24. A Puppet


    Ahmed sat in his throne room, approached by various emissaries from various foreign countries. Hitara and Uruq had already arrived telling him of his need to subsume himself in the larger Church of Light polities.


    “Forces from the Raja states are on their way as well,” the Hitaran general said, “we will crush these disbelievers.”


    “Mansur of Amoreb was defeated, as was Omar,” Ahmed muttered in disbelief and shock.


    Many of his administrators were taking orders from foreign kings.


    My rivals are all governing my kingdom like I am not here. They tell my generals what to do. I am losing authority rapidly.


    “Wersh is so far in your hands sire,” the Hitaran general said, “I hear Amoreb is trying to take good care of it, they already sent another general in.”


    My border security. Ahmed thought. His facial expression was not much better, clearly nervous. Clearly showing his anxiety and his lack of control.


    “Our spies report that much of the countryside is owned by this ‘Yerek,’ they shoot with crossbows at anything that comes to their fortified villages. They seemed to be supplied quite well, so sieging them doesn’t seem to work. And there are mobile cavalry units as you know.”


    “Your highness, Isa is still alive and in position, albeit bloodied, he has 6000 maybe 7000 troops.”


    An Uruq officer bowed in front of Ahmed.


    “Our general Ali is close and will relieve any siege on him, 15,000 men should be enough, should it not?”


    “Of course sir,” the advisor said, “your highness, much of Polt is under the Republic’s control.”


    “You’re not just going to eat all our food are you?” Ahmed said directly to the generals’ lounging in his palace.


    There they sat on his satin sofas, chatting with the palace women and servants. No one paid the slightest bit of notice to him.


    I have Wersh and I have Polt, this bit of it, my son Saif. Maybe he can do something. What can he do? What can I do? If Polt falls, the nation of Poltu will no more, they will not reestablish it. They will rule my lands instead.


    “These sons of bitches should be paying us tribute, instead they have us supporting some king who barely controls his throne room!” A Hitaran commander said far too loudly.


    He was right, but it was not his place to say such things. Ahmed looked down to the floor, his precious floor that was being traipsed by hooligans and people of far lower station to him.


    Without them, I am not a king, and yet with them, how can I call myself a king?


    “General, how many men can we still muster?” Ahmed said to his forces, not his allies.


    “15,000 in the city sir, what do you want to do with them?”


    “Keep them for now,” Ahmed said, I need to conserve my forces. Thankfully I don’t belong to any one nation, I can use the Hitaran’s against the Jiran’s, Uruq against those two. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    Ahmed looked around and a bedraggled figure came in.


    “Former emir of Gharb sir,” an advisor felt like he had to introduce the figure.


    The man prostrated before the king.


    “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Ahmed laughed.


    Karim looked at his liege, the man he had conspired to overthrow merely a week ago. A man as powerless as him. Karim looked at the various foreign military dignitaries who paid absolutely no respect to Ahmed.


    “I have returned from my humiliation,” Karim said, “how are you going to deal with this situation?” He asked quietly.


    “I am going to use them for what they’re worth, and then I am going to wait for what is possible.”


    “The Church of Light countries have indeed sent considerable armies, but Poltu doesn’t exist…” Ahmed seethed.


    “I will go to Wersh, and try to stabilise the situation for you,”


    “The governor there has effectively become an Amoreb vassal, I don’t even think he corresponds with you anymore,” Karim said.


    “And you plan to get rid of him how?” Ahmed said.


    “Right…” Karim said despondently.


    This fucker doesn’t even have a plan. Both men thought of each other.


    There was a balcony overlooking the palace guard that Ahmed retreated to, his throne room he left a guard and Karim to guard.


    “Don’t let these generals claim it, I have enough problems,” Ahmed sighed.


    He went and looked at the plaza where his troops might parade especially for him. Instead there were Uruq troops doing drills, their light green flag with a golden flame littering the air above them.


    Do I even have a country anymore?


    While Ahmed dealt with existential issues, Isa had hunkered down, Utbah terrorised the east, a cavalry commander of the west named Gisco had Isa pinned to his fortress. Ali marched with 15,000 infantry, surmounting a peasant fortress on the way, burning the structure with Church of Light priests. Gisco saw the carnage from afar. Organising his now armoured cavalry and horse archers. He had sent his camels away, to the east, to a more able commander of the beasts.


    “That is Uruq troops,” Gisco said, “I am hardly a flag expert, I know the Uruq flag when I see it, they are going to relieve Isa.”


    Gisco sent 3000 horse archers to pelt the besieged before relieving the village that was being bombarded. Isa blew horns, and Uruq troops began playing drums to signal their troops to move into position.


    “Look at this puppet kingdom, it doesn’t even use its own troops anymore!” Gisco said.


    A tanned man with green eyes, he stood out as a commander. Riding his heavy cavalry he tried to hide his movements the best he could. His heavy cavalry appeared behind the Church of Light priests, intending to slaughter them, but the Uruq infantry protected them with spears. Missile cavalry disrupted them and whittled down the Church of Light priests who had only managed to torch some village.


    “They’re all dead sir,” a horse archer said.


    “For this community of peasants, we will make an example of these Uruq savages. Leave none of them alive!”


    He had another 2000 horse archers who rode behind the Uruq line and began shooting. The spearmen were easy pickings.


    “Withdraw the heavy cavalry!” He shouted.


    Ali the commander was hit in the head with an arrow, and the Uruq army intended to maintain cohesion with capable lieutenants, but the horse archers targeted them.


    “Break them,” Mago said, clasping his hand in an appropriate motion.


    Horsemen clad in armour with axes and and maces finally smashed into the Uruq army shattering any semblance of morale.


    “Hunt these men like geese!” A horse archer lieutenant said.


    Isa watched from his castle as the Uruq troops were hunted, and his relief army was scatted in the wind. He then looked to sea, to see the flag of Uruq flying on a warship. Mago watched the fleet dock, and the disembarking fleet streaming next to the castle and capturing the local coastal village largely without a fight. Mago had just delivered a slaughter of some 15,000 troops, but he watched just behind him, credible reports of some 20,000 happily replacing the men he had just beaten.


    Oi, oi, you can’t be serious can you? Poltu might not really be a kingdom anymore, but this is absurd. Can Utbah and I really be expected to defeat these field armies? I beat one, and another one just appears me behind me.


    Nonetheless Mago continued picking off Ali’s army, chasing it all the way to several coastal villages, advising his men to not get too carried away on the hunt, for while they were hunting stragglers they would become vulnerable. Retreating back into friendly territory, where Nichomachus had arranged for infinite supplies for their horses and for their men. More armies were coming and it became clear that the Church of Light was by no means beaten.