Governed on Horseback - SCP Foundation

It is in the wandering city of Indeen that Angelo, Great Emperor of the Thereven Khanate holds court. In gilded thrones beside him sit the Council of Thirteen; the fearsome wrestler-chief of the united Wisconsin tribes, the five learn’d eunuchs of Portlands, the untamed beastmaster of the Dagonite reptile-riders, the three smiling concubines of the Sublime City of Gary, the revered twin augurs of the subjugated Ion cult, and Sarah Bumaro, wife to the Khan and dreaded strategist of the inexhaustible iron cavalry that prowl the plains of the Middle West.

Their gazes were not on the meticulously detailed war maps of Romania Nova nor the feast that lay before them, the like of which had only been seen in antiquity. Instead, it was on the stranger seated on a cushion, cloaked in strange material the likes of which had never been seen. They slouched and ate quickly with their hands, behaving like a peasant in spite of their finery. Yet, they addressed the Khan without fear, locking gaze with the fearsome warrior as an equal. And they spoke to the court of oddities far beyond the reaches of the vast empire.

“To the West, on the coast of the Shining Sea, there lies the divided city of the Bay. It was once the crown jewel of an empire, directing the flow of goods to the rest of the continent. And — so the Bay people say — where goods flow freely, the Triad makes their home.

“To those from barren lands, the Bay may first seem like a mirage. Towers of metal and glass stretch towards the sky, some as tall as forty men atop each other. The people are cordial, helpfully dispensing directions to travellers, often fluently in the visitor’s own tongue! The marketplaces are full to bursting with foodstuffs and trinkets that I cannot begin to describe. But if you venture far enough into the city, you will no doubt stumble across the Temples. Blackened, twisted beams of steel bend to form the churches of the city gods: Marshall, god of the yen, Carter, god of the euro, and Darke, goddess of the dollar. To be an adherent of one is compulsory, to be a believer of multiple is heresy of the highest degree. During my stay, I witnessed a man torn apart by a frenzied mob outside of my hostel. A conversation with a passerby revealed his crime: delivering payment with the coins of Marshall and bills of Darke. I departed that evening.”

“Perhaps, oh Great Khan, you have heard tales of the hot lands to the South, the myths of the feathered serpents that float in the night clouds or the campfire stories of a vengeful Spirit that kills unwitting merchants. They are just that, stories.

“Instead, I speak of a queer phenomenon encountered by travelers in the Chihuahua wastes. It is in air, it is an illusion, it is a city. One can feel the brush of alley cats and the neatly cobbled streets, smell the chimneys wafting with smoke and ovens being lit, but they will not see the bustle of a square or hear the shouts of hawkers. It takes from sunrise to high noon to traverse this city of dust and sand dunes; the entire time, not a voice can be heard, nor a home seen. Perhaps it is nothing more than a mirage, a trick of a mind deprived of water. But as I made camp that night, the taste of bread was still upon my lips.”

“Yet these stories are familiar. I could regale you endlessly with accounts of the death-defying feats of the travelling Wettelian harlequins or the horrors locked in the Foundation’s crumbling keeps or the

fractal teachings of the Fifth Temple: you and your court have heard of them before. But, Angelo, you have never heard of the glories of Perth.

“Across the Sea, past the Bay, past the derelict rigs and fishers of the deep is an island the size of your kingdom tenfold. On the jungle river, birds of all colors and animals that defy description make their home next to fleets of canoes, each loaded down with countless wares untold. Men across the continent row for many days in this wilderness, in hopes that they may catch a glimpse of the shining city from which power flows. Buildings of clay hold hundreds of merchants; their trade routes and holdings crisscross the vast continent. At night, the streets fill with music, lyre strings plucked towards the sky as a gift to Kalef, god of wealth and fortune. And in return, Kalef showers untold riches.”

It is night. The stories have been told and the Court has long since departed. Cast in shadow, the Khan still sits.

“Traveler, you have amused my court, not an easy task. Indeed, you were correct, the stories you told in these halls were familiar, except for one. Perth sounds most delightful.”

Across the table, the stranger kneels unmoving. “It is, Angelo, but your domain is nothing short of magnificent. I have not been to America in many years, and the memory of its beauty has faded until now.”

“But if what you say about the city across the Sea is true, most would be content to stay forever. Who are you, who travels the Sea and desolate wastes to visit the empire on the other side of the world?”

A small object slides across the table, falling before the Khan’s feet. A small square of pressed wood pulp, the surface engraved with the long-lost runes of the Old Tongue. The Khan recognizes only one thing: the etchings are the color of gold.

“I am Goldbaker. With my services, you will expand beyond the Sea.”