Khador halted his horse atop the small rise and dismounted. He gazed westward towards the mouth of the mighty river and the ocean beyond. As his eyes surveyed the fertile valley, he began to nod appreciatively.

“What are we searching for?” asked one of his generals as the vanguard of Khador’s army halted behind him.

“We are no longer searching,” Khador replied with a smile upon his lips. “Look at the mouth of this river. What do you see?”

“A wide delta,” shrugged the general. “The river is wide enough to provide a defensive border for one side of our troops should we be attacked, but that is not likely. The Chula are running from our army, not seeking to confront it. They will be exterminated completely before long.”

“Must you always be a soldier, General?” Khador shook his head. “We have not come to this land just to exterminate the Chula. We have come to found a civilization. Look at the fertile valley below us. It is the finest land that we have seen since coming to this accursed place.”

“You plan to make camp here for some time then?” asked the general.

“Not a camp,” corrected Khador, “a country. This valley will become Khadoratung, the capital city of our country of Khadora. Every piece of land between the Fortung Mountains and the Kalatung Mountains will be ruled from this valley. This is where Khadora will be governed from.”

“From here?” questioned the general. “Why such a remote area? I can see the valley is fertile, but we will be far removed from your brothers.”

“Brother you mean,” scowled Khador. “Only Omung lives now, and his people will settle the land south of the Kalatung Mountains. North of the Kalatung Mountains is my land.”