After the Rasling Edotali entered the room in a newly rebuilt manse, the air inside of it tensed with the crackling energy of expected action. It seemed to burn through the tangible
mists of anxiousness and of fear. The room, to those most sensitive or
imaginative, began to give off an odor of  wet
leather and freshly spilt blood.   This was
Not some warren of a barbarous Outland chieftain or the den of a robber warlord which smelled of the
gleefully unwashed and of spilt alcohol and urine.  Not here a straw strewn muddy floor,the droppings
of the horses and naked bottomed
children in a most foul of mosaics. These were the elite of the Borderlanders and
recent adherents to the banner of the Ak Ghana Bemotali and the pride of his
house, Edotali.

They had assembled in the tiled floored large room,  the walls hung with battle won trophies,  filled with the choice treasures of the young lord’s till now triumphant career.No mere fawners, these men and women. Nor were they the grasping two
faced opportunists who were now flocking about the Golden Seat
again, in even greater numbers. Most there were of the warrior class,
whether noble or freeholder, seen by Edotali to be proven leaders
worthy of merit.    Others, with stoic expressions and movements liken to those gathered for the reading of a closely
fought legacy were there; shamans, merchants, griots,
priests, singers and freelance captains. These were scarred, falcon eyed men and women,
the tales of many hard struggles in their stares and postures.  Outside the room stood twelve guards in full armor, on either side of the ornate lattice
metal work and solid hardwood door.   The
servants of the house had been sent to their own quarters after having welcomed and served dinner to the
guests. In the courtyard of the three story thick walled  house, four large fires had roasted the spitted haunches of beef, pork, goat, and donkey for the
escorts of the parties inside.  There were the bands who accompanied the various mercenary commanders, of different stock some were, even barbarians
from across the Lanshana, adorned in animal hides and wearing the beasts’
skulls as headgear.   Among
some, like the soldiers of the Ras Yofassydulop, easterners who rallied to the cause of Bemotali early on,
there was a mutual respect with the Rasle Quneakikae's archers from the central Borderland, while others like Zaefdauobo’s freelancers glared
at recent foes, the Rasling T’ghanajand’s  escort, who reflected the reluctance of those newly aligned with the cause of the Borderlanders, having
fought for the Ak Ghana Tonoguru in the beginning.

Inside, Edotali's second in command Wasjomtelo clapped twice to bring the gathering officially to order.   So quiet did all these mouthy ones become once my rasling entered, he thought to himself, suppressing a smile.  Then the hidden smile became a visible frown as the door was opened and unannounced, the youngest of
the Ras Edotali’s half brothers, “Little” Bemotali II, entered the
room to a mixed response, the most
obvious being the priest Shaduimo’s audible gasp and aloud curse from the Rasle Quneakikae. This was not a good sign. Then again, it could be,
Wasjomtelo thought as he nodded toward the purposely swaggering and broadly smiling
rasling as he made his way through a now apprehensive gathering towards
the dais where sat Edotali in a plush cushioned chair.  

      Edotali rose from his chair with a lazy grace, without any undue effort, holding out his robe’s yellow and green whorl sleeved arms wide, then hugged the eight years younger man while smiling with teeth
clenched and staring intently into “Lil Bemo’s” eyes which all but
bugged from his round head.    When he was
released from the brotherly embrace, Bemo straightened himself as good naturedly as was possible in a room full of  the especially observant.  
“Greetin’s to you all , most distinguished estimable leaders.  And to you
my brother, the mighty Edotali, an inspiration, a visible beacon of courage…,” he went on a little longer than was
necessary.  It was most apparent to Wasjomtelo that Edotali had, as so often
had been done back home, shaken the nest of the younger man.    Of the
“first family”brothers, Banuh was the eldest and the most coldly
aloof,  there was the quietly predatory Cofolmehibahz who had the makings of
being either a tyrant or a robber chieftain, the sly, opportunistic,
shadow that Wipioghantali embodied. And Banuh’s closest
ally, the year after Lanshadavoli, quite pleased and content with his position, good humored like his father once was, except
towards his step-relatives. A solid, dependable leader in a battle, capable
of the expected field maneuvers, but not one to plot out a strategy beyond
being at head of a charge. His father Bemotali himself had said Lanshadavoli was like a
javelin you threw straight at the target, once thrown you checked to see if you  needed to make adjustments in your
aim. 

            In his case Bemo had just been three years into his first command, an empido of a thousand, who, like himself, were the offspring of minor raslings or aspiring upward freeholders, when the rebellion began in earnest.
To much well earned praise (and to both sides of the family’s relief)
scouting and skirmishing  before
the main armies were skills he seemed to be in possession of in an ample measure, notably, having
achieved a particular success by striking at and seizing an important crossroad
town just when a loyalist supply train passed through. Then the flaw emerged. He led his immediate pursuers into a crippling ambush from which fifty-six were slain or
captured. After the former Ak Ghana had been driven off into the
west, Bemo had snapped at his flanks enjoying it so much that he found
himself being sent flying back in tatters, when in a very ominous portent of
the second stage of the struggle, Tonoguru’s cousin, the Thrty of Moalmvoshili
slammed into his overconfident riders. 
Almost captured himself, he managed to get away.

 Chastened, he became attached to the “Cloud King” Banuh central force.Together, their destructive sweep through the middle part of the land culminated in the capture and sack of the old once capital of Ghanabawissoh and a line of captives headed east over 10,000 strong plus great amounts of plunder that Bemo escorted back to the Borderland to much acclaim
back home. Especially among the younger (and many of the not so young, the handsome Bemo seemed to be a magnet for them) women.   The arranged marriage that had been set for him by his parents went by the side path when his father declared for rebellion. The bride’s family, of both noble and freehold descent, the Hejubetta stayed loyal to the Ak Ghana.  The survivors of that decision fled to the lands of the loyalist and formidable Ras Diop Malvi for asylum.  During Bemo's mid years upbringing he had come under the shade of Edotali. He was bullied by Lanshadavoli and Wipioghantali, ignored by the two older brothers.   The pot bubbled over after several harassing incidents in their youths led dramatically to a clash of swords between Lanshadavoli, the python Wipioghantali and Edotali over a kicked hunting cheetah cub.

  Lanshadavoli lay stretched out before a bench in the fountain circle, while a terrified Wipioghantali waited for the death stroke an enraged Edotali was about to deliver before a press of spearmen and the quarrelers' father hurried up.  Even then Edotali would not lower his saber,looking for an opening, no thoughts of useless defiance but looking to take toll.  Wasjomtelo had sped through the corridors of the palace after hearing about the duel, his own Kilvhumdu  forged sword drawn also. Calling to Edotali “ Fall back on me my rasling! To me!  My ras this hallway is more defensible! Young lion step back now! To your right!”   Edotali backed up slow with his saber and knife out before him in a crouch, eying the approaching guardsmen and his sullen featured father. The incident had been witnessed by Bemo. It was his cub that the branji leaf smoking and imported wine drunk pair had kicked as they sauntered from a session with two obliging maidservants.       It soon became obvious to all others, it was in the company of his stepbrothers and sister he most often could be found. As Edotali grew more mature it seemed his stepbrother stopped at seventeen. Edotali more or less
tolerated his presence, until, as was often the case, he said or did something overtly stupid. After a few days of moping on the fringes, Edotali would call him back.  Bemo's other stepbrother, Jahmelo got along with him well since both enjoyed to the maximum the exuberant behaviors of full spurred on male adolescence,plus, the fact of being privileged wielders of such. Both
agreed that Edotali embodied all the warrior virtues plus a sharp mind( Which to varying degrees of success Edotali tried to hone theirs while they were in his company, or underfoot in many a case) nor indifferent in using it. And to the wonderment of peers and many an elder Borderland ras, learning a host of other subjects,besides martial, veterinary, or social ones.