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CFProxyAnshal's Lot
A dry wind swept across the flatlands bearing with it a storm of sand and clouds of dust. Even with that burden in tow, the djinn that brought this weather all flew with a swiftness usually relegated to the stuff of legend. Foremost of the vanguard was Anshal himself, master of the Westerly winds.
There were many among his vast host that traveled by Anshal's shoulder rather than in his wake, for he was not one to lord his might or authority unnecessarily over those that chose to follow him. But there was only one that was permitted to travel ahead; this was Rasp, the scion's only son, and even in youth he had already become renowned for his exceptional sight and aptitude for navigation. So when Rasp suddenly broke from his steady path to swoop lower down, Anshal and the entire formation similarly curved into a dive.
Before either they had even realized it, they had been brought about to completely surround an enemy scout. Perhaps this one of Komnestos' servants had thought himself safe, having evaded enemy detection, before the lightning maneuver had trapped him in the span of a moment. Now he was but one paltry eddy surrounded by thousands of great gales and whirling dust devils. Escape was utterly impossible.
Anshal praised Rasp with his eyes; that was enough.
The captured scout spoke first, but not with its own voice. It was Komnestos shouting through his vessel, "Anshal! We are at your heels! You will lose this war, and by the authority vested in me as the Keeper of Zephyrion's Storms, I will have you-"
"Enough. Words and titles are empty, especially yours." The great djinni lord clenched an asomatous fist and used his will to shatter Komnestos' bond with the diminutive scout. Then he addressed it, "He is gone, and it is no longer through Komnestos' will that you live or die. The choice is yours alone. Join my host."
It trembled, then found the strength to gesture its defiance. In the next instant, Anshal tore it in half with one swift blow. The closest members of his retinue grasped at the executed djinni's Flicker and devoured the essence.
It was over in a second and all eyes turned back to their lord, expecting him to command that they resume their flight. Even as they pursued the traitorous Boreas, they knew that Komnestos hounded them true to his word. Even if not for all that, it had not been through rest that he had earned a reputation as the fastest windjinn alive. Anshal was a demanding master, but in that moment he seemed distracted.
...
...
"Form up!" came the decree. "Our presence is requested."
The stratospheric air seemed as dead as the crumbling room it filled, so sparse that it hardly even disturbed the scattered bricks and mortar or the apparatus within. The only perturbation in that room was Murmur. Xos' lieutenant was gingerly looming over the room's strange mirror when the first signs of visitors came.
First it was just he smallest mote of dust wafting through the window, but mere moments later that turned to billowing clouds of dirt and sand that swept in through every crevice. And outside there were countless more djinn waiting; he had brought far too many to fit within the chamber. Never one for subtlety, Anshal had answered the summons--with his entire retinue at his side. That the cowardly fool felt the need to bring an army was telling.
"We answer your summons, lord Vizier."
"And yet I had summoned only one."
"Where I go, they follow; where they go, I follow. My lot is never divided. It is true that I am not an ancient lord, but my rule has lasted long enough that you would know this."
"And there lies something that must be addressed today: under your incompetent leadership, this war has dragged on when it should have been ended in the blink of an eye. Komnestos is allowed to rampage through the skies nigh uninhibited. You refuse to delegate control over your host in the slightest, content to fly about as a singular rabble while our enemies are organized and omnipresent. Look into this Mirror and watch the world below; see how much of it is beneath their shadow and how little is in ours."
"Under my incompetent leadership the war goes on? He tasked you with overseeing this campaign. I am left to deal with my rival Komnestos who commands both his legion and that of Notus, as well as the traitor Boreas. That I have held them at bay for so long and refused to take an unfavorable engagement is testimony to my sound leadership. Now, what have you done since the disastrous battle? Do I fight this war alone? Slag has been a most inactive ally!"
Even as he answered his Vizier with a shocking bluntness and irreverence, Anshal drifted close to look into the mirror as Murmur had asked. It had been focused upon an odd site in that of the Metran civilization. Mortals went abut their lives, oblivious as ever to the eyes of so many unseen djinn upon them.
"Know your place, fool! I need not answer to you; you serve under me, by my dwindling grace, and know that your situation now is a precarious one."
"I serve neither you nor Him out of fear, so I care little for your threats. I fight willingly because I respect Xos' inheritance, and I only suffer your orders and your presence because he saw fit to vest authority in you as Vizier. Just as my host is one of willing followers rather than mindless slaves and vessels to my own will, so too am I more than your slave. You slight me at your own peril, Vizier; we both know that you need my support in this war. While you have it, I deserve better from you, nay, demand better; and now I will have my questions answered."
...and just like that, the much older and more powerful Vizier was defeated. Humiliated even, and in front of an entire retinue. Anshal's brash reputation had been no exaggeration.
"Slag will soon make a strike, as shall I. While your orders were to rout out the traitors among our kind, I have a larger mark in Jvan. But there is something that could help both of us to this ends."
The thin air distorted in a quick snap from Murmur, the mirror shifting its focus such that it came to rest upon Vetros. Below, men crawled about the still-ruined city like ants as they slowly rebuilt the damage that had been wrought by the Realta.
"The Holy Land."
"Yes. There, in the hands of mere mortal men, is an instrument of our Maker. We would only need to take it, and then we would be able to wash away any opposition."
Anshal made little attempt to hide his simmering rage. "The King's Law? No, by Zephyion's decree it is theirs. There would be no greater dereliction of duty and breach of sanctity than to raze his city and pilfer it."
He knows the implications, and that is why he only suggests that I forfeit myself in its taking that he could evade responsibility. Our first Vizier was a complacent fool; now, we have a worm.
"You are right, of course. As loathsome as the mortals may be, only by Xos' decree could Zephyrion's standing order be overwritten. I will have to petition him... Until such time I shall say no more of that, and likewise I shall be silent in regard to your strategy for this war. But there is one thing that could still be done to advance our master's efforts; one thing that could tip the scales in greatly in Xos' favor, and that he would not object to; something that he himself ordered, before he left."
"Tell me."
Vizier Murmur obliged, and then Anshal and his host wordlessly poured out as swiftly as they had come.
