07-09-2025, 09:00 PM
The year is 1700, the dawn of a new century. This land, which is just now coming to be known as the Slokais, is divided. The great trade empire, Pindai, has prospered for over 6th centuries with a system of trade and tribute states stretching across the region. In the east, the great empire of Ambonar is currently in the process of spiritual revival under a self-proclaimed messiah. His people, the Ambonar, are quickly becoming isolationist, and the empire may soon fall to this radical form of Christianity. In the south, Kaijan, founded by Arabic traders from the Nerian continent, is a thriving center of academic and learning, yet has seen social upheaval and threats to the dynasty that brought Islam to the region. And finally, the great Empire from across the ocean. They came in ships, they planted massive crosses, and spoke an unknown language. Yet in just over a century, they have begun to transition from friendly neighbors to possible overlords.
March 8th, 1700
Caoxi Region, Pindai
The shadows were long across the valley, a fact of the nature of the narrow mountains which acted as home for the people of Mansugia, a town built by the Arkon'ah ethnic group. A hundred generations ago, as legend tells, a man came down from the hills, saw the valley, and simply decided right then it would be his home. There were several dozen homesteads clustered together around a small temple, which also acted as a gathering space. Today, as the frosts of winter began to fade, the people of Mansugia gathered again.
“There’s the town,” Gao Xueqin said. He was appointed commissioner of Mansugia, not from the village but rather a servant of the Caoxi Region, which was itself a servant of the Pindai State. Gao had been born in Caoxi, a walled city on the coast about a full day’s horse ride away from here. Wishing to be a civil servant and a small fish in the big pond of Pindai, he had left home, only to be right back here at the orders of the Ministry of Lands and Gamekeepers. The Arkon’ah had been subjected hundreds of years ago by the blade of Pindai horsemen, yet remained fairly free. All Caoxi and by extension, Pindai asked was for a seasonal tribute of rice, and an allocation of wood. Yet this time, Pindai had a much bigger demand of the people of Mansugia.
“It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” Francisco Mallen said, in his native Spanish. Gao had partly been assigned this role due to his study of the language and achieved a mark of certification in his civil service exam. Francisco Mallen was born in 1678 to an indigenous mother and a Costenoian father in a similar-looking valley near Ciudad San Fernando. He had helped his Mescaldo family out around the farm, cleaning the livestock stables, and exchanging their excess goods at the market. Yet as a Mescaldo person, there were limited opportunities. Seen as an outsider by Costenoians, yet a traitor to his own indigenous ancestors. Francisco joined a local militia, where, eventually, after some other jobs ended up in service of the San Fernando Lumber Company, as a corporate security officer.
“Indeed, I believe the company office will look good right there,” said Madame Marina Montes, pointing from atop her carriage. Her assistant was carefully writing it down quickly. Marina Montes was the wife of Alejandro Montes, head of the SFLC’s operations in the Caoxi Region. She lived in a large colonial house in the San Gabriel district of Caoxi, which was home to the growing Costenoian community and was situated close to the docks. Marina would often sit outside her bedroom and watch with binoculars the ship coming into harbor. More and more, they were carrying goods from faraway lands. Partly as an act of charity and partly to occupy herself, Marina Montes had begun working as a teacher at a local girls' boarding school. Teaching a classroom of mostly Indigenous children whose parents worked in the docks, Marina not only taught reading, writing, and arithmetic, but in her eyes, “good skills”. The pleasantries she had learned as a little girl back in the green fields of Costeno, she was now teaching to a generation of girls.
Behind this initial friendly trio were two dozen or so working men of the SFLC. They were tasked with acting as security and protection for now, yet hard-working loggers in the future. The hills of Caoxi, which would one day be called North Acadia, were stocked full of timber. In a region of so many islands, and when shipping and the sea were major assets, the timber trade was massive. While the Arkon’ah used timber for their homes, they had little large-scale usage of the product. Of the two dozen, most were either Costeno and Mesitzo young men from the San Fernando Valley; however, there were a few exceptions. Moussa Diaz, who was born in San Fernando however was not born free. His mother had been born in Kolda and had been enslaved in war. After a long voyage across the ocean, she was sold off to a wealthy family in San Fernando. The Diaz family, who had given their last name, yet as an act of charity, let their mother give their son a Koldan name. Just a few years prior to the death of the family matriarch, he had freed him of his servitude. Moussa had left immediately and bounced around from job to job before settling in to work as part of the SFLC. It had allowed him to see a world beyond San Fernando, and for that, Moussa was grateful.
Another exception was Raharjoro, an imposing woodcutter from the hills of Ambonar. He had come to San Fernando in 1695 with hopes of earning money for his family. A recent convert to Christianity, he watched as the people around him became obsessed with the new Ambonar Church of God. Sri Darma had purged non-Christians from his court in 1690, and in response, his followers began to turn against the Minjian faithful and Muslims. Rahajororo believed violence was unnecessary, although he was grateful for Christianity to begin to take hold.
Gao held out his hand to greet the village chief, a man named Lom-ahn. Lom-ahn was a simple farmer by trade; he continued to work the fields despite his advanced age and position. Providing for his six children and over a dozen grandchildren in their fairly large two-story wood home situated halfway up the hillside. Within Mansugia, the higher the elevation, the greater the status. Lom-ahn had inherited the position from his uncle, who had gifted his home high upon the ridge. It was actually Lom-ahn's granddaughter, Dwaia, who had spotted the group behind the expected Gao Xueqin. From there, she alerted Lom-ahn, who had been writing poetry.
“There’s a group of people coming in, Costeno’s. Some with axe’s” she said to her grandfather.
Lom-ahn set down his quill.
“Gao was supposed to come, although I guess he isn’t just looking for our rice surplus,” Lom-ahn said as he stood up. His son, Kombari-ahn, approached.
“What father?”
“Gao has brought a little more than just tax and payment records. Tell the people, we shall meet him head-on.”
Lom-ahn walked down the steep street, which formed the spine of the village, Dwaia in tow.
“What were you writing about, grandfather?”
“The end of winter, the start of spring. It’s a time of beauty, yet also a return of hard work. The end of cold days, yet the start of the hot ones are near”
“I see, good coming in with the bad?”
“Yes, in fact, that may be a good way to describe the group you saw,” Lom-ahn said, as a group of villagers had already gathered.
Gao stood next to Francisco, who was almost a foot taller than him.
“Does he know our language?” Lom-ahn asked in the local dialect of Mandarin
“He knows some basic Pindai phrases,” Gao said.
Francisco nodded ,“Hello, good to meet you” he said in Pindai Mandarin
“Let’s get to business, what is the meaning of this intrusion?” Lom-ahn asked
“Nothing, much,” Gao said as he tapped on the fancy wood carriage behind him
“Señora Montes, we are here.”
Out of the carriage stepped Senora Montes and her assistant, a Ren woman named Jia. In her arms, Jia held a large scroll. Montes held out her hand to Lom-ahn, who refused and instead bowed halfway.
“Ah, I see. Not baptized, I assume.”
“Actually, some have converted in the last few years," Gao said in Spanish
“Did I ask for your comment? You are here only by the order of the Pindai Trade Office”.
“Sorry, Señora,” Gao said.
Lom-Ahn stood there waiting for the two to finish their conversation, their words like gibberish to him.
“My question, still stands” he reminded Gao
“Indeed,” Gao said, walking over to receive the large scroll from Jia.
Gao read it for a second.
“Oh…”
“Let me read it, you are no help” Marina said
“By the order of the Pindai Trade Office, in association with the Caoxi Land Bureau. The land of Mansugia shall be transferred as of January 1st, 1700 to the ownership of the San Fernando Lumber Company for the purposes of industrial extraction. This transaction shall be overseen by the Masugia Land Commissioner, and thus from here forward the SFLC has full developmental and land authority over all lands within Mansugia, with the Masugia Land Commission being dissolved. Any attempts to prevent the implementation of this order will be a defilement of authority of the Caoxi Region and the Pindai State.”
Lom-ahn still looked confused.
“Translation, Gao” Lom-ahn
“Both of you” Gao sighed
“Essentially, I no longer have a job because your land is now property of the San Fernando Lumber Company, which wishes to complete logging operations. However, they do not seek to displace you from the land.”
“Was the second part in that scroll?” Lom-ahn said his anger clear in his voice
“No,” Gao said weakly
Lom-ahn spat at the ground. “Curses, upon your people, foreign women,” he said, looking at Marina.
Francisco stepped forward, his hand growing closer to his sword. Behind him, the people of Masugia grew alarmed, some drawing their wooden spears, some had small firearms.
“Hold on,” Gao said
“He spat at me, the bastard,” Marina yelled
The crowd of villagers grew restless, and some yelled back.
“What are they saying?” Francisco asked Gao
“Nothing worth repeating”
“Things seem to be getting out of hand. Should I tell the woodcutters to come up and protect Senora Marina?”
“No, I don’t want a fight here,” Gao said
“Seems to be out of the question,” Francisco said as a villager threw a stone at the carriage. It pinged harmlessly off the edge, although it scared the horses enough that they nearly kicked Senora Marina.
“Enough, arrest the man who spat at me,” she yelled at Francisco.
He looked back toward the group of wood cutters who were just standing in the road, looking uneasy as farmers from further fields began to draw closer. Moussa and the others quickly moved up their axes, still on their back, but their small swords were at the ready. Jia turned to the men as they approached the commotion.
“Take the leader, he is wearing the red hat.”
Raharjoro turned to Moussa
“Didn’t think I was fighting today.”
“We should move forward. Just don’t engage,” Moussa said.
The woodcutters formed a line, extending their swords forward.
“It has come to this, Gao?” Lom-ahn yelled, stepping in front of the crowd.
“Not my order, not Caoxi’s, not Pindai, but from San Fernando.”
“So you are what, a triple sellout?” Lom-ahn said, approaching closer to the line of woodcutters
They then parted around, allowing Francisco to rush forward and tackle Lom-ahn.
“Grandfather!” Dwaia exclaimed. The villagers rushed forward.
“Get back,” Rahajoro yelled in Mandarin.
“Fall back,” Francisco said as he dragged the chief to his feet, his hands tied behind him. Marina and Jia returned to their carriage with Gao in tow. He then stuck his head out the top.
“Bastard,” Dwaia yelled, nailing him in the center of his forehead.
The group did return to Caoxi, and Lom-ahn was thrown in jail, his cell window with just enough of a view of the mountains for him to long for home. The Prince of Caoxi would soon rally a larger force, and in just a few months’ time, Mansugia was under the ownership of the SFLC. Gao would end up with a concussion and a permanent mark on his head. Kombari-ahn would take over from his father as chief, yet Dwaia would be remembered for her defiance. Yet soon, she would be forced to attend a local Catholic school. All those who were present would remember how a simple lack of translation and a sign of disrespect had led to such chaos.
March 8th, 1700
Caoxi Region, Pindai
The shadows were long across the valley, a fact of the nature of the narrow mountains which acted as home for the people of Mansugia, a town built by the Arkon'ah ethnic group. A hundred generations ago, as legend tells, a man came down from the hills, saw the valley, and simply decided right then it would be his home. There were several dozen homesteads clustered together around a small temple, which also acted as a gathering space. Today, as the frosts of winter began to fade, the people of Mansugia gathered again.
“There’s the town,” Gao Xueqin said. He was appointed commissioner of Mansugia, not from the village but rather a servant of the Caoxi Region, which was itself a servant of the Pindai State. Gao had been born in Caoxi, a walled city on the coast about a full day’s horse ride away from here. Wishing to be a civil servant and a small fish in the big pond of Pindai, he had left home, only to be right back here at the orders of the Ministry of Lands and Gamekeepers. The Arkon’ah had been subjected hundreds of years ago by the blade of Pindai horsemen, yet remained fairly free. All Caoxi and by extension, Pindai asked was for a seasonal tribute of rice, and an allocation of wood. Yet this time, Pindai had a much bigger demand of the people of Mansugia.
“It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” Francisco Mallen said, in his native Spanish. Gao had partly been assigned this role due to his study of the language and achieved a mark of certification in his civil service exam. Francisco Mallen was born in 1678 to an indigenous mother and a Costenoian father in a similar-looking valley near Ciudad San Fernando. He had helped his Mescaldo family out around the farm, cleaning the livestock stables, and exchanging their excess goods at the market. Yet as a Mescaldo person, there were limited opportunities. Seen as an outsider by Costenoians, yet a traitor to his own indigenous ancestors. Francisco joined a local militia, where, eventually, after some other jobs ended up in service of the San Fernando Lumber Company, as a corporate security officer.
“Indeed, I believe the company office will look good right there,” said Madame Marina Montes, pointing from atop her carriage. Her assistant was carefully writing it down quickly. Marina Montes was the wife of Alejandro Montes, head of the SFLC’s operations in the Caoxi Region. She lived in a large colonial house in the San Gabriel district of Caoxi, which was home to the growing Costenoian community and was situated close to the docks. Marina would often sit outside her bedroom and watch with binoculars the ship coming into harbor. More and more, they were carrying goods from faraway lands. Partly as an act of charity and partly to occupy herself, Marina Montes had begun working as a teacher at a local girls' boarding school. Teaching a classroom of mostly Indigenous children whose parents worked in the docks, Marina not only taught reading, writing, and arithmetic, but in her eyes, “good skills”. The pleasantries she had learned as a little girl back in the green fields of Costeno, she was now teaching to a generation of girls.
Behind this initial friendly trio were two dozen or so working men of the SFLC. They were tasked with acting as security and protection for now, yet hard-working loggers in the future. The hills of Caoxi, which would one day be called North Acadia, were stocked full of timber. In a region of so many islands, and when shipping and the sea were major assets, the timber trade was massive. While the Arkon’ah used timber for their homes, they had little large-scale usage of the product. Of the two dozen, most were either Costeno and Mesitzo young men from the San Fernando Valley; however, there were a few exceptions. Moussa Diaz, who was born in San Fernando however was not born free. His mother had been born in Kolda and had been enslaved in war. After a long voyage across the ocean, she was sold off to a wealthy family in San Fernando. The Diaz family, who had given their last name, yet as an act of charity, let their mother give their son a Koldan name. Just a few years prior to the death of the family matriarch, he had freed him of his servitude. Moussa had left immediately and bounced around from job to job before settling in to work as part of the SFLC. It had allowed him to see a world beyond San Fernando, and for that, Moussa was grateful.
Another exception was Raharjoro, an imposing woodcutter from the hills of Ambonar. He had come to San Fernando in 1695 with hopes of earning money for his family. A recent convert to Christianity, he watched as the people around him became obsessed with the new Ambonar Church of God. Sri Darma had purged non-Christians from his court in 1690, and in response, his followers began to turn against the Minjian faithful and Muslims. Rahajororo believed violence was unnecessary, although he was grateful for Christianity to begin to take hold.
Gao held out his hand to greet the village chief, a man named Lom-ahn. Lom-ahn was a simple farmer by trade; he continued to work the fields despite his advanced age and position. Providing for his six children and over a dozen grandchildren in their fairly large two-story wood home situated halfway up the hillside. Within Mansugia, the higher the elevation, the greater the status. Lom-ahn had inherited the position from his uncle, who had gifted his home high upon the ridge. It was actually Lom-ahn's granddaughter, Dwaia, who had spotted the group behind the expected Gao Xueqin. From there, she alerted Lom-ahn, who had been writing poetry.
“There’s a group of people coming in, Costeno’s. Some with axe’s” she said to her grandfather.
Lom-ahn set down his quill.
“Gao was supposed to come, although I guess he isn’t just looking for our rice surplus,” Lom-ahn said as he stood up. His son, Kombari-ahn, approached.
“What father?”
“Gao has brought a little more than just tax and payment records. Tell the people, we shall meet him head-on.”
Lom-ahn walked down the steep street, which formed the spine of the village, Dwaia in tow.
“What were you writing about, grandfather?”
“The end of winter, the start of spring. It’s a time of beauty, yet also a return of hard work. The end of cold days, yet the start of the hot ones are near”
“I see, good coming in with the bad?”
“Yes, in fact, that may be a good way to describe the group you saw,” Lom-ahn said, as a group of villagers had already gathered.
Gao stood next to Francisco, who was almost a foot taller than him.
“Does he know our language?” Lom-ahn asked in the local dialect of Mandarin
“He knows some basic Pindai phrases,” Gao said.
Francisco nodded ,“Hello, good to meet you” he said in Pindai Mandarin
“Let’s get to business, what is the meaning of this intrusion?” Lom-ahn asked
“Nothing, much,” Gao said as he tapped on the fancy wood carriage behind him
“Señora Montes, we are here.”
Out of the carriage stepped Senora Montes and her assistant, a Ren woman named Jia. In her arms, Jia held a large scroll. Montes held out her hand to Lom-ahn, who refused and instead bowed halfway.
“Ah, I see. Not baptized, I assume.”
“Actually, some have converted in the last few years," Gao said in Spanish
“Did I ask for your comment? You are here only by the order of the Pindai Trade Office”.
“Sorry, Señora,” Gao said.
Lom-Ahn stood there waiting for the two to finish their conversation, their words like gibberish to him.
“My question, still stands” he reminded Gao
“Indeed,” Gao said, walking over to receive the large scroll from Jia.
Gao read it for a second.
“Oh…”
“Let me read it, you are no help” Marina said
“By the order of the Pindai Trade Office, in association with the Caoxi Land Bureau. The land of Mansugia shall be transferred as of January 1st, 1700 to the ownership of the San Fernando Lumber Company for the purposes of industrial extraction. This transaction shall be overseen by the Masugia Land Commissioner, and thus from here forward the SFLC has full developmental and land authority over all lands within Mansugia, with the Masugia Land Commission being dissolved. Any attempts to prevent the implementation of this order will be a defilement of authority of the Caoxi Region and the Pindai State.”
Lom-ahn still looked confused.
“Translation, Gao” Lom-ahn
“Both of you” Gao sighed
“Essentially, I no longer have a job because your land is now property of the San Fernando Lumber Company, which wishes to complete logging operations. However, they do not seek to displace you from the land.”
“Was the second part in that scroll?” Lom-ahn said his anger clear in his voice
“No,” Gao said weakly
Lom-ahn spat at the ground. “Curses, upon your people, foreign women,” he said, looking at Marina.
Francisco stepped forward, his hand growing closer to his sword. Behind him, the people of Masugia grew alarmed, some drawing their wooden spears, some had small firearms.
“Hold on,” Gao said
“He spat at me, the bastard,” Marina yelled
The crowd of villagers grew restless, and some yelled back.
“What are they saying?” Francisco asked Gao
“Nothing worth repeating”
“Things seem to be getting out of hand. Should I tell the woodcutters to come up and protect Senora Marina?”
“No, I don’t want a fight here,” Gao said
“Seems to be out of the question,” Francisco said as a villager threw a stone at the carriage. It pinged harmlessly off the edge, although it scared the horses enough that they nearly kicked Senora Marina.
“Enough, arrest the man who spat at me,” she yelled at Francisco.
He looked back toward the group of wood cutters who were just standing in the road, looking uneasy as farmers from further fields began to draw closer. Moussa and the others quickly moved up their axes, still on their back, but their small swords were at the ready. Jia turned to the men as they approached the commotion.
“Take the leader, he is wearing the red hat.”
Raharjoro turned to Moussa
“Didn’t think I was fighting today.”
“We should move forward. Just don’t engage,” Moussa said.
The woodcutters formed a line, extending their swords forward.
“It has come to this, Gao?” Lom-ahn yelled, stepping in front of the crowd.
“Not my order, not Caoxi’s, not Pindai, but from San Fernando.”
“So you are what, a triple sellout?” Lom-ahn said, approaching closer to the line of woodcutters
They then parted around, allowing Francisco to rush forward and tackle Lom-ahn.
“Grandfather!” Dwaia exclaimed. The villagers rushed forward.
“Get back,” Rahajoro yelled in Mandarin.
“Fall back,” Francisco said as he dragged the chief to his feet, his hands tied behind him. Marina and Jia returned to their carriage with Gao in tow. He then stuck his head out the top.
“Bastard,” Dwaia yelled, nailing him in the center of his forehead.
The group did return to Caoxi, and Lom-ahn was thrown in jail, his cell window with just enough of a view of the mountains for him to long for home. The Prince of Caoxi would soon rally a larger force, and in just a few months’ time, Mansugia was under the ownership of the SFLC. Gao would end up with a concussion and a permanent mark on his head. Kombari-ahn would take over from his father as chief, yet Dwaia would be remembered for her defiance. Yet soon, she would be forced to attend a local Catholic school. All those who were present would remember how a simple lack of translation and a sign of disrespect had led to such chaos.
<t>The Federation of Slokais Islands- fighting for freedom and democracy</t>