[b]Borealis House, outside the capital city of Zanateyin[/b]
[b]1910 January 17[/b]

The hall was too loud and too hot. The debates, as they were apparently still regarded as, had gone on for much of the entire day, as satraps from all across the shahdom glare at each other in either grim silence or eruptions of shouting. Who was on the side of who was a question perhaps nobody in the room knew the answer to. The faint stench of corruption hung over the room, the smell of sweat and musk and evil. Shah Tivaz had an arm propped on his knee, with his face resting upon his palm. The throne, while magnificent, hurt to sit on, especially after twelve solid hours of impure feeling.

"Perhaps you had misunderstood me. I am making perfect sense, yet the camel's nose you call your brain seems to have mixed up my words," growled Satrap Oramush. His hand had not left the hilt of his sword in the last hour. "It is the unholy peoples in Etresna that seek the destruction of our harmony with the gods and their world. They offend the very essence of the universe with their great buildings of metal, and invite corruption into their hearts by partaking in their intoxicants. I will not tolerate it! This is our universe we are talking about! We will join arms with Kratoria, and smash their decadence to the ground, else we all pay for it when the reckoning comes."

"Your old donkey eyes may not see more than three years behind you, but we the people of merit have within our lives picked up a book and read about the past," responded Satrap Kazosh. His hand clutched his own beard so tightly that hairs were beginning to peel off of his face. "Kratoria is the enemy, you will find. Hundreds of years past, they have stormed our shores and killed our ancestors. Estresna has given us nothing but good will, and you expect us to return honor with hate? How can you all yourself a man from gods if you treat neighbors the way you treat fiends?"

"Were you to pull your head from your own anus, you would finally see the world around you," shouted Satrap Bahar, her eyes boring into Satrap Kazosh's face. "It would take any of our ships many days to reach either of those nations, and thus would be true for theirs to reach us. To seek a fight on far shores makes us no better than the warmongering Qaroitn heretics, and unless you have taken leave of good sense, you would turn your armies towards them. Furthermore, you son of a rabbit, the-"

"Enough!" shouted Shah Tivaz, speaking for the first time since the sun passed over noon. "I've heard enough! You all have been saying the exact same thing since the early morning, and nobody's mind has changed!" The entire room went silent. Nobody dared to interrupt when the shah spoke, even a young one such as he. He pointed an accusing finger at each satrap as he continued. "It is you who are bringing impurity into this world, not the foreigners! You and your anger and your hate! Begone! Get out of my palace!" Quietly, each satrap bowed before the king and exited with nary a word. When the room was empty and silent once more, Shah Tivaz stood up, rubbing his aching buttocks.

"The stupid rat," grumbled Satrap Bahar, as she strode out of the throne room. With the wave of a hand, two guards detached themselves from the walls and followed her, spears in hand. She continued to rant about the shah, as she descended the many flights of stairs that separated the meeting room with the front gates. All the while, the guards kept perfect step with the pace of her own feet. " . . . hardly a Kehmeyid. That is my throne by the rights of the gods. I bear the same name. I am as much Kehmeyid as . . . what?" She stopped, realizing for the first time that her guards were gone. She tried to turn, reaching for the sword at her hip, but it was too late. A blade plunged into the back of her neck, cutting off her ability to scream.

"Satrap Oramush has heard enough of your treason," whispered a voice in her ear. Satrap Bahar tried to reply, but all that came out was a low gurgle. She collapsed in the halls, and bled to death upon the red carpeting. Her killer removed the sword, and began hacking her corpse into small pieces, filling a shoulder bag with the recognizable features. He opened a window, and threw the rest out. The stray cats will have them be rid of by the end of the day. He turned, and quickly descended the remainder of the stairs. It is time to report back to his master, and make ready for war across the seas.

[hider=TL;DR Edition]
The council of satraps argue, but get nothing done, and a satrap is assassinated.
[/hider]