The Ultimate Price of Treachery...

The year was 2000 BCE when my clan, the Dausha, encountered the English. My settlers were crossing the continent with the hope of fertile lands to raise new cities. My position was very weak so I readily entered into a peace treaty with them and proceeded to hem them in as I gobbled up all the land I could. Eventually, an alliance was formed between our two peoples, but by then no land could be found for the English.

To my Northeast (the English were at the Northwest) were the Celts. I quickly built a city at a point controlling a stragetic land bridge. In short order I became the third largest-- of seven--people. I developed The Great Library of Small Stone, and Marco Polo Dausha's Embassy.

I had successfully negotiated peace with all six other peoples, and through my negotiations secured maps made by each of them. Because of these maps I realized that the Aztecs, located on a small continent to my Southwest, were being overrun by barbarians. Five of their seven cities were under control of this ravenous hordes.

Being wealthy and educated, I sent my diplomats to tame these barbarous cities. Over a course of a generation my diplomats subdued their warring ways and I had the Aztecs pressed along the Left Coast of the Two Cities--as the Dausha later called these cities. Unfortunately, even this act of benevolent aggression was misinterprited by my peers who formed alliances to keep me in check. I had 15 cities and was now the largest.

With decided patience I convinced one English city in the Southwest of my continent to join the fold of the Dausha, and still the English kept to their alliance. But, the ill venom of jealousy burned within them. Owning this city brought me into direct contact with the Vikings who readily breached their treaty with me and attacked me in hopes of dashing my quest of global domination.

In a quick stroke of a pen the English sealed their fate. The Vikings entered into war with me along my Southwestern border, and the English hoped to capitalize from my misfortune. My war front was contained along two small corners, and I was successful in containing one foe while thrashing the next. The English struck, but found that the main body of my forces were within ready striking distance of their forces.

Unfortunately for the English, their capital was too close to my armies. With righteous fervor my democracy converted to a new aggressive religion and threw themselves into the treacherous English. Their capital fell and the capital which replaced it fell within ten years. Of their nine cities, I was master of six. They sued for greivous peace and brooded for my demise.

The Celts took to bombarding my cities as my Theocracy fell behind on needed technology. They succeeded in capturing three, but were quickly routed as my forces rallied to the cause. The war returned my people the Dausha to their more placid democratic ways. But, not before taking one more English city as punishment for joining the Celts in the attack.

My spies succeeded where brute force failed and I secured the needed technology to defeat my foes in the space race and put our culture forever in the annals of Civilization.

By Ameen Dausha