Anibē a Yogui
The regional councils of Wīzoha Empire had thus far enjoyed their position. In all but name they were autonomous in how they wished to deal with the other regions and, up to a point, with the outside world. In return for these freedoms they had kept themselves out of any and all business related to Yuiwia or the royalty of the Empire.
Things changed late in the second half of the third millennium, when the petty games of the founders' descendants let the consequences of their scheming ambition reach the lives of the regional councils, as well as the people they were responsible for. It seemed as though every descendant of the three founding members—Soyaewa, Kēhmao and Sībyēmu—were determined to become kings of Nīwulā Valley, even if they had to burn down the nation.
The Conflict
Prelude
While an individual council of a region had little power to go against the will of the Sō-Thadi—or, indeed, many of their descendants—together their chances became far greater. Over the years, as unease took over and tensions rose, many regions began to speak in hushed whispers of a possible solution.
To begin with, the councils had been formed under Soyaewa due to his own strength, and they continued to follow his kin afterward because at least they showed the same mettle, and brought the nation into an age of prosperity. But now, the memory of deeds past had long since faded away and, while better ages might have managed to keep the current status going, the instability was enough to cause some of the councils to rethink their place within the nation.
The councils moved in relative secret, though words of individual developments reached higher ears. However, since the councils had kept themselves strictly outside of any political maneuvering, their behavior now alarmed only very few.
Outcome
The actual coup turned out bloodless. The councils had prepared for things to escalate and had brought military forces of their own. Before their troops, the scattered, distrusting and uncooperating court of Sō-Thadi held little chance. By all accounts the reaction should have been far larger, since any movement of forces that large would surely be impossible to miss.
Yet, miss they did, at least in large part. Thanks to that went to Yuiwian High Temples, Nimē a Nui and even Nimē a Sō, who went so far as to lock down Thadi-Ahomē with their own forces until the coup was completed.
That day the position of Sō-Thadi was dismantled, and its power divided in twelve pieces, one for each member of the new Ani Yogui, and though chaos ensued as the new government took control, the members of that first council had grown used to working with each other over many years, even decades, making this period of change more akin to a dance than a violent struggle.
Aftermath
Ani Yogui would continue to rule over the nation, and managed mostly to bring some resemblance of order and stability to the realm. However, one of their ways of bringing about peace within, was to unite the people against a common, external enemy. And with the military forces prepared carefully over the years, the thought of a successful conquest felt almost a natural next step to many within the new High Council.
Wīzoha Empire had not kept to the bounds of the Valley out of respect and love toward other people they surrounded. There had long since been a sense of superiority, and many thought themselves above other cultures simply because they had managed what others could not: a functioning, united entity they called a nation.
Peace might have returned within the bounds of the Valley, but the borders became once again a sight of bloody battle and constant death. Fame and glory was promised to those who triumphed against their neighbouring foes, and even Yuiwia's own military forces—freed from the shackles forged by the old kings—came to aid, seeking to spread their faith through force and flame.
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