Difference between revisions of "Bolu"

Revision as of 22:34, 31 May 2010

History

The following is a transcribed history lesson given to the seven-year-old sons of Yenikent's wealthy men by their school master.

"Age upon age ago, almost six thousand years before today, the Sindar people were still present in the world. They were a people might in thought, who could conjure ideas from their minds and turn them around in their hands until they suited their purpose. That purpose was to rule the lives and thoughts of all other beings in the world. At first they turned their thoughts to weapons and engines of war, drawing together vast armies and driving nations before them. They turned north and, with much bloodshed, drove the Kurtledam, the Wolf-Men, to a land small, but large in malice. They turned south, and, promising glory, drew men to their banners as a magnet draws its iron cousins. They built the first of the Empires girdling Cefnor. But lordship over the World was not their desire: they desired lordship over men’s minds, ownership of their souls, and all their glories would not purchase them that. So their wise men gathered in council, and over seven years took thought. At the end of that time, grey-bearded, they trooped out of their sanctuary and to the throne of their Emperor, and propounded unto him the revelation of Eru. The Emperor was enchanted by this god, who the wise men said could enter the minds of the living and bring peace, and who would take men to his presence when they died and raise them up to glory. He demanded the scrolls on which the wise men had written their thoughts, and spent the rest of his reign in study and seclusion, seeking the wholeness promised by Eru.

But the wise men learned a different lesson. They had seen a bold, decisive man who would take what he wanted and do as he pleased reduced to a pious scholar desperate to placate a phantom of their imaginations and his. Here, they thought, was truly the answer to lordship over men’s souls. And it would be their lordship, as priests and oracles of Eru, not the lordship of mundane masters. And so, itinerants bearing the Imperial mandate spread over the land, planting the faith of Eru in cities, towns, villages, and homesteads, bringing those who would listen under the dominion of the High Priests. The people had proven their weakness in either following the Sindarin leaders or being conquered by them, and this new faith for the weak came to them naturally. Even today, Eruvism and its progeny rule the minds and hearts of millions upon millions of people.

But there were some who resisted. Our ancestors’ first home, those thousands of years ago, lay far to the east on the shores of the sea, about the mouths of four rivers. They were fishers and traders, and their chiefs were captains of the sea, lordly and masterful men in character, though they bore no titles. They had lived the virtues of the sea, known the natural order of things where the strong gave orders and were obeyed, and where success followed. Peace to them was stillness, stagnation, the sleep of the grave. And so, the towns of our ancestors were closed to the missionaries of Eru, who reached only peasant farmers and slaves, and few of those.

There was, in that time, a chief of our people who lived alone in a great house, who took no wife and kept only one slave, and who spent his time training men to command. His name was Ozgur, and his slave was named Ozan. Ozan went into the market and heard two other slaves speaking of Eru, and he listened. And his heart was hardened, for he loved his master and thought him wise, and knew in his heart that the words of the Eruvites went against all that he taught. He went back to Ozgur and reported the presence of outlaw Eruvites in the town, and expected them to be expelled. But his master bade him return, and to learn what they taught, so that he and the other chiefs could better arm the people against it. And Ozan returned, and he learned much, seeming to believe. He heard all their stories, and asked for more, until they had no more to give, and Ozan then demanded the source of their knowledge so that he might grow in the wisdom of Eru. He was brought before a missionary in the forest outside the city, and by days he learned much. The slaves had taught him rules of conduct, but the minister taught him stories of Eru and the spirits Eru made from his thought. He told him that men, too, bore such spirits inside them, that when we died would return to Eru. And he told him, one day, of a great Rebellion in Heaven, of mighty spirits who strove against the will of Eru and claimed lordship over the world for themselves.

Ozan returned to Ozgur with this knowledge, and shared it, exactly as it had been given to him. And Ozgur took thought, and took to the sea, and waited for night to fall. And his mind drew towards thoughts of mortality, how the body grew weak and died, and how the Eruvites claimed that this was a gift from their god. Ozgur’s heart told him this could not be, that death was something to be kept at bay, and he thought on how it might be prevented. And on that night, he received his own revelation. He felt that in all the lies of Eruvism, there remained a grain of truth: there were indeed mighty beings who could release men from death, if they proved themselves worthy, if they conquered their enemies and were not afraid. And though Ozan had not told him, he knew the name of their chief: Melkor, the Lord of All, Giver of Freedom, who gives to men what they take for themselves.

Ozgur bore this knowledge to the other chiefs, who were pleased at the freedom of action it promised the people, and the freedom from death it promised the great. And for the first time in a thousand years, a people, our people, raised a rebellion against the mind-corrupting Sindar. War came to that coast, and many died, and in that war the rites and ceremonies of our faith were cemented. For the Sindarin armies were indoctrinated in the faith of Eru, and when Sindarin soldiers were taken prisoner they invoked him and cried out for his aid. And so, to punish this weakness, they faced trial by ordeal, the millstone, the knife, and the fire. And our people learned a toughness to go with our pride, for we remained unbeaten for many years. Yet in the end the Sindar surrounded and laid waste to the land, and they decimated the people, and sent them into exile. We took to boats and paddled west up the Yenehir River, and settled in its headwaters.

Generations passed. Our people proved themselves strong, putting the natives to the tests, driving them or enslaving them when they failed as the weak must. The Sindar no longer troubled us, for they concerned themselves with Cefnor and the lands about, and considered our new home barely able to support life. And so we remained, conquerors of little peoples, unconquered ourselves, an example to those under Sindarin rule with the strength to look to us. For some eventually did. The Sindarin fell, replaced by the Dunedain, who were lax on the borders and allowed by their apathy our missionaries into their lands. Melkorism spread in secret, as the weak can still gang up on the few strong if they are many. After the eventual fall of the Dunedain no one power has been able to secure control over all Cefnor. In the war that split the Dunedain in twain, it is said that Melkorists led armies, but they were careless men, strong in themselves, lending strength to their followers, but secretive, not sharing the cause of their strength so that their followers might become strong. And so it came to pass that the generation of Melkorist leaders passed, and the people of Meneltarma and Verateminas fell back into Eruvist slumber. In that time, our people pushed once again down the Yenehir, reclaiming lands that were lost to us, for a time. We are a people who thrive in conflict, for in conflict we prove our superiority. Yet peace seems also to give the Eruvists resolve, and over time Meneltarma conquered the Yenehir Basin.

Yet we had our revenge upon them, for men in the south had long been idle. The Ozians, knowing not Melkor by his name, but vital with his spirit, brought war to Meneltarma, and drew other southern men along behind them. Bolu, too, fought in this war, against a weak people whose weakness was made manifest by disease, and won much territory and glory. And in this time, when the threat from the east had finally ended, Bolu began pushing west, as they had not done before. The men who did so harked back to the time when we first established our rule on these lands. We made war upon the Eruvites for the sake of revenge, and so they would finally shake loose their shackles. They had shown, however, that they wore their shackles proudly, trading freedom for the promise of fatherly benediction, and our revenge had been gotten. The peoples of the west, however, knew nothing of Melkor save terror and awe: those who pushed westward sought to expunge the terrified and husband the awesome. They became mingled with those they raised up, and though we are kin, we Western and Eastern Bolu, Anabolu and Gelibolu, call ourselves differently.

In the end, both sides were proved right. The Westerners’ prophecies came to pass when the Eruvites once again united and drove the Easterners from the re-conquered lands. The Easterners’ grudge was validated and given new strength, such that the Westerners also were caught up in it. The people united as though to again make war on the Eruvites, but the great general, Mucahit Mugul, showed the assembled men the need for a greater power base. The Bolu were always being driven back up the Yenehir, he said, because though they had the spirit of strength, they lacked the material resources to make it real. These resources were to be found in the north and east, where the slow-spreading Anabolu had not yet reached. There was no need, he said, for the careful selection and molding of the people that the Westerners had practiced. These were barely human, unredeemable, and could be conquered and exploited en masse. And so it was. The campaigns to conquer our western territories took twelve years, but at last the strong achieved their destined rule over the weak. And on the day of the last battle, Mucahit took his fallen enemy’s helmet and crowned himself Khagan of All the Bolu. And from that day, in 1721, the Bolu Empire has nurtured strength and given the weak their due.

Our history since then has been one of improving efficiency and the exploitation of lands and people. After generations tied to the land, the peoples of the west know their place and they know work, as our colonies in these territories know mastery. Our rulers have been masterful men, each Khagan ascending to the throne only after defeating his brothers, the process tempering them as steel is tempered in the factory. And one day, we will fulfill our destiny and become immortal lords of the World, as was foreseen."