A Shepherd and His Flock [Altair Loros' Epic Quest]

Marcus hummed as he looked over the flock of sheep, counting them to double check the actual growth of the herd versus what had been reported to him. He was meticulous in his record keeping, feeling it ensured prosperity for the tribe. As he counted, his mind mulled over reports that Altair was seen recently by some of the wandering tribes, word of mouth traveling faster than his nephew could. He had not heard from his nephew since Altair had been exiled and he could not deny that he was nervous about the shepherd’s return. Altai had no knowledge of what had transpired since his exile, including Marcus’ ruthless execution of Altair’s father to take over as head of the tribe. The return of Altair certainly did not bode well and he would have to figure out how to get rid of the man before he could find out too much.

The tribe was prospering, thanks to his ‘gentle’ guidance and impossible standards. Their numbers had grown and they had no small amount of wealth as they traded for livestock, wool and other goods with other tribes and trips to Balbadd. Sheep were a wonderful source of wealth, providing wool, meat and milk, everything they needed to survive and then some. The excess was sold off for a profit and the tribe continued to grow. They were, by far, the largest tribe in this part of the Plains and the Loros name was known for providing quality livestock and goods. Marcus would not allow Altair to upset what he had created, no matter the means.

As Altair walked closer and closer to the camp, he could see some of the shepherds whispering to each other.  Was it really so strange for him to be back?  From atop a hill, an old friend called out to Altair.  "Well if it isn't lion slayer!  Come here so i can show you up already!"  Altair smiled wide.  He knew that voice anywhere.  "Melek, you could try for one hundred years and still never best me!"  Altair ran to the hill, and gave his old best friend a hug.  The two of them had been inseparable when they were younger, but unlike Altair, Melek had been spared exile when Marcus took over the tribe.  Melek looked at Altair, sizing him up and said, "Well you've certainly tanned, where have you been, the desert?  And What is that on your hip?  And on your back?  Magic and swordplay?  You've certainly been a busy little sheep herder."  Altair laughed heartily.  Melek hadn't changed a bit.  Sure he was stronger, had more notches on his staff, but the core of who he was, that guy that Altair could always talk to, was still there.  "So, Melek, what has happened since i left?  I doubt much has changed, but i do see more sheep than we usually had.  Good year i'm guessing?"  Melek paled, and looked away.  He looked over his sheep for a moment before handing his staff to a younger boy.  "Watch over them for me.  Altair, maybe you should come with me.  We'll go talk to your mother."  Melek started to walk.  Altair followed him with a curious look.  The sudden change in attitude was a bit unnerving.

After walking into the tribe proper, they approached a familiar tent that Altair hadn't seen in years.  Melek stopped him at the front.  "Maybe i should go in first to see Hannah.  To prepare her."  Honestly Altair wanted to just go in and greet his mother, but he allowed Melek to continue.  He heard talking inside, as well as a gasp and his name.  Suddenly his mother burst from the tent, and wrapped her arms around him.  "My boy!  My boy..."  she started to cry quietly.  Altair smiled and hugged her back.  :I'm back mother.  It's ok, i'm really here.  Where's dad?  can i see him?"  The crying suddenly stopped.  Hannah looked up at Altair.  She wiped a tear from her eye, and put a hand on her boy's face.  "Altair.  Your father..."  She couldn't finish her sentence.  Melek stepped forwards.  "Altair, right after you left, your father was put to death.  Your uncle Marcus gave the order."

Altair was stunned.  His father, dead?  But, he can't be dead.  "He can't be dead.  He can't be."  Altair looked up to Melek.  His words were cold, and didn't hide the fury behind them.  "Where is Marcus?  I have to speak with him."

Marcus was aware of Altair’s arrival but decided to let the boy come to him, in the field. He would greet his nephew on his terms, in his territory, the one he had built and grown since banishing Altair and ordering the boy’s father to death. Nothing would stand before the prosperity of the tribe, he had made sure of it. He would send a messenger to his wife’s tent, certain it was where Altair would head first. He supposed marrying Altair’s mother made Altair his son, in a way, though he would never see it that way, a sentiment he was sure was mirrored by the shepherd.

---

A young boy of no more than seven timidly approached the angry looking man who fit the description the tribe Elder had given him. His voice was quiet and squeaked from being nervous.

“Mister Al..Altair? The… Elder Loros has requested you come see him at your earliest convenience. He… He is in the field to the west.”

With his task complete, the boy ran off to see to his other duties, not wanting to be around if the Elder lost his temper. The man was known for having fits of rage that made even the strongest in the tribe tremble in fear.

Altair watched as the boy who delivered the message ran off. He turned to his mother and Melek, "Mother, stay here. i don't want you to see what i'm going to do to him..."
"No! I won't let you go alo-"
"HANNAH!" Altair almost screamed. Tears were starting to stream down his face. He had never called his mother by her first name before. "Melek. Keep my mother here. There may be a fight and i don't want her to have to see bloodshed." Melek looked at Altair, a mixture of anger for yelling at Hannah and sympathy for Altair's circumstance on his face. "I understand. I'll keep her safe." The two men nodded to each other, and Altair headed for the western plains.

He wasn't sure how he would react to seeing his uncle now. But there was a chance that he wouldn't be able to control his rage after what he had heard. His father was dead at his uncle's hand. His father. The one who had trained Altair to be a shepherd, the one who had helped him pick out the material for his rod, the one who had given Altair lessons on how to be a good leader to the people, and how every person had value. That man, that saint, was now dead. And his uncle, who had always been jealous, had done it. Altair had come to the plains with the intention of challenging his uncle to "The Taming", a week long ritual in which each participant left to the wilderness to train or kill a dangerous animal. The one who trained the most dangerous animal in that time was the victor. But now, Altair wanted to hurt Marcus. Badly. He could challenge him to a fight. Right here, right now. But that would be too good for the man. It would allow him a fighting chance. No. Altair wanted pain and suffering. A single thought came to mind.

Agnikai. A very dangerous test of fortitude, involving the venom of the Colossal Burrowing Scorpion. The venom caused the nerves in the body to ignite and flare up, causing unbelievable pain. The pain was described as being similar to having one's skin torn off, set on fire, and then drenched in lemon salt. There was an antidote, and a fast acting one at that. But the test involved poisoning ones-self with the venom, and then sitting across from your opponent, each with a vial of the antidote in front of them, daring the other to take it first. Whoever did was deemed the loser, and was subject to the penalty of the victor's choice. These challenges never lasted long, minutes at most, but Altair would sit there for days if need be. He would see his uncle shamed if it was the last thing he did.

When he finally reached the meeting place, he saw Marcus. Rage threatened to overtake him, but Altair pushed it down. With a shaky voice, Altair spoke to his uncle for the first time in years. "Marcus... I could kill you were you stand, bathe in the tears of your loved ones, and not lose a wink of sleep over it. You're a despicable pig, whose grown fat on the work of others. And you're a worse coward than a baby groundhog that's been frightened by it's own shadow, you sniveling cretin. I would rather be ripped apart by rabid dogs than give you a swift death. You deserve nothing less than to be painstakingly cut apart while you continue to scream. But. To save myself the dishonor of killing you outright, i'll offer you a chance. Marcus Loros, i challenge you to Agnikai. And if you lose, you must cut out your own eyes, and wander the wilderness blind for the rest of your days. No one is to show you any kindness, and you will never see your family again. I won't take no for an answer, Marcus. You will answer my challenge or be stripped of everything you hold dear. I'll personally make sure of that. Now. What say you, Marcus Loros?" Altair didn't care that people were most likely watching him at this very moment. He wanted only to see his uncle suffer.

Marcus watched as Altair approached, the man’s gait broadcasting his anger, leaving no doubt that Altair had heard of his father’s execution. When Altair began spitting venom and angry words, Marcus simply raised an eyebrow and shook his head.

“This is the way you greet me, after all these years, nephew? After coming into my tribe after being exiled? You should have stayed away, Altair Loros. This is not your tribe any longer.”

When Altair mentioned Agnikai, Marcus laughed, the hearty sound rolling out across the field of sheep.

“Agnikai? We disposed of that barbaric ritual long ago, Altair. And you, exiled and banished from the Loros tribe… you have no right to demand any of our rituals, not any longer. I have brought this tribe strength and prosperity through hard work and a cunning mind. But you would not know that, since you were banished and all contact to you has been forbidden. Leave now, Altair, there is nothing here for you any longer.”

Marcus looked beyond Altair where Melek was running after Hannah, trying to keep her out of the fight. Marcus’ wife would not be deterred though and came to stand between her husband and her son with a pleading look.

“Wife, you should go with Melek. Altair seems to be of a mind to… what was it you said, Altair? ‘Bathe in the tears of my loved ones?’ Or does he not know that you are my loved one, my family, my wife? He would bathe in your tears, my love!”

"Oh great spirit of insight and resolve, I command thee and thy household. Dwell in my body, and transform me into a great liberator! Reave, Caim!" Altair Djinn Equipped.  It came almost without warning, the power simply exploding out of him, cracking the ground around him with its force.  Without a thought, he was in the air, jumping towards Marcus, over Hannah, with his Phoenix Blade held high in the air.  "BASTARD!"  Altair screamed, before coming down hard on top of Marcus.  To Altair, the world around him was white.  Nothing existed but himself and his opponent now.  He swung again, horizontally this time using Slay the Dragon, before coming down over head with a powerful vertical Slash.  The blades just kept coming.  He kept raining down blows.  He wanted blood.  He wanted pain.  He wanted...

Everything stopped.  The world was frozen around Altair.  A man in a mask appeared before him.  He recognized him immediately.  "Sovereign?  But how?  You are me!"  The Sovereign frowned.  "No.  I am not you.  Not as you are now.  What happened to that man who wanted peace?  That man who would do anything to protect those who could not protect themselves?  What happened to you, Altair?"
"It's my uncle!  He murdered my father, and disgraced my mother!  He banished me!  He made my life hell!"
"Did he now?  If you hadn't left, who would have freed those slaves in Heliohapt?  Who would have conquered the great dungeon Caim?  Who would have clashed with the leader of the Imuchakk, all to learn how to be a better leader?"
"But... But my family...  He tore it apart!"
"And he will pay.  But not like this.  You are falling, Altair.  You must stand strong.  Look at your mother.  Look at her tears.  You are the cause of that, Altair.  Like that boy you saved in Heliohapt, the one you gave your Rod to, the symbol of your status as a shepherd, you must be strong for her."
Altair clutched at his chest.  "It hurts..."
"I know it does.  But sometimes the best way to deal with those who have done you harm, is to live a life you know they would hate to see you live.  Be successful, Altair.  Show him that you are stronger than anything he could throw at you.  LIVE!"

Time sped back up, leaving Altair swinging what may be the killing blow to his uncle.  Altair stopped, just as the blade would have reached Marcus' neck.  Tears ran down Altair's face.  He put his sword away, reverting back from his Djinn Equip form.  "I will never forgive you for what you did to us.  You stripped us of our honor.  But i will not kill you.  Such a thing would be too great for you.  No.  Instead you will live.  You will live to see me become greater than you ever were, despite what you did to me and my family.  You are free to go, or stay as you wish.  But i hereby strip you of all your authority.  The tribe is mine now, Marcus."  Altair turned his back on his uncle then, and walked to his mother's side.  "I am so sorry that you had to see me like that.  I will never subject you to that kind of hurt again.  I love you."  Altair embraced his mother.  It had been so long.

Abilities:

Magoi/Stamina: 200/300

Marcus flinched as the blade came for him, very nearly wetting himself before suddenly, it stopped. The monster his nephew had turned into had shocked him, but not as much as Altair ceasing his attack. When Altair spoke again, Marcus responded with more laughter, shaking his head. When Altair went to comfort his mother, Marcus pulled his rod free, twirling it.

“You ‘strip me’ of my authority? YOU? You are a coward who could not even finish off the man that killed your father and then married your mother. A coward is not fit to lead. A leader must be decisive.”

He gave no warning before raising his rod, intending to bring it down on the back of Altair’s head.

Altair heard his uncle's words, and even the whistle as his rod came through the air towards his head.  He sighed.  Pulling his blade out again, he reversed his grip, using Blade Lariat, severing his uncle's hand at the wrist as it came down.  The rod, with hand still attached, bounced harmlessly off of Altair's shoulder.  "I'd call that pretty decisive.  Wouldn't you Uncle?"  Altair flicked the blood off of his blade before sheathing it.  He didn't even look at his uncle, instead turning back to his mother and Melek.  He took his mother by the hand and began to lead her back into the village, Melek following behind him, pestering him with questions like "what kind of power was that?" and "where can i learn how to do that?".

Altair immediately called a meeting of the village elders, to tell of the change in power.  He had the right to do so after all, now that he had taken power away from his Uncle.  He wasn't sure how they'd take it.  He knew most of them from childhood, his father having them teach him some of his lessons, but it had been quite a while since he had last seen any of them.  He'd likely be drilled with questions.  "What makes you think you can lead?" and the like. When the meeting came around, Altair entered the tent and knelt before the elders, as was customary. They would speak first, addressing the reason for the meeting and giving their thoughts before allowing Altair to speak.

The elders filed into the tent in an orderly fashion, the five men and women coming to their perspective places as they looked upon the long-lost Altair Loros. When his uncle had taken power and exiled the boy, Marcus had been unwilling to listen to their words and had demanded the exile of Altair and later, the execution of Altair’s father. They had heard what had happened in the field and while they were partially relieved that Altair intended to take power from Marcus, it was no lie that Marcus had improved the success of their tribe. A change in leadership was sure to impact that, but they would be willing to at least hear Altair’s argument. The first spoke, an old woman with gray hair and stooped posture.

“Greetings, Altair Loros, lost son of Tahir. You requested this meeting, we are assuming, to try and taken your rightful position as Tribe Leader?”

When Altair would confirm this, an elderly man moved forward to speak, leaning heavily on his shepherd’s rod.

“You have removed Marcus’ hand and wish to take control of the tribe. But what do you know of leading a whole tribe?”

The next woman would step forward once Altair responded.

“What is this new, frightening power you wield? Where did you obtain it? What does it do?”

She would step back as he responded, letting the next elder speak, this one slightly younger than the rest.

“What is your goal in taking leadership? Do you seek this position just because you believe it is yours for the taking? Or do you have some other purpose?”

He would also give Altair the chance to respond before the last elder would step forward, his words solemn, though a spark of hope would be in his eyes.

“We will give you our decision later tonight, Altair Loros, we have much to ponder on. For now, we will organize a feast to celebrate your return. At the feast, we will announce our decision, to you and the rest of the tribe.”

They would dismiss him then, needing to discuss this at length amongst themselves.

---

Marcus seethed in anger, his wound tied off to keep him from bleeding to death, but he was still in pain. How dare that little brat come and take what he had worked so hard for. It was obvious he was no match for his nephew in combat, but he had other ways of seeing that Altair paid for his actions. While Hannah and Melek prepared for the feast in Altair’s honor, Marcus disappeared into the woods.

Altair remained kneeling out of respect for the elders as he was addressed. The first asked him a simple question, was he here to take his place as tribe leader? "I am." The elder nodded, and stepped back, as another stepped forward. "You have removed Marcus’ hand and wish to take control of the tribe. But what do you know of leading a whole tribe?" He asked. "Before a year ago, i would have to answer that i didn't know. But in that time, much has changed. I have led slaves out of their captors homes. I was their shepherd, and they my flock. They looked to me for guidance, and i gave it as best i could. But leading people is not the same as leading sheep. To learn this lesson i traveled to the lands north called Imuchakk. There i talked to their leader, called Asisiak, asking her to tutor me in the ways she lead her own tribes. There i learned that i must treat every member of the tribe as an important individual. That to lead, one must use equal measure of Love and Fear, both to inspire and to encourage." The elder nodded again, and stepped back, as another stepped forwards.

“What is this new, frightening power you wield? Where did you obtain it? What does it do?” Altair smirked. He figured this would come up. "The power you speak of comes from something called a dungeon. Great towers that rise up supposedly randomly throughout the world. They are, interesting, to say the least. They promise power and wealth beyond imagining, but at a great cost. One must first survive the dungeon and what it holds before having their character tested by a great being called a Djinn. I was able to conquer a dungeon by the name of Caim in Heliohapt, thereby gaining the power of the Djinn by the same name. They all appear to give one access to special magics, my own being the ability to apply a razor's edge to anything i wish. But to be honest, i do not know their purpose beyond that. Although, only people of great influence seem to be able to obtain them." Satisfied with his answer, the elder stepped back, as another stepped forward.

“What is your goal in taking leadership? Do you seek this position just because you believe it is yours for the taking? Or do you have some other purpose?” And now the big one. Altair took in a breath, readying himself. "My interest is threefold. First, i want simply to see the Loros tribe succeed. I don't want us to simply be swept up in the sands of time, lost to the world. I want us to be remembered. Secondly, i have a plan to unite the tribes of the plains under a single banner. Not to proclaim a king, or create a kingdom, but to create a force worth reckoning to stand against the Kou incursion. We may not have them breathing down our necks yet, but they soon will. Because as it stands, we will be wiped out by them, one by one. Third, there are people all over the world who are suffering. People who are slaves to cruel masters. I wish to provide them a place to run to. A place where anyone who wishes can come and start anew. We of the plains have always respected the need to be able to lead one's own destiny. Whether it be by the tribe, or by setting off on their own. The ability to chase happiness has been rejected to these people. But i want to give it to them." The elder nodded, and stepped back so that the last could step forward. He said that they would need to convene, and discuss his answers, but that in the meantime, he was to enjoy the feast that was being prepared in honor of his return. Altair smiled, and thanked the elders each individually, before standing and leaving the tent.

---

Later at the festival, Altair was the center of attention. He told stories of his adventures, about his time in the dungeon, and his experiences in the far north, captivating the crowds who listened. Mothers asked him to dance with their daughters, and he accepted, even the one from three year old Jal, who wanted to look all grown up. He talked more with Melek, and some of his other old friends from the plains, instead, asking them about their own experiences instead of retelling his own for the hundredth time. Melek told him about one time he took on a pack of lions by himself (he was obviously trying to outdo Altair's story about the flying swords, but Altair didn't say anything), and Din told him about the wildfire that occurred a few months back that he had to save some horses from. It was fun being back with his old friends again. Everyone was having a good old time. Even his mother enjoyed a dance before heading off. He hadn't thought that she would enjoy herself much, all things considered. But he was happy that she was able to smile again, just like back when she was with his father.

The festivities were in full swing, everyone seemingly happy at the return of the lost son of Tahir. The past years, though successful for the tribe, had been filled with stress and fear under the leadership of Marcus and many hoped the Elders would announce Altair would be taking over. Anything was better than the tyrannical rule of Marcus Loros. As food and ale flowed freely, the Elders filed towards the large fire in the middle of the activities, a shrill whistle drawing the attention of those closest and the silence spreading out from there. Everyone was eager to hear what decision the Elders had come to. The old, graying woman stepped forward, her voice booming across the massive group of people.

“Altair Loros, your return is a joyous event. Let us revel in having one of our own return to the fold. We have listened to your reasons and your goals and we find them agreeable and admirable. Though we are worried about your lack of true experience and are confused by this power you wield, we came to a unanimous decision. We will allow you to prove yourself to this tribe. Lead us well, Altair Loros.”

A cheer went up that echoed for miles, the ground rocking as people stomped and jumped in joy at the naming of the new Tribe Leader. The celebration would go long into the night and early hours of the morning.

---

Marcus waited at the edge of the woods, patient and calculating. When Hannah entered the edge of the woods to relieve herself, Marcus silently approached her. A snapping twig gave away his location and she gasped and spun around, a look of fear melting into a look of relief as she recognized Marcus. Her voice was a rushed whisper as she looked around.

“Marcus, they named Altair the new leader. You should leave! This tribe is no longer a place for you!”

Marcus gave her a calm smile as he approached, folding her into a hug and shushing her.

“It is okay, wife. I will be leaving shortly. But not without teaching Altair a lesson first.”

With those words, he drove a dagger into her back, smothering her cry of pain and shock against his chest, not that the celebrating tribespeople would notice. He held her until she stopped struggling, dropping her limp, lifeless body to the ground. He respected the woman enough to lay her on her back and fold her arms to her chest, placing a single flower in between her hands before disappearing into the night. His revenge was not done, but he had done everything he could in this tribe. It was time to find support elsewhere.

The festivities continued long into the night, and into the early morning. Altair was getting tired, he would have to rest to regain his strength for the days to come. Much had to be done. He returned to his mother's tent first, assuming she had gone to bed much earlier. He wanted to make sure she was ok, and to promise her that he would do his best. He entered the tent, but to his surprise she was not there. He left, and went looking for Melek. He would probably know where she was. But again, Melek did not know where she was either. This worried Altair. Where could she have gone? He went tent after tent looking for her, but to no avail. Fear started to set in. He organized some of his friends, and they set out, looking for any trace of her. About an hour later, a signal was given that she was found. Altair ran to the spot, and then saw her, lying on the ground, with a flower in her hands, dried blood in a perfect circle of red around her. "M-Mom? Mom?! No! No no no! Mom!" Altair cried. He threw himself on top of her body, sobbing deeply. Not now, not when things were going so well! Why would this happen? He wept for several minutes, his friends and other members of the tribe standing around him. He allowed himself to be pulled off of her body, blood now staining his clothes. Other men carefully lifted her body onto a stretcher and carried her into the village. Altair followed just a step behind them, tears staining his face. They arrived in the center of the village and laid her body down in front of the elders. Gasps and shocked voices filled the air. Altair stood there dead silent, just watching his mother. Then, with a sudden movement he ran to stand on a stump nearby. He had to say something. He had to show that despite what had happened, he would not be undone. His mother had been stabbed in the back, and Altair knew without a shadow of a doubt that Marcus had done it. It was his final act of cowardice. His penultimate revenge. Altair wiped the tears from his eyes, and addressed the crowd.

"My people. My family. Today a tragedy has struck. My mother, your former matriarch, has been murdered by her husband Marcus Loros. I know it must be him, because he is the only one that my mother would have let her guard down to. She trusted him, and he betrayed her. Therefore, i decree that Marcus Loros is to be excommunicated, and should he ever be seen again, that he be killed on sight for his actions. For the one who does it, make sure he knows why he is to die. Despite this atrocity, i need you all to have faith. Faith in me, and faith in yourselves. Faith that we can move forward. Look to me, and i will show you the way. You are all my precious family, my precious flock. And i am your shepherd. I care about you more than anything in the world. And i will stop at nothing to protect you."

Altair took a breath before continuing. "Hannah is to be buried tonight, in the plot reserved for those who have lead the family. Though her husband is a traitor, she shall not be treated as such. Weep. Mourn for her. And tomorrow, we move forward, never forgetting her kindness. I have a plan for this tribe, and for all tribes. We have been oppressed for too long. First by Gan, our ancestor, then by Marcus, and soon, like many of our sister tribes, by Kou. I plan for us to unite, under a single banner, so that we may stand tall in the face of our enemies. To them, we are nothing but simple farmers. But we are not so easily cast aside. We are Shepherds! We are those who lead! We are the ones who will usher in a new age for the tribes of the plains! With your help, and as a single force beyond reckoning, we shall rise to heights never seen in the age of man!" Cheers erupted in the crowd, as they listened to his speech. But Altair wasn't finished yet. "Marcus made a terrible mistake if he thought this would destroy us. Instead, let us show him how we have rallied behind her, let us show Marcus that we are strong, and that nothing, not even death, can stop us!!! For Freedom!!! For Life!!! For Hannah!!! WE RISE!!!" Cheers exploded, for miles they could be heard, drowning out all other sound. Wolves howled in the distance, eagles cried, and even the sky seemed to shake from the sheer power of the people. Marcus should have left well enough alone. Now, he had awakened a great beast, one that would change the world forever.

The Elders prepared the body for internment, the affair sad, despite Altair rallying his tribe to move forward. They could admire the man’s drive, but if he did not show the appropriate amount of grief and sadness, his people might begin to doubt his attachment to them. As it stood, it almost seemed like the man was using his mother’s death to push his own agenda forward, the speech could have waited until the tribe had a chance to mourn appropriately. Hannah had been a well-loved figurehead in times of strife, she always had a kind word and a hug for those in pain and words of wisdom for those lost to confusion. To have Altair use her death so abruptly may sow seeds of doubt amongst those more closely attached to Hannah. They would speak to him of this later, in private, hoping he understood their concerns.

---

It did not take long for Marcus to find a wandering horse that belonged to one of the Loros and he struggled to get on its back with one hand. Bareback was not ideal, but it would do. He knew there was one of the smaller tribes not far from here, he would go to them to begin his plan, before Altair had a chance to spread his own words. He rode hard into the night, exhausting the horse and himself. As the sun began to breech the horizon, he rode into the small village, almost falling off his horse. When the leader of the small tribe came out to greet him, he wasted no time in telling them of his nephew’s traitorous actions of taking first his hand and then his tribe.

The tribe leader listened intently, horror-stricken to hear that the exiled Altair had returned, only to remove Marcus’ hand and take over the tribe. When Marcus told them he also killed his mother and blamed Marcus, the tribe leader became outraged, assuring Marcus that he would do everything he could to help, assisting Marcus off the horse and into the healer’s tent to see about his hand. As Marcus was being attended to, he sent out four of his fastest riders to spread word to the other smaller tribes in the area of Altair’s treason and murderous intent.

As Marcus was being healed, he hid the smirk behind a grimace of pain. Altair would find Marcus was not so easily defeated.

Altair cried again at his mother's funeral. The words spoken by others in the tribe weighed on his heart so heavily he finally broke down. He sank to the floor and wept quietly. Melek put a hand on his shoulder, tears streaming down both of their faces. The two of them stayed at the grave site until long after everyone else had left. Altair would never admit it, but his speech earlier that day had been more for himself than for anyone else. His mother's death had crushed him, far worse than anything he had ever experienced before. No amount of horror that he had seen, or would see, would ever compare. While his father's death meant that Altair would have to rely on himself for guidance, his mother's death had taken his feet out from under him, removing his drive. It would be a long time until anyone saw the old Altair again.

During the next few days, Altair spent his time focusing solely on work, educating himself about where the tribe stood in the world. He talked with the elders about the finances of the tribe, allocating money to various sectors, focusing on regrowing their own supplies before trading with others. Marcus had a head for business, and that was clear when Altair saw how he ran the tribe. He kept only as much supply as he needed, selling everything else at just below market price for a profit. He was a risk taker, and though it had brought the tribe wealth, it wasn't sustainable. One bad year, and the entire structure would come tumbling down. He had left them with no safety net. Altair made plans to start selling goods at above market price, toting higher quality goods than those around them selling for less. At the same time, he reduced their total stock, keeping more for the tribe to fall back on. It would mean slower growth for a time, but he had to repair the damage that Marcus had done.

Aside from the time Altair would spend in front of his mothers grave at the end of each day, it was impossible to find Altair outside of work. He would simply retreat to his tent, saying that he was working on a special project and that he was not to be disturbed. But at the end of the third day, Melek had enough. He burst into Altair's tent expecting to start shouting, but stopped dead when he saw Altair weeping quietly at the foot of his bed. Melek approached quietly, touching Altair on the shoulder, startling him. "Melek, what are you doing here? Can't you see that i'm... I'm busy... Damn it... Melek, i saw her again today. In the crowd. I even chased after her." Melek just stood there. He had never seen his friend in such pain before. "What am i supposed to do Melek? How does one move on after this? I know i have to be strong, for the tribe, but i don't know if i can..." Melek knelt next to Altair, trying to think of something to say. "Altair, i... I don't know of anything that can take your pain away. I only know... I only know that my friend, Altair, the strongest of us, will get through this. You've freed slaves, you've conquered a dungeon, and you retook the tribe. And though this loss will always be with you, you cannot let it defeat you. For once, take you own advice, and use this to fuel your fire. Forge from it a heart that cares for others, and let your mother live through you." Altair nodded, and wiped away his tears. "Yeah. I will, but it's going to take some time." Melek stood and turned to the door. "I understand. And i'll talk to the others on your behalf." Altair smiled. "You're a good friend Melek."

The next day, Altair called another meeting with the elders, this time to discuss arrangements for a meeting of the tribe leaders. "I can have notes on their way by noon. We'll need the support of the four other large tribes if we are going to form a Union. Now i understand that the leader of the Ishraq may not be able to come herself, due to problems at the front. I feel that allowing her a second is not out of the question. I see that our relations with the Tjaq have not changed from their previous state since i left, and that we are on good terms still. That will help. The biggest unknown is whether or not the Muzzafar will show. They tend to keep to themselves, but something as big as this should be able to draw them out. And we won't have to worry about the Hamal. They will come whether we invite them or not. They never miss out on tribe meetings. If we can have ready in a month, i think that will suffice. All we will need is a tent to hold the meeting in, and from there things will be smooth. So. What say the elders?"

The Elders would listen to Altair’s proposal, thinking it was a good idea. Through Melek, they had learned of Altair’s private grieving and chose not to draw attention to it. Grief was a private matter. The idea of unifying the tribes was a good one, especially with the dangers presenter by Kou. However, they knew some of the tribes would take issue to this. One would step forward to speak, her voice quiet, but supportive.

“Very well, Altair Loros. You may call your meeting. But be prepared, the Muzzafar are a solitary tribe and our relations with Tjaq have been… strained, recently. Marcus took objection to them attempting to recruit two talented budding magicians. But we will try this your way. But are you willing to accept if they say no?”

She was gently trying to probe to see if he would be like Marcus, who ruled with tyranny and terror, or if he would try to unite the tribes through their common enemy in Kou while allowing them to retain their independence and beliefs. Would he use friendliness or fear to inspire the other tribes? That would remain to be seen, but they would send out the requests, regardless.

---

Word of Marcus’ upheaval from the tribe was spreading, but not as fast as he was spreading his version of the events first. The surrounding smaller tribes were supportive of the conniving liar and were trying to build support with larger tribes to see to it that Altair’s crimes would not go unpunished. Marcus continued to travel, trading out horses at each smaller village to keep from running one into the ground as he spread his slander. By the time Altair had requested the Elders call a tribal meeting, he had come across a camp, though this was not a tribe, judging by the flags.

The black dragon emblem of Kou was emblazoned on red flags and Marcus grinned at the gift Fate had dropped into his lap.

Altair nodded solemnly at what the elders said.  They made a good point, and Altair was disappointed to hear about what had happened with the Tjaq.  But all things healed with time, and a change in leadership could mean they would be more willing to heal their relationship.  Again, the Muzzafar's need for privacy kept them at odds, but he was confident he could get them to see his image of what the future could hold.  "You know, i asked the same question of Asisiak.  And she and i agreed that though one might present a great argument, and give every reason to follow, sometimes things don't work out.  i doubt the tribes will refuse our meeting, but should they refuse our proposal we will not hold it against them.  An old wives saying used to say that you can lead a horse to water but you can't make it drink.  Instead of trying to force our views upon them, we will try to lead them to make that decision themselves.  And even if that doesn't work, then we simply offer our support.  If we can get the large tribes to follow us, then the smaller ones will follow them.  But if we can't, then we garner our support wherever we can find it.  A nation that fights among itself can never stand, so we simply do not let it get to fighting.  I thank you for your support, Elders.  I will move to make the arrangements."  Altair stood and bowed before leaving the tent.  Hopefully his answer would appease the Elders.

Altair wrote letters to each of the four large tribe leaders.  He told them that there had been a change in power for the Loros, and that he was calling for a meeting of the leaders to discuss matters of safety for the tribes.  He mentioned Kou, but didn't give away his big plan just yet.  He wanted them to be present for that discussion.  He stressed the importance of the meeting, that it was of no whim that he called it.  And to the Ishraq leader, he said that he would allow for an alternate to be sent in the case that the border skirmishes became to fierce for her to come directly.  As a special request to the Tjaq, he asked for someone who could send messages over long distances instantly.  Altair wanted to get a message to Azix, but it could wait for now.  He put the letters on Dart Owls, and sent them off.  Dart Owls could fly incredibly fast for long hours, and so were perfect for sending messages between the tribes.  With a word, they were off, and within a minute were already over the horizon.

Donnel Tjaq stroked his chin as he looked over the letter from the Loros tribe. It seemed the hushed whispers that had reached him of a change in power were true, though the letter put it a bit differently. He was not averse to at least seeing for himself how the change in leadership was affecting the tribe. He penned out a response and sealed it before handing it over to be sent off.

Loros Tribe:
We would be happy to attend your tribe meeting and eagerly anticipate talks with your new leader. As requested, we will bring a clairvoyant to speed communication.
Respect,
Tjaq

He began making preparations immediately for the time he would be absent, approaching Sophie, one of their more talented clairvoyance mages about traveling with him. The young woman was more than happy to assist and began searching out someone to cover her students’ studies while she would be away.

---

Fatimah Ishraq grunted as she removed some of her armor, a healer immediately moving to heal the slash along her arm while her free hand snatched the paper being held out to her. She snorted as she read the paper, shaking her head. Here she was, battling with Kou, and Altair wanted someone to come listen to him babble? Once her wound was healed, she snagged a piece of paper and a quill to scratch out a response.

Altair,
While you were busy having a family spat, me and my tribe were keeping Kou out of your lands and away from your tribe. I have neither the time nor inclination to send anyone to listen to you speak. If it is important, you are welcome to come here and actually defend these lands while you pitch ideas.
Ishraq

---

Akil Hamal scanned the page quickly, smiling at the request. As though he would miss a chance to speak to the leader of the Loros about how to beat back Kou.

Loros Tribe:
We will be there with bells on! Let’s see if we can’t show these Kou dogs we aren’t all farmers and shepherds! See you in a moon.
Hamal

---

Muti Muzzafar sighed as he read the notice from the Loros tribe. It would be quite a travel, but the intentions stated in the letter seemed simple enough. Dipping a quill in ink, he wrote out his response.

Loros Tribe:
I would be remiss if I were absent, though I must say your reputation has preceded you. Perhaps, at this meeting, we can also discuss what has transpired in your takeover of the Loros tribe? Expect me and my convoy on the next moon.
Muzzafar

---

As the replies came in, the Elders would show them to Altair, though they also had another troubling matter they had to address. Given the man’s busy schedule and his grief, they sent Melek along to him with the new. Melek would approach Altair one day in the field as they looked over the sheep, his voice concerned.

“Altair… I know you are already under a lot of stress, but… it seems there has been some trouble with the local smaller tribes. Some have refused to trade with us, others have cut off contact completely, with no reason given. What should we do?”

---

Marcus rocked his chair back as he talked to General Aruno, the purple-haired General looking cocky and confident.

“So, if I tell you where to find Altair Loros, what will you do for me?”

General Aruno arched a brow and chuckled. This man had just offered to dump a potential opponent directly into their hands, an opponent they had been instructed to kill on sight if they managed to locate him.

“Give us your nephew and we will give you riches, women… maybe even give you your tribe back, under our direction of course, once we deal with Altair Loros.”

Marcus chuckled, he would be getting rid of Altair and taking back the Loros tribe and all he would have to do is let Kou pass freely through their lands to wipe out the other tribes of the Plains, leaving the Loros the main point of trade and supplies across the vast expanse. He drummed the fingers on his remaining hand on the rough wooden table, pondering on what else he might be able to squeeze from Kou in the meantime.

Over the next few days, the letters started coming in.  First, came the Tjaq's response.  A, thankfully, positive one.  And even better, he was bringing a seer with him.  Following that came the Hamal's, which actually made Altair laugh out loud with their enthusiasm.  Yeah, that was Akil alright.  the Muzzafar's came next, which to Altair's surprise, they had accepted.  Though, it seemed they were more interested in seeing just how he took over the tribe than what the meeting was actually about.  It made Altair a little uneasy, what had they heard and from whom did they hear it?  At almost the same time, the response from Ishraq came in.  Although this one made Altair frown.  He had been warned that her hard headedness may come back to bite him, and they were right.  She had declined the meeting altogether, instead telling Altair that if he wanted to meet with her, he should do it on the battlefield, defending his land like she was.  Altair sighed.  She could have at least sent a second.  This was an important topic that needed to be discussed with all the players in the game.  "Very well.  If things go my way with the other tribe leaders, maybe i can convince her with a show of arms."  Altair needed a break.  Something he hadn't done in a long time.

"Baaaah!"
Tending sheep held a special place in Altair's heart.  It was infinitely more relaxing to him than any hot spring or massage could be.  And the love you received from the sheep could rival that of your most loyal dog.  But as fate would have it, Altair had spent a total of ten minutes with the sheep when Melek came running up to him.  “Altair… I know you are already under a lot of stress, but… it seems there has been some trouble with the local smaller tribes. Some have refused to trade with us, others have cut off contact completely, with no reason given. What should we do?”  Altair's head fell to his chest.  He immediately knew what had happened.  It was echoed in the response from the Muzzafar.  Dear Uncle Marcus had been busy in his exile.  "He's spreading lies about me, Melek.  Marcus is on the move, and judging by how far the news has traveled, he's moving fast.  The Muzzafar already know of what happened, but they have heard a different tale.  The only way to combat this is to give it an antidote.  We start with one tribe, and let news travel.  No need for Dart Owls with letters, that will only make it look like i'm desperate to change the story.  No, we go by word of mouth, and we start from the source.  The nearest tribe to here is the Nihad, yes?  i'll head there myself.  You can come with me if you want.  We'll leave tomorrow morning."  The cogs in Melek's head were spinning, but he finally understood what Altair meant.  "Yeah, yeah sure thing.  But, shouldn't we bring some more backup?  What if they're hostile?"  Altair laughed.  "You saw what almost happened to dear Uncle.  I'm sure we'll be fine.  And i hear you're not to shabby with a rod nowadays.  With backup like that, i have nothing to worry about.  Come on, we'll tell the Elders our plan for Tomorrow."

The next morning they headed out for Nihad.  The journey was light and quick, the pair making it into Nihad territory just after noon.  Altair wasn't sure how they'd react to his presence, but as long as he did not seem dangerous, he and Melek should be fine. And just to be safe, Altair spawned five fluffy white sheep from his necklace, to walk with them.

Jared, the leader of the Nihad tribe, came to greet Altair as soon as he and Melek had been spotted. When he saw the five small sheep accompanying the shepherd, he rolled his eyes. He stood at the edge of the lands his tribe had claimed for the time being, rod in hand, his posture defensive.

“Stop there, mother-slayer and uncle-maimer. You will not bribe us with honeyed lies and five sheep. You are not welcome here, kin-slayer. Melek may approach, if he so chooses. But you and your monster-magic and your despicable ways? You stay far from me and my people.”

Jared’s face was hard and unyielding. The Nihad tribe had been growing slowly after Marcus had arranged trade options for them and allowed them travel across Loros lands for a fraction of the cost. Marcus had always provided cunning insight and a friendly ear to the smaller tribe, only asking for a pittance in return should his advice pan out, which the Nihad were glad to pay out in return for greater profits and security. To allow Altair on his lands would besmirch his honor and his friendship with Marcus.

Altair kept walking as he talked. He wasn't afraid of Jared, even with his rod. "You're a smart man Jared, so i'll let you retract that statement if you wish." When he got a confused look, he continued. "Jared, you know Melek well i assume? Enough to know him by name at a distance at the very least. So you should know that he and i are best friends from long ago. If i really did all the things that you accuse me of, don't you think my best friend, who tells me his mind whether i like it or not," Altair nudged Melek with his elbow, "Would have a problem with that? I don't care who you are, killing your mother and father is something for which you get confronted by your friends." Altair could see Jared grasping for an idea, so he interrupted him again. "I know what you're thinking. 'He's a powerful sorcerer and swordsman, who wields strange powers! Surely a man such as this cannot be trusted!' Well then you must know that i cannot use these powers without my tools. Such knowledge is common by anyone who does as much trade with the Tjaq as you do. So here," Altair handed Melek his sword and staff, "Melek run that over to Jared for safe keeping would you?" Altair had covered half the distance by now, and Melek had run up to meet Jared with Altair's weapons. "Now i'm no different from you. Surely you could let a simple Shepherd into your village? I only want to discuss what my Uncle may have told you."

If Jared let him in, Altair would ask that they prepare a place to talk, perhaps over a meal. If not, Altair would smile and say, "Very well, you've forced my hand. I'll have no choice but to tell your tribe about the time you called me to remove a tiny spider from your tent, because you were too embarrassed to ask anyone from your own tribe to do it to save face. Surely they won't want someone who can't even smish a spider defending them. Wouldn't you say? But why would they believe me? i'm just a guy from another tribe with a crazy story to tell." He arched an eyebrow. "You know they say news travels fast out here..." By then he would be right up in front of Jared.

Jared looked indecisively from the weapons in his arms to the proclaimed kin-slayer. He knew a magician could do nothing without his staff, but how did he know there were no others hidden? When Altair brought up the spider, he turned bright red before giving a grunt and nodding into the village where tents were set up, Melek following as he held his stomach, doubled over in laughter.

“You may come and speak your piece, but before you address anyone else in my tribe, I will hear your words first. I will not expose them to your slander, if I can avoid it.”

Jared conceded tea and flatbread, avoiding a full meal, but at least a snack to show he was willing to at least hear the man out. Melek had finally calmed from his intense laughing session and joined them, Jared placing the weapons across the room, far from Altair’s reach before settling onto the ground.

“Very well, Altair. Speak your treason words, but know that Marcus has already given a believable version of the events.”

He would allow Altair to explain himself before telling him to take a hike, he owed the man at least that much for his silence about the rather large spider in his tent.

Altair smiled. He didn't like using blackmail usually, it was a dirty tactic, but this one certainly got the job done. They adjourned to a tent where flatbread and tea were prepared. "You know, i always did like your flatbread over the Loros. Something about the wheat germ we use makes it... less desirable." Altair could tell he was getting on Jared's last nerve, so he moved on to tell his version of the story. "Very well. When i returned home, i was indeed still in exile. I had no right to come back at all thanks to my uncle. But i saw that i could make a positive change in the tribe, so i returned anyways. When i arrived, i found out almost immediately, from Melek, that my father had been killed shortly after my exile, and that Marcus himself had given the order. That is one discrepancy from Marcus' story already. Although, you already knew about that one, didn't you Jared? Surely my Uncle came to you to tell you of his victory over my father so many years ago. You're a reasonable man, i'm sure you can put the pieces together. Now, to continue. I went to confront Marcus, understandably angry. I spat venom filled words at him. And he taunted me, by telling me that he had dishonored my father yet again, by marrying my mother. Again, you would know of this. I leapt at him, using that terrifying power you spoke of. I wanted revenge. I wanted to kill him. But something inside of me told me that i would do him a greater wound to let him live, and see me succeed. I stopped by blade, and turned to comfort my mother who had been watching. Melek, would you like to tell Jared what happened next? You were there after all." Melek nodded. "Marcus tried to kill Altair by bashing his head in with his rod while his back was turned. But Altair proved he was the better fighter, and cut off Marcus' hand in mid swing." Melek patted Altair on the shoulder, and Altair took it from there. "That's probably another lie he told you. That in my assault, he was lucky to get away with only his hand missing. But if my power was so frighteningly powerful as he claimed, do you really think that if i wanted to kill him that he would be able to get away? But then, that's a little morbid, so let's move on. We come then to what happened to my mother. There was a celebration thrown to commemorate my return, and my reclaiming of the tribe. As the festivities wound down... She was nowhere to be found. We started searching for her, and when we finally found her, it was too late." Fresh tears started to form in Altair's eyes as he remembered the sight. "She had been stabbed in the back, and left to die. No weapon was found. But we won't ever find that weapon will we, Jared? Because my Uncle kept it. And he showed it to you, claiming i used it to kill her. But there are two things wrong with that story. First, wouldn't i use one of my own weapons, and kill her face to face? She was my mother after all. Why would i take the cowards path, and stab her in the back?" Altair had started to become agitated. He spat the word coward with toxic venom, his emotions rising. Melek took over then, trying to keep Altair calm. "The second problem with that story, Jared, is how his Uncle would have come by the knife in the first place. Altair would have to dispose of it properly or risk revolt at the hands of his people when they discovered it. He would never let it slip into the hands of someone who could do him harm." Altair nodded at Melek, silently thanking him for his assistance. He was glad he brought him. "So, Jared. Now you have heard both sides of the story. I know you are a smart man. You can figure this one out."

Jared listened to the words, his face becoming more and more confused, shaking his head by the end.

“Marcus never said you killed your father. I was on the council when your father was sentenced to death by Marcus. We had suggested exile, like you, but he feared your father joining forces with you to take back the tribe and continue running it into the ground. We did not agree with the decision, but we understood his fear. It was a sad day. And I was present the day he married your mother, as were most of the tribes. It was a happy occasion, your mother could not stop smiling. He did not dishonor your father by marrying her, he was ensuring that although he had made a widow, she would be well cared for and retain her position as the tribe matriarch.”

Jared shook his head again at the words Altair was spewing forth.

“He told us you took his hand but not his life, as a threat to the rest of the tribe, what would happen if any of them also attempted to stop you. Your words on that matter are of no comfort to me and your claims of mercy mean nothing. And what is this business with a dagger? He showed me nothing of the sort. He said only that he was saying his farewells to his dear wife, whom he has cared for these past many years, dedicating all of his time to her, including finding a healer more skilled than the tribes could offer when she fell ill after a Kou mercenary came and poisoned the wells. While he was saying his farewells, he said you entered the tent and, in a rage, said that you would not allow him to sully her any longer and drove your blade into her, the same blade you used to remove his hand. In fear, he ran and has been running ever since.”

Jared glared at Altair, no spark of friendliness there.

“A best friend’s duty is to stand by his friend and I do not know that you have not disillusioned Melek as you are attempting to disillusion me. Your words do not ring true, Altair Loros. They are filled with venom for a man that led your tribe to great prosperity after your exile and has done his best to keep us smaller tribes safe.”

It was clear Jared did not believe Altair, none of the evidence he spoke of had swayed Jared in the slightest. The only thing that could possibly convince him otherwise is if there were an impartial witness that saw Altair had been nowhere near his mother until her body had been discovered, and even that was suspect, as Marcus made it sound as though Altair had taken the tribe by force and ruled it through fear. While Marcus was known for being cruel and unforgiving, no one in his tribe had spoken of him being blatantly cruel and Altair’s story simply sounded like a jealous nephew attempting to turn Marcus’ allies against him with lies.

Frowning Altair considered his options. He looked to Melek and shrugged. "Well, you can't win them all Melek. I can see there will be no convincing him. His words are true. The job of a best friend is to stand with them. And i can see that that is exactly what he is doing for Marcus. I'll let him stand then. Such a shame though, your people really prospered because of what the Loros did for you. Now that you don't have that, i wonder how you'll get along." Altair planted the seed of doubt. Now he just needed to water it and let it grow. "Oooo, and the Tjaq will be sorry to hear about this as well. We are on the verge of an alliance, they and i. I wonder how they'll take to you not trading with us because of a rumor. It doesn't bode well for anyone..." Altair stood up and started to collect his things. "You know Jared, i just worry about your people. Without what the Tjaq and Loros provide for them, how will you live? I suppose you could trade with the Laste, they are close by. But you don't have the best relationship with them do you? i hope you can overcome that." Altair put his sword in his belt and his staff on his back. "Best of luck to you though. I'm sure you'll figure something out. I mean, it's not like you'd make your people suffer because of a personal grudge right? The Laste should understand." Altair almost felt bad. The Laste tribe and the Nihad tribe were brutal rivals, never sharing anything between the two. It all spawned from their ancestors who both accused the other of stealing the best sheep off of their plot. They would never trade with them, even if their lives depended on it. But they only had agreements with the Loros and the Tjaq otherwise. The smaller tribes tended to stay away from them. Altair had backed him into a corner. Either he sticks with his pride and endangers his people, or he swallows it and resumes trade. It was a rather shrewd move, but not untrue. Altair was simply making Jared aware of the consequences. Altair moved for the front of the tent, beckoning for Melek to follow him. "I'm sorry our talks didn't go more favorably, Jared. And again, best of luck to your people." Altair moved to exit the tent, expecting the sweet word "wait" at any moment.

Jared snorted at Altair’s words, the drivel coming from the shepherd’s lips only proof of how long the man had been gone.

“For one, Loros, it is not a grudge I hold, towards your clan. It is the fact that you provide no evidence that your uncle had misinformed us. It is your word against his, and he has done far more for this tribe than you have. Including working out agreements between tribes that were once at odds. You think your uncle evil because of your personal grudge and give no thought or insight to what his actions while you were gone spoke about his character. All of the surrounding small tribes are now open to trade with each other, Altair. And your threat of strangling our trades just go to further prove that you are ruling through fear and tyranny.”

Jared stood and threw Altair’s weapons at him with a grunt.

“Leave, Altair, before you prove that you are also the murderer your uncle claims you to be.”

Altair would not find the words he was looking for, thanks to his arrogant tone and underlying threats. This would only reinforce the rumors Marcus had started, now that a tribe leader had personally seen Altair's underhanded ways.