with him and the others the veracity of Rautastaxma's statements to him.

Altamir sighed, feeling once again the 'weight' that had been placed upon his shoulders by his position, rubbing his forehead for a few seconds as he leaned forward, before straightening himself as he began to piece together a plan. "Depends. What's the state of our army?"

"We've all got ample supplies and water." Qarachar answered. "Generally-speaking, the soldiers are well-rested and ready; some of the skirmishers and light cavalry may naet be able tae join battle until later given that they were taking part in the 'cycling' attacks upon the enemy, but that's about it. The army's mainly awaiting yer orders."

"Alright, good. And what of the enemy?"

"We still have the enemy surrounded, yer grace." Toregene replied. "We've made sure tae cut off any chance of them giving us the slip and escaping back tae Volubilis."

"We're still piecing together a proper assessment on the general 'state' that the enemy is in." Babur added. "However, from what we have gathered, the enemy is utterly exhausted, particularly since they've been away from any water source for most of a full day."

"If it were any other foe, I'd say we'd be able tae force a surrender out of them, since we outnumber them, and we're naet bone-dry or practically dead from exhaustion." Rautastaxma chimed in, before shrugging. "But...it's the Tarantines. They're kenned far and wide for their pride and arrogance, sae they may naet be willing tae surrender tae 'a bunch a bloody barbarians and barbarian-adjacents', even in the shape they're in right naew. Sae...I dinnae ken on that."

"Aye...that's a shame." Altamir sighed again, scratching his head. "If they'd just be good lads and surrender, we'd naet have tae throw anyone away."

"That would be nice." Nader agreed. "But alas, since they will not...how would you have us deal with them then, your grace?"

"Hrm..." Now, Altamir was forming his plan. "Well then, if they'll naet surrender...then our objective is tae make sure that they dinnae escape or otherwise make it off this battlefield on their own terms. Since they're closer tae Chaharjuy and the Panj than they are tae Volubilis, they may try tae basically make a dash for it and break through what they might think is a lightly-armed force tae get tae the town and the river. Of course, given that we've only been sending our skirmishers and horse archers at them sae far, and that they likely have naet actually been doing any scouting of the land around them like we have..."

He looked around while putting on his best 'oh, what a shame' expression for a few seconds before continuing, "...they've already stumbled into the trap, and they're giving us the best opportunity possible tae spring it." Then, he made his face neutral again and got to the nitty-gritty.

"Sae, then, what I'm going tae have ye all do is take the remainder of the three main contingents of the army and position them in areas around that of where the Tarantines are as follows: the Galatians tae their north, the Panjians tae their east, and the Parlataeans tae their south. This way, once the battle begins in earnest and the enemy is trying tae advance at what will likely be much slower than they would if they were fresh, they'll be in such a position that we'll be able tae smash them from every direction without any stragglers slipping through the cracks. Once I give the signal at the right moment, I want all of ye tae sound full attack on the Tarantines sae that we can make this happen and win this without taew many casualties. Their armor and usual training will likely be rendered at least somewhat useless by their exhaustion and lack of access tae water, sae while attacking them directly is usually a bad idea, this time will be very different."

The others seemed impressed with this, with Toregene voicing such. "...sae that's the plan? Very well then, yer grace. Though, as for when we're defeating the enemy...do we take any prisoners, or do we naet even bother with that for resource reasons?"

"If it's possible tae take the higher-ranking ones prisoner, then take thaese ones prisoner." Altamir replied. "As for the rest...resources indeed. Let them die a warrior's death in battle."

As the others in the room affirmed this, Altamir, while outwardly looking decisive and confident, inwardly sighed. "Well, for fock's sake...more bloodshed...I hope we indeed dinnae lose taew many soldiers."

He really, really, really did not want a repeat of the whole deal with Philoktetes, and he hated losing any amount of soldiers no matter how small...but he knew it was inevitable. All he could do was make sure that as few soldiers on his side died as possible.

---

Later, Altamir was seeing his soldiers off to their positions. He had just finished giving what was, predictably, yet another speech meant to get his army's blood up, whilst lacing in orders within it. He'd given it his best, and given the cheering that followed, he was hoping that it meant that he was successful in this regard.

He hoped, at least. Because he was likely going to have to do it a fair few more times, at the very least. Yes, he and his leadership had finalized that they were going to lead a counteroffensive against the Tarantine Emperor after this battle. The Gergovians and (hopefully) the Dardanians joining up with him would perhaps give this campaign the proper momentum it needed once they did, as the Tarantines weren't exactly an easy foe to face on an army-to-army level, let alone the entirety of their empire.

Regardless, as the contingents were making their ways to their respective planned positions, he stepped over to his dragonets and hopped astride Gulay once more.

"Well, Aldy..." Gulay asked him, "are ye going tae be ready for this when the time comes?"

"...as ready as I'll ever be, I suppose." Altamir sighed. "Let's get this done and over with sae that these particular Tarantines are nae longer ours tae worry about." Mentally, he added, "And more dead for the gods tae sort through."

So, Altamir and his dragonets began ascending the hill again. Khamsin was now dividing his duties between scouting and running messages back and forth between the various contingents, and also between those contingents and Altamir himself. When all three were in place, he'd let Altamir know...and then, when the time was right, he, Khamsin, and his dragonets would all give the signal to all three contingents to sound the attack.

Soon, they were atop the hill. In the rising sun, Altamir could see the enemy camp from a distance...or rather, the sorry, partially-burnt mess of what could generously be considered the 'enemy camp'. The skirmishers and horse archers really had done a number on the enemy, he could tell. Most of what had been the outer, external tents were charred to blackened ashes, and there were a fair few corpses (virtually all of them being the enemy, thankfully) pockmarking the camp's outer grounds as well. Those in that camp who weren't actually corpses (yet) nonetheless might as well been, for Altamir could see even from this distance how the enemy soldiers shambled about within.

It was quite the contrast with his own camp; yes, his army may have been larger than this enemy one right from the start, and the soldiers who made it up came from at least five different peoples (plus auxiliaries from more peoples), but he and the other leaders had, to his relief, been more than able to keep things relatively neat and orderly, and his soldiers were still fresh and had high morale. Comparing that to this mess of a 'camp' that he was looking at from afar...it was definitely a night-and-day difference.

If it had been any other sort of foe in any other sort of situation, Altamir would have been internally fretting about how this was a rather cruel method of attaining victory. But given that his foe was an army of Tarantines seeking to pillage the land and kidnap and enslave the citizens of one of his vassals...his mind was free of that particular sort of fretting, and he was able to focus solely on eliminating the threat and reducing, if not eliminating, casualties on his own side.

"Well, hot damn, that 'army' looks worse than a full cesspit." Sorkhagtani remarked, clearly catching on to what Altamir was seeing.

"Then again, they've been dried out and pelted with arrows and javelins and whatnaet for a whole day." Gulay deadpanned. "It's hard tae expect anyone tae thrive under thaese conditions, ye ken."

"Mm...I think the description of 'drunken porcupines' that I used yesterday might be a little generous." Togay joined in. "I think 'shambling corpses' might be a little more accurate."

"They'll become real corpses soon." Peksen shrugged.

"The sooner, the better." Shiban agreed. "They cannae do any pillaging or enslaving if they're dead."

Chagatai nodded. "Aye...we're just waiting for Khamsin tae come back with the message. Then we can start."

"And then when we do, that enemy army will be gone from this land soon after." Gunesha finished what everyone else was saying. "Just got tae keep daewn deaths on our side."

If it wasn't clearer to Altamir how much differently his dragonets felt about facing this Tarantine army than they did that 'army' of Panjians that Wērōd slave-drove to the steppes, it certainly was now. It did make a world of a difference when one sort of enemy army's soldiers shared their leaders' desire to pillage and enslave the land and its people, and another's didn't.

Regardless, they anxiously waited atop that hill for Khamsin to get back to them, keeping an eye on the enemy all the while. As they did, they started noticing more and more signs that the enemy was breaking camp and moving into marching formation, however slow that they were doing it due to exhaustion.

"They're looking like they're going tae try and break through." Altamir noted silently. "Good thing that they seemed tae have naet done any scouting of the land around them beforehand. Makes our job easier."

Eventually, the enemy army was indeed marching to the northeast, albeit smaller, slower, and MUCH more ragged-looking than the day before thanks to attrition from thirst as well as the long cycles of skirmishing that Altamir's soldiers had hit them with.

And it was right then that Khamsin came back, landing nearby Altamir and his dragonets.

"Well then, your-"

"Khamsin." Altamir didn't want to interrupt the charming young SandWing, but this was the time for action. "If ye're coming tae tell me the contingents are in position, then it's time tae send the signal."

"Oh! But of course, your khaganliness."

So, Altamir leaned forward and held on to Gulay as she and the other dragonets, Khamsin included, leaped into the air and took flight. Flying level until they were above the Tarantine army, they then began climbing into the air, gaining height in an upwards spiral.

Once they could see the contingents of their own army, and they were sure that their own army could see them, Altamir gave the order. "Alright, lads and lasses, flames outwards! Time tae spring the trap!"

On his order, all seven firebreathers among the eight dragonets began breathing fire sideways and outwards relative to the 'circle' that they were forming high in the air. They did this once for several seconds, then after several seconds of waiting, did it again for several more seconds, and then repeated this cycle one final time.

"Cease the flames! We've sent the signal! Back tae the hill!"

At Altamir's order, the dragonets stopped breathing fire outwards, and broke off their 'spinning circle' formation, heading back to the hill. And after circling around that hill to make sure that their army got the message (which they did, as Altamir could see them advancing towards the enemy army), the group landed back on the top of the hill to keep an eye on the enemy army once more, and also to be ready to themselves strike if the enemy got to the point of either squirming its way out of the grasp of this trap, or if they put up more resistance than normal.

Soon, the various horse archers and skirmishers, moving quickly and going ahead of the remainder of the contingents, started again the process of pelting the enemy with arrows and javelins. This time, though, rather than merely slowing the enemy down with random, alternating attacks at random, alternating targets, they took to hitting the enemy with heavier, more focused, more sustained showers of arrows and javelins, meant to much more actively start thinning out and breaking apart the enemy ranks. The enemy once again closed ranks and raised their shields...or at least tried to, as given their exhaustion, it wasn't nearly as effective as it likely would have been if it had been a fresher army attempting such a formation.

Sure enough, more and more foes started dropping at these barrages. Even from a distance, Altamir could see arrows and javelins go through limbs, through the gaps in helmets, and in the case of javelins, even through chests as the figurative cracks gradually widened in the Tarantine formation more and more. "Good...this would likely be a giant nightmare for the rest of the troops otherwise. The Shi'uchi is a damn life-saver."

The goal here was to 'prepare' the enemy for both cavalry cycle-charges and infantry assaults by whittling them down until they couldn't really fight back anymore (then again, in his people's native Nirun, "Shi'uchi" meant "Chisel Attack", which was what they were indeed doing right now). Even though they were definitely weakened from exhaustion and dehydration, Altamir still remained cautious about the Tarantine Formation. Sure, there were no long spears, but if he was facing a well-rested, well-fed, well-hydrated Tarantine Army...they would have either taken half of his troops to the grave with them or outright destroyed his army if he'd tried to attack head on with that army, and the only way that he would have been able to force the 'victory with few casualties on his own side' sort of outcome would be to have his dragonets unleash upon them with their flames...something that, while it would technically be effective against the Tarantines, gave them nightmares for a long time last time they did such a tactic against an enemy on a battlefield, hence why Altamir was reluctant at best to do so again. That was why he was resorting to the tactics he was now resorting to instead, so that such would not be necessary to attain victory with few casualties on his side. At least now, all he needed was for the skirmishers and horse archers to just keep it up until the remainder of his army got close enough for the rest of the cavalry to begin that cycle-charging and for the infantry to launch those assaults.

And keep it up they did. When the rest of his army at last was on the final approach to the now thoroughly ragged enemy army, they had themselves the perfect foe to attack, the perfect foe to strike against...and as that army of his steadily advanced upon the Tarantines from all directions like a rising tide of many colors and many banners, it was clear that they were preparing to initiate such charges and assaults, just as Altamir had planned and ordered. Now the moment was fast approaching. Perhaps now he could finally remove this enemy army and ensure that it would no longer be a threat.

Just then, though, Altamir noticed a rather peculiar sight from the Tarantines; out of either audacity or desperation, large portions of that enemy army began grouping together and charging outwards, clearly trying to either at last strike out against the skirmishers and horse archers, or make a break for it and escape, while their core was still advancing forward as hard and fast as possible, clearly intending to break through. Them splitting up on him like this in such a way that now there were multiple targets to deal with rather than just one...had this not been at least partially anticipated by him or anyone else in his army, this would have made for a problem, given the objective of not letting a single Tarantine escape.

This was, however, something that Altamir had been concerned about in meeting with his generals and army leaders, so he'd warned them about it shortly after he'd outlined the basic core of his plan that morning. With this in mind, he was hoping that, given proper warning, his army and his army's leaders would see this coming...put into action the counter-tactics that he'd emphasized with them before the army began marching into positions...

...and, sure enough, and despite his fears...they did.

When faced with the splitting and splintering enemy army, his skirmishers, horse archers, and light cavalry begin focusing their efforts on the various scattered 'outer' groups, setting to work towards hunting down and picking off the scattering and fleeing enemy to put them in the ground and ensure that they stayed down. Already exhausted and worn out and more or less shambling along at this point, the enemies that were in these scattered pockets began very clearly going down very quickly, whether it was getting run down by horse (Altamir watched at least a few foes literally get their skulls crushed by hooves) or getting struck with arrows or javelins.

Meanwhile, his heavier cavalry and his infantry moved forward to deal with the enemy army's core. This was where most of the enemy army's heaviest/'best' troops were, so dealing with them wasn't exactly going to be a mere stroll through Avraga, but they too were clearly affected by the exhaustion and dehydration, so it was nonetheless a task that would be far from impossible...as his own troops were soon to prove.

First, his infantry set forth and engaged the enemy core from one direction, forcing them to commit themselves fully in an attempt to repel the assault. Then, from the other directions, groups of his heavy cavalry would, from other directions, charge the enemy and then pull back. The Tarantines were usually well known for repelling cavalry charges at least somewhat decently, but that was provided that they weren't exhausted and dehydrated, and given the latter was the case now, every charge against them did heavy damage and inflicted heavy casualties. The Tarantines, to their credit, were clearly trying to hold themselves together by way of using a red tent as a rallying point, but against this cycle charging that came from nearly every direction...there was only so much a rallying point could do.

Eventually, the enemy core was whittled down enough so that his infantry could deal with them alone without the assistance of any further charges from his cavalry. Altamir watched his infantry gradually surround and envelop the enemy core, at the same time making sure that the lighter cavalry, horse archers, and skirmishers had finished off the scattered pockets (which they had, as far as they could tell).

"Well, your gracely Khanliness, it looks like the battle's drawing to a close." Khamsin remarked. "Perhaps I can assume it to be a welcome development?"

"Welcome indeed, and about damn time." Altamir exhaled somewhat roughly. "This enemy army's already driven me up the walls enough as is."

"Same here." Peksen agreed, speaking for the rest of the dragonets. "The sooner we can get back tae camp, the better..."

And sure enough, after a few further minutes...the enemy core's resistance was finally destroyed, and the battle was over. The corpses of fallen Tarantine foes dotted the landscape with varying density (and in the particularly 'dense' areas, piles of varying depths) in a stretch spanning several miles. The vultures were clearly already going after the ones who had fallen the day before, and soon they would be going after the rest, too.

Altamir hoped that the number of corpses from 'his' side would be far, far, far fewer...

---

...and, thankfully, they were. According to reports, most 'casualties' on his side were injuries, not deaths (the latter of which was apparently only a few hundred on his side, compared with nearly the entire enemy army...once again). That...that was something Altamir could more or less live with, given that while deaths were, well...deaths, injuries were injuries. Injuries could be repaired. Injuries could be healed from.

"Nrgh! Ggh...gack! Agh...!"

Even if the process was somewhat painful.

Given that it was within his ability, Altamir had been able to use his magic to heal wounds and injuries since he was roughly 10 years old, and he used it constantly to treat minor injuries his family members and his dragonets sustained...things like cuts, bruises, lesions...and others like them.

However...he generally didn't try to do such with major, more severe injuries. The reason for that was due to an incident that happened six years ago, when he was 13 and had known Tamuriyah for a year. In that incident, a man had become severely injured when he fell off his horse. Altamir had offered to help, not wanting the man to die to the sort of thing that his own father had. However, while setting to work on the man's injuries, Altamir became unhelpfully distracted by something and...botched things, making everything worse and causing the man to die in agony despite further attempts to save him. The sheer misery of that situation had affected Altamir badly, and ever since then, he'd stuck to healing only minor, easily-fixable injuries, as he was afraid of botching another such serious injury again.

But this fear was first weakened by the death of Philoktetes, and then more or less shocked out of him by the death of Somayeh. Seeing the latter in particular die, and his inability to do anything about it when it happened...that had spurned Altamir to start attempting to find ways to, in more ways than one, prevent such a situation from happening again (and not just by refusing to take any further wives or have any further children by blood). Not wanting to find himself in a scenario where someone was mortally wounded and he was helpless to save them, he had, ever since then, worked at applying his magic for healing serious wounds and injuries, and at doing so without botching things again like he did with that man six years before.

Taking advice and accepting assistance and aid from those skilled and experienced in the field of medicine, Altamir had started with injuries that, while a step up from 'minor', weren't quite major either, and gradually worked his way up with those in increasing severity and criticality, and he'd done so until, two weeks ago, he'd successfully saved the life of a Panjian soldier in the army named Farrokh who had otherwise been mortally-wounded in an accident of his own making on the way to the battle with the Tarantines...and not only that, Altamir had managed to do it in a way that the man was back in fighting shape the very next day.

Now, currently, it was the evening, with the battle having occurred a bit before noon, he was putting his magic to work as he volunteered (and had overall spent much of his time volunteering) in aiding those soldiers of his who were injured to varying degrees in the various medical tents around his army's camp.

Including Farrokh, that very same specific soldier that he had previously saved two weeks before. Because in the battle, Farrokh had been reckless and had nearly been slain by the enemy before his comrades saved him.

Oh joy.

"Ah...hah...ugh..." Farrokh was just about gulping in air when Altamir was done.

Altamir waited several seconds before asking of his well-being. "...haew are ye feeling, lad?"

"...huh? Er...uh..." Farrokh seemed to gather together his thoughts before he answered. "...far better, your grace? As if I will not die?"

"Ye'll naet die? Good." Altamir rolled his head on his shoulders. "Because I was hoping that I'd only need tae do this for ye once. Naet twice in two weeks. For fock's sake, do ye expect me tae be personally there tae catch ye every time ye stumble taew the brink of death?"

"...eh? Ehm...no, your grace...my apologies..."

"The best one would be tae naet make me have tae save ye a third time." Altamir remarked, leaning down towards Farrokh for emphasis. "I have an entire army and a realm tae lead, sae I'm going tae say this; I cannae afford tae stay preoccupied with saving a single lad from death every other day." Then, he leaned back. "Naew then, eat well, drink plenty of water, rest up...and do me a favor and make sure tae naet land yerself in this position again if ye can help it. Alright?"

"...yes, your grace." Farrokh, to his credit, did not argue with him.

"Very good. In that case, let's hope that this is the second and last time I save yer hide."

Eventually, Altamir had finished up in this tent and was just leaving when Nader showed up at the entrance.

"Your grace?"

"Nader?" Altamir crossed his arms at the sight of the leader of the Panjian contingent of the army. "What do ye have for me?"

"It's...with regards to prisoners, you grace." Nader explained. "So...as you ordered, we only took the high-ranking enemies prisoner...well, the ones that we could, anyways, but regardless...well, what would you have us do with them now that they are ours?"

Altamir looked at the back of his hand for a bit before replying. "It depends. We'd have tae decide on a case-by-case basis. I'd...have tae see them."

"Is that so, your grace? Then perhaps I could show you to them?"

"That would do." Altamir nodded. "Lead the way then, Nader."

"Very well." At that, Nader began walking off, so Altamir began following him.

The path Nader led through the camp wound past a great many tents of all different shapes, sizes, and colors. Soldiers Parlataean, Galatian, and Panjian were either celebrating their victory, chatting upon random subjects, simply milling about, fiddling with their bandages (several times he had to tell a soldier not to do that), eating, drinking (hopefully water, not strong drink), checking over and/or maintaining their arms and armor and other equipment and tools, tending to their horses (if they had any), writing letters and messages, or just simply resting after a well-fought battle. Altamir was glad that they were in good order and good spirits, though he was rendered a slight bit bashful by some of those same soldiers singing his praises as he followed Nader through the camp, given that they were the ones who had been doing the fighting in this battle, and he'd merely given orders and the signal this time around.

Regardless, though, Nader finally led them to a section of the camp that, for good reason, was heavily guarded. Because it was the place where the prisoners of war were being kept before it was decided what would be done with them.

"Here we are, your grace." Nader said as the two of them arrived in this part of the camp. "This is where the prisoners are being kept. There's not that many of them; again, they're all high-ranking or at least higher-ranking members of this particular Tarantine army. Rautastaxma can give you the details as to which ones are which. We await your decisions on what to do with each one of them.

"Thank ye, Nader." Altamir nodded. "Ye can return tae attending tae yer contingent's needs."

"As always, yer grace." Upon being told that, Nader turned and left to elsewhere in the camp. That left Altamir to look towards where the prisoners were being kept, and from a distance, he could tell that they were either bound by ropes and/or chains, kept in cages, or both.

"Cages..." Even though Altamir knew that it was the enemy who were being kept in cages (or cells), or chained, or both... he still couldn't help feeling uneasy whenever he saw or thought of someone being kept in such things. Even when it was someone who absolutely needed to be kept in such, the feeling was still there.

As for why this was the case? Well, ever since first Philoktetes had died, and then especially after Somayeh had died, he'd been having this...nightmare.

It was the same every time he had it. Each and every time, he found himself looking at this...cage hanging on an upper part of an...arena of sorts. In that cage, chained up together, battered, beaten, bruised, and bloodied...were a group of five dragonets who bore an an absolutely alarming resemblance to five of his own beloved dragonets (specifically, Togay, Sorkhagtani, Gulay, Chagatai, and Gunesha). They looked so sad, so helpless, so terrified, clearly wanting not to die, but being unable to do anything about it as some dragon herald announced that their death awaited. And all Altamir could do was watch, incapable of doing anything to save them.

He didn't know exactly what it was about that nightmare that terrified him so. Perhaps it was because of the fear of helplessness and being helpless that he had gained since the deaths of Philoktetes and Somayeh? That, along with his love for dragonets (especially his own), had to be at least part of it, but there was also something...else. Perhaps it was just a figment of his tortured imagination, but...why did it feel as though this nightmare was something that was...going to happen? Was it a prediction of a future, a forewarning of a fate? A declaration of a...

...a destiny?

There was something so...weighty about that, for so reason, and that weight was so heavy upon him.

Dragonets...destiny...dragonets...destiny...

"...Dragonets of Destiny?" Altamir found himself saying slightly aloud. For some reason, that phrase felt very, very, very heavy on him, and set utterly ablaze the fatherly instincts that he'd been developing ever since he had his first four little ones were born. He felt this burning urge to do something, anything, everything, to save those poor dragonets, to rescue them from that cage, to get them away from that arena to somewhere safe, to shower them with kindness and affection, to let them cry into his arms.

Why this was all so, he didn't know, even after confiding in his own dragonets time and again about this nightmare. But if there was one thing for sure...

...if those dragonets in that cage were not a mere figment of his imagination and were instead real (or, at least, would be real)...

Then he had to rescue them, to save them. He simply had to. It was the only right thing to do. He would not be helpless or let them remain helpless.

"Dinnae fesh yerselves, lads and lasses...if I ever encounter ye, I'll save ye from whoever yer captors are...and I'll strike thaese captors daewn in bloody droves."

"...Altamir?"

"-muh?!" Hearing the voice of Rautastaxma to his right jolted him out of his thoughts and made him realize that he'd been lost in his thoughts. "Uh...wha-?"

"Er, I...well, I noticed ye were staring pretty damn vacantly."

"...aye, I ken, I ken..." Altamir scratched the back of his head. "Just some stray thoughts. Anyways...sae thaese are the prisoners, are they naet? And they're all high-or-higher-ranking members of that enemy army we defeated today? According tae what Nader told me, at least?"

"Sae he did." Rautastaxma nodded. "Aye, they are. And yer decisions on them?"

"As I said previously tae him, case-by-case basis." Altamir crossed his arms. "Though...I do believe that it would be prudent if I...inform my decisions one more time before I start making them with regards tae this lot."

"'Inform'...? Oh, sae ye mean the-"

"Aye, I do. It's one thing tae invade the lands of one of my subject polities, but tae then do THAT with and tae people male and female and of sae many ages...well, I ken it's the Tarantines, but that obviously daes naet change that it's beyond despicable either way."

"Alright then...just make sure tae make the decision eventually. We cannae keep this lot just sitting around in thaese cages for all eternity...we've got tae do something about them alsae."

"That I will, Rautastaxma." Altamir replied. "Ye worry about me always, do ye?"

Rautastaxma crossed his arms. "Well, someone has tae, if ye're going tae worry about everyone else and then naet yerself. If Tamuriyah is naet there, and yer dragonets are naet there, then I will be there. It's what I promised, did I naet?"

"Hmhmhm...ye did." Altamir chuckled as he turned to finally get where he needed to go. "Good tae ken someone has my back."

Though, as Altamir headed the direction he was heading, his smile disappeared. "Naew tae get tae the ugly stuff. These Tarantines brought slaves with them as unpaid, badly-treated camp laborers, and left many of them tae die as the battle went on...our lads and lasses saw at least a few of their bodies while we were picking over the enemy corpses. That, and some of the Tarantines alsae brought their wives and children with them...that endangered the latter in particular; it's a miracle we managed tae save all of the children and most of the rest."

By the gods, these Tarantines...some days, Altamir really wondered what exactly in all the hells was going on in the heads of the ones up top.

Regardless, he was finally approaching the particular place in the camp...and sure enough, his dragonets were there (not Khamsin; he was elsewhere). They were all either sitting or laying in a mostly-complete circle around this particular, large canopy tent. As for what, or rather, who was under this tent...

...well, it was a group of what the Tarantines were most infamous across the continent for making those of other peoples into, and what most other realms on Pyrrhia (particularly the dragon ones) considered to be far and away the gravest form of contraband, given that such 'contraband' was people.

Slaves.

Well, thankfully, they were now officially ex-slaves given that their 'masters' were now either prisoners of war or dead, also thankfully, but still...the fact that someone had the gall to regard a fellow human being as mere property made Altamir's blood boil. It was what Wērōd and Frahatava had sought to inflict on him and his people...and what the latter had effectively done to Tamuriyah, a fellow human whom Altamir cared for so deeply, before Khingila had defeated him on the high steppe. And that wasn't even getting to Rautastaxma's case.

Either way, slavery was beyond disgusting, whether it was practiced by the Tarantines or by a Panjian tyrant and his Sakaean minion. That was all that ultimately mattered to Altamir as he solemnly walked forward until he stopped in front of the scene, sighing yet again as he did so. These people had been Altamir's first priority for healing when he and his soldiers came upon them in the Tarantine camp, and he'd done his damnedest to save as many of them as possible. While some of the ones he and his troops found that were still alive in that camp had nonetheless died despite his (and their) efforts, he and them had thankfully been able to save most of the rest...though it took a lot of effort and taxed a fair few of the medics and healers heavily.

Currently, he could see that his dragonets, as well as a few soldiers and some of his own camp-followers, were looking after the now ex-slaves, who at last had more proper clothing rather than the shackles and awful rags they had been made to wear by their now ex-masters, and also seemed to now have at least some life breathed back into them at being at last treated like actual human beings and not being constantly forced to perform dangerous, thankless labor for no pay and no gratitude in return. The dragonets in particular were keeping the children among them occupied (by the gods it drove him up the mountains that children were among the enslaved people being enslaved was bad as it was but children truly honorius what in the bloody hells was wrong with that damned emperor why and for what purpose and why and for what and why why why), sometimes by holding or embracing them, other times by being that someone for those boys and girls to lean against, showing yet again why they were well-regarded by those who knew them.

Gunesha was laying down and letting one young lass (probably of about ten or so) embrace her around the snout when she saw Altamir. She lifted her head a little bit, which startled the girl, eliciting an "oh, sorry" from her as she then gently picked the girl up in her talons and lifted her to her chest and gently held her there while she sat up and turned her head more properly to Altamir. "Ye're back, Aldy."

"Aye, I'm back." Altamir scratched the back of his head as he started walking to his dragonets again, their attention now on him at Gunesha's words. "Sae...haew are these lads and lasses doing right naew?"

"Better than before." Togay answered while holding a little lad. "They're still obviously going tae need a lot of work tae...recover and all...but it daes seem like it can happen."

"Eventually." Gulay deadpanned, noting the state that the men, women, and children that they were looking after were still in as she let a few children lean against her side.

"Tch, 'eventually' is pretty certain here." Sorkhagtani, who had a few children sitting on her back, shook her head. "Thaese bloody Tarantines...speaking of which, have ye made a decision on the ones we captured yet?"

"I will, I will, dinnae worry." Altamir replied. "I simply wish tae...inform my decision one last time before I commit tae it."

Altamir then walked forward again, before stopping in front of two children, one a boy and one a girl, and leaning down. The ex-slaves were of various apparent nationalities, some Dardanian, some Manathirian, some Panjian, some Qartubinian, some others who were from that continent to Pyrrhia's west...and even a few that were either Gothian or Polabian. Of these two particular children, the boy was likely Dardanian, and the girl was likely Panjian...at least he thought so as he put his left arm around one and his right arm around another before picking them both up and holding them. When he did so, he looked at the two of them for a long moment...

...before he finally spoke. "Sae...they inflicted a great deal of pain and misery upon ye? The Tarantines did that, did they? Made ye suffer? Treated ye sae badly?"

The two children seemed hesitant to say anything, but both nodded.

"That's all I needed tae ken." Altamir stated, trying to keep his voice as level as possible for the sake of the two children as he then walked over to Peksen. raising the children up in his arms to indicate that he wanted her to hold them...which she soon did when she picked them up and set them down on her back. When she did that, he turned to the rest of the ex-slaves. "Lads...lasses...I ken ye've been through a lot at the bloodied hands of thaese Tarantine slavers. I ken that that's the sort of thing that stays with ye for the rest of yer life. That's why I'm going tae make sure, here and naew, that thaese slavers and self-proclaimed 'masters' can never put ye through such things ever again. I shall make sure that ye'll never be or become slaves or otherwise mere property tae anyone ever again. As neither dragonkind nor humankind are meant tae be slaves or slavers, it's upon me tae uphold my duty tae keep such a vow if I am tae become the Great Khan of a united Pyrrhia...a Pyrrhia where slavery shall never exist again. If I cannae keep this vow, then some 'Great Khan' I am and may the gods strike me daewn."

The ex-slaves all looked at each other and in various directions when they heard this...and then, one by one, they all bowed to him. They were still silent, apparently fearing what Altamir and his dragonets would do if they 'dared' speak (likely a by-product of their having previously been enslaved)...

...but it was then that one young woman among them, clearly gaining the courage, finally looked up from where she was bowing and spoke, her voice betraying a Qatabanian accent. "...is it so? That you make this...this vow...to us? Of all...?"

Altamir nodded. "Aye. And I keep my vows. Regardless of who I make them tae. For the sake of a united Pyrrhia, it's what I must do."

At that, the woman then looked back down again. "...if that is so...then it is only right that we use this...free will you give us...to serve you. Not as slaves...but as free men and women. Altamir of the steppes...you are our right ruler, and you always will be...if you are to keep this vow."

"And keep it I will, lass." Altamir crossed his arm over his chest. "Otherwise my name is forfeit."

A few seconds of silence followed...before Altamir heard a sigh.

"Ah, Aldy...always able to get someone taew his side nae matter the situation..." Peksen's voice seemed half-amused. "Sae then, naew that ye've 'informed' yer decision on the Tarantines, what shall it be?"

"The Tarantine slavers? Well, while it will depend on a case-by-case basis, they'll most likely be turned over tae Tahmasp with orders that he execute them for the crimes of enslaving their fellow human beings and leading an army like a bunch of glorified criminals. That will be my decision."

"Turn them over tae..." Chagatai did seem to question this decision briefly as he offered his forelimb for a boy to embrace. "Er...is it naet sae that Tahmasp tends not tae like tae do such things like that?"

"I ken, lad." Altamir understood the Night Dragonet's concerns. "But he alsae kens when certain things need tae be done. I have faith in him that he'll naet let someone get away with trying tae inflict this sort of atrocity tae his people."

"Well, if that's the case," Shiban tilted with a slight bit of a grin, clearly not able to help his amusement while letting a few children play with his tail, "haew are ye going tae go about breaking the news tae them, then?"

Altamir put his hand to his chin for a few moments, before nodding a few times. "Hmm...good question...I suppose I'll have tae think of something while I'm going back over there."

...

Just a minute later, Altamir was back to where the prisoners were being held, having told Rautastaxma of his decision as two now properly walked towards the cages.

"Sae then, which one of these is their overall leader?" Altamir asked. "Or, rather, their overall ringleader?"

"'Ringleader'?" Rautastaxma chuckled a bit. "I have tae sae...a rather fitting title, given their actions." Then, he pointed at one particular cage. "Well, they've more or less refused to identify themselves tae us...but we're thinking that it's that one right there."

"Haew can ye tell?"

"He seems tae be the most stuck-up and arrogant of them all."

Altamir chuckled himself. "Seems tae be haew ye identify them that way, eh? Alright then..."

Finally, they were in front of this particular cage. The man inside was staring at the bottom of the cage for a time, before finally raising his head upon noticing that Altamir and Rautastaxma were standing in front of him, looking up at them with a sneer. Apparently, he was supposed to seem 'proud'...but given his situation, it just came off as petulant instead.

After looking at Rautastaxma briefly, Altamir spoke first. "Oi, lad...what's yer name?"

Sure enough, the man was stubborn. "...who I am is not any of your concern, you unwashed savage brat." Even some of the wounds that he'd noticeably sustained either before or during his capture didn't seem to change his demeanor. "Go crawling back to whatever foul-smelling refuse heap leads your 'army'. I have nothing to gain from naming myself to some stupid woman-haired boy with a barbarian's stench..." His voice sounded quite hoarse, clearly because of the dehydration that he and his army had been put through.

"Like I said, the most arrogant and stuck-up one." Rautastaxma rolled his eyes, with Altamir unable to help himself doing the same and then shaking his head as Rautastaxma then turned to the man again. "Well, lad, this is naet some random 'boy'. This is Altamir. He's the man who leads this army."

"-ngh?!" This actually seemed to both shock the man and get under his skin. "Wha...WHAT?! You would...dare...?!"

"Aye, lad." Altamir nodded, not being able to help the grin that crossed his face. "My name is Altamir Jahangir Alchono. I'm the leader of this army. The army that defeated yers." Then, he tilted his head at the man. "I thought that, for all their ills, the Tarantines would at least be competent at battle. Leading yer army through a dry corridor with nae water and without scouting the area out daes naet exactly indicate that, ye ken. If anything, it makes it seem like yer actual tactical ability is 'fock-all', ye bloody hackit. Sae much for yer lovely hats shielding ye from our fearsome gaze."

"You...you...you...YOU LITTLE-!"

After looking like he was about to literally burst a vein, the man then exploded into a tirade of everything derogatory the human mind could ever come up with. Altamir was hardly bothered by this, and clearly, neither was Rautastaxma; why should they be offended by the rantings and ravings of a man whom they'd defeated and captured and had bound up in a cage?

Regardless, given that the man would not identify himself to them voluntarily, Altamir would simply have to find another way to find the man's identity. For that, he supposed that he'd simply have to borrow a little trick or two from the Night Dragons that he'd known since he was thirteen years old. And so, while the man was busy ranting and raving, Altamir 'dove into' the man's mind and was quickly confronted with a great deal of information...though he only needed one little piece at the moment, a piece that he quickly found and singled out.

When Altamir and his army had come across the Tarantine women and children in the enemy camp and brought them back to their own camp along with the now-ex-slaves, some of the Tarantine women, apparently believing that harm would befall them and their children if they didn't do so (nevermind that unlike whatever lies told about him would have one believe, Altamir was very much not intent on letting such a thing happen and had very much made sure that it didn't), began singing like canaries about the Tarantine Army's leaders that Altamir and his own army had defeated and captured. From this, he'd gotten a name apparently ascribed to the army's leader. He suspected that it was indeed this man, but he'd needed confirmation...

...confirmation that he now had. "Publius."

The man's tirade immediately halted as his face changed to one of bafflement and confusion.

Altamir, knowing that he was getting somewhere, forged ahead with this. "Publius Quinctilius Macarius. That's yer name, is it naet? That's who ye are?"

"Wh...wha...how...how did you..." Publius, as the man clearly was, seemed at a lost for words at hearing this. "...what kind of...witchcraft...is...?!"

"A gift from the Night Dragons." Altamir crossed his arms. "Or do ye think that 'Luuzada' means 'Dragon's Son' for naething, lad?"

"...you...wha...why..."

"What's wrong, lad?" Rautastaxma asked mockingly. "Realized just naew that ye've dragged yer empire and yer emperor intae a war that they cannae win? Perhaps ye should have thought this through before seeking tae plunder and enslave this land?" Then, he shrugged. "Ah well, all the men, women, and children whom ye brought along as slaves are free from bondage naew. Soon, everyone else that the Tarantines have enslaved will follow in that regard. As for ye, I've heard that the Panjians practice a method kenned as 'Scaphism' upon thaese who commit the gravest of offenses. Who's tae say that yer enslaving and attempted enslaving of their peoples will naet count as that?"

Publius paled at being told such...at which point Altamir simply went back to 'diving in' to the man's mind to extract all the information that he needed. He would have felt bad if he'd seen most anyone else react that way to being told something...but someone like this slaver and slave master who had operated in a soldier's uniform was more than vile enough to surpass that.

Altamir knew full well at this point not to paint any and every Tarantine that ever lived in this light, of course, but even then, if had any sympathy for any Tarantines, it would likely be for the ones among the common people and common citizens who had nothing to do with Honorius' atrocities (particularly Tarentum's female population, given the 'values' the Tarantines had). Those ones he would obviously spare to the best of his ability, as those would be the ones left when Altamir was done with Tarentum.

The fates of those who did take part in and commit such atrocities, up to and including Honorius himself, on the other hand...well, those fates would hardly need explanation or introduction.

Regardless, at the moment...if Publius wouldn't willingly comply with regards to information on his empire, his higher-ups, and his emperor, then Altamir would simply find a way around that unwillingness. There was no need to utilize torture for information if you could just pry information from someone without needing their voluntary compliance anyways, after all.

---

After the Battle of Chaharjuy resulted in a victory for Altamir and his army, the captured leaders of the Tarantine army sent to the Panjian Shah Tahmasp for varying methods of execution, more contingents of his own subjects joined up with the allied army against the Tarantines, those being a Gergovian contingent led by Prince Esuvios (a second son of King Lugobelinos), and a Dardanian contingent led by Princess Jehona (a daughter of King Progon). With yet another contingent led by Prince Diodotos (the young but talented Crown Prince of Baktria who was only a year older than Altamir but was known for an impressive military prowess for his age) on the way to join up with him later, Altamir at last began his counter-offensive against the Tarantines.

He quickly took Volubilis after he had his dragonets burn down the gates, the enemy garrison being frightened into surrender when they realized that the young Khagan literally had dragons fighting under his banner. After levying necessary supplies for his army from the town (and freeing every slave held in the town), Altamir began properly advancing into Tarantine territory, taking several other towns, villages, and cities like Noreia, Emerita Tarquinia, Sala Regia, Auzia, Setiphis, and Lambaesis in the same manner or in similar manners...

...before encountering two Tarantine armies at a place called Caudium, a river town on the Caudine river.

Two Tarantine armies at once...that was bound to pose quite the obstacle for Altamir and his army...well, it would have, at the very least. That was to say...if it weren't for one crucial issue that the Tarantines had. Namely, a rivalry between the leaders of each of those two armies: Gavius Rutilius Servinus and Quintus Mauritius Maxentius.

Using that trick of the Night Dragons, Altamir had gleaned a great load of information off of Publius Quinctilius Macarius and the other captured Tarantine army leaders at Chaharjuy. Plenty about the Tarantines in general, their inner workings, their tactics, their cities, and quite a few of the notable top officials and nobles and aristocrats and rulers and leaders. Including these two.

Both Gavius and Quintus were both at least decently talented at leadership, apparently, and going by reports, they were supposed to be co-leaders of a single, unified army. However, there was a...dispute going on between the two of them. Apparently, Gavius had lost a jewel in a bet to the other man, not to mention that Quintus, while a high-ranking leader now, was not a noble by birth. As a result, Gavius had chosen to lead his portion of the army separately, even though all logic would dictate that he swallow his pride and simply march with Quintus.

Ah well, Tarantine arrogance and classism didn't mesh well with logic, it seemed. Regardless, with this in mind thanks to the reconnaissance of not only Khamsin, but also Starseer (a seven-year-old Night Dragonet who was a second-daughter princess of her tribe and also apparently Khamsin's prospective mate), Altamir planned and prepared, and also had his army prepare, accordingly.

When the battle began, Gavius led his portion of Tarantines in an attack, clearly intending to use the typical Tarantine tactic of 'march forward and kill' that, to their credit, Altamir supposed, did work fairly often in certain situations. But not this one, for Altamir, rather than let this happen and get his soldiers killed in needlessly large numbers, instead took to the skies with his dragonets and blew hole after hole after hole in the enemy's order of battle by killing the Centurions among it with the 'arrows' from his 'bow' before having his own army surround and destroy the now-disorganized foe. Quintus' portion of Tarantines, by comparison, lasted a bit longer because he bothered to find a properly defensible position...but nonetheless, he and that portion he was leading fell as well after a similar hail of 'arrows' and a properly-led ground assault from Altamir's army.

Much like they had at Chaharjuy, Altamir and his army went through the enemy camps after the battle, where they found more soon-to-be-ex-slaves (whom, again, he promptly freed and rendered every bit of necessary medical aid) and various supplies to loot and use, as well as the various noncombatants from those camps (whom Altamir spared on the condition that they would defect to him, which they did). After this, the campaign against the Tarantines continued, with villages, towns, and cities like Tyndaris, Thermae, Catina, Eporedia, Dertona, Pollentia, Vardacate, and Gravisca falling to Altamir and his army as he led that army in a west-southwest direction towards the empire's "Capitoline" area.

As he and his army began approaching the area, Altamir led an utterly enormous ambush against another Tarantine army led by Lucius Terentius Geminus, rapidly defeating that army on the spot and paving the way for the taking of yet more villages, towns, and cities surrounding the Capitoline region, including Satricum, Stellatina, Tromentana, Sabatina, Arniensis, Cameria, Fidenae, Antemnae and Crustumerium.

But after Crustumerium fell, and just as Altamir was leading his army on the home stretch towards Tarentum, the Capitoline city of the Tarantine Empire...they were met with two surprises.

The first one was...not unwelcome. As for the other one...

---

Late November

Altamir sighed as he sat astride that typical spot of his on Peksen at roughly the point where her back met the base of her neck, her pointing her body to the side (though with her head swiveled forward to look in the same direction that Altamir was looking), while the other dragonets (save for Khamsin and Starseer, who were, again, out scouting) were standing in equal numbers to Altamir's left (and Peksen's front) and right (and Peksen's back). Their army was waiting behind them, whereas for what, or rather, who was in front of them...

"Sae...ye came for parley?" Altamir eyed the five men, all in Tarantine arms and armor on horseback in front of him and his dragonets. "Is it tae be guessed that that's why ye're here?" The way he was astride Peksen on that spot with her body facing to the side, it allowed those in front of him to clearly see him in a position that showed how he wasn't to be underestimated. By his intention, this gesture of his would give off a similar effect to someone on horseback themselves, with the only difference being that, in this case, the 'horse' was much, much, much bigger. Made for quite the presence, and would send the message quite nicely that anyone who tried anything foolish would win the 'prize' of such games.

"That it is." The one who seemed to be the leader of them replied, clearly not intending to be foolish himself, a first among the Tarantines Altamir had encountered. "I am Cornelius Gabinianus Scipio, and I lead these men and all the rest of those who have come with me. As such, it would render such a motion hollow for me to not be present."

"Alright then..." Altamir looked at the back of his hand for a bit before asking the man of his intentions as to who the parley was on behalf of. "Sae...who do ye parley for? Yer emperor? Or is it merely yerself and thaese who specifically follow ye? Go on, which one is it?"

The man seemed taken aback at first (perhaps he hadn't expected Altamir to be so straight-forward), but he recovered and answered. "That would be the latter."

"The latter?" Altamir raised an eyebrow. "And for what purpose?"

Scipio, as Altamir started mentally referring to the man as, seemed to be 'biting the arrowhead', in a sense, as he said what he said next "To ensure that my...followers and I have a chance of avoiding certain death. Some will call it cowardice, but I understand the distinction between valor and foolishness. Especially when calling what I lead as an 'army' is a very generous description for what's little more than a picketing force when it comes to the number of fighting soldiers that I lead. Namely, less than five thousand...which, against your many thousands and also the dragons whom you have at your side, would only face one outcome were things to progress to a battle."

"Inevitable destruction." Altamir then crossed his arms. "Sae...ye seek tae either surrender tae me or defect tae me."

"That I do, milord." Scipio nodded. "It will obviously be against the Emperor's wishes...but then again, that is the same man who intends that I and my 'army' either somehow drive you and your army away, or die trying. All because I 'dared' to question his refusal to sue for peace, and because these soldiers I've led here 'dared' to stand with me. He even made us take our relatives and family members with us as camp followers in this mad 'mission' because they dared to be related to us."

This made Altamir's eyes widen a bit. "Oh...sae that's why yer camp was larger than yer troop size suggested. And yer 'emperor' has merely proven himself even further tae be a madman...throwing away his own soldiers like inedible food scraps." Altamir then looked at all of his dragonets before turning back to the man and shrugging. "Very well, I dinnae like pointless bloodshed, and ye're the first leading Tarantine tae have any sense or decent state of mind, sae..."

"...you accept our offer of surrender or defection?"

"I was going tae say that I was naet against it." Then, though, Altamir narrowed his eyes at Scipio. "However...ye do realize what it will mean tae either surrender or defect tae us, do ye? Particularly with regards tae a certain...practice?"

"And that practice is...?"

"Slavery, rather obviously." Altamir sighed before continuing. "Scipio...I'm naet sure if ye realize this, given that it's apparently 'normal' in yer culture, but slavery is a disgraceful, disgusting, despicable practice. Neither mankind nor dragonkind were ever or are ever meant tae be slaves or slavers. There will be nae room for this sort of 'practice' here on a Pyrrhia under my banner. Sae, ye and yer soldiers and followers all permanently giving up the practice is a vital condition that ye all must fulfill in exchange for my mercy. Any individual who fails tae will be dealt with by me personally for squandering that mercy. Am I understood?"

"...you are understood, milord."

"Very well." After Altamir thought it over for a bit, he made his decision. "In that case...I will naet require ye and yer followers tae give up yer arms and armor...but I WILL be requiring the lot of ye tae throw daewn the banners of the Tarantine Emperor. He'll naet be the Emperor for much longer, anyways."

Finally, something good. Perhaps the Emperor's madness was starting to get to the Tarantines to the point where, rather than fight for them, they'd defect and surrender?

Perhaps they could avoid further needless tragedy?

---

A week later, three days before December...

They could not avoid further needless tragedy.

No. Not even close.

The army had been advancing ever onwards towards Tarentum Capitolinum when Altamir and his dragonets were confusedly met by Khamsin and Starseer, who both looked beyond mortified by whatever they had seen on this latest round of scouting (sure, Starseer, being somewhat shy and nervous, could be expected to be this...but even Khamsin had his usual joking demeanor wiped right off his own face). Initially, Altamir thought that there was an enemy ambush lying in wait, or that the army that awaited them at the Capitoline City would be much stronger than expected.

When he actually got the reports and then confirmed with his own eyes what it was that got Khamsin and Starseer so horrified...

...well, now he wished that it had been either one of those other things instead.

Because he was currently staring at this...this veritable forest of human corpses of all ages and sizes nailed to these T-shaped posts that was on both sides of the road leading to the Capitoline City, and just a day out from that city, no less. The corpses were in varying states of decay, with some having vultures picking or still picking at them, and, and, and...

...oh, by the gods, there had to be THOUSANDS of them!

Altamir was so badly stunned by this horrendous sight that he was speechless for a long time...occasionally, he tried to form words, but no matter how many times he tried to open or close his mouth, nothing came out of it.

Then, just as who else but Scipio was coming up alongside him, Altamir finally found words. "S-Scipio?"

"Erm...yes, milo-er, yer grace?"

"What in...wha...WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!" Realizing how loud and somewhat unhinged-sounding he was likely starting to become, Altamir did his best to get his voice a little more level. "Wha...what is all of this?! Haew did it get here?! Why is it here?! And for what reason?!"

So, right then and there, Scipio, with a little bit of prodding, explained to Altamir what this was.

It was a particularly brutal form of death known as crucifixion. Basically, the condemned was nailed by their wrists and ankles to a T-shaped post known as a crucifix and then left to slowly expire. It was apparently not an uncommon form of 'punishment' when it came to dealing with those who committed offenses that were considered to be of the highest degree, things like 'treason' or 'rebellion'. Or, in this case...

...happening to be slaves who were owned by someone who dared to speak against the emperor. Or that someone's followers.

Altamir knew this because a contrite Scipio admitted that he recognized a few of those who were on these crucifixes, and that he'd previously owned them...that was, before Honorius had them seized from him, those who were loyal to him, and his and their relatives, and had them crucified in this demented thicket of death only a day away from the Tarantines' Capital City. The only 'offense' that these people themselves had 'committed' was merely existing, and that was apparently enough for Honorius to...do what he did.

After hearing this explanation, Altamir was silent for a very long minute.

"Your grace, what do we do with these..." Then, when Nader came up alongside him to ask for orders...

Altamir gave his answer. "We need tae take them daewn from thaese things. Scare off the vultures, tear out the nails, cut off the chains, shackles, cuffs, collars, and whatnaet, and I'll pick a place where we can arrange them for a funeral pyre. We must give them the dignity in death that they never had in life."

...

It took a good portion of the rest of the day to take down all the corpses from those posts and arrange them for the pyre. It was neither an easy task nor an entertaining one. But it had to be done.

And, eventually, Altamir's army had done so, and once they were done, Altamir, with his entire host watching, gave the one-word order.

"Daharatash!"

At that one word, all eight dragonets there with Altamir who could breathe fire did so, blasting gouts of flames at the piles of corpses, incinerating many of them right away and then soon spreading to the rest.

As Altamir quietly watched the now great fire burn, he was already thinking long and hard about what he was going to do with regards to that emperor, and also those who brown-nosed for him and all-too-gleefully carried out his will.

But he also was making a vow to himself. Yet another one amongst the many that he was already keeping.

"I will naet allow this tae ever happen again. Never again will a tyrant regard his or her fellow human beings as being mere property or possessions on Pyrrhia. Never again will anyone on Pyrrhia have tae fear death merely for existing. Never again will thaese who live on Pyrrhia have tae ken pointless bloodshed in pointless wars. Never again will any Pyrrhian, be it human or dragon, have tae suffer needlessly at someone else's whims."

---

After that second, unpleasant surprise, and after over seven total months of campaigning, fighting, battling, warring, and spilling of blood, Altamir and his army at last found themselves before the gates and walls of Tarentum Capitolinum.

Altamir had to admit that those walls looked rather...impressive. They were made of stone and were roughly 75 feet tall (90-100 feet tall if one counted the various towers along them) and at least 30 feet thick. By all accounts, the last person to have led an army that breached them was Tomur, who did so nearly 500 years ago. If he wanted to win this war, Altamir would have to do the same thing.

As for how? Well, that was never not going to be a nightmare, as on the one hand, he couldn't afford to not take the city, nor take too long to do so, given that he was so far away from what was 'his' own territory, and the same was the case for his army. On the other hand, he had to figure out a way to do so without causing too much damage to the city's infrastructure, and also without slaughtering the civilian populace, as that would cause the Tarantines to inevitably revolt against him, among other things.

Nightmare indeed. But it had to be done somehow. So, Altamir would have to come up with something, which he and his army's command got to as soon as possible, with aid from information that Khamsin and Starseer gleaned by scouting and surveilling the city from above.

Given that the city was very large and quite well-fortified, and would be a bloody migraine to assault the usual, blood-and-iron way thanks to that and the likely-quite-large number of troops defending many tight, winding corridors (which would make for difficult targets to hit without hitting that aforementioned infrastructure, let alone his own troops were they in heavy melee), his army would have to take things slower to some degree (though not TOO slow, again, given that they couldn't afford to just sit outside of those gates forever), at least at first, and if there was any full-on assault on the city, it would have to be well-planned and from as many directions at once as possible. That, and they would have to do something about the civilian population, as well as those who were enslaved (because Tarantine Elites and their bloody slavering ways)...though there would be only so many ways that they'd be able to do anything about that last bit, given that Honorius likely wouldn't be willing to voluntarily allow any of them to leave (especially the latter)...unless he were to be forced to allow them to leave.

Force Honorius to let them leave...wait, there was an idea!

After going over it with that same command, Altamir had a plan (well, the first part of it, anyways), and a means of putting it into motion. So, the first day after his army had finished setting up camp, with the edge of that camp being roughly half a mile from the city's gates, Altamir was astride that 'spot' on Gulay, who, along with the other dragonets (save for, as usual, Khamsin and Starseer, who continued their usual roles of scouting for the rest of the army), began walking in a wide, gradual circle around the city just out of range of the Tarantine ballistae and catapults.

Walking around the city while Altamir was using those big walls as target practice for his 'arrows', that was.

Altamir had to admit that he was somewhat curious as to what it would look and sound like to someone in his army's camp to see the glowing projectiles soar through the air with an eerie silence before hitting the walls with a rumbling boom that sounded somewhat like distant thunder, or a distant erupting volcano. Those projectiles, when they hit the walls, inflicted fiery explosions against them, and while those explosions weren't enough to PUNCTURE through, as Altamir was currently regulating the 'power' of these projectiles due to him not wanting to cause civilian casualties at this point by blasting rocks into the structures behind the walls, which were likely still occupied...they nonetheless were still 'boulder-destroying' strength, and this was displayed by the craters that those explosions left in the sides of the walls. Craters that were several feet deep and many feet wide each.

Right now, the objective was nonetheless to get the Emperor to realize that he was not going to win this one, nor would those walls save him, and/or to get him to open negotiations regarding those civilians...and preferably also the city's enslaved population, if possible.

So, this pounding of the walls in this manner continued, with Altamir working his down the walls till he and his dragonets were a quarter of the ways around those walls, and then doubling back and going back around the other way back to where he started, and then going back his original 'course' once more. He was only bothering to not hit the towers or the gates just yet, as they could be potential places for him to negotiate with the Emperor from if the latter didn't meet him halfway between the city and his camp.

When sun set, Altamir and his companions ceased the pounding and retired to the camp for the night, and after meeting with the army's leadership on how to conduct the siege and to finish it within a certain time period, went to sleep.

When they were up the next day, they began the cycle anew and resumed the blasting of this quarter of the city's walls. This time, the walls, having already been damaged from the previous day's barrage of 'arrows', began collapsing in places, with the garrison forced to abandon them for fear of getting crushed or falling to their deaths (or both). Seeing this, Altamir and his dragonets continued the cycling barrage, intent on forcing the Emperor to negotiations, eventually turning that entire quarter of the walls into rubble.

Then, when that day ended, and the next after that one day began, sure enough...

...a messenger from the Tarantines came, and indeed, he brought with him a request for an audience from the Emperor himself...likely having been prodded to do so by the various nobles and advisors and officials and whatnot. Altamir granted the request...but not before making it clear that the Emperor himself had to meet him halfway between his camp and the city, and that there were to be no tricks whatsoever.

So, the 'audience' eventually came, and, coincidentally, it was just as Queen Swordbearer of the Night Dragons herself had arrived at the camp to meet with Altamir and discuss what to do with the Tarantines as a whole after this siege was won. Hearing about the audience, Swordbearer personally decided to accompany Altamir to this meet-up with Honorius which was in that place halfway between the city and the camp. When they were at the place and met with Honorius, the latter sure did make quite the effort at bluster...but it was hard to do such a thing when one was astride a horse while the other was astride a dragon that was alongside another one. In this case, as usual, Altamir was astride Peksen on that 'spot', and, not wanting to waste time with such bush-beating, cut through it altogether.

---

"Sae, lad, ye want these 'stinking barbarians' away from yer city gates, do ye?"

"-!" The Tarantine Emperor, resplendent in all of his overly-garish garb, seemed to be startled out of his posturing about 'the might of the civilized world' and whatnot by this dry bluntness of Altamir's. After spluttering for a bit, Honorius found words again, still haughty as ever. "And what else do you think, barbarian boy? Have you wallowed in such filth that it clogs your ears?!"

"Ah, well, I was just asking." Altamir replied simply, while making a mental remark about how this supposedly magnanimous Emperor was being as undiplomatic as possible, before then deciding to lead into his conditions. "Anyways...it's quite simple. Ye hand over each and every single 'slave' in yer city tae me and my army...and we shall go where we need tae go."

The Emperor, upon hearing this, harrumphed. "Hmph...I suppose we all have to throw a few scraps to the dogs to make them leave the door alone. Very well...you can have them if you want them so badly." At this, Honorius was turning his horse, clearly intending to return to the city...

...when Altamir stopped him. "Alright then...though...two things first."

"...what?!" Honorius growled as he turned to look at Altamir again. "What is it, boy?!"

"First of all, lad, ye have five days tae turn over all of thaese 'slaves'. Nae dawdling. Second of all, if there are any non-combatants, civilians, and anyone else who either daes naet want tae get caught up in a potential battle or daes naet wish tae fight here, ye allow them tae leave the city...less people for both ye and me tae worry about, and they'd probably be a hindrance tae ye if ye were tae keep them in the city when a battle was tae begin. And finally, if ye fail tae deliver tae me ALL of thaese 'slaves'...the consequences will be dire."

"You'd do well to listen to him, Honorius." Swordbearer, who had mainly let Altamir do the talking, chimed in. "He is a man who, regardless of his young age, has defeated army after army after army of yours, as well as having taken many villages, towns, and cities along the way. Do not underestimate him."

The Emperor harrumphed again at the Night Dragon Queen's words. "Hmph...whatever you say! Now be off with the both of you!" With that, he turned his horse firmly back towards the city this time, and then galloped away. Altamir watched him leave, before he and Peksen and Swordbearer turned back to return to the camp.

"Well...do ye think he's going tae uphold the deal?" Peksen asked on the way. "Or do ye think he's going tae try and pull a fast one on us?"

"Probably the latter." Altamir shrugged. "Given what we ken about the Tarantine elite...I would naet be surprised if that was the 'option' he either took or tried tae take by the time this is all over."

"I'm afraid you're spot on, your grace." Swordbearer agreed grimly. "I've dealt with Honorius for ten years now...I've seen plenty of examples of his two-faced, double-crossing, power-hungry nature. Unfortunately, I was unable to do much about it but open my tribe's figurative 'doors' for dissidents fleeing his oppression, but...well, I suppose that's politics for you."

"Yeah, I guess." Peksen agreed, before turning her head to Altamir. "Aldy...are we really going to just...leave the city alone if he gives us everyone enslaved in it? After how far we've come and gone in Tarantine territory?"

"Well, Peksen," Altamir replied, "that's why I worded things the way I did. I said that we would be going 'where we needed tae go'. I did naet necessarily say that we would indeed just leave him alone and let him sit atop whatever golden stool he sits upon in whatever palace of his."

"Ah, so I take it that we'll have a new Emperor in the Tarantine lands?" Swordbearer raised her scaly eyebrow, clearly catching on to what Altamir was doing.

Altamir nodded. "Indeed. The sooner that Honorius falls, the better. For everyone, naet just me."

---

So, for the next five blood-boiling, blood-curdling days, Altamir had to bear witness to the foul sight of slaves being forcibly dragged out of the city and driven onward towards his camp. There were thousands of them each day, and it was very evident that the Tarantines had to have been having a field day filling these men, women, and children's ears with all sorts of wild lies and tall tales while they were dragging them along towards Altamir's camp, as Altamir then had to deal with these poor souls screaming and crying and whimpering in fear of their supposed fate...and then being utterly bewildered when such a 'fate' never came. So that was 'fun'. Totally not utterly infuriating or extremely taxing or anything, especially when he had to balance this 'reception' with monitoring the various non-combatants and other individuals who were leaving the city to make sure that there wasn't any attempt to ambush or attack his camp from behind (thank the gods for Khamsin and Starseer).

This particular situation made him quickly be very grateful for the various other now-ex-slaves that they'd picked up along the way. They'd stayed with Altamir's army all this time, as he couldn't safely resettle them somewhere yet due to being in enemy territory, so he'd had to keep them with him. But while he was absolutely set on making sure that they weren't going to labor thanklessly under dangerous and cruel conditions, at the same time, he and his army couldn't just cart them about with them doing nothing. So, with some reluctance, and if they were in good-enough shape to do so (or, at least, once he made sure that they were in good enough shape to do so), he'd had them start working for him in various non-combatant tasks in the army's camps and supply lines so that they could contribute and not be 'the loads' or 'the millstones', albeit making absolutely damn sure that their 'working conditions' were safe and that they were fairly treated and compensated for their efforts so as to both keep them loyal to him and keep them alive and well.

This had paid off greatly when, thanks to their assistance as well as the other camp followers, the task of taking on, getting proper treatment to, and integrating the new waves of ex-slaves that were sent onwards towards the camp was one that Altamir and his army were properly able to do (thank the gods), with still enough time and resources left over to prepare the army and its soldiers for the eventual, planned assault on the city. Though, the various stories and accounts that these newer ex-slaves had told and given of their time in captivity and enslavement were riling the soldiers all the hells up, so Altamir had been having to remind them that, while the current regime absolutely needed destroying, this was still a vital, important city with a long history, so the goal was to take the city, not destroy it.

Regardless, five days had passed, and it was now time to make his decision. Or, rather, it was time to finally carry out the decision that he had made from the moment he laid eyes on this city. And by the gods were his soldiers ready...even if he wasn't completely sure if they'd listen to his order about the aforementioned 'taking the city, not destroying it' bit as he sat aboard Gulay's back once more, addressing them one last time before this final battle.

"Lads, lasses...I've got little time for flourish here! Today, we conclude a vital part of a filthy, nasty task on our hands! The Tarantine Emperor awaits behind thaese walls! That damn slime has the bloody stones tae call us 'barbarians' when he himself is a gods-damned slaver who thinks himself as having the 'right' tae 'praedly' rip our sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, away from their homeland and treat them as mere property! Our success here on this day mandates that we take him, dead or alive, and the city with him! Naew, as I've said, the city itself must naet be destroyed, given its importance and its long history. Spare any unarmed civilians still in that city, and, in particular, make sure tae rescue any slaves still remaining trapped in it! At the same time, strike daewn thaese who take up arms in his name and refuse tae surrender, and most of all...let us ensure that that Honorius' headless body is nailed tae the same crucifix that he's sae bloody fond of!"

As the cheer went up from his army, Altamir summoned his 'bow' to his hand and, after aiming, rapidly loosed five 'arrows' at the gates and gatehouse, and after the thumping quintet of explosions that rang out as the gates were blasted apart and the walls around them crumbled, Altamir then summoned his Qanda to his hand, before pointing it at the city with one final command.

"FORWARD!"

---

The resulting battle was hard and bloody, with it having been a damn chore and a half to both make sure that neither Honorius nor his soldiers could escape, and to make sure that his own soldiers didn't suffer too many casualties to this bloody auger of a fight. Altamir hated urban warfare. He did. He really did. Not just because he was a 'man of the steppes', but also, and especially, because his soldiers could die in any number of ways in a city battle. He didn't know exactly how many times he and his dragonets flew about over the city while he was raining 'arrows' on those enemy soldiers and specifically those enemy soldiers, to balance taking them out with not damaging and/or destroying the city too much.

But what he did know was that it took from mid-morning to just past noon for the city to finally and at last be properly taken. And that it made the announcement from his generals that the city was finally taken all the sweeter.

It also made sweeter what he was able to do to Honorius the next morning.

---

Early December

Altamir was quietly, patiently waiting atop one of his dragonets as usual...but this time, in the courtyard of the Capitoline City's Imperial Palace. Nearby, waiting with him, there was Prince Esuvios and Princess Jehona (who, amusingly, had apparently fallen for each other during the campaign, and often communicated to each other through barely-disguised flirting...as they apparently were right now through whatever 'conversation' they were having), as well as some of the other leaders of his army...and Emperor Scipio.

Yes, EMPEROR Scipio. Altamir had, in an admittedly spur-of-the-moment decision, decided to crown the man as being the new Emperor of the Tarantines as soon as the Capitoline City was taken, sensing that he wasn't an arrogant, power-addicted maniac like Honorius was, and though the man was more of a military leader than a politician, Altamir knew that previous Tarantine Emperors had become such in a similar manner, some of them apparently quite successful, so he was sure that Scipio could do the same thing, and he was going to make sure of it. Then again, to their luck, quite a few Tarantine political dissidents of the now-previous emperor, having been fed up with his ways, had actually defected to Altamir during his campaign, and had now sworn themselves to Scipio, having made a vow to support the man and stabilize his reign as part of their 'deals' with Altamir in exchange for him sparing their lives and allowing them to keep their positions. With orders to end the practice of slavery for good and to put an end to the traditional Tarantine arrogance, Altamir had his hopes that the Tarantines would trouble the neighboring peoples no longer.

But, of course, right now, the 'old' emperor still needed dealing with. Which was what they were all waiting on. Including Mawia, the very same young woman whom Altamir had freed from slavery after the battle of Chaharjuy, and who had been the first ex-slave to openly vow loyalty to him as gratitude for him rescuing her and many others from forced servitude under the Tarantines. In particular, she'd stated a desire to join his household, and after having followed him for a while...Altamir had slowly gained the suspicion that she was possibly carrying a torch for the one who had liberated her from the Tarantines, to put it this way. Of course, he wasn't ever going to say 'yes' to that, given what happened with Somayeh, but...oh well. If it meant that she was loyal, then fair enough.

Regardless, she was here to watch the man who had effectively been her overarching tormentor-in-chief during her time enslaved die his well-deserved death. That's why many others were here, as well. That's what they were waiting on.

They didn't have to wait for too long...

"Ah, there he is. He certainly daes naet look sae 'high and mighty' anymore."

...as Sorkhagtani's remark indicated.

When Altamir had last seen Honorius before the main battle began, the other man had seemed like he thought that he was going to either 'drive back the unwashed barbarians', or otherwise 'go out in a blaze of glory'. Well, neither had happened. Instead, Altamir had noted with amusement, what had happened was that the once oh-so-proud man had apparently gotten lost in the winding streets of his own city in his attempt to escape once he realized the battle was lost, and then he'd run into a group of Dardanian soldiers and was promptly unhorsed. And it showed, as well, as the man was now being dragged before Altamir and Scipio, clearly the epitome of the phrase 'how the mighty have fallen', not looking at all magnificent in the rags he was now made to wear, and certainly not with the welts all over him that had been inflicted by the Dardanian soldiers who had captured him.

"Behold, your graces." Nader, who was there as well, dryly presented Honorius to Altamir and Scipio. "The old emperor has finally made his appearance."

"That he has, Nader." Altamir responded, equally dry. "And my, my, he certainly daes naet look his best. One would think that, being an Emperor, he would ken full well by naew about the importance of looking sharp."

Errant chuckles sounded around the courtyard as Altamir then carefully dismounted from Peksen's back. The courtyard went relatively silent as he walked across the stones, before stopping in front of the man, who was being held in place by a group of soldiers, and looking down at his face.

"Sae this is the laddie who regarded me as being a 'barbarian boy'. Who regarded us as a bunch of 'unwashed barbarian savages'. I do wonder what, aside from arrogance, would have possessed him tae make him believe that he was in such a position tae say such things." Altamir crossed his arms. "Well, lad, ye think we would ignore what a tyrant ye are? That we'd naet notice haew eager ye were tae waste human lives, particularly when ye crucified thousands along the road tae this city for the pettiest of reasons?" Then, Altamir shook his head. "Oh, ye sweet summer laddie. Any actually GOOD Emperor would ken naet tae do such things, let alone enslave others. Ah well." Then, he motioned the soldiers holding Honorius in place to follow him. "This way, lads. Let us properly deal with this laddie."

So, Altamir then began walking back to near where his dragonets were, the soldiers dragging Honorius with them as they followed him.

At where Altamir eventually stopped, there were a few...objects that would clearly spell Honorius' fate. There was a large, T-shaped post laying on the ground, for a rather obvious purpose...but that would wait for later, as there was also a table - a table upon which sat a vase. That vase was one that Altamir had enchanted in a...particular way. Basically, the inside of the vase was blazingly hot and would melt any metal placed inside of it, but such metal wouldn't 'stick' to that inside. The outside of the vase, on the other hand, only betrayed a little bit of warmth, not at all setting on fire the wooden table it was placed on, and the vase would not break or shatter until Altamir took that enchantment, and the other enchantments, off of it, which he would do once he was done with it. Currently, there was indeed some metal 'cooking' in that vase. With the metal having come from a few of the metal spikes that Altamir and his army had pulled out of those crucifixes to bury the deceased slaves who had been nailed to them. Four more of those spikes were on the table, ready to now be used on Honorius' corpse to nail it to this specific crucifix that was waiting for once he was dead.

Honorius clearly must have noticed these things, and rather than face his death with any dignity, he began begging and pleading and whimpering. Altamir rolled his eyes and ignored the man, instead ordering the soldiers to turn him skywards and hold him down that way by the arms and legs. As they did so, Altamir then walked over to the table, near which Mawia was standing.

"I've been waiting a long time for this day." Mawia sighed. "Finally, the man whose minions purchased me like an object for sale..."

"Indeed." Altamir agreed, nodding. "We've all been waiting for this day."

So, after this brief exchange between himself and the now ex-slave, Altamir picked up the vase, making sure not to spill its contents just yet as he then walked back over to Honorius, who was looking up at him in fear.

"Wha...wha...what is...what is that...?!"

Mawia, who was then walking up along Altamir, chuckled. "Oh, no need to fear, my 'emperor'. It's simply the drink of the gods."

"That it is." Altamir played along with a grin. "Drink up all ye must, laddie. It shall 'ascend' ye intae eternity!"

And so, only taking care to make sure the soldiers holding the man down weren't burned themselves, Altamir then tipped the vase to the side in his hands until the begging and pleading turned to agonized screaming as molten metal streamed down onto Honorius' face.

The age of slavery in the Tarantine lands, and on Pyrrhia as a whole, was coming to a close.

---

Ugh, FINALLY. It's done. It's at last done. Easily the longest chapter for ANYTHING that I've EVER written. I know, I know, I should have stopped it earlier and whatnot, but I kinda wanted to keep my promise that this would be the last chapter before we get to canon stuff, and...well...that, and I just couldn't quite FIND a point to stop it earlier.

Oh well. Either way, again...it's done. Next chapter's first half (or so) will round out this 'past' era, and then we will get to the canon stuff proper.

Also, I need to at least TRY and make sure that I don't write chapters THIS long ever again. Andholyshitmywordcountisalreadyat80kwhatthef-