Year 106,129: Founding Of The Aquiline Republic

(Because we had already seen a little of the Chon Zin giants this round, I did not prepare a history document.)

For five hundred years, the giants and alvians have been engaged in politics south of the Valley, participating in the wars among the remnants of the Empire of Sathad. What they have discovered is that life is very different on the open savannah than in the confined Valley with its natural geographical barriers. Rivers and ridges separate the settlements of the Great Valley; not so the warlords of Sathad.

What the empire of Sathad-Zin has also discovered is that the Great Valley is very, very far away. Its politics do not weigh heavily upon the minds of the Pharaohs at Chazinta, for good reason. Though the Great Valley is generally stable and slow-moving, news from that region is rarely fresh, and it is difficult to respond swiftly to events thousands of miles distant. The Sathad-Zin have, for better or for worse, merely replaced the empire at the Teeth of Nagiz, not revolutionized it.

The Great Valley has taken a great deal of inspirational innovation from the Sathad, including horseback riding, glassworks, iron, and masonry. An understanding of Bazikian mathematics has improved their engineering. The rule-by-delegation of the former Bronze Empire has served as a model.

Now, the four peoples of the Great Valley intend to establish a capital of their own, separate from and independent of the Empire of Sathad-Zin. Their city is already built in quarters, in the same model as Chazinta, but they are at a loss how to establish a government that suits them.

Previously, their model of government had been leadership by volunteer; the person whose skills best suited the present needs of the people stepped forward and offered her solution, and stepped down when her talents no longer suited the crisis at hand. When multiple villages had conflicting interests, they took their complaint to the matriarch of the local town; when two towns were in conflict, they brought their disagreements to the nearest city. The final arbiter of disputes was the Grand Matriarch. Their system became unwieldy during times of crisis, and particularly during border disputes and succession of matriarchs. Occasionally, there was some argument over precisely which city was nearest, and who was matriarch of that particular city. A matriarch of one race was often suspected of favoring decisions that benefited others of her race. Decisions from the top became more sluggish as complaints and appeals worked their way up. Villagers often abandoned the process altogether and settled their differences without bothering the authorities for an official answer. The matriarchs were thus many months behind in responding to events that had long ago been settled.

In looking for an alternate system, they cast around for examples of effective group leadership, and found a possible solution south of Sathad-Zin, in the Bronze Empire: every two years a delegate was selected by the King of each island and sent to Varbu with specific authorizations; the delegate had limited power only on certain subjects and reported directly to his King. He presented his King’s positions to the Ecclesia, a body of ex-delegates who resided there. The Ecclesia debated the positions of the various Kings; they had only the power to examine the subjects brought before them by the delegates, and could pass no laws on their own. Once they rendered their judgment it was up to the delegates to report those findings back to their Kings. A delegate completed his or her two-year service and then permanently joined the Ecclesia until death, thus allowing that no one family controlled a delegation for too long, and giving no one family dominance over the Ecclesia itself. Because the Ecclesia was made up of about 200 ex-delegates from all the islands of the Bronze Empire, they were familiar with the local issues, the families of each island, the trade, and the geography involved. The system had its flaws, to be sure, but it had worked well enough for the Bronze Empire until the arrival of Celestrones.

The four races of the valley agreed to review their hierarchies of government. Considerable problems faced them in adapting the Ecclesia to their own needs.

For one, the lifetime membership of the Ecclesia was problematic. The tiny bat-winged Pizay only lived 30 years. They were quick to mature, reaching adulthood in only three years, and they were prolific breeders. It pleased them to hear that each town could select its own delegate, for the Pizay had both the most people and the most cities. Nearly three million Pizay lived in the Great Valley, spread among 300 tiny towns and villages along the river. Each of their tiny towns could occupy a space the size of a single tree. The lifetime membership in the Ecclesia was a problem, however, due to their limited lifespans. They worried that the longer-lived races such as the Chon Zin giants or the winged Alvians would dominate the proceedings.

There were approximately equal numbers of Chon Zin and Alvians, about two million each throughout the Valley. But the Chon Zin lived for 90 years, bred slowly, and had only 100 very large cities, while the Alvians lived for 60 years, and had only 10 permanent city structures. Few Alvians, in fact, lived in cities at all. Both these two groups found the Ecclesia more or less acceptable, but they worried that the even longer-lived Thryades would become the virtually immortal ruling committee of the Ecclesia.

The Thryades were tree tenders and quite tree-like themselves, with very long lifespans and a conservative outlook. They changed their minds and traditions only slowly, and lived for 150 years. There were only about one million Thryades in the Great Valley, concentrated into only 50 cities — but their cities were the size of whole forests, and often overlapped or enclosed the cities of other races. They worried that choosing delegates by population, or by city, would greatly favor the tiny Pizay, whose politics shifted far more quickly than the Thryades were comfortable with.

Last, the Great Valley contained some very old human settlements from the old Hazatar stone-shapers, whose borders were not contiguous. Cities of all kinds were scattered around the valley, in a time when the city was the largest form of government known. How could they establish the Republic that they desired?

What The Players Decided 

The Players had, at my suggestion, taken notes on scratch paper regarding the various races of the Great Valley, their numbers, their distribution, and their lifespans.  This was a task that suited them very well, in my opinion, because it was all about creating a Weaselly Middle Ground.  One might go so far as to say that that's what government is.  

Dave's first thought was to divine up the Great Valley by geography, rather than segregate the government by race.  Each county, or region, or canton — whatever its name — would send its delegates to government, just as in the Bronze Empire system.

At first they didn't wish to keep the Ecclesia with its lifetime membership, given the long lifespan of the Thryades; they would soon dominate any such a body.  Every time a Thryadean delegate left office it would join the Ecclesia and fill up every available seat with an undying tree-tender.

"Oh, great, it's the Ents," Dave said.  "It'll take them forever to decide anything."

Instead, Dave proposed limiting membership in the Ecclesia to three per race.  It would still consist of ex-delegates, who would then serve in the Ecclesia if there was a vacancy.  The lifetime membership would stay.

"Well, we know who the career politicians will be," Joe said.  "The Thryades will be in office while whole generations of the Pizay come and go."

That was the Ecclesia sorted.  The Grand Matriarch, they decided, could remain at the top as an executive branch; the culture already had a tradition of peacefully replacing the Grand Matriarch, so there was no need (the Players felt) to reinvent the wheel.

What would the body of delegates look like? I asked them.  We know where they go after they're done serving.  Thinking of the Roman Republic, I suggested that they first name that body the Senate, so we would not be reduced to pointing at Dave's muddled scratch paper and saying "these guys" and "these guys."

Their version of the Senate eventually became a proportional House.  Each county had proportionate representation by race.

"We'll base it on a proportion of their lifespan," the Players decided, although I don't recall which of them came up with the idea.  It was decided that each race's term would be set at 10% of a standard lifespan — the Pizay, 3 years; the Alvians, 6 years; the Chon Zin 9 years; and the
 Thryades, 15 years.  Any humans that happened to live in the valley would be represented, too; humans would serve a term of 8 years.

I pointed out the division of labor between the House and the Senate in the United States model; the shorter-termed House handled more immediate requirements of commerce, while the longer-termed Senators dealt with more weighty and conservative issues.  They agreed that this would be a good model, and declared that it would be appropriate to have the Ecclesia steadied by the contribution of by a few long-lived Thryadeans, to give it gravitas.  The House would have a sizeable proportion of Pizay, but not enough to dominate it over the other races.

This would be the Aquiline Republic:  the Eagle clans had a new system of leadership.


Results 
I won't know the results of this round until I prepare for the next round.

Year 105,743: The Conqueror Turns East

Although this segment followed chronologically from the Courthouse at Celestria, we didn't play it until after the Conqueror invaded Zefar.  My reasons for this were twofold.  First, I didn't want to give the players the opportunity to stop the Conqueror from invading Zefar.  The players might have tried to abort the eastern expedition and convince Celestrones to consolidate his holdings.  That's a reasonable thing for them to have asked, but it wouldn't forward the development of technology, or the migration of peoples.  Second, I didn't want to mingle two events simultaneously and make the players juggle both the Courthouse and the eastern invasion; mixing up their two priorities might have resulted in some very odd developments.  I also did not prepare a historical document for this Event, as the players should already be familiar with the Conqueror and his purpose.

In any case, we turn now to the Conqueror, just prior to the eastern campaign.

Celestrones the Conqueror has completed his consolidation of his holdings in the former Empire of Sathad and, at age 38, is preparing an eastward push into the lands of the Haesonai.  The coastal jungles lay before him, and the savannah at his back.  His generals insisted upon first establishing firm control over the Galos River and the ports there, but Celestrones overruled them.  The giants of Chon Zin are a war for another day, the Conqueror says; we cannot forever ignore the raids of the Amazons into our eastern flank.

But, say his generals, we cannot either ignore the mighty giants.  They have fortified the river of Galos with walls and embankments and towers.  If we do not defeat them soon, their defenses will be impossible to penetrate.

Oresthal (M, 46) is Celestrones's most trusted adviser since the death of Attades.  “To do the most good for the most people, and the least harm,” says Oresthal, “I must first be allowed to study the giants and their culture.  They are unlike us, and their cities are built in fours:  their people are many and varied.  Among them are men with wings, both large and small, who live in the highest parts of the city; and long-lived men of bark-like skin who live in the gardens of the city; and the giants themselves.  How are we to know what is good, and what is bad, for a people of whom we know nothing?”

General Yantres (M, 50) is a strong supporter of Celestrones's empire, and a good soldier:  obedient when his orders come down, and loud-spoken when his opinion is asked.  In this case, he cannot agree to leave the giants at the Conqueror's back.  “Precisely because we do not know them, we must not think them idle,” he says.  “The giants came down from the Teeth of Nagiz and took the city.  They tore down the walls of Nagiz and seized the Empire at the moment the Pharaohs seemed weakest.  And here we plan to quit the field, to start an expedition east, and leave behind our holdings in the hands of the locals?  The Chon Zin are sure to attack us the moment we send the army east.  Let us attack them first.  If we impress into our army giants and winged archers, how much easier it will be to proceed east and conquer the Amazons.”

“The Chon Zin are fortifying only east of the river,” says Commander Hareton (M, 34), who commands the Conqueror's personal squadron of ships.  “They are preparing for our attack, and yet they are not massing armies.  I've seen the docks at Galos.  The new Pharaohs of Sathad aren't interested in fighting us, and I say it is best we keep things that way.”

What The Players Decided 

Dave likes the culture of the peaceful giants and wants to protect them from the ravages of the world.  He can always be counted on to support whatever side they're on.  "I say to leave them alone," he said.  "They're not attacking.  Do you walk up to the hornet's nest and start hitting it?  No, you just let them do what they're doing, pollinating flowers."

"That's bees," said Jack.

"Oh.  Did I say hornets?  I meant bees."

"I agree, they're not a threat," Joe said.  "As long as you're not attacking them, they won't attack you.  All you have to do," he said, as if speaking to Celestrones, "is walk up to them and tell them their leader isn't strong enough, and take them over.  Easy."

There was precedent for that in Earth's history, I told them.  That's precisely how Alexander the Great had gotten himself voted leader of the Athenian League.

"No, leave the giants alone," Dave said.

"I'm only taking this position because I know you like the giants," Joe said smugly.

"If I could just play Devil's Advocate, here—" Dave began.

"You, Devil's Advocate?  You're already on the giants' side," Joe said.

"—we already know that the Conqueror is going to survive this.  We've seen him in the future.  We can't stop him from going east and attacking Zefar.  Whatever happens here, we know the Conqueror is going to win."

But if he's fighting Sathad-Zin and Zefar at the same time, I pointed out, he might not have enough men for both.

"He could just take one, and then take the other," Joe the Leader pointed out, in his role as God of Conquest.  "Then when he got to Zefar he'd have giants in his army."

Dave again hoisted the "leave my giants alone" banner.

"I agree with Joe," Jack said at long last.

Dave wanted it to be known in the blog that he registered his disapproval.

Results 

I won't know the results of this round until I've prepped for the next round.

Year 105,618: The Pharaoh Takes A Bride

In the year 105,613 the giants of Chon Zin along with the bird-men of Alvian came south from the Teeth to lay siege to the well-fortified city of Nagiz.  The city lay nestled between two rivers and was built with impenetrable walls.  It was the stronghold of final resort for the Pharaohs of Sathad, and in it were garrisoned the strength of his troops.  The giants brought with them siege engines pulled by teams of huaca, and the birdmen prepared to assault the high walls both in air infantry and on horses of the savannah, specially bred with wings.

Although no enemy had ever taken the city of Nagiz, the giants were in possession of the city within three days.  Their siege equipment was never used; their air cavalry was never launched.  The Pharaoh’s army lay down their arms in fear the moment the walls crumbled, which is a tale to be found in Cha-Thas-Tek's History of the Empire, Volume III.

The destruction of the walls of Nagiz rendered it indefensible and virtually useless for a Pharaoh’s palace, and the site was abandoned to the river.  A new capital was built further west, in a more familiar Chon Zin style.  The city was one of several that had been weakened by the flood of the Galos.  It was renamed Chazinta, rebuilt in quarters, subdivided, with each quarter built in a different scale to accommodate a different way of life.  The Chon Zin giants’ quarter was built in the largest scale, for they were large men and women; for the tiny winged Pizay, the rooms were much smaller and more open to the air.  The larger winged Alvians lived in lofts and penthouses more accessible for their wingspans; the Thryadean tree-people lived in dense gardens.  One quarter of the city or more was thus reserved for those citizens of human size.

A new throne was built and a new dynasty established, but ruling the restless empire of Sathad was another matter.  By general assent the throne went to Orlali, the winged matriarch of the Alvians, for she was the most human of the people of the valley, but this was not an easy thing to sell to the people of Sathad.  They were unaccustomed to being led by a woman of any species, much less one with wings.  The more superstitious of the peasantry certainly didn’t need to know she had come from the valley — in their legends, the Sathad had been punished by the gods with exile from Paradise Valley, and told that gods and men did battle for possession of it.  A winged woman as Pharaoh?  It would never work.

The giants and alvians were eager to adapt to the cultural ways of the Sathad.  They had been prepared to volunteer one of their own for leadership of the Empire, unaware of the warlike tradition of bloody dynastic succession, but had been convinced that a military takeover was more suitable.  Now they were coming to terms with the history of the Pharaohs of Sathad:  each Pharaoh was said to descend from the divine line of Theu himself, God of Conquest, and most importantly, each Pharaoh was a man.

If that is the local custom, then, the giants and alvians decided they could accommodate it.  The Pharaoh would continue to be Matriarch Orlali, but all of the statues and all of the frescoes would be painted in a man’s likeness.  A man with wings, it is true, but a man nevertheless.  Any discrepancy between the Pharaoh’s actual appearance and that of “his” likeness could be masked with illusion.  The citizens, they reasoned, need never know that the Pharaoh was actually a woman.  There was, they discovered, ample precedent for such a deception.  Orlali would not in fact be the first female Pharaoh.

However, Matriarch Orlali — or Pharaoh Alvatheu, as she had been christened, first Pharaoh of the Dynasty of Sathad-Zin — drew the line at marrying her own brother to secure an heir to the throne.  Of all the traditions of Sathad, this was one she could not accept.

Pharaoh Alvatheu (F, 28) is young enough to still have children of her own, and is just far enough into her reign that she is beginning to feel secure about her adopted country.  She hasn’t captured all of the former lands of Sathad, nor converted all the warlords to her side, but much of the river country is hers to command.  If nothing else, the Chon Zin giants, and the other people of the Great Valley, are no longer bottled in by the Pharaoh.  It will soon be time consider ways to expand her reach.

The signs indicate that it may already be too late to expand beyond her present borders.  The people of Sathad, both within the Pharaoh’s dominion and without, are becoming concerned that there is no heir forthcoming.  An heirless Pharaoh does not promote stability.  An heirless Pharaoh may easily be deposed.  This Pharaoh has arrived in Sathad and has not yet produced a single heir; the people uneasily suspect that this Pharaoh may soon become a target for an ambitious warlord.  Were not the Abbadar Oracles predicting just such a conqueror?  Have not the Abbadar suspiciously been seen making pilgrimages east and west out of Sathad?

To quell the rumors and ease the minds of her people, the Pharaoh announced that she would marry and produce an heir, but as there was no close relative in the family, the marriage must be to an ordinary mortal.  Surprisingly, the people of Sathad were sanguine with this explanation; a Pharaoh with wings surely had enough divine blood for two.

And so in a tradition more ancient than the Empire of Sathad itself, a tradition dating back to the Dar before them, the people of Sathad began to send their daughters to the Pharaoh.  They were obeying the ancient custom of bridal exchange.  One fortunate family would marry into the divine line and be forever exalted; the other daughters would, with good luck, become part of the Pharaoh’s privileged harem of women — royal concubines they would become, to be given special treatment and education, with some political influence at the palace, and ensconced safely under the protection of Theu’s divine offspring.

Matriarch Orlali, of course, cannot have children with any of these young women.  Even if magic could be found to change Orlali into a man for that purpose — and there is, for the mages of the Pizay are said to have the power to create a temporary magical disguise — it’s possible that an Alvian and a human cannot have children at all, or if they could, then the children may not be viable.

Some deceit is apparently called for.  A child might be substituted, perhaps.  That is the least of the Pharaoh’s worries.

Five powerful families of the plains have each offered their daughter as the Pharaoh’s bride.  All of the young women are relatively young, of childbearing age, and raised as befits the daughters of the well-to-do.

Two of the families are devout Oraclists.  They believe in the story of the Conqueror, as told in the Gospels of the Abbadar.  Now that the giants have arrived on the scene, every prophecy seems already fulfilled, or perhaps about to be.  With the time of the Conqueror evidently at hand, many people are fearful and uncertain.  These families, like many people of Sathad, have cast out the old pantheon of gods and have instead turned to worship Chimata, the all-seeing God of the Abbadar.

Two of the families are sworn enemies of the Abbadar.  They fully believe that the Abbadar summoned the Conqueror to the lands in order to destroy the Empire, and they insist that the full might of the Pharaoh’s army be immediately used to crush the Abbadar wherever they may now reside.

The fifth family doesn’t believe or disbelieve in the Gospels of the Abbadar, specifically, and they didn’t raise their daughter to play favorites among the gods.  This is only natural, because the mother is Sathadi, the father was an Abbadar, and their virgin daughter is High Priestess of the Great Temple...

What The Players Decided

The Players seemed to enjoy The History of the Empire, Vol III, especially what the herald had said following his third trumpet blast and its unexpected results.  They settled in to their debate, paying particular care to divide their difficulty into two distinct areas:  which family to choose, and how they would contrive to get the Pharaoh's chosen wife pregnant.

Almost immediately they ruled out the two Oraclist pro-Abbadar families and the two rabidly anti-Abbadar families.  They had just barely managed to get the Empire stitched together under polytheism and they didn't want to see it fall apart through religious civil war.  However, they were equally opposed to the middle ground candidate, the High Priestess, because it would further consolidate the power of the priests of the Temple.  Never mind that the purpose of a political marriage is all about consolidation of power, the players apparently decided; they didn't want to give the priests any more power than was strictly necessary.

They addressed the second problem first with typical gamer subtlety.  A man would be procured to do the husbandly service on one of the wives.

Who? I asked.

"Who cares?" said Joe the Leader.  "An heir's an heir."

"That means the wife has to be in on the secret," Dave the Artisan pointed out.

"She'll just have to deal with it," Joe said.

That made some sense, I admitted to myself, but I didn't say anything.  If the family wanted to maintain its legitimate hold on the throne, of course the bride would continue to insist that her heir was legitimate.  Who would know?

"She's got a brother.  I think she should just marry him," said Connor the Mystic.

She won't do it, I reminded them.

They stared at each other.  "This is going to haunt us," said Joe.

Yes, these things usually do.

"If having a female Pharaoh is the problem, just put somebody else on the throne," Joe suggested.  "She has a brother."

"If you do that, you're opening up a can of worms," said Jack.

"Why don't we just get her brother to get the bride pregnant?" Dave asked.  "We get the guy, the mage who does the illusion for the Pharaoh, and make the brother look like the Pharaoh just for one night."

Then he'd have to be in on the secret too, I pointed out.

"We're going to end up with a whole culture based around a Pharaoh that's a transvestite," Connor observed. 

They turned from that problem for a moment and addressed the political situation.  They didn't much care for any of the candidates.  "We can't choose that one Abbadar-hating family," Dave insisted.

"The Abbadar would become like the Jews," Connor observed.  "Everybody hating them."

Well spotted, yes; there were certain similarities in the early beats of their culture.  So far as I know, nobody ever accused the Hebrews of being mutant psychics, however.

"We can't put the bigots in power?" Joe said.  "So, no Republicans."

"And we can't have the High Priestess.  We already said last time that she was one of the political advisers to the Pharaoh.  If we make her his bride, too, that's going to come bite us in the ass," Dave said.

"Transvestites and ass-biting don't go hand in hand," said Jack.

"Look, all I have to do is invent the turkey baster," Dave said.

"Who's going to fill it?" Jack asked.  "Not it."

The Players examined the list of spells that were available during the Iron Age, and encountered a Biotech spell that gave them pause.  "Analyze Heredity," Joe said, pointing at the list.  "They'll be able to tell what the real lineage is going to be."

Their idea of bringing in a ringer was disappearing quickly.

"Why would they do that?" asked Connor.

"Are you kidding, it's a succession," Joe said.  "All the other families are going to want to make sure it's legitimate."

"We just get that mage who does the Pharaoh's illusion to cast the spell.  He's already in on the secret," Connor said.

His would be the only result that showed the proper lineage, I observed.  Any other mage casting the spell would know the truth.

They toyed with the idea of a contest, getting more than one bride pregnant, and whichever heir was born first would be Pharaoh.  Pregnancy races?  "Aaaaand they're off!" said Dave, like a play-by-play man at the Preakness.

"The Pharaoh should just marry all of them," Dave went on.  "I know it's not a good idea, but when has that ever stopped us?"

"You'd end up with women killing their rivals so they could be first," Joe pointed out.

They looked again at the families who were jockeying for position, and again rejected the idea of the Oraclist pro-Abbadar family.  "We worked really hard to get all their gods together into the Great Temple.  We don't want them to go worshiping this other guy, Chimata."

"Chamandra?" asked Connor.  "Yeah, definitely not."

"Right," Joe said, "because worshiping us has always worked out so well."

Not Chamandra, I said.  Chimata.

"As long as it isn't Chamandra, I don't give a shit," Connor announced.

They asked a few questions about the illusion of manhood that had been granted to the Pharaoh.  Joe lamented that if she had just had an heir already by herself, they wouldn't have to solve this problem.  Why had she even bothered disguising herself as a man, anyway?

It's the Sathadi tradition, I said.

"But it's their tradition to pass along leadership peacefully to whoever wants it," he pointed out.

They're just trying to adapt to local customs, I noted.  They're taking over an existing apparatus, not imposing their own.

"No, they came down and offered to take over leadership," Joe said, referring to the history.

Backed by their army, I said.  At least they gave the Pharaoh fair warning, but it was you who convinced them that a military takeover was necessary.

"Yeah, I can't think whose idea that was," Dave said, looking hard at Joe. 

"We didn't tell her to lie to everybody," Joe said, indignant.  "That's our job."

Dave was working on another idea whereby an heir might be found — adopted, perhaps, or discovered in a basket amid some reeds.  "Worked for Moses," he said.

There came an awkward realization when Joe asked, "What if it's a girl?"

There was no guarantee, of course, that even if they arranged to get one of the brides pregnant that a male heir would be produced as the next Pharaoh.  "They'll just have to do the illusion for her, too," Connor suggested, and then groaned.  "We're going to start a whole tradition of female pharaohs disguised as transvestites.  They're going to expect that."

No, I said; this was an old Sathadi tradition that was used in the past on the rare occasion that there was no male heir.  They kicked that around for a while.

"We could just get the Pharaoh pregnant," Connor said.

I'd like to say there was a silence as everybody appreciated the deviousness of that idea, but there wasn't.  I duly noted Connor's comment on scratch paper and listened as Dave, Jack and Joe haggled over something else.  Eventually I pointed out what Connor had said, because it had been a good idea that I thought they might want to examine in more detail.

They circled around the idea for a while without success, until I finally pointed out the obvious path that they had been stumbling over.  Why didn't they just name the Pharaoh as the bride? 

Now there was a silence as the Players took in that idea and rushed off with it.

"We take the female Pharaoh, without the illusion, and we announce that she is the bride," Dave said.

"We don't have to name any of those other families," Jack the Storyteller said.

"And it's going to confirm the Pharaoh's lineage," Joe said, "if they check.  It'll definitely say the female Pharaoh, without the illusion, was the mother."

Who's going to be the father? I asked.

"There must be somebody she's attracted to," Joe said.  "Somebody she already knows.  That'll make it easier."

Sure, I imagine there is, I said.  And if they cast Analyze Heredity, they'll know the Pharaoh wasn't the father.

"Well," Dave drawled, "I can think of four candidates right here who could do the job.  Three," he said, with a sidelong look at Connor.

"I'm a woman," Connor said.  It was true; he played the Goddess of Fertility.

"Wait a minute, can you say that again?" Dave said, fumbling for his phone.  "I'm going to make that my ringtone."

So, I said, one of you is going to be the father.  Did you want to confirm the divine lineage of the Pharaohs?

Jack put his face in his hands.  "No."

All right, I said.  Then you want to disprove the divine lineage of the Pharaohs?

Now Jack moaned.  "No."

Joe spoke up.  "They already believe the Pharaohs are descended from the gods.  This won't change anything."

Great, I said.  So who's going to be the father?

Three fingers pointed across the table at Dave.

Results
I won't have the results of this round until I prepare for the next round.

History of the Empire Vol. 3

An excerpt from Cha-thas-tek’s History of the Empire, Volume III

Pharaoh Modladlis was unable to perceive or control the rumors of his Empire’s instability from within the walls of Nagiz.  The rumors came from all corners of the Empire, especially from the Oracles of Abbadar.  Many priests claimed that Modladlis cowered behind the centurions in Nagiz in dreadful fear of the coming of the Conqueror, whose time was surely nigh.

When the giants of Chon Zin arrived, flying the banner of Mun Wat, and accompanied by the flying Alvian cavalry of Orlali Falconswing, and followed by huge herds of giant cattle called huaca who bore the trains of the army, the Pharaoh was safe within the walls of Nagiz.  The city shook at the army’s approach, but the Pharaoh was surrounded by soldiers, and his soldiers were surrounded by the highest walls that men could build.

Mun Wat, king of the giants, bade his herald blow a trumpet blast and call up to the battlements of Nagiz, and the herald said, “Call forth your cowering Pharaoh, for it is the custom of our people that a new ruler should step forth and the old ruler slink away when he has lost his power.”

Now the centurions in Nagiz had never seen war made in this way before, and they did not know how to respond, but comforted by the high walls of the city, they jeered down from the battlements.  After an hour, Mun Wat bade his herald to blow another blast.  “Call forth the craven man you call Pharaoh,” said the herald, “for my king bids me issue warning that if your Pharaoh does not give up his throne, we will take it by force.”

This time the centurions only laughed.  “The Pharaoh shall not come out to speak with giants and winged barbarians,” they taunted.  “The Pharaoh gives up his throne to none.  Do battle against the walls, if you wish, if you can cross the river to get them.”

Another hour passed, and a third time Mun Wat bade his herald blow a blast on the trumpet.  This time, at the very moment that the trumpet sounded, the northern walls of Nagiz collapsed into a ruin.  Now some said that the giants had woven the trumpet with mighty spells by which the city walls were blasted.  And some said that the river itself, the Galos which flowed in the shadow of the walls of Nagiz and to east and west of the city, rose up at the giants’ command and washed away the foundations.  Some men said that the giants had come during the flooding season, and the river was higher than men had ever seen it rise.  Nevertheless, the walls of Nagiz came crashing down to earth, and the unfortunate centurions who were atop the walls were crushed by the huge stones, and the city lay bare before the giants and their army.

Then the herald of Mun Wat said, as the dust cleared, “Now will you call forth your Pharaoh?”