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Matthias Corvinus felt his lips crack in the unrelenting heat rolling off the dunes of the Błędowska Desert. His band of warriors reported that the Danube made her way to greet the great Pacific Ocean just out of his sight, but no trace of their moisture was carried on the breeze. Similarly, he could not detect the heady smell of the vast bounty of incense to the east over the odor of donkeys and the stench of too many people traveling for too long. Matthias turned to his fellow settlers, the people who trusted him to lead Hungary to glory, and considered what to say. The surrounding land was harsh and unforgiving, but with time could be worked into prosperity. He could almost see how Buda would crown the nearby desert hills—
Permafrost crunched under Matthias Corvinus's feet as he led his fellow settlers, the people who trusted him to lead Hungary to glory, through the immense pine forests along the banks of the mighty Danube river. His warriors sent back that herds of deer and great collections of foxes were present just beyond the bend of the river, just out of sight. The surrounding land was cold and unforgiving, but with time, the surrounding woods could be felled and turned into something productive. He could almost see the carved wooden houses of Buda—
The ocean in front of him and the Tisza River behind him, Matthias Corvinus was hemmed in by water. The sound of the waves hitting the shore couldn't drown out the bays of the donkeys or the voices of his fellow settlers, the people who trusted him to lead Hungary to glory, murmuring to each other. His warriors claimed to see whales surfacing in the distance, out of his immediate sight. There was not much surrounding land, but with time—
In every possible direction, Matthias Corvinus was surrounded by flat grasslands begging to be tilled by his people. There was not much raw material to use as grist to properly outfit an army, but the future citizens of Buda would never need to go to bed with empty stomachs. His warriors sent messages speaking of rice in dense marshes, just out of his immediate sight—
Light in the desert could play tricks on a man, but Matthias Corvinus was sure there was gold in those desert hills to the west of his collection of settlers. His warriors said—
Matthias Corvinus came to in a tundra. Again? For the first time? There were people around him, people who trusted him to lead Hungary to glory, were both strange to him and people he had known since his memories began. Together, they would settle Buda along the Körös River and usher in the dawn of a glorious new civilization. Except, Buda had been around for centuries on the western bank of the Danube. How could he settle it again?
And why was he surrounded by tundra? Shouldn't there be mountains and rivers and hot springs for thermal baths and bountiful luxurious resources to keep his people happy? How many times would he have to try to find some place decent to settle Buda—a well established city in no need of being founded—so he could lead Hungary to victory? His warriors reported—
Finally, after much searching, Matthias Corvinus lead his people towards a location worthy of Buda. The swift Danube forked and twined throughout the surrounding land, providing many wonderful locations to place districts and house the specialists that were sure to flock to such a rich place. Plains hills abounded, perfect to mine for resources to outfit his army or farm to feed them. His warriors sent messengers speaking only of water. Hot water from the abundant geothermal vents directly to the north and salty water leeching from some of the foothills of the Carpathian Mountains. Once the Hungarians learned how to dig out said salt, then the world would be their oyster.
There was only one problem with his planned site for the heart of the Hungarian Empire: no forests. Every hill, every valley was bare. Sure, there were copses of trees here and there dotted around, but nothing substantial enough to act as the kindling for a quick start. The food too would take time to be fully accessible.
Not long after Buda had sent off its first scout into the unknown and drawn up plans to outfit another, his warriors drew near to the borders of another city. From their reports, Matthias was sure they were drawing near to a city-state, not the lands of another great power.
When the news made it back to Buda that the wealthy city of Cahokia had welcomed his band of warriors with open arms and accepted one of their number as an envoy, Matthias knew he had been right to persevere and settle where he had.
His scout, on the other hand, brought back much worse tidings.
Frederick Barbarossa of Germany lay directly to his west. Not only that, but he had three cities on the map already. His initial greeting had been condescending, and he had not permitted Hungary's scout to see his capital. Matthias had not been at his best; he kept asking his governors if they were sure that it was Frederick I and not Frederick III. Pingala had not understood the question and Amani had offered to travel from Cahokia to see what she could hear from her local informants.
No sooner had that been put to bed before his scout came across the sad plight of the city-state of Muscat. When Muscat initially met Frederick Barbarossa, they had been pleased to accept his envoys. But then Trier had been settled nearby. First, Frederick Barbarossa planted his warrior to heal directly on top of the rice Muscat's worker had been sent to farm. Then Trier's boarders expanded to encompass the vineyards that Muscat had been planning on incorporating. War was an inevitability.
Matthias thought about abandoning it all. Leaving his people and starting a new Buda in a new land with less aggressive neighbors. How could he withstand the might of someone with three cities? But Matthias took comfort in the knowledge that he had been successful in the past against much greater foes and had withstood the displeasure of the Holy Roman Emperor before.
Besides, Muscat had made it clear in their initial conversations that they would accept an Hungarian envoy if only Hungary discovered Bronze Working. Matthias had set his brightest minds to that very problem only 40 years previously and they were sure to discover it by the time Amani could travel from Cahokia to Muscat. The situation was salvageable.
The situation was not salvageable.
The German assault on Muscat had been swift, and they'd been overrun before Amani could reach them and arrange for Matthias to be their Suzerain. Ever since, Matthias had heard tales of Federick Barbarossa's collection of spearman moving in the direction of Matthias's dear friends in Cahokia.
Not only that, but rumors had just reached him that a new camp of barbarians had recently sprung up at the southern edge of the known world, near the Zagros mountains. Right near near where he'd encouraged a contingent of Buda citizens to set out as settlers only 160 years before—pouring every ounce of production at his disposal to give them the resources they'd need to set up the second Hungarian city—protected only by a gravely injured band of warriors. Matthias had ordered his contingent of newly trained archers to reenforce follow their path and reenforce them, but there was no good road. He was not sure the archers would be fast enough.
The barbarians had likely been drawn to the base of the Zagros mountains for the same reason Matthias was eager to claim those lands as his own: iron and plenty of it. Not only that, but the earth had split open nearby, spawning a geothermal fissure that his people could both learn from and bathe in. He could not allow the barbarians to carry off is people and ruin his chances to expand Hungary further. Matthias would be unable to withstand the might of Germany without more cities and more resources.
More money above all. Hiring on Cahokia's army would not be cheap—not that Matthias could begrudge his auxiliaries their silver—and he would need them to counter Frederick Barbarossa.
Matthias considered telling his settlers to halt, to wait for the archer reinforcements to ford the Danube, but he could not tell if the delay would prove fatal to Cahokia. The settlers and his warriors reported not seeing any signs of barbarian units, but barbarian horsemen were swift enough to run over the nearby hills, slaughter the warriors, and carry off the settlers.
Matthias could not bear to break for food or for water. His eyes were fixed to the vast map of the known world as he waited to see if his gamble would pay off. But, instead of barbarians emerging from the fog of war, a scout in unknown colors crested over the top of the hills.
The scout spoke to his settlers in a language they had never heard before, but, as the scout's greeting was relayed to Matthias, that strange tongue seemed to make perfect sense to him. And, just as with Frederick Barbarossa before, from those words, Matthias could perfectly picture the scout's lord, the man who had dictated those exact words to him, down to every minute detail. Gilgamesh of Sumeria obviously had a kingly love of gold; his every gesture was emphasized by his magnificent golden bracers catching the light and reflecting it back. And while Gilgamesh did not dress for battle when dictating letters to other world leaders, his physique was fine and that of a seasoned warrior.
However, after the initial impression and preliminary greetings had been relayed, Matthias had been surprised by Gilgamesh extending an invitation to see the great walls of Uruk and the way the ziggurats scraped against the sky, but only if Matthias was willing to show off Buda in return. A gamble. But Matthias was in a gambling mood. He'd gambled with his settlers and it had come out well. His people had journeyed close enough to the planned location for the city that the barbarians could not stop him. Why not say yes to Gilgamesh?
And so he did, only to be immediately rewarded. First, Uruk was truly a marvel and marvelously distant from all of the land that Matthias most coveted for his own. Gilgamesh would not be an immediate threat militarily or culturally. Second, Gilgamesh's expansive joy in his small gesture of friendship warmed Matthias, after the cold reaction of Frederick Barbarossa. And while his little allies in Cahokia—and his potential allies in Muscat—were dear to him, they were not particularly effusive. It seemed that cultivating a further relationship with Gilgamesh would only be to the benefit of both Hungary and of him.
The news that Szeged had successfully been settled was a blessing; the news that Germany had declared war on Cahokia was a curse. Worse still, Matthias still didn't have the gold to come to their aid properly. Only 40 more years and he would be able to hire them on and direct them to victory, but that might be too late. Germany was clearly snowballing.
But before Matthias could give into his darker impulses to give up, Pingala directed him to look more closely at all of his correspondence. Gilgamesh had sent a delegation with priceless Sumerian jewelry and lyres that produced such sweet music when strummed. It was a kind gesture after such a short acquaintance. City-states, in Matthias's experience, could be relied on, Great Powers, not so much. And while the jewelry may have been priceless in its present form, melted down for coin, it would be just enough to levy Cahokia's forces.
Truly Gilgamesh was a worthy king and friend. Matthias rushed to send money and aid to Cahokia and entreaties to Sumeria to formalize a friendship between their two countries. Matthias was sure it would not take much more to convince Gilgamesh to be his ally in the struggle against Frederick Barbarossa and all those who would seek to trample over the rights of city-states.