Kaiphranos
Donor
Hmm. If Europeans are "Raw Men," will Asians or people with other intermediate skin tones be "Half-baked Men?"
Lands of Red and Gold
- Thread starter Jared
- Start date
- Status
Hmm. If Europeans are "Raw Men," will Asians or people with other intermediate skin tones be "Half-baked Men?"
In general, each will view the other as wierd foreigners. The Yadji ruling class look down on everyone who's not a Junditmara-speaker, let alone non-subject peoples. I'm not familiar enough with Japanese culture of the time to know whether they looked down on foreigners, too, but at the very least they will think of the Yadji as quite strange.
One wild-card: the old Yadji briyuna warrior (quasi-feudal) social structure has some similarities with the Japanese samurai warrior ethos. The briyuna have more or less disappeared as a social class (except among the Nguril and Kaoma in the highlands), but something of their ethos remains.
Maybe the Japanese would see some similarities there, but I'm not sure. Does anyone know if Japan ever saw any common ground with the also-mostly-vanished-by-then knightly ethos?
Rats are spreading quickly in the Atjuntja lands. Cats are around by now, but spreading more slowly, mostly being used as rat-catchers. A few have gone feral, but they're not yet a major pest.
Further east, rats tend to jump off from any European ship which docks at a native port - they're on the Island and among the Mutjing by now. Probably Tjibarr, too, although European contact there has been more limited. Cats will follow in time, but not yet.
Donkeys are also being used in the Atjuntja lands, and presumably a few have escaped, or will soon do so. Chickens are around, too. Pigs will follow in due course, but have not yet been imported in any significant numbers.
The Yadji would see Japanese as slightly different, although more for general facial appearance than for skin tone.
To a people like the Yadji, the difference in skin tone between Japanese and sun-darkened Europeans isn't that great. (Europeans who've kept out of the sun would seem lighter, but there aren't that many of those in Aururia yet).
Maybe they would consider there to be a greater difference between Japanese and, say, Javanese than between Japanese and Europeans. The Javanese would probably be seen as slightly more "normal-looking".
The Nangu would note some similarities in facial appearance, but I'd think that the difference in skin tone between Javanese and Japanese might be considered significant, too.
Heh. Whether Japanese ronin end up in Aururia may also depend on the fate of Nuyts's expedition. He hasn't brought any Japanese with him yet. It's just something he might do if he gets established but needs to bring in more foreign manpower.
Japanese, no. As per above, to Yadji eyes there's not that much difference in skin tone between a tanned/sunburnt European and someone Japanese. They might see some of the relatively darker-skinned East Asian peoples (Filipino and Javanese, perhaps) as different, but I'm not sure about that.
Lands of Red and Gold #42: The First Pods Fall
Lands of Red and Gold #42: The First Pods Fall
“The wars of mankind today are not limited to a trial of natural strength, like a bull-fight, nor even mere battles. Rather they depend on losing or gaining friends and allies, and it is to this end that good statesmen must turn all their attention and energy.”
- Count Gondomar, ambassador to London, to Philip III of Spain, 28 March 1619
* * *
Darkness outside, kept at bay by flickering of lanterns and tallow. Coolness in the air, not the harshness of a Dutch or Japanese winter, but a welcome relief from the heat of the day.
“They not give us food, then they will have no food,” Madjiri said. As always, the Yadilli commander had a disconcertingly bright smile, thanks to teeth polished God only knew how.
Lauren Nuyts shrugged. The Yadilli rebels had a way of warfare which made even the most long-serving veterans of the German war uneasy. Massacre of prisoners with not even the possibility of ransom or exchange. Now this, too.
“Why antagonise the locals needlessly?” He took in their confused expressions, and said, “I mean, why upset them.”
“I understood,” said Dandal, the Mutjing mercenary commander. Madjiri shook his head, suggesting that he also followed.
“Not your words that puzzle me, but your meaning,” Dandal added. Which made sense; these kuros had proven to be extremely quick in picking up the gist of Dutch. “These villagers have food, but they will not open their storehouses to us. If they will not open their storehouses, then they should have no houses.”
Lauren absently swatted a mosquito that had been buzzing around his ears, then said, “Destroying this entire village would get us food here, but it would make enemies of everyone else who hears of it.”
Madjiri chuckled; it was not a pleasant sound. “It will make them think that maybe they should obey us.”
Dandal said, “If we let this village refuse us, we will never receive food or aid from any others. We must show them what we are. War is not a time for half-measures.”
Lauren looked to his father, who had been conspicuously silent throughout this discussion. He ventured a question in Japanese, a language which they had both perforce learnt during their exile [ie imprisonment] there. “I know we need to make an example of these natives, but wouldn’t that go too far?”
The elder Nuyts said, “Heathens know heathens best.” He switched back to Dutch. “Let them know our anger.”
* * *
Year of the Twisted Serpent [1629-1638 AD]
Balam Buandik [Beachport, South Australia]
Land of the Five Directions (Yadji Empire)
Balam Buandik: a place with nothing to recommend it now.
In happier times, it would have been a place to treasure. A town on an isolated neck of land beside a rich, teeming lake [Lake George]. The lake had been one of the most prized of waters, a mix of true and bitter water, where waterfood could be found in abundance [1].
The lake was useless, now. The besieging army had blocked the channels which brought true water into the lake. Now it was a drying wastewater with more salt than the sea. Useless for food, useless for transport, leaving only glistening salt plains behind as the waters receded.
The town of Balam Buandik remained, despite the best efforts of Gunya’s besiegers. Its location on the narrow lands meant that it could be protected by one short wall on the main landward approach, and a longer wall across the dunes on the western side. With enough canoes bringing in fish from the sea, and enough land within the walls to allow gardens for yams and wealth-trees [wattles], it could never be starved into submission, no matter how poor the fare [2].
The valuable location meant that Balam Buandik had held out for Bailgu Yadji even while the other western strongholds had fallen, one by one. So far as Warmaster Reewa knew, Balam Buandik was the last stronghold to remain west of the White Country.
How much longer he could keep this town intact, though, he wondered. Food was not the problem. Water was abundant enough from wells, too.
No, the problem was piling up almost beneath his feet.
The walls of Balam Buandik had withstood all attempts to storm them, so far, but his opposing commander had been doggedly persistent. Rather than continue with futile efforts of ladders and ropes, he had resorted to a more long-term solution.
Every night, enemy soldiers came under cover of emu-hide shields and dropped loads of earth and rock beside the wall. There were too many of them standing with bows ready to permit the defenders to dislodge the growing pile during the day. Every night, the mound of earth and rock grew larger. It was slow work, but the enemy commander proved to have the patience to carry it out.
The mound almost reached the top of the walls, now. It would not take many more nights before the enemy soldiers could climb directly onto the wall. When that happened, everyone inside would fight a last battle, and then their Last Battle.
“Warmaster, see!”
The voice broke Reewa from his reverie. Outside of bow range, one of the besieging armies held up a banner of unmarked blue.
They want to parley now? he thought. Strange, so very strange. Now that they held an inexorable advantage, why would they bother with that? They knew full well that Reewa would never surrender unless ordered to by Bailgu Yadji himself.
“How should we answer?” the nearest soldier asked.
“Colour a blue flag with one white dot,” the Warmaster said. Whatever words needed to be said would be between him and the enemy commander alone. No-one else should overhear.
After his orders had been carried out, the enemy forces replied by pulling their banner down and raising it with a single white dot, too.
“Find a rope to lower me onto their mound,” he said. “May as well get some use out of their work, yes? And make sure that archers are ready to kill the enemy commander if I am attacked out there.”
When he had started to descend, one man stepped out from the enemy lines. Even at a distance, the shine on his armour was obvious.
They met roughly in the middle, of course, as custom and honour required. The man was indeed the enemy commander, with armour which must have been specially polished for this purpose. No sign of gold anywhere, though.
“I am Illalong,” the enemy commander said, using the neutral form. No mention of his rank, either. Clever fellow, if that meant he was trying to avoid sounding either of higher or lower status.
“I am Reewa,” he replied. “Have you invited me out here to gloat, now that your mound is nearly finished?”
“No, I invited you to parley because I have been so ordered by Gunya Yadji himself.”
Reewa managed a slight chuckle. “Nice to hear that your prince cares so much about capturing Balam Buandik.”
“To be honest, I think that he would content to let you rot inside your walls until he has taken the crown,” Illalong said.
“Why bother me, then?”
The other commander frowned. “News from the north. The Yadilli rise up in revolt, aided by Islander mercenaries and strange men from the uttermost west, beyond the seas.”
News indeed, if it was true. Reewa suspected it was; Balam Buandik was hardly such a prize that Gunya Yadji would resort to a ruse to capture it. “Does your prince propose a truce to defeat them, as was done with the Kurnawal?”
“Not that he has told me,” Illalong said. “Only that your prince needs to hear this news. And to believe it. Gunya Yadji thinks that he will be more likely to accept it if is delivered by your troops being given safe passage to one of the fortresses he still holds.”
“You ask me to abandon my duty to hold this place?”
“I ask you to make your prince fully advised of this new threat,” Illalong said. He shrugged. “It is I who am deprived, anyway. Without this order, I would have taken Balam Buandik within a week.”
Reewa thought he heard exaggeration there; the mound would not be completed that quickly. Still, the words held enough truth for him to shake his head. “And if I refuse?”
“If you have not accepted by tomorrow’s dawn, I will attack as soon as I can. There must be no secondary threat when Gunya Yadji marches to defeat these rebels.”
“The decision will not take that long,” Reewa said. In truth, he was already minded to accept. He had been offered an honourable course to preserve his soldiers. Still, it would not do to appear too hasty. “If I accept, I will raise a black banner above the walls before sundown. And if so, my soldiers will be ready to march at first light tomorrow.
“So be it.” Illalong sketched a slight bow, then turned and strode away.
* * *
September 1637
Gurndjit [Portland, Victoria]
Land of the Five Directions (Yadji Empire)
Another day with no sign of cloud or ship.
For over a year and a half, Maurice Redman had been the commander of this most isolated of Company outposts. So isolated, in fact, that the directors of the East India Company might not yet know that they possessed this foothold in a new world.
By now, he hoped, Baffin had brought his ships back to a Company outpost in India, or perhaps even back to England itself. He had four ships; surely at least some of them should have survived. When the Company knew what it had here in Aururia, it would send a relief ship, or perhaps even a trade ship or two.
If all of Baffin’s ships had been wrecked during the voyage, well... there would be time to deal with that later. Perhaps they could build a ship; they should have sufficient tools, if the Yadji would supply the iron and timber required.
If not, perhaps he could bargain with their Islander interpreter about hiring an Islander ship to sail to Surat [3]. The Islander ships were capable of the voyage, he was sure; smaller than most English ships, but sturdy enough. The Company would not be happy that the Islanders had been shown the way to India, but the news of Aururia should make up for that.
In the meantime, though, he needed to wait. And wait. Depending on what else happened on his voyage, Baffin’s ships might be delayed for quite a long time, and the voyage from England to Aururia could take a year in itself. He would have to allow at least another year from now before he sought other ways of getting word back to the Company.
“At least there are things to learn here,” he murmured. Both about the Yadji and the Islanders.
He had already acquired a good grasp of the Islander language; he had passed some of the waiting by writing a book of comparative words and grammar.
No-one tried to learn the Yadji language anymore. Not after the Yadji headman ordered Charles executed for using the wrong word when attempting to speak to him. That had only been the most unpleasant of the incidents which confirmed that the Islanders had not been joking about Yadji touchiness.
Redman shook his head, realising he had been letting himself grow mental cobwebs, and returned his attention to the latest entry in his word list. Dandiri was a multifarious Islander word; trying to understand all of the shades of meaning which the Islanders gave to it could give a man nightmares [4].
Before he could find another equivalent to that annoying word, he found another, more genuine distraction. One of the other Englishmen came in to report that Redman had been summoned to attend the local headman.
“What does that bloody devil want with us?” Redman muttered, but he hurried outside, anyway.
Eighteen months in Gurndjit, and he still couldn’t find anyone who would say the headman’s name. That was meant to be a sign of royalty around here, but this headman definitely reported to Gunya Yadji, who claimed their capital even if the civil war still continued. The Yadji were beyond strange, sometimes.
After he entered the former priestly temple, the headman gave him his usual greeting. Superior to inferior, from what he understood of Yadji ways, but he could live with that.
The headman said, “Gunya Yadji summons you to Kirunmara. You will attend with all haste.”
A dozen questions came to Redman’s lips, but he swallowed most of them again. Questions could be dangerous with the Yadji, as he and his countrymen had discovered. “I will attend. Does the prince require just me, or my countrymen also?”
The headman smiled; a question which sought further instruction was the least likely to anger a Yadji. “You, and any of your men who know about war. Especially anything about your cannon.”
Redman shook his head; knowing that meant agreement among the Yadji.
“You will follow the Royal Road. You are expected, and will find succour in any town you pass.”
Redman bowed, wondering to himself what the devil had brought this about, after so long being ignored by the Yadji rulers.
* * *
Darkness, or so it seems. He can feel heat on his skin, and worse than heat beneath his skin, but no light.
Are his eyes not working? The question takes a long time to come to his mind, and longer to answer. Something is blocking them. Whether it is swelling – his face feels light and puffy – or something placed over his eyes, he cannot work out.
Voices sound in his ears, faint as if they are floating through cloud. Sometimes the meaning registers, sometimes it does not.
“This is my son you’re talking about,” a voice says. He knows that voice. It is his father, although right now he cannot picture a face to match the voice. He lacks the concentration required.
“We talk about, but not to,” another voice says. One of the natives, he thinks, but cannot place which one. “No point talking to him. Swamp rash reach that stage, only thing a man can do is bring his mind into balance.”
“A doctor could...” His father’s voice trails off.
“No doctor here. Gunnagal doctors not come among Yadji.”
“Could they do something?” his father asks, an edge of something in his voice. “Not just for Lauren. “A quarter of our men – yours and mine both – lie abed with this affliction, and many of them will die. Can these... Gunnagal doctors save them?”
“Some can, or so it is said,” the native says. “No help now. Too far away, even if they would come among Yadji.”
“God help me, there must be something we can do,” his father’s voice says, but it seems to come from even further away.
The voices keep talking, but he is no longer able to understand them.
* * *
[1] Lake George is one of a series of coastal lakes created through the accumulation of sand dunes on their seaward side. Most of these lakes (including Lake George) have no natural outlet to the sea, and are hypersaline due to the accumulation of salts and with water lost only to evaporation. Historically, Lake George had a drainage channel dug to the sea early in the twentieth century, which reduced the salinity and turned it into a useful fishing area. Allohistorically, Yadji engineers have developed a much more complex series of water inflow channels and a dammed exit which maintains the water level, and have stocked the lake with their favourite fish to encourage its productivity.
[2] While Yadji will eat seafood if nothing else is on offer, they consider it much inferior to the fish and other waterfood which they grow through aquaculture in fresh or brackish water.
[3] Then the site of the largest English trading outpost in India.
[4] This is because dandiri is a word used in the Plirite faith to mean bringing order or harmony. Given how the faith intertwines with their lives, the Islanders use it in many different senses, although its most common non-religious meanings are to indicate approval or to describe prosperity or good fortune.
* * *
Thoughts?
“The wars of mankind today are not limited to a trial of natural strength, like a bull-fight, nor even mere battles. Rather they depend on losing or gaining friends and allies, and it is to this end that good statesmen must turn all their attention and energy.”
- Count Gondomar, ambassador to London, to Philip III of Spain, 28 March 1619
* * *
Darkness outside, kept at bay by flickering of lanterns and tallow. Coolness in the air, not the harshness of a Dutch or Japanese winter, but a welcome relief from the heat of the day.
“They not give us food, then they will have no food,” Madjiri said. As always, the Yadilli commander had a disconcertingly bright smile, thanks to teeth polished God only knew how.
Lauren Nuyts shrugged. The Yadilli rebels had a way of warfare which made even the most long-serving veterans of the German war uneasy. Massacre of prisoners with not even the possibility of ransom or exchange. Now this, too.
“Why antagonise the locals needlessly?” He took in their confused expressions, and said, “I mean, why upset them.”
“I understood,” said Dandal, the Mutjing mercenary commander. Madjiri shook his head, suggesting that he also followed.
“Not your words that puzzle me, but your meaning,” Dandal added. Which made sense; these kuros had proven to be extremely quick in picking up the gist of Dutch. “These villagers have food, but they will not open their storehouses to us. If they will not open their storehouses, then they should have no houses.”
Lauren absently swatted a mosquito that had been buzzing around his ears, then said, “Destroying this entire village would get us food here, but it would make enemies of everyone else who hears of it.”
Madjiri chuckled; it was not a pleasant sound. “It will make them think that maybe they should obey us.”
Dandal said, “If we let this village refuse us, we will never receive food or aid from any others. We must show them what we are. War is not a time for half-measures.”
Lauren looked to his father, who had been conspicuously silent throughout this discussion. He ventured a question in Japanese, a language which they had both perforce learnt during their exile [ie imprisonment] there. “I know we need to make an example of these natives, but wouldn’t that go too far?”
The elder Nuyts said, “Heathens know heathens best.” He switched back to Dutch. “Let them know our anger.”
* * *
Year of the Twisted Serpent [1629-1638 AD]
Balam Buandik [Beachport, South Australia]
Land of the Five Directions (Yadji Empire)
Balam Buandik: a place with nothing to recommend it now.
In happier times, it would have been a place to treasure. A town on an isolated neck of land beside a rich, teeming lake [Lake George]. The lake had been one of the most prized of waters, a mix of true and bitter water, where waterfood could be found in abundance [1].
The lake was useless, now. The besieging army had blocked the channels which brought true water into the lake. Now it was a drying wastewater with more salt than the sea. Useless for food, useless for transport, leaving only glistening salt plains behind as the waters receded.
The town of Balam Buandik remained, despite the best efforts of Gunya’s besiegers. Its location on the narrow lands meant that it could be protected by one short wall on the main landward approach, and a longer wall across the dunes on the western side. With enough canoes bringing in fish from the sea, and enough land within the walls to allow gardens for yams and wealth-trees [wattles], it could never be starved into submission, no matter how poor the fare [2].
The valuable location meant that Balam Buandik had held out for Bailgu Yadji even while the other western strongholds had fallen, one by one. So far as Warmaster Reewa knew, Balam Buandik was the last stronghold to remain west of the White Country.
How much longer he could keep this town intact, though, he wondered. Food was not the problem. Water was abundant enough from wells, too.
No, the problem was piling up almost beneath his feet.
The walls of Balam Buandik had withstood all attempts to storm them, so far, but his opposing commander had been doggedly persistent. Rather than continue with futile efforts of ladders and ropes, he had resorted to a more long-term solution.
Every night, enemy soldiers came under cover of emu-hide shields and dropped loads of earth and rock beside the wall. There were too many of them standing with bows ready to permit the defenders to dislodge the growing pile during the day. Every night, the mound of earth and rock grew larger. It was slow work, but the enemy commander proved to have the patience to carry it out.
The mound almost reached the top of the walls, now. It would not take many more nights before the enemy soldiers could climb directly onto the wall. When that happened, everyone inside would fight a last battle, and then their Last Battle.
“Warmaster, see!”
The voice broke Reewa from his reverie. Outside of bow range, one of the besieging armies held up a banner of unmarked blue.
They want to parley now? he thought. Strange, so very strange. Now that they held an inexorable advantage, why would they bother with that? They knew full well that Reewa would never surrender unless ordered to by Bailgu Yadji himself.
“How should we answer?” the nearest soldier asked.
“Colour a blue flag with one white dot,” the Warmaster said. Whatever words needed to be said would be between him and the enemy commander alone. No-one else should overhear.
After his orders had been carried out, the enemy forces replied by pulling their banner down and raising it with a single white dot, too.
“Find a rope to lower me onto their mound,” he said. “May as well get some use out of their work, yes? And make sure that archers are ready to kill the enemy commander if I am attacked out there.”
When he had started to descend, one man stepped out from the enemy lines. Even at a distance, the shine on his armour was obvious.
They met roughly in the middle, of course, as custom and honour required. The man was indeed the enemy commander, with armour which must have been specially polished for this purpose. No sign of gold anywhere, though.
“I am Illalong,” the enemy commander said, using the neutral form. No mention of his rank, either. Clever fellow, if that meant he was trying to avoid sounding either of higher or lower status.
“I am Reewa,” he replied. “Have you invited me out here to gloat, now that your mound is nearly finished?”
“No, I invited you to parley because I have been so ordered by Gunya Yadji himself.”
Reewa managed a slight chuckle. “Nice to hear that your prince cares so much about capturing Balam Buandik.”
“To be honest, I think that he would content to let you rot inside your walls until he has taken the crown,” Illalong said.
“Why bother me, then?”
The other commander frowned. “News from the north. The Yadilli rise up in revolt, aided by Islander mercenaries and strange men from the uttermost west, beyond the seas.”
News indeed, if it was true. Reewa suspected it was; Balam Buandik was hardly such a prize that Gunya Yadji would resort to a ruse to capture it. “Does your prince propose a truce to defeat them, as was done with the Kurnawal?”
“Not that he has told me,” Illalong said. “Only that your prince needs to hear this news. And to believe it. Gunya Yadji thinks that he will be more likely to accept it if is delivered by your troops being given safe passage to one of the fortresses he still holds.”
“You ask me to abandon my duty to hold this place?”
“I ask you to make your prince fully advised of this new threat,” Illalong said. He shrugged. “It is I who am deprived, anyway. Without this order, I would have taken Balam Buandik within a week.”
Reewa thought he heard exaggeration there; the mound would not be completed that quickly. Still, the words held enough truth for him to shake his head. “And if I refuse?”
“If you have not accepted by tomorrow’s dawn, I will attack as soon as I can. There must be no secondary threat when Gunya Yadji marches to defeat these rebels.”
“The decision will not take that long,” Reewa said. In truth, he was already minded to accept. He had been offered an honourable course to preserve his soldiers. Still, it would not do to appear too hasty. “If I accept, I will raise a black banner above the walls before sundown. And if so, my soldiers will be ready to march at first light tomorrow.
“So be it.” Illalong sketched a slight bow, then turned and strode away.
* * *
September 1637
Gurndjit [Portland, Victoria]
Land of the Five Directions (Yadji Empire)
Another day with no sign of cloud or ship.
For over a year and a half, Maurice Redman had been the commander of this most isolated of Company outposts. So isolated, in fact, that the directors of the East India Company might not yet know that they possessed this foothold in a new world.
By now, he hoped, Baffin had brought his ships back to a Company outpost in India, or perhaps even back to England itself. He had four ships; surely at least some of them should have survived. When the Company knew what it had here in Aururia, it would send a relief ship, or perhaps even a trade ship or two.
If all of Baffin’s ships had been wrecked during the voyage, well... there would be time to deal with that later. Perhaps they could build a ship; they should have sufficient tools, if the Yadji would supply the iron and timber required.
If not, perhaps he could bargain with their Islander interpreter about hiring an Islander ship to sail to Surat [3]. The Islander ships were capable of the voyage, he was sure; smaller than most English ships, but sturdy enough. The Company would not be happy that the Islanders had been shown the way to India, but the news of Aururia should make up for that.
In the meantime, though, he needed to wait. And wait. Depending on what else happened on his voyage, Baffin’s ships might be delayed for quite a long time, and the voyage from England to Aururia could take a year in itself. He would have to allow at least another year from now before he sought other ways of getting word back to the Company.
“At least there are things to learn here,” he murmured. Both about the Yadji and the Islanders.
He had already acquired a good grasp of the Islander language; he had passed some of the waiting by writing a book of comparative words and grammar.
No-one tried to learn the Yadji language anymore. Not after the Yadji headman ordered Charles executed for using the wrong word when attempting to speak to him. That had only been the most unpleasant of the incidents which confirmed that the Islanders had not been joking about Yadji touchiness.
Redman shook his head, realising he had been letting himself grow mental cobwebs, and returned his attention to the latest entry in his word list. Dandiri was a multifarious Islander word; trying to understand all of the shades of meaning which the Islanders gave to it could give a man nightmares [4].
Before he could find another equivalent to that annoying word, he found another, more genuine distraction. One of the other Englishmen came in to report that Redman had been summoned to attend the local headman.
“What does that bloody devil want with us?” Redman muttered, but he hurried outside, anyway.
Eighteen months in Gurndjit, and he still couldn’t find anyone who would say the headman’s name. That was meant to be a sign of royalty around here, but this headman definitely reported to Gunya Yadji, who claimed their capital even if the civil war still continued. The Yadji were beyond strange, sometimes.
After he entered the former priestly temple, the headman gave him his usual greeting. Superior to inferior, from what he understood of Yadji ways, but he could live with that.
The headman said, “Gunya Yadji summons you to Kirunmara. You will attend with all haste.”
A dozen questions came to Redman’s lips, but he swallowed most of them again. Questions could be dangerous with the Yadji, as he and his countrymen had discovered. “I will attend. Does the prince require just me, or my countrymen also?”
The headman smiled; a question which sought further instruction was the least likely to anger a Yadji. “You, and any of your men who know about war. Especially anything about your cannon.”
Redman shook his head; knowing that meant agreement among the Yadji.
“You will follow the Royal Road. You are expected, and will find succour in any town you pass.”
Redman bowed, wondering to himself what the devil had brought this about, after so long being ignored by the Yadji rulers.
* * *
Darkness, or so it seems. He can feel heat on his skin, and worse than heat beneath his skin, but no light.
Are his eyes not working? The question takes a long time to come to his mind, and longer to answer. Something is blocking them. Whether it is swelling – his face feels light and puffy – or something placed over his eyes, he cannot work out.
Voices sound in his ears, faint as if they are floating through cloud. Sometimes the meaning registers, sometimes it does not.
“This is my son you’re talking about,” a voice says. He knows that voice. It is his father, although right now he cannot picture a face to match the voice. He lacks the concentration required.
“We talk about, but not to,” another voice says. One of the natives, he thinks, but cannot place which one. “No point talking to him. Swamp rash reach that stage, only thing a man can do is bring his mind into balance.”
“A doctor could...” His father’s voice trails off.
“No doctor here. Gunnagal doctors not come among Yadji.”
“Could they do something?” his father asks, an edge of something in his voice. “Not just for Lauren. “A quarter of our men – yours and mine both – lie abed with this affliction, and many of them will die. Can these... Gunnagal doctors save them?”
“Some can, or so it is said,” the native says. “No help now. Too far away, even if they would come among Yadji.”
“God help me, there must be something we can do,” his father’s voice says, but it seems to come from even further away.
The voices keep talking, but he is no longer able to understand them.
* * *
[1] Lake George is one of a series of coastal lakes created through the accumulation of sand dunes on their seaward side. Most of these lakes (including Lake George) have no natural outlet to the sea, and are hypersaline due to the accumulation of salts and with water lost only to evaporation. Historically, Lake George had a drainage channel dug to the sea early in the twentieth century, which reduced the salinity and turned it into a useful fishing area. Allohistorically, Yadji engineers have developed a much more complex series of water inflow channels and a dammed exit which maintains the water level, and have stocked the lake with their favourite fish to encourage its productivity.
[2] While Yadji will eat seafood if nothing else is on offer, they consider it much inferior to the fish and other waterfood which they grow through aquaculture in fresh or brackish water.
[3] Then the site of the largest English trading outpost in India.
[4] This is because dandiri is a word used in the Plirite faith to mean bringing order or harmony. Given how the faith intertwines with their lives, the Islanders use it in many different senses, although its most common non-religious meanings are to indicate approval or to describe prosperity or good fortune.
* * *
Thoughts?
Merci.
He may become a person of some significance, but his biggest immediate role to play is answering lots of Yadji questions about the Nedlandj, their tactics, about muskets and cannon, any weaknesses of gunpower or cavalry, etc. Gunya knows enough to ask lots of questions, even if he won't always understand the answers.
At least he didn't start into a spiel about these being an elder people...
It's entirely possible. If not immediately, then events soon may follow in that direction. The VOC and EIC fought an undeclared war after the Amboyna Massacre in OTL anyway. ITTL, there's no such massacre, but the same temptations are still there, and Aururia offers much in the way of immediate riches to make it very tempting to fight over.
mojojojo
Gone Fishin'
Are witchetty grubs a popular food in the Australia of this TL? Have they been domesticated?
That's certainly possible. Things hang on a knife-edge at the moment. The Euros alone would be crushed, of course. If they can get enough local allies... things get more interesting.
Witchetty grubs will remain a popular food amongst the hunter-gatherers of the interior.
Whether they will be adopted amongst the agricultural peoples, I'm not so sure. I doubt that the insects themselves could be readily domesticated. Insects aren't impossible to domesticate (eg silkworm), but it's pretty difficult to do it without a strong incentive.
What might be possible, though, is that some peoples (especially in the kingdom of Tjibarr, and in now-vanished Lopitja) start to cultivate the trees which the witchetty grubs feed on. The species of grubs are quite specific in the trees they'll feed on. So planting a lot of those kinds of trees may well lead to there being lots of witchetty grubs around to feed on, even if the insects aren't domesticated per se.
Awesome
This is the absolute best alt. history I have read so far, it is the most detailed and realistic ever. I love it and NEED MORE! Seriously, great work I support the others who beleive you should get this (or a version) published. Now its on to DoD...
Edit: I hope the dastardly Europeans get what is coming to them! Now the swamp is DEADLY!!!
This is the absolute best alt. history I have read so far, it is the most detailed and realistic ever. I love it and NEED MORE! Seriously, great work I support the others who beleive you should get this (or a version) published. Now its on to DoD...
Edit: I hope the dastardly Europeans get what is coming to them! Now the swamp is DEADLY!!!
Last edited:
Totally agree!I've spent most of my free time the past week reading this and I can only say that this has to be the most epic thing on this site. You're style of writing is delicious.
And nutritious (for the mind)
Its so nutritious that my mind could live off of it
It adds to the problems, certainly, although the effects of Eurasian diseases have already hurt. Mumps, chickenpox, syphilis and tuberculosis have between them killed about 12% of the pre-contact Aururian population, and the really big killers (smallpox, measles) have yet to arrive.
The direct interference of Europeans in Aururia is only going to get worse, of course. The Atjuntja are already fast-approaching the risk of becoming a Dutch protectorate, and eastern Aururia may yet turn into a contest for influence between the Dutch and the English.
Glad you like it. Episodes of this will keep coming, although their frequency depends on this thing called "life" and other writing projects. (I still have to finish the last big post of The Devil & the Deep Blue Sea, for instance.
I'm not sure how big the market for this would be. A DoD novel seems a better bet, although I still have to get the first one finished. Too many other things I keep focusing on...
Now its on to DoD...
Heh. DoD makes this TL look small. It's only about 180,000 words or so. DoD is about 725,000 words, not counting Tales posts. That's longer than War and Peace...
They will certainly come out the weaker for going near Yadji wetlands.
I've spent most of my free time the past week reading this and I can only say that this has to be the most epic thing on this site. You're style of writing is delicious.
Thanks!
I'ev taken the liberty of making a map of the world prior to the plague wave.
Please point out any glaring mistakes:
Please point out any glaring mistakes:
Part of me wants to see a series of the UCS maps from early history through to contact with the Third World, just to compare the development of Eurasian, American and Aururian cultures. The presence of the Aururian kingdoms somehow seems to be an improvement on OTL. It just covers up an annoying empty patch.
- Status