Fatima VI

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In life, there were days where you just felt good about yourself. When you knew you were doing something productive and useful. When your sinuses are clear, you’re having fun, and you could take charge of your day with optimism and high hopes.

“Hurk!” Fatima choked, leaning over the side of the boat.

Today was not one of those days.

“Are you going to be alright?” Xian asked from where he was paddling the boat.

“No,” she replied, “I’m going to die.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but can you make it a few more hours? I’m not sure how much longer this is going to take.”

Fatima almost cried. “I regret being born,” she whimpered under her breath, clenching the side of the boat.

They’d spent the last day sailing down south along the coast. They’d started by visiting the closest village, which was apparently called Northtown. For some reason, she felt offended by that name, like it was claiming some ideal it couldn’t back up. ‘Northtown.’ Ugh, it was further south than every other city she knew about! Who named it!?

*Ahem*

Anyway, the two of them visited the poorly named village last night, sailing up to the edge of the city. It actually had a small dock there, a tiny thing barely big enough for two boats. It almost made her want to go back home and build her own dock. One that she’d never visit. But that was for another day.

They’d been given a chilly reception when they entered the village—and that wasn’t just because of the snow. Thankfully, the villagers warmed up considerably once they learned that the two of them were just passing through.

Unfortunately, all the friendliness in the world didn’t help them accomplish their goal.

They told some of the villagers that they had heard of the new King Enzo, and were hoping to speak with him. The villagers replied that he was most likely in his capital of Puerto del Rey, which was down the coast to the south. Which was nothing they didn’t already know.

Unfortunately, that was the extent of the information they could get out of them. Any further questioning for details was just met with a confused, “It’s on the coast to the south?”

Directions weren’t a strong suit of neolithic peoples.

Luckily, so long as they kept to the coast, they knew they’d get there eventually. Unluckily, they had no idea how long that would take.

Case in point, it was the third day since they had left their own village, and had yet to find the capital. They’d found two other villages—only one of which used to have a God-King—but not the capital.

So here they were, sailing along the coast for days on end. On a boat. Which rocked with even the smallest wave, and had a tendency to shake back and forth in the wind. And was moving.

Fatima had been having a bad time.

But if they succeeded it would be worth it! Hopefully.

(Nothing was worth this.)

--

Almost six hours later, they finally found another city. And Fatima was almost sure this one was the capital.

It was actually pretty impressive, for a primitive village. The first thing they saw was a massive dockyard, stretching all along the coast of the city. Dozens of boats were docked along it, ranging in size from small canoe-like vessels to much larger dinghies. Nothing that could compare to even smaller modern boats, but the sheer amount of them more than made up for it.

“I think,” Xian whispered softly, “that trying to fight this man on the sea would be doomed to fail from the start.”

As they sailed closer to the harbor, one of the dockworkers ran up to them and began shouting out to them.

“Who are you?” He called out. “You have no cargo and no supplies. Why are you here? Are you refugees?”

“We’re here on a diplomatic mission to King Enzo!” Xian called back, slowing down his paddling. “We wish to speak with the King of the Sea!”

“The King doesn’t just speak with anyone, sailor!”

“I am not a sailor—I am a King in my own right! And I urgently need to speak with your King!”

“…I’ll need to check with the King first, but if he says yes then I’ll allow you to dock!”

“You think he’ll be a problem?” Fatima asked quietly.

“No,” Xian shook his head. “That kid was inexperienced—he just did the equivalent of going to grab the manager. We don’t have to worry about him.”

And indeed, less than an (agonizing) hour later, the dockworker returned, and gave them permission to dock.

Stumbling out of the boat, Fatima sat heavily on the edge of the docks. Curling up into a ball, she took deep breathes, forcing her stomach to calm down as Xian tied up the boat. She didn’t feel great after three straight days at sea, but she needed to make herself presentable.

It wouldn’t do for the first impressions the Sea King got of them to be a woman who couldn’t even handle a boat ride, after all.

Leaving behind their suddenly very small looking boat at the docks, they began making their way through the city, allowing Fatima to get a look at their possible enemy’s home base.

Large oaken walls surrounded a collection of wooden houses, each with tall sloping roofs covered in snow. All of them were centered along a main street which looked in the process of being turned into cobblestone. The road led from the docks all the way to what much have been the original village center, which had a large roaring bonfire set up. Just behind the fire was the largest building in the village, a large almost Nordic styled longhouse with the same sloped roofs of its surroundings but bigger in every way.

The sheer scale of this city would have been awe inspiring if it hadn’t been so terrifying.

And then they were in front of the Longhouse.

Fatima took a deep breath, calming herself. ‘Remember Fatima,’ she told herself. ‘Even the Status Quo is victory. You don’t need to convince him to ally or surrender to you. Just convince him to do nothing.’

She turned to look at Xian, who gave her a nod. She returned it. Turning back to the Longhouse, she steadied herself, and then entered.

Entering the Longhouse, they were instantly greeted by the most opulent house she’d seen since arriving in this new world. The structure was simple, being just a large rectangular greeting room, with a dozen doors along the length of it. Furs decorated the walls, each painted with rough paintings of various sea creatures. Some, like a squid (a kraken?) was common, while others like sharks were less common. Depictions of krakens strangling sharks were common, with swarms of fish swimming beneath them. Fatima wondered if that was supposed to represent something. In the center, a massive fire pit stood, sending lights flickering throughout the room. It wasn’t that there was anything particularly impressive here, but after months of stone age living, this was practically awe inspiring.

And at the back of the hall sat the king.

The Sea King was probably the first ‘God-King’ she’d met that even slightly lived up to the title. He sat on a large wooden throne, with fish heads carved into the arm rests and what looked like octopus tentacles carved around the foot. Hanging above his head was a shark’s head, its jaws open wide and looking like it was a moment away from jumping off the wall and eating you. The man himself had tanned skin and dark hair, which was hidden beneath a crown made of shark teeth. Unlike everyone else in the area, who wore basic fur clothing, he instead was naked from the waist up, showing off corded muscles and a swirling tattoo along the right side of his body. From the waist down he was wearing a black leather skirt armored with large bones, making it look like the webbing of an octopus around his waist. In one hand, he held an actual trident, while the other tapped impatiently against the carved fish on his throne.

Say what you want about the man, but when he picked a theme he stuck to it.

“So,” he called out, his voice like iron. “Not one, but two rulers have come to visit me? I suppose I should be honored. Tell me, for what reason do my sworn enemies have to step into my throne room?”

Of course he recognized them instantly—a dark skinned woman and a Chinese man in the land of white people would stick out like a sore thumb.

Fatima took a deep breath, stepping forward. “I greet you, King Enzo of the Sea. I am Fatima, Queen of Almawqid. And this is my ally, King Xian of Nancheng. We represent an alliance of God-Kings to the north of your kingdom. Of our many allies, we were chosen as diplomats to negotiate with you.”

“Oh?” The man raised an eyebrow. “You say you’ve come to bargain? What for? Goods? We have much to trade, if you want. As you can tell, my Kingdom is quite prosperous.”

“No, though we would not be opposed,” she shook her head. “We’ve come to ask for a non-aggression pact—an agreement that the two of us will never go to war.”

The other king stopped tapping. “War?” he asked, his voice going soft. Dangerous. “You have some nerve to come to my home, and demand anything from me. You may be fellow monarchs, but you pale in comparison to my own glory. What makes you think you all are even worth my time?”

‘Shit,’ Fatima thought, forcing herself not to wince. ‘I messed up. I didn’t think he’d be so arrogant! Alright, if we’re going to jump strait into threats, then so be it.’

“It is true you are strong,” Fatima began. “We’ve heard of your exploits all the way up in our frozen north. But while you stand alone, we northerners stand together. I told you we are a part of an alliance—I have yet to tell you how big that alliance is. Ten God-Kings have allied each other, each with their own city, and their own army. Xian himself is the only one with a city on the water, and therefore your greatest strength is next to worthless against us. To fight us would not be a war on the sea, but on the land. We have already begun moving our troops into position, and should this meeting go poorly, or should we not return, then an army a thousand strong will march down the coast.”

“…Bold words. Too bold, some might say.”

“But we do not want this,” Fatima told him. “A war would be detrimental to both of our countries. That’s why we’ve come to negotiate—if you want the sea, you can have it. But come any further north than Northtown, and we will bury you.”

The Sea King leaned forward, his eyes narrowed. “Very well then. It you want peace so bad, then let’s see what you have to offer.”

--

Enzo I

‘Oh god oh god if we go to war I’m so fucked.’

These were the first thoughts that King Enzo, Lord of the sea and all around it, thought when he heard there was a massive alliance of kings sitting directly to his north.

Now, one might be thinking that, as a conquering warlord, Enzo would be thrilled to attack these people and take their cities for himself.

They’d be wrong.

For you see, it turns out you can’t just go about conquering a bunch of disparate peoples and expect them to instantly bend to your will. Some of them won’t like the new government you’re imposing; some of them won’t like the new laws; some of them just plain won’t like you.

Basically, Enzo’s kingdom was on the brink of collapse.

He could hold it together for now. These people followed him for his strength, and his control of the sea was second to none. He had nearly fifty ships filled with experienced sailors manning them, transporting goods, news, and soldiers all throughout his kingdom. His army numbered in the hundreds, and his grip extended all up and down the coast.

But his grip could only hold so much. The fringes of his kingdom were barely under his control—just last week a couple citizens of Northtown got into a brawl with some of the soldiers he’d garrisoned there, almost leading to a full-blown riot that his soldiers just barely managed to quell.

And he only heard of what happened a full four days after the fact.

His kingdom was currently held together by blood, masking tape, and luck. His control over his kingdom was an illusion that everyone politely pretended was real. And a war against someone that could pose even a mild threat was a war that just wasn’t worth it.

But hell if he was going to let these people know that.

He ruled through an iron grip, after all. Even the smallest show of weakness could be used against him. He was a strong, powerful warlord. He couldn’t let some foreigners walk all over him.

“We’re offering peaceful and consistent trade between our lands,” the woman, Queen Fatima, told him. “Furs, wood, food, any type of raw material you’d require, we’ll trade with you.

“An insubstantial offer,” Enzo shrugged, leaning back into his throne. “I could just as easily come and take that from you.”

“You say that,” she replied, “But you’d find a war with us less than worth it. You may have conquered the sea, but we live inland, behind miles of snowy tundra and frozen taiga. Your people would starve before you even reached my own city, much less the most northern of ours.”

Should he accept that? He couldn’t play hardball forever. If he did, there’d really be war. The real issue was that the trade wouldn’t really be worth it—they likely all had the same resources. Any trade between their countries would be minimal until they started producing unique goods—and in that case, conquering them would mean he could just take those resources for himself, strengthening his own powerbase. Would conquering them be more worth it than not?

He tapped the carved fish on his throne, forcing himself to calm down. He needed to stop doing that. Whether it would be more profitable to conquer their lands in the long run didn’t matter. Right now, he could not fight them in the first place, and he needed to stop pretending he could.

“You underestimate my soldiers. But your point is valid—any war to the north would be more trouble than it’s worth.”

“So you agree?”

“Not yet,” ‘Yes’ “You’ve come to my home, but I have yet to have found yours. How is this fair? If we are going to be neighbors, then I have a simple request.”

“You want hard borders,” the Queen guessed. “A line drawn between our two nations, to tell everyone who owns what.”

“Yes.”

The two monarchs in front of him glanced at each other, some silent communication going on between them, before she turned back to him.

“I cannot promise you any accurate borders—we simply don’t have the technology, you understand. But we do know a good place for a hard border. There are several rivers which lead into the sea—any one of them could work as a border between our nations.”

“Hm. I will need to see a physical map to know where exactly these rivers are. But if it is suitable, then I tentatively accept your proposal. For now.”

They spent a bit longer speaking, both sides treading carefully around the other. They weren’t allies—and for all intents and purposes were still enemies—but there wouldn’t be war. Not today, at least.

And Enzo couldn’t have been happier.

--

Fatima

“I’m always surprised by how easily you can switch between being happy go lucky and serious,” Xian murmured quietly to her as they left the throne room.

“It’s easy enough,” Fatima replied, clenching and unclenching her fists. That had been far too tense. She wasn’t sure her heart could have taken any more of that. “I just act like myself when I’m with my friends.”

The corners of Xian’s mouth twitched before he forced his face to become neutral. “You know we’ll have to come back soon, right? We’ll need someone to bring maps and the like to deliberate the final borders with this King.”

Fatima wished they weren’t still in enemy territory. She really wanted to cry. “I know,” she whimpered.

“And you know that we’ll still need to sail back to Nancheng.”

“I know.”

“I’ll need to prepare a full convoy,” he mused. “Dozens of ships, perhaps. But it can’t be too many—we don’t want this King to look down on us for having smaller ships. Make it look like we’re being aloof, perhaps? That we’re only sending a small part of our greater navy? Though it’ll take a few days to get the fleet up and down anyway, so we’ll have to bring a lot of supplies regardless…”

“Can you please stop talking about boats!?”

9,930 God-Kings Remain