A Treaty in Meraca

Here is an experimental novel idea I am swirling inside my head right now. This is just a very VERY rough picture.
The story is about a general, an emperor, their two friends and their complicated relationship. The emperor(of the main story) is the son of the one in this piece.

So this is sorta like back story. I have the plot planned out but lets see what you guys think.

In a Universe very much different from our own, the stars are not vacant and space is not so desolate a place. A species called “man” have taken to colonizing the stars. With the discovery of the barzaq – a hidden and mysterious region of space time where travel to any part of the galaxy is possible – Man had built a vast and sprawling empire dominating three star systems and expanding. No matter how grand the empire became however, the emperor had always maintained Erahat – the home and birthplace of Man – to be the spiritual and legislative center of the empire. Now, Emperor and ex-general Fathi Tagoot sits on the throne of Erahat’s capital city of Meraca, taken by force from the previous emperor.
The people of the empire share a powerful and unbreakable bond in their common faith. Regardless of planets and cultures, “Raham” is worshipped in a similar fashion by the people. The Haytians are “Raham”’s most orthodox followers and their conviction in a morally upright empire has led them to pursue politics.
This has led them to be systematically oppressed by almost all emperor’s in power – from rigging elections for Hegemon to assassinating Haytian spiritual figures.
But Emperor Fathi Tagoot has gone too far.

Regardless, the Tagootian empire is at the hight of it’s power at the start of our tale.

The Treaty of Meraca

The peaks of the grand parliament of Meraca are but barely visible in the oppressive fog that had descended on the capital city. The industrious and agile streets now are deserted as citizens took shelter from the killing cold and the fog of enegen fumes, reminiscent of the first war of succession fought in these very streets when the Khedive of Ebora – the governor of Meraca’s neighbor – had dropped thousands of gas bombs to suffocate the royal forces. Now this fog suffocated this royal city. Shops had closed and academies had closed. The palace had closed and the taverns had closed. A willing pedestrian could not view a feet in front of himself in the thickness of these living clouds that roamed the streets – if he hadn’t feinted already by inhaling too much of it. This was Erahat’s way of sending a message to his eminence, the great Emperor on the Meracaian throne. Erahat mined Holikon – a precious solid used in the lining of starship engines greedily, and the cleaning process resulted in a curious and harmless fume called enegen. Released in abundance by the several gigantic Holikon mining facilities on the other, dry side of Erahat, the fumes had not diffused into the atmosphere but had set it’s sights on land dweller, tormenting cities and city states across Erahat. Thus, his eminence could now add an additional problem to his already growing list – getting rid of the blasted fog that had stagnated his illustrious and lively city.

But he could not brood on that this day. He sat now in the parliament of Meraca, in a small room deep inside this grand architecture – with it’s two grand and exquisitely crafted towers that defied the fog. He sat in an elevated seat. His son and trusted three councillors under him. On a set of artful arm chairs in front of his eminence sat the subjects of his inquiry and much distress. Two Haytian gentlemen – no – idiots. Yes, two idiots sat in front of his eminence, wasting his valuable time and troubling him with vain talk and glossy rhetoric.
Presently, one of them spoke.

“May I address his eminence directly?” he asked. The man had a sharp nose and a carved, lean face. He wore rough uniform with padded collars and skin-tight leather gloves. Various decorations lay pinned on his right breast. His combed and glossy beard shined as he raised his head to look at his eminence.

His eminence nodded, annoyed.

“Yes Sir Arakran you may.” said Inad of commerce and agriculture. Inad was a perfect and convenient tool for his eminence to use. His was a loyalty and simple mindedness unmatched by any of the emperors advisers.

Arakran spoke in a measured tone; suppressing a deep loathing for the man that he is addressing.

“After much deliberation…. sire, my people have decided. I am here to represent the interests of the Sam’aa – the galaxy. I am here to seek… from you… sire.. that most powerful and inexorable quality that pervades all of God’s creation: equal measure, justice. In the interest of justice …. Emperor Fathi, I implore you to return Erduin to it’s rightfully elected Hegemon and I implore you also, to return it to the two billion souls that had been so unjustly cast out of the place they know as their home.” Sir Arakran’s face was beet red and sweat lined his forehead. He seemed to be reigning in a terrible beast inside his chest.
Fathi stared down at this man in a lazy way, with the reassurance that whatever his decision today shall be, no significant consequence will result from it.

“And the Haytians shall not accept the treaty of Meraca – an edict to quell all rebellion, demonstrations and terrorist activities in return for right to hold political campaigns in limited quantity – if these terms are not met?”

“Respectfully sire…. you do not need to categorize us. We are followers of the same faith.”

The emperor raised his eyebrows, stopped for seconds and continued.

“And this political entity,” he said snidely “Thinks my terms ungenerous? That after the great harm your mob has caused the empire, the discord, the deaths, the crippling of a young generation; that I should still allow this political entity a second chance …. this… you think unmerciful of me?… of ME?” The emperor’s great palms were brought down heavy on his armrest. He sat straight and erect and commanded authority.

Sir Arakran remained unmoved.

“Again, with due respect sire …. the expulsion of two billion human beings from their home and their systematic oppression – from their efforts to practice their beliefs in public to their right of speech – is anything but merciful policies of the imperium.”

Inad became furious and bolted from his seat, offended at the casual retort of the arrogant Haytian. The Emperor signalled him to be seated. Presently, the emperor smiled; his great moustache covering his full lips.

“Thus we cannot seem to come to an agreement. And my terms…. Sir Arakran … are unsatisfactory.” he said coolly.

“I had hoped it would not come to this, that good sense and humanity still exists with the empire.” Sir Arakran remarked sadly “But my words seem to be wind to you sire. Thus with respect, I, and the whole of the Sam’aa shall decline your ‘merciful’ offer. There shall be no treaty in Meraca this day and the heavens and the Erahats shall grieve at the great injustice that had taken place.”

With that, Sir Arakran proceeded to rise from his seat as did his companion. Their two month journey had been fruitless. Now they shall return to Erduin to gather their things and say goodbye to the place of their birth forever.

“So be it.” said his eminence. “Go Arakran, you and your mob. You shall declare yourselves in rebellion and you shall try to fight. But remember who I am and the position I hold Arakran. I have been merciful this day in seeing you. When we shall meet again, do not expect my mercy.”

“I shall not expect a thing which you do not possess in any capacity ….. sire.” said Arakran.
A direct insult to his eminence.
The guards sprang into motion and the council members stood erect, ready to arrest this insolent and stubborn Haytian leader. But his eminence waved them off casually, true to his word. He shall show them mercy today.

But only today.


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