The Battle for the Harad Gate

Rath Ar-Pharazon

About 300 feet inside Umbar\'s outer wall the wide and brightly-lit Rath Ar-Pharazon meets the dimmer Raths Sangahyando and Angamaite, which together circle the city to the west and east, respectively. The brightly-lit Rath Ar-Pharazon continues north until it meets Umbar\'s inner walls, barely visible in the dark night, a few long blocks ahead. Around the perimeter you can make out the lights of several tall towers. The nearest is to the southeast, and another lies to the west. In the large central area are some remnants of the daytime market, the occasional husk of a stand or rind of a fruit.

The night sky is clear with only slight wisps of clouds overhead. The midnight spring air is hot and dry around you. The moon is waning crescent.

***

Here, at the great crossroads of Umbar, a battle has been fought in hours not long gone by. That the battle is long over already is clear, for the bodies of the dead have already been passed dragged away by soldiers and others, but the signs remain blood upon the cobblestones, a few abandoned weapons, tattered banners, and other signs of where the Imperialists and their foes supporting the Council of Umbar have clashed.

In the light of the torches shining on all side, holding the darkness of the night back, men and women have been at work clearing away the dead. It is not clear who has emerged from this particular street battle victorious, though judging by those present, it seems that the Council of Umbar -- for the time being -- holds Rath Ar-Pharazon for themselves.

Among those who walk through the crossroads is Alphros, regarding the scene in silence.

A tall woman -- taller than even many of the male Haradrim - stands among the dead and those that clear them away. She is clad in armor dyed red. The Corsair Captain Azradi anAzulada is this night commanding forces upon the land than the sea.

She lifts her head and espies her brother some distance away. First offering a few words to the soldiers nearby, she approaches the Farside Lord, removing her helmet as she does so. \"We hold the crossroads,\" Azradi speaks, without preamble or greeting, \"but barely. Frankly, I am worried what will happen when have need to push past Flame Tower - any word on where the loyalties of that folk lie?\"

Alphros gazes at Azradi as she approaches. After a moment, he shakes his head. \"There is an old, ancient rivalry between Flame Tower and Black Tower, but before he was Emperor, Ajnabi ruled over the Triumvirate of Black, Flame, and Desert. There will be old loyalists therein. But Flame is also devoted to the Dark Citadel the High Priestess might yet have some sway.\"

The Lord looks about the Crossroads. \"My hope is that we can hold this place while also mastering the northern streets between Farside and Seaward.

Traffic is already beginning to return to Rath Ar-Pharazon as the Council-aligned troops permit the merchant traffic between Upper Umbar and beyond to resume.

Glancing to the dim outline of Desert Tower, Azradi responds: \"Merchants say war is bad for business.\" A smile creases her dirt stained countenance, \"Corsairs differ however, Desert may prefer to keep the status quo and right now that is us. It will work to our advantage.\"

\"As for Cry\'s old Tower, I hope they favor us as well.\"

\"Seaward is a shadow of its former self Lord Lominakh left with the whole treasury, and the rest of the Corsairs were driven out in the rebellion and have abandoned the city while Ajnabi rules. I would be surprised if there were more than a handful of Tower Guardsmen left there to throw rocks at us.\"

\"Still, holding this square is not our priority. The baton has passed to the High Priestess, to arrange Ajnabi\'s downfall from within,\" Alphros concludes.

\"Then let us hope she moves quickly,\" Azradi remarks, nodding her head. \"The longer this civil war drags on, the more resentment will fester for years to come.\"

The Corsair woman falls silent for several moments, her gray-eyed gaze sweeping over the square. Then she turns to regard her brother once more, smiling. \"Thank you for allowing me lead this. I was half afraid you would not let me leave the grounds until we knew the name of Slik\'koo\'s patron.\"

\"I am not so worried about Slik\'koo-- why would there not be a hundred people or more who would not wish to see you, or anyone associated with me, or the Council of Umbar, come to harm? Whether they be the Emperor himself, or merely those seeking opportunities, or something else... Our greatest foe yet lies in whatever place Ajnabi has secreted himself.\"

\"And a Corsair knows that coming to harm is not a reason to then hide away,\" he adds with a small half-smile.

\"I met several with such intent this day,\" laughs Azradi, \"they were easy to espy and their means were just as clear.\"

Again, the Corsair woman falls silent for a moment, clearly in thought. \"If we could recall more of the old city guard levies and somehow determine where their loyalties lie - it would be immensely useful. Every time we win a street, a neighborhood or a crossroad - we lose men to its defense.\"

Ambling her way through the dusty street of Ar-Pharazon, Qute carries on in a very leisurely pace, clearly unaffected by the unpleasant scenery. She remains close to the walls of buildings occasionally pausing to peer around at her surroundings, as if to gaze at a flock of birds in the sky or admire the items from within a shop window. While glancing in one of the mentioned directions, Qute may slip a glance towards the floor - perhaps scanning the area for any lost valuables or small trinkets from the earlier street battle. Bending down as if to adjust her footwear, Qute aims to snatch an abandoned glove not more than a foot away. After straightening her posture, the woman then proceeds to stroll southwards her path coinciding with the location of an abandoned scimitar by the side of the road. A cautious glance is cast towards the conversing pair just a few yards away.

\"My fear is that to open ourselves to reliance upon the City Guard now, when the rule of the Council is not yet cemented, will all but open us up to danger from within. Better that we make do with what we can, and wait for everything to chart its course, as it must.\"

\"And let the city breath in the meantime, as it must,\" The Lord adds, with a glance about.

If Alphros\' veil makes it difficult to discern the direction of his gaze, it is quite obvious, in contrast, where rests the eyes of his sister. Azradi watches Qute with a frown. \"You there!\" she calls out, \"What are you doing?\"

The faint mutterings of the duo\'s conversation is caught by Qute\'s ears, although she cannot make out what exactly is being said from where she stands. Casting her eyes back down to the ground on her path, she is for a few seconds completely silent until the call for attention is yelled by one of the duo. Her eyes darting upwards to meet the other woman, she slows her pace. \"I am on my way to the sewing shop where I work. Just admiring the -- ah, the fabric from behind that window shop.\" She offers a gesture with her hand towards a business selling embroidered garments, sewing supplies and such.

Alphros turns his attention away from the conversation with his sister, to the woman she addresses. Though his gaze is unseen, hidden as it is by the folds of his veil, there is a silent stirring about the Lord, as if something in his mind ticks over.

Alphros nods to the scimitar which Qute approached, one of the few pieces of loot left from the battle. \"That blade,\" he says simply to the woman. \"You are welcome to it, if you intend to use it for just purposes.\"

Azradi glances briefly toward her brother, but says naught. Choosing instead to support his offer with a nod of her head.

Qute casually searches the ground nearby for any sign of the blade mentioned by the Lord, as if she had not seen it before. \"Ah, well -- if you do not want it..\" she speaks in response to the offer, and nonchalantly bends down to reach for the hilt of the blade. For the lack of a proper weapon sheath on her belt, the woman remains grasping the weapon in her hand for now. \"Looks like there was quite a battle earlier. The Flame tower was involved, correct?\" She nods slightly towards a torn banner strewn across the pavement.

Alphros shakes his head, simply. \"Warriors loyal to the Emperor, pitted against we who serve and sit upon the Council of Umbar. No doubt there were some former legionnaires of Flame, though, mixed in among the zealots of Ajnabi\'s Black Guard.\"

The Black Numenorean Lord tilts his head curiously towards Qute: \"From what tower do you hail? Be not concerned over your answer. If you do not know me, I am Lord Alphros -- and this my sister, Azradi -- and our quarrel is with the Emperor and his loyalists alone, not with a man or woman of any Tower.\"

\"He speaks the truth,\" Azradi says, inclining her head as graciously if she were meeting the woman during a nobleman\'s fete rather than standing in blood-spattered armor. \"We care little even if you are neutral yourself, rather than a supporter our own aims.\"

Arching her brows upon Alphros\' introduction of himself, Qute then answers as she steps closer to the pair, \"I belong to the Black Tower.\" There seems to be no hesitance in her tone, although the narrowing of her eyes in Azradi\'s direction portrays otherwise. The woman must take a moment to decide whether or not to continue on. Then, a bow of the head is given to both the Lord and his sister. \"Honor to meet you, face-to-face. I never expected to run into your Lordship on these streets.\" Her tone is flattering and polite. \"Well - I would much prefer it if the Emperor would consider raising the wages of his seamstresses.\" She does a slight half-smile. \"I do alteration work for Black in addition to my other job.\" Might as well keep the lie going, if it\'s what she started with. Besides, a seamstress seems a much better job than a measly kitchen maid. \"I would not count myself among the Emperor\'s supporters,\" she states plainly and finally.

\"I would not expect you to proclaim yourself one of Ajnabi\'s supporters even if you were,\" Alphros admits, simply, \"But the eyes of the Children of Numenor see more than others, Qute of Black, and I do not think you are lying.\" Whether he can really discern the truth or not, or if the truth would change his answer either way, is far from clear.

\"Take the blade, either way. Better that someone in Umbar should profit from this war. And know that while I would not expect you to bring danger upon yourself, this conflict shall not last forever, and both the power of Umbar and now Mordor are turning against the Emperor. Neither I nor the High Priestess has any wish for those other than the Emperor and his lackeys to come to harm. For those in his own Tower who would see the transition through, there can be reward. Think on it.\"

\"I must depart,\" the Lord of Farside then adds.

\"Find a sheath for that blade,\" remarks Azradi with a gesture towards Qute. \"There are few gates you can pass with naked steel. I will let my men here know you may pass westward.\"

Turning to Alphros, the Corsair lady says, \"One battle at a time, brother. This one has been won next one will be the northern crossroads. I will see you in a few hours, farewell.\"

She turns away and heads towards the western end of the square, donning her helmet once more.

The simple woman\'s eyes are now brimming with suspicion upon hearing the Lord\'s final sentences. \"Ah -- reward, hm?\" She lifts her head slightly an eyebrow noticeably arching. \"Something of marketable value, I should hope.\" These words are uttered in a low tone, seeming to mutter this more to herself. \"I shall take your words into consideration,\" she says to the now-departing Lord. No other words of farewell are offered to the Numenorean - either from blatant distrust of the man or from a lack of common manners. \"Yes, I intend to buy one for it,\" Qute turns to Azradi finally, then glances down at the bare weapon in her possession. \"That would be very kind of you.\" She says in response to the other woman speaking with the guards in Qute\'s favor. Again, no words of farewell are offered to the Lord\'s sister, for some reason or another.

And so the common woman gazes after Azradi for a few moments more in silence, before continuing on her way southward as discreetly as possible. At least, as inconspicuous as you can be while wielding a scimitar.