The Khala'ad Tribe was once a medium-sized tribe that no one really paid attention to. Everything began to change three years ago, when the Young Moon of the Khala'ad Tribe ascended to become its chief. Yuima Khalazi, a man in his mid-twenties, slew his own father in a tribal duel to seize the title of chief, an act that few would dare commit.
As tradition dictated, Yuima should have become chief only upon the death of the old leader, whether from age or battle. But Yuima, being a power-hungry man, could not wait that long. He gathered all the small tribes under Khala'ad's influence and began forming his own faction. After killing his father, he slaughtered all the elders who had supported the old chief.
Now as the leader of the Khala'ad, Yuima ruled with strength and conquest as his guiding principles. In his eyes, he was the strongest. At first, no other tribe took him seriously. The larger tribes, including the Lunar Tribe, thought nothing of Yuima or his ambitions. But soon, everyone realized how wrong they were. Yuima led the Khala'ad Tribe, once a minor power, to conquer all of the Northern Black Desert.
Rumors spread across the desert that Yuima had obtained magic, an ancient art that used Aura as a medium to bend the laws of the world. It was said that he had been aided by three powerful mages of unknown origin. No one knew where they came from, only that the spells they unleashed were terrifying beyond measure.
The mages under Khala'ad used magic to spread plague, poison, and fire, wiping out their enemies in cruel ways. Such acts were forbidden in the desert, where poisoning the Oasis, the source of all life for man and beast alike, was an unthinkable crime. Yet Yuima embraced it. To him, devastation was the path to domination.
Three years passed quickly. Yuima's conquest of the Northern Desert was complete. His eyes then turned eastward, where only the Lunar Tribe remained as a major power. The Hollund Tribe had already been wiped out, and as Khala'ad's envoys arrived at the Lunar camp, the smaller eastern tribes grew restless.
Fear spread like wildfire among the medium and small tribes. They all dreaded the same thing: that if they refused to submit, Yuima would simply poison their Oasis and kill their people in their sleep. It was a dishonorable tactic, but effective, and it made every tribe fear him more than death itself.
back to the present day, inside the Lunar meeting tent, the envoy of Khala'ad spoke with Ragan, chief of the Lunar Tribe. Words were exchanged, and though smiles filled the air, both men knew those smiles hid countless threats. Ragan understood well that the army under Khala'ad's banner was powerful enough to wipe out the Lunar Tribe entirely. Even if the eastern tribes united, their numbers would only match those of Khala'ad, not surpass them, and unlike Yuima's disciplined horde, the eastern alliance would lack unity and command.
"As you know, Moon of the Lunar," the envoy began with a grin, "the South has never had a true ruler. Even the rule of the Mercenary King fifty years ago cannot be called a rule. He merely gave our people a way to survive the desert."
"That may be true," Ragan replied calmly, "but at least Juana the Mercenary King never oppressed his own people. He sought the best for the South, even if his methods made our people to become sword for hire."
The envoy laughed. "You, known for your wisdom in warfare, must understand that it is best if the Black Desert becomes one, ruled by a single Moon, hahaha."
"You are right," Ragan said with a chuckle, "but I have no plans to conquer the South. And frankly, I see no one capable of doing it. Perhaps one day, if I am in the mood, I'll conquer it for you, sir envoy, hahahaha."
Though both men laughed, the guards from both sides could feel the tension in the air. It was so thick that war could erupt from a single wrong word.
As the verbal battle continued, Silver entered the tent. All the warriors of the Lunar Tribe placed one hand over their chests in salute."We greet the Young Moon," they said in unison, a level of respect rarely given to a child. But Silver, through talent and wit, had earned it at the mere age of nine.
"Ah, I greet the Young Moon, the one who rides the storm," said the envoy with a smile. "I've heard many rumors about you, Young Moon, a talent seen once in a millennium. Even your father must be proud enough to step down and make you the new Moon of Lunar, haha."
His tone was playful, but beneath those words lay a hidden barb, a warning that such talent could make even a father envious, as Yuima once killed his own in a brutal treason for power.
Silver smiled faintly. "May the moon be with you, one who speaks for the Khala'ad. The old man is still young and powerful. How could I ever compete with him?"
His words carried subtle meaning, a reassurance that he had no interest in seizing power, at least not yet. The envoy, however, began to wonder whether this young prodigy could be the key to subduing the East.
After more polite conversation laced with veiled threats, the envoy finally departed. When he left, Ragan's smile vanished, replaced by quiet fury. He knew that Khala'ad looked down upon the Lunar Tribe, already believing themselves as the sole rulers of the South. And though Ragan hated to admit it, he couldn't deny their growing power.
"We were getting thrown around by words, huh, hahaha," said Silver, understanding the envoy's tone. He knew the situation was dire. War would come when Khala'ad marched, and the East had to act quickly before they became their prey.
"We are," Ragan said, staring at the war map. "The South is scattered, just as he said. Even if we united the East like the Khala'ad united the North, we still wouldn't stand a chance. They've been fighting under one banner for years, forged by the remnants of the Mercenary King's army. We, on the other hand, just finished a war with the Hurran Tribe. We are unprepared for this new threat."
"It's possible, actually," Silver said, thinking aloud. "They'd need around two months to cross the Cursed Plain if they take that route toward the East. or if they somehow manage to ride the Flowing Sand, it would take at least one month. It's doable."
"Doable?" Ragan repeated sharply. "Did you not hear what I just said, boy? Even if we unite the East, we'd have the numbers but not the training. And uniting the tribes would take at least two years, an impossible task unless we had more men."
Silver smirked. "I never said anything about conquering the East in two months, Father. We don't need to conquer them. We just need them to stand together long enough to repel Khala'ad from the North. It isn't impossible. On the western side of the continent, the Union did it three hundred years ago when all seven kingdoms united to fight the Snow Empire. It can be done."
Ragan looked at his son's smirk and saw that familiar gleam in his eyes, the sign that Silver already had a plan. Something bold. Something unconventional. Something no one else would even consider.
"Speak, brat," said Ragan with a confident grin. "I know you've already thought of something."
All the elders turned their attention toward Silver as Ragan spoke. Despite the danger that loomed over them, there was confidence in his voice. He knew his son's mind worked faster than anyone's, and perhaps the fate of the East now rested on whatever idea the Young Moon was about to reveal.