The landscape unfolds before Naci and her companions as a tapestry of relentless beauty and peril. The Tengr mountains, a colossus of nature, loom on the horizon, their peaks shrouded in clouds that seem to guard the secrets of the heavens. As the party advances, the terrain beneath their feet becomes a mosaic of textures: the soft give of the earth, the crunch of gravel, and the occasional resistance of stubborn roots.
The air, crisp and tinged with the scent of pine. The sun, a fickle spectator, casts its light in fleeting glances, illuminating the path in patches of gold before hiding behind the curtain of clouds, as if too humbled by the landscape's majesty to gaze upon it directly.
The caravan progresses, cautiously threading its way. The Moukopl army, divided into two, leads and secures the rear, enveloping Naci, Temej, and Ma Xin in a protective cocoon. Just a step behind them, Fol, Kalez, and Lanau ride.
Kalez's voice, buoyant with excitement, hasn’t stilled since the beginning of the march. "I'm so happy to finally go on an adventure! I've never been outside of Tepr!" Her eyes gleam with unbridled joy, eager to soak in the novelty that the world beyond her homeland offers.
Lanau, seasoned and serene, responds with a smile. "I've actually been to Pezijil once. It's beautiful.".
Kalez turns to Lanau, her curiosity a spark in the growing camaraderie. "You're so lucky to be born in a rich clan, Lan-an! My parents could never afford a trip so far away! What about you, Nipih boy?"
Fol, the quiet observer, shifts uncomfortably under their gazes. "Please call me Fol... I had never been outside of Nipih territory before, so... For the last three moons, every day has been an adventure..." His admission is a whisper of vulnerability.
As Fol's revelation hangs in the air, a palpable shift occurs within the group. Kalez and Lanau's expressions soften into ones of pity, their eyes lingering on him with a mix of concern and disbelief.
"How is that even possible?" Kalez blurts out, her voice laced with astonishment.
Lanau, with a calculating look, probes further, "How old are you again?"
Fol hesitates, a hint of embarrassment coloring his tone. "... Fourteen."
"No way!" Kalez's exclamation is one of shock, finding the idea of Fol's limited world experience at his age hard to digest.
"So the Nipih truly lived like friendless animals." Lanau’s words, though spoken matter-of-factly, carry an unintended sting.
"Hey, Lan-an! That's rude!" Kalez rebukes, her voice a mix of shock and reprimand.
Lanau, undeterred, elaborates on her point, her analytical mind laying out the implications of Fol's isolation. "Think about it. If he's truly gone nowhere, that means his tribe has been to no meeting. No marriages, no celebration whatsoever. Where do they go during new year? What do they do during the night of Ela-haz?"
"This is unthinkable! Do you also marry in your own clans?!" Kalez's voice rises in incredulity, struggling to grasp the concept of such a secluded existence.
"No... We marry between each other's clans... Just not to other tribes..." Fol responds defensively.
"This is why you're friendless. These guys don't understand the diplomatic importance of marriages." Lanau’s conclusion is sharp.
Kalez, challenges Lanau with a question. "Are you married, Lan-an?"
Lanau's answer is swift and sure. "Of course not. I refused to get married." Her statement, intended to assert her independence, instead exposes a contradiction.
Kalez's stare is penetrating, urging Lanau to see the paradox in her stance. The silence that follows is heavy, filled with unspoken thoughts and realizations.
Lanau, seeking to steer the conversation away from the tension, breaks the heavy silence with a shift towards a lighter subject. "Anyway. Pezijil is very beautiful, and many Tepr merchants have settled there. My parents befriended a man named Ganlez who sells sweets with his wife. They might have a lot of children now, uhuhuh. I wonder if they can be our little guides in the city..." Her voice trails off.
Kalez, intrigued by this sudden turn, raises an eyebrow. "Do you like children, Lan-an?"
Lanau responds with genuine warmth, her demeanor softening. "Yes, I'm used to taking care of my younger siblings, and my older siblings' children."
Kalez, sensing an opportunity, delves further. "What a big clan... So why don't you want to get married if you like children?"
Lanau's reply is laced with conviction and a touch of indignation. "It's especially because I know how matrimony works! Have you ever worked with midwives? I have! My older sister is a midwife. Do you know how terribly painful and long pregnancy and childbirth are? I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy!"
Kalez, taken aback yet understanding, tries to find a middle ground. "I feel like you're being a little dramatic... but I get you. I don't want to have children just yet. I'm surprised that your family allows you not to get married, though."
"It's because there are already so many children to take care of, this generation. They're glad I'm not increasing the amount."
Kalez, with an inquisitive tilt of her head, turns her attention back to Fol, the youngest among them. "I see... How about you, Fol-an. How big is your clan? Do you have many siblings? Are you getting married soon?"
Fol, caught somewhat off guard by the sudden focus, hesitates before answering. "Uhh... It's relatively small... I have two siblings. Two sisters... And my marriage isn't planned yet." His words are measured, revealing little yet speaking volumes about the simplicity of his upbringing.
Kalez exhales a soft sigh. "And I still can't believe you've been nowhere before. Your poor sisters... They have never seen the beauty of the stars by the Pohal river."
Lanau, not to be left out, adds her own memories to the tapestry of places they've mentioned. "Or the landscape seen from the top of the Kolana hill."
Kalez, caught up in the momentum, continues, "Or the clear water of the Nazak-Olo lake!"
Lanau, with a knowing smile, follows suit. "Or the scorching sand of the Kamoklopr desert."
But her assertion is met with a quick admission, "I have never been there either, actually..."
Fol, seizing the moment to surprise them, reveals, "Oh, but I have walked in Kamoklopr." His voice is quiet but carries a newfound confidence, a hint of pride.
Kalez, taken aback, realizes: "Ah... It's true that it almost borders the Nipih territory!"
Lanau, with a smirk, can't resist a playful boast. "I still win because I've seen Pezijil and none of you have."
Kalez, shaking her head with a laugh, acknowledges: "You are strangely competitive, Lan-an. But I respect that!" Her words, laced with affection and jest, underscore the bond forming between them, a bond forged in the shared anticipation of the journey and the revelations it brings, each learning from the other, finding common ground in their differences.
While the lively exchange unfolds behind them, Naci rides, half-listening to the camaraderie of her chosen companions. A subtle smile touches her lips, a silent acknowledgment of their growing bond. Beside her, Ma Xin initiates a conversation that draws her full attention.
"Have you ever been to Pezijil, Naci of Jabliu?" Ma Xin inquires, his tone casual yet probing.
Naci shakes her head, her gaze fixed on the path ahead. "I don't think I have. Even as a child."
"Isn't that surprising for the daughter of an important chieftain?" Ma Xin presses.
"I guess my father had his reasons. And my mother never liked long journeys." Naci offers no further explanation.
Ma Xin, undeterred by her concise answers, ventures another observation. "I see... Well, the travel from Tepr to Pezijil isn't perilous at all, but I definitely see how tedious it can be for mere nomads. Don't you guys need to constantly look after your cattle or something?"
Naci's expression remains unchanged, her patience for Ma Xin's condescension wearing thin. She chooses silence over dignifying his remark with a response, a clear dismissal of his attempt to belittle her heritage.
It's Temej who breaks the ensuing tension, addressing Ma Xin. "By the way, Sir Ma Xin, I have a question."
"I'm listening, but can you speak slower? I'm not sure I will understand everything with your thick accent."
Temej's face flushes with anger at Ma Xin's patronizing remark, his hands tightening on the reins. Yet, it's Naci's steady gaze that anchors him, a silent command for restraint. Drawing a deep breath, he manages to keep his voice level. "I was wondering if you could tell us more about our brothers that were drafted a few moons back."
Ma Xin's response is a snort, dismissive and unhelpful. "I don't know anything about the management of soldiers, but look around. Maybe your brothers are actually among these ranks." His attempt at humor falls flat, echoing with insensitivity.
Naci's reaction is immediate, her smile cold and devoid of humor. "Get off your high horses, you bureaucrat. I could kill you so easily, and none of these soldiers would have the time nor even the ability to stop me. If our brothers were among these ranks, you would already have been dead for a while and they would be helping us hide your body deep in the ground; so keep your head low and guide us to your masters without another word, or it might just be your last." Her words are a chilling blend of threat and promise, spoken with a calm that belies the violence they imply.
Ma Xin's initial outrage quickly gives way to fear, a realization of the precariousness of his position settling in. Without another word, he presses his horse's flanks, urging the animal to a faster pace. He slips between the soldiers in the first rank, creating a physical barrier between himself and Naci's group, his actions betraying his newfound caution.
The shift in dynamics is palpable. The soldiers, sensing the tension, exchange wary glances but remain silent, their discipline preventing any overt reaction. Naci and her companions continue their journey, the threat hanging in the air like a sharp, unspoken agreement. Ma Xin, now humbled by fear, leads the way.
"Haven't you gone too far? What's the point of stopping me earlier?" Temej’s question, half jest, half genuine curiosity, seeks clarity on Naci's intervention.
Naci's response comes with a playful edge, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I'm the Khan, so only I am allowed to make such threats. You're way too small and cute to be taken seriously anyway." Her teasing is affectionate, a nudge to lighten his mood.
Temej, shaking his head with a mixture of amusement and resignation, shifts the topic to something closer to his heart. "Anyway, how is Uamopak? She's been really quiet since the beginning of the journey. Are you feeding her properly?"
Naci, appreciating his concern, gently wakes the eagle perched on her shoulder. "Yes, of course! Here, Uamopak." She offers the bird a piece of dried meat, demonstrating her attentive care. "I think she's just quiet. It's her personality, you know." Her tone carries a hint of affection, a soft spot for the silent observer of their journey.
Temej, squinting slightly, observes the quiet eagle with skepticism. "I've never seen an eagle so quiet. She doesn't resemble you at all." His comment, lightly probing, seeks to provoke a reaction.
Naci, however, remains unfazed, choosing not to rise to the bait. "You're right, she's just like Horo-tun. Thanks to Uamopak, I feel like she's constantly with me!"
Uamopak acquiesces with a soft shriek, her first vocalization in hours, as if affirming her role.
Meanwhile, Sartak, Temej's eagle, returns triumphantly from a hunt, a shrew clutched in his talons. Temej's gratitude is immediate as he thanks Sartak and secures the catch in his pouch. The eagle, now perched on Temej's shoulder, fills the air with exuberant shrieks.
As the caravan winds its way through the edge of Tepr, the landscape unfurls in an endless parade of breathtaking vistas. By day, they traverse a world where the sky stretches wide, a canopy of white clouds that melt into the jagged silhouette of the Tengr mountains. The earth underfoot is a patchwork of colors—russet, ochre, and green. Each step forward is a dance with nature, where the wind sings songs of ancient times, and the snow showers them with blessings and cold in equal measure.
By night, the caravan transforms. A circle of bonfires becomes the heart of their world, casting a warm glow against the cool early winter night. Around these fires, the companions share stories—tales of bravery, of love, and of the mystical. Laughter rings clear and true. It is here, in these moments, that any remnants of tension from their summon to the court dissipate into the night.
Ma Xin, chastened by Naci's warning, finds his place on the periphery of this newfound harmony. His interactions with the group become measured, marked by a careful consideration that had been absent before. He speaks only when necessary, his words weighed and wary, mindful of the fine line he now treads.
As they ascend the Tengr mountains, the terrain shifts beneath their feet. The path narrows, winding its way up through steep slopes and rocky passes. Here, the air grows thinner, and the green of the valleys below fades into the rugged, barren beauty of the highlands. The mountains rise around them like ancient guardians, their peaks veiled in clouds and mystery. This is a land where the earth meets the sky, where each breath feels like drawing on the essence of the world itself.
And then, suddenly, the natural majesty of the Tengr mountains yields to a marvel of human ingenuity—a towering wall that cuts across the mountain pass. This wall, imposing and insurmountable, hides within its embrace a fortress and a checkpoint, a gateway between worlds. It serves as a toll for those who wish to pass, a stable for weary travelers, and a stark reminder of the empire's reach.
The fortress looms, silent and watchful, its battlements casting long shadows. The checkpoint bustles with activity, a hive of merchants, diplomats, and soldiers, each playing their part. Here, at the edge of Tepr and the threshold of inner Moukopl territory, the caravan makes a pause.
As Ma Xin engages in conversation with a soldier stationed at the fortress, Naci's gaze wanders, her mind racing to analyze every detail of the imposing structure before her. The sense of unrest within her is palpable, a stark contrast to the confidence that has carried her thus far. The formidable checkpoint, standing as a silent guardian of the Moukopl empire, challenges her expectations and ambitions. She had envisioned an empire teetering on the brink of collapse, its defenses eroded by time and neglect. Instead, she finds herself confronted with a bastion of strength, an obstacle that defies the might of Tepr and her dreams of conquest.
Naci's determination morphs into an obsession as she scrutinizes the fortress. Her eyes trace the lines of the walls, seeking vulnerabilities where none seem to exist. The realization that her forces, even united with all of Tepr, would stand no chance against such fortifications weighs heavily on her. The thought of siege engines and cannons crosses her mind, but the sheer scale of the defense mocks her strategical acumen.
Her longing for the fortress becomes almost palpable, a burning desire that eclipses reason. She imagines herself commanding the battlements, the checkpoint serving as a testament to her triumph. This desire, fierce and unyielding, whispers dark temptations, suggesting she would forsake anything for victory.
It's Ma Xin's gesture that snaps Naci back to the present, his motion brisk and expectant. Reluctantly tearing her gaze from the fortress, she follows him and the soldier through the labyrinthine passages of the checkpoint, each step taking her further from her reverie and closer to reality.
They are led to the office of an old general, a man whose presence commands attention despite his age. His gaze upon Naci is one of scrutiny, tinged with wariness. There's an unspoken challenge in his look.
In the austere confines of the general's office, the air thick with the scent of old maps and polished wood the old general welcomes Ma Xin with a gruff nod. "Welcome back, Ma Xin. Did my corps help you well?"
Ma Xin responds with a crisp salute, his demeanor momentarily shifting to that of a subordinate. "Yes, General Bo Ha Min, however, I am going to need them for the remaining trip to Pezijil. These northern barbarians, you see, are quite the unbridled ruffians and threatened my very life!"
The general's response is a dismissive chuckle, betraying no surprise. "I expected no better from them." His gaze then shifts, settling on Naci with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. "So who is this?"
Ma Xin opens his mouth to reply, but Naci, her patience frayed by the diplomat's narrative, cuts him off sharply. "I don't need you to present myself!" Stepping forward, her presence fills the room, a force unto itself. "I am Naci of Jabliu, Khan of Tepr, and I have been summoned to a meeting with your emperor! I ask for your permission to let me and my men go through or you might face royal punishment!"
General Bo Ha Min's reaction is a burst of laughter, a sound that echoes off the stone walls with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. "What is this? A lunatic?! Khan of Tepr? What does that even mean?!" Yet, his amusement fades as he acknowledges the heart of her claim. "But of course, you can go through, it's our Celestial Emperor's will after all. Maybe His Highness is in need of a new buffoon for His court."
Ma Xin, seizing the moment to affirm his earlier insinuations, adds, "Do not try to reason with the northern barbarians, General."
With a sharp snap of his fingers, General Bo Ha Min summons the soldier who had been lingering in the background. “Jinlü Feng. You will lead the corps to Pezijil.”
The soldier steps forward, his posture rigid and disciplined. Jinlü Feng is tall and lean, his face, marked by a few scarcely visible scars. His eyes, sharp and assessing, miss nothing, betraying a mind as disciplined as his form. His uniform, immaculately kept, bears the insignia of his rank and the pride of his service.
Saluting crisply, Jinlü Feng accepts his new orders without hesitation. "Yes, my General. Sir Ma Xin, your passport please."
Ma Xin retrieves a scroll from his sleeve and presents it to Jinlü Feng. The soldier, with a practiced motion, stamps the document with the seal from the general's desk, the action official and final.
"Have a nice trip," General Bo Ha Min dismisses them, his gaze lingering on Naci with a hint of warning. "And do keep an eye on the barbarian."
"Yes, my General!" Jinlü Feng, acknowledging the command, gestures for Naci to precede him out. His movement, intended to guide, comes across as patronizing to someone of Naci's stature.
Naci, her patience wearing thin, retorts sharply. "I speak Moukopl. No need to gesture to me the way like a sheep!"
Without warning, Jinlü Feng shoves her, nearly causing her to stumble. His voice is laced with incredulity and disdain. "No way! A barbarian that speaks the language of humans! And you think I would still not believe you to be an animal in disguise! Move now before I draw my sword, Khan of Tepr!" His words cut deeper than any blade.
Naci, caught between her anger and the precariousness of her position, clenches her fists. The urge to retaliate burns within her, yet she understands the folly of giving in to her impulses here, in the heart of enemy territory. She swallows her rage, a bitter pill, her resolve hardening. She may have to tolerate this indignity now, but she vows not to forget it.
As they leave the general's office, Naci's thoughts turn inward. Observation, patience, and hope become her armor against the slights and challenges she faces. Vengeance, a simmering promise in the back of her mind, will have its day—but not today. Today, she must navigate the path laid before her, a path fraught with danger and disrespect, yet leading ever onward to her goals.
The landscape unfolds before Naci and her companions as a tapestry of relentless beauty and peril. The Tengr mountains, a colossus of nature, loom on the horizon, their peaks shrouded in clouds that seem to guard the secrets of the heavens. As the party advances, the terrain beneath their feet becomes a mosaic of textures: the soft give of the earth, the crunch of gravel, and the occasional resistance of stubborn roots.
The air, crisp and tinged with the scent of pine. The sun, a fickle spectator, casts its light in fleeting glances, illuminating the path in patches of gold before hiding behind the curtain of clouds, as if too humbled by the landscape's majesty to gaze upon it directly.
The caravan progresses, cautiously threading its way. The Moukopl army, divided into two, leads and secures the rear, enveloping Naci, Temej, and Ma Xin in a protective cocoon. Just a step behind them, Fol, Kalez, and Lanau ride.
Kalez's voice, buoyant with excitement, hasn’t stilled since the beginning of the march. "I'm so happy to finally go on an adventure! I've never been outside of Tepr!" Her eyes gleam with unbridled joy, eager to soak in the novelty that the world beyond her homeland offers.
Lanau, seasoned and serene, responds with a smile. "I've actually been to Pezijil once. It's beautiful.".
Kalez turns to Lanau, her curiosity a spark in the growing camaraderie. "You're so lucky to be born in a rich clan, Lan-an! My parents could never afford a trip so far away! What about you, Nipih boy?"
Fol, the quiet observer, shifts uncomfortably under their gazes. "Please call me Fol... I had never been outside of Nipih territory before, so... For the last three moons, every day has been an adventure..." His admission is a whisper of vulnerability.
As Fol's revelation hangs in the air, a palpable shift occurs within the group. Kalez and Lanau's expressions soften into ones of pity, their eyes lingering on him with a mix of concern and disbelief.
"How is that even possible?" Kalez blurts out, her voice laced with astonishment.
Lanau, with a calculating look, probes further, "How old are you again?"
Fol hesitates, a hint of embarrassment coloring his tone. "... Fourteen."
"No way!" Kalez's exclamation is one of shock, finding the idea of Fol's limited world experience at his age hard to digest.
"So the Nipih truly lived like friendless animals." Lanau’s words, though spoken matter-of-factly, carry an unintended sting.
"Hey, Lan-an! That's rude!" Kalez rebukes, her voice a mix of shock and reprimand.
Lanau, undeterred, elaborates on her point, her analytical mind laying out the implications of Fol's isolation. "Think about it. If he's truly gone nowhere, that means his tribe has been to no meeting. No marriages, no celebration whatsoever. Where do they go during new year? What do they do during the night of Ela-haz?"
"This is unthinkable! Do you also marry in your own clans?!" Kalez's voice rises in incredulity, struggling to grasp the concept of such a secluded existence.
"No... We marry between each other's clans... Just not to other tribes..." Fol responds defensively.
"This is why you're friendless. These guys don't understand the diplomatic importance of marriages." Lanau’s conclusion is sharp.
Kalez, challenges Lanau with a question. "Are you married, Lan-an?"
Lanau's answer is swift and sure. "Of course not. I refused to get married." Her statement, intended to assert her independence, instead exposes a contradiction.
Kalez's stare is penetrating, urging Lanau to see the paradox in her stance. The silence that follows is heavy, filled with unspoken thoughts and realizations.
Lanau, seeking to steer the conversation away from the tension, breaks the heavy silence with a shift towards a lighter subject. "Anyway. Pezijil is very beautiful, and many Tepr merchants have settled there. My parents befriended a man named Ganlez who sells sweets with his wife. They might have a lot of children now, uhuhuh. I wonder if they can be our little guides in the city..." Her voice trails off.
Kalez, intrigued by this sudden turn, raises an eyebrow. "Do you like children, Lan-an?"
Lanau responds with genuine warmth, her demeanor softening. "Yes, I'm used to taking care of my younger siblings, and my older siblings' children."
Kalez, sensing an opportunity, delves further. "What a big clan... So why don't you want to get married if you like children?"
Lanau's reply is laced with conviction and a touch of indignation. "It's especially because I know how matrimony works! Have you ever worked with midwives? I have! My older sister is a midwife. Do you know how terribly painful and long pregnancy and childbirth are? I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy!"
Kalez, taken aback yet understanding, tries to find a middle ground. "I feel like you're being a little dramatic... but I get you. I don't want to have children just yet. I'm surprised that your family allows you not to get married, though."
"It's because there are already so many children to take care of, this generation. They're glad I'm not increasing the amount."
Kalez, with an inquisitive tilt of her head, turns her attention back to Fol, the youngest among them. "I see... How about you, Fol-an. How big is your clan? Do you have many siblings? Are you getting married soon?"
Fol, caught somewhat off guard by the sudden focus, hesitates before answering. "Uhh... It's relatively small... I have two siblings. Two sisters... And my marriage isn't planned yet." His words are measured, revealing little yet speaking volumes about the simplicity of his upbringing.
Kalez exhales a soft sigh. "And I still can't believe you've been nowhere before. Your poor sisters... They have never seen the beauty of the stars by the Pohal river."
Lanau, not to be left out, adds her own memories to the tapestry of places they've mentioned. "Or the landscape seen from the top of the Kolana hill."
Kalez, caught up in the momentum, continues, "Or the clear water of the Nazak-Olo lake!"
Lanau, with a knowing smile, follows suit. "Or the scorching sand of the Kamoklopr desert."
But her assertion is met with a quick admission, "I have never been there either, actually..."
Fol, seizing the moment to surprise them, reveals, "Oh, but I have walked in Kamoklopr." His voice is quiet but carries a newfound confidence, a hint of pride.
Kalez, taken aback, realizes: "Ah... It's true that it almost borders the Nipih territory!"
Lanau, with a smirk, can't resist a playful boast. "I still win because I've seen Pezijil and none of you have."
Kalez, shaking her head with a laugh, acknowledges: "You are strangely competitive, Lan-an. But I respect that!" Her words, laced with affection and jest, underscore the bond forming between them, a bond forged in the shared anticipation of the journey and the revelations it brings, each learning from the other, finding common ground in their differences.
While the lively exchange unfolds behind them, Naci rides, half-listening to the camaraderie of her chosen companions. A subtle smile touches her lips, a silent acknowledgment of their growing bond. Beside her, Ma Xin initiates a conversation that draws her full attention.
"Have you ever been to Pezijil, Naci of Jabliu?" Ma Xin inquires, his tone casual yet probing.
Naci shakes her head, her gaze fixed on the path ahead. "I don't think I have. Even as a child."
"Isn't that surprising for the daughter of an important chieftain?" Ma Xin presses.
"I guess my father had his reasons. And my mother never liked long journeys." Naci offers no further explanation.
Ma Xin, undeterred by her concise answers, ventures another observation. "I see... Well, the travel from Tepr to Pezijil isn't perilous at all, but I definitely see how tedious it can be for mere nomads. Don't you guys need to constantly look after your cattle or something?"
Naci's expression remains unchanged, her patience for Ma Xin's condescension wearing thin. She chooses silence over dignifying his remark with a response, a clear dismissal of his attempt to belittle her heritage.
It's Temej who breaks the ensuing tension, addressing Ma Xin. "By the way, Sir Ma Xin, I have a question."
"I'm listening, but can you speak slower? I'm not sure I will understand everything with your thick accent."
Temej's face flushes with anger at Ma Xin's patronizing remark, his hands tightening on the reins. Yet, it's Naci's steady gaze that anchors him, a silent command for restraint. Drawing a deep breath, he manages to keep his voice level. "I was wondering if you could tell us more about our brothers that were drafted a few moons back."
Ma Xin's response is a snort, dismissive and unhelpful. "I don't know anything about the management of soldiers, but look around. Maybe your brothers are actually among these ranks." His attempt at humor falls flat, echoing with insensitivity.
Naci's reaction is immediate, her smile cold and devoid of humor. "Get off your high horses, you bureaucrat. I could kill you so easily, and none of these soldiers would have the time nor even the ability to stop me. If our brothers were among these ranks, you would already have been dead for a while and they would be helping us hide your body deep in the ground; so keep your head low and guide us to your masters without another word, or it might just be your last." Her words are a chilling blend of threat and promise, spoken with a calm that belies the violence they imply.
Ma Xin's initial outrage quickly gives way to fear, a realization of the precariousness of his position settling in. Without another word, he presses his horse's flanks, urging the animal to a faster pace. He slips between the soldiers in the first rank, creating a physical barrier between himself and Naci's group, his actions betraying his newfound caution.
The shift in dynamics is palpable. The soldiers, sensing the tension, exchange wary glances but remain silent, their discipline preventing any overt reaction. Naci and her companions continue their journey, the threat hanging in the air like a sharp, unspoken agreement. Ma Xin, now humbled by fear, leads the way.
"Haven't you gone too far? What's the point of stopping me earlier?" Temej’s question, half jest, half genuine curiosity, seeks clarity on Naci's intervention.
Naci's response comes with a playful edge, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I'm the Khan, so only I am allowed to make such threats. You're way too small and cute to be taken seriously anyway." Her teasing is affectionate, a nudge to lighten his mood.
Temej, shaking his head with a mixture of amusement and resignation, shifts the topic to something closer to his heart. "Anyway, how is Uamopak? She's been really quiet since the beginning of the journey. Are you feeding her properly?"
Naci, appreciating his concern, gently wakes the eagle perched on her shoulder. "Yes, of course! Here, Uamopak." She offers the bird a piece of dried meat, demonstrating her attentive care. "I think she's just quiet. It's her personality, you know." Her tone carries a hint of affection, a soft spot for the silent observer of their journey.
Temej, squinting slightly, observes the quiet eagle with skepticism. "I've never seen an eagle so quiet. She doesn't resemble you at all." His comment, lightly probing, seeks to provoke a reaction.
Naci, however, remains unfazed, choosing not to rise to the bait. "You're right, she's just like Horo-tun. Thanks to Uamopak, I feel like she's constantly with me!"
Uamopak acquiesces with a soft shriek, her first vocalization in hours, as if affirming her role.
Meanwhile, Sartak, Temej's eagle, returns triumphantly from a hunt, a shrew clutched in his talons. Temej's gratitude is immediate as he thanks Sartak and secures the catch in his pouch. The eagle, now perched on Temej's shoulder, fills the air with exuberant shrieks.
As the caravan winds its way through the edge of Tepr, the landscape unfurls in an endless parade of breathtaking vistas. By day, they traverse a world where the sky stretches wide, a canopy of white clouds that melt into the jagged silhouette of the Tengr mountains. The earth underfoot is a patchwork of colors—russet, ochre, and green. Each step forward is a dance with nature, where the wind sings songs of ancient times, and the snow showers them with blessings and cold in equal measure.
By night, the caravan transforms. A circle of bonfires becomes the heart of their world, casting a warm glow against the cool early winter night. Around these fires, the companions share stories—tales of bravery, of love, and of the mystical. Laughter rings clear and true. It is here, in these moments, that any remnants of tension from their summon to the court dissipate into the night.
Ma Xin, chastened by Naci's warning, finds his place on the periphery of this newfound harmony. His interactions with the group become measured, marked by a careful consideration that had been absent before. He speaks only when necessary, his words weighed and wary, mindful of the fine line he now treads.
As they ascend the Tengr mountains, the terrain shifts beneath their feet. The path narrows, winding its way up through steep slopes and rocky passes. Here, the air grows thinner, and the green of the valleys below fades into the rugged, barren beauty of the highlands. The mountains rise around them like ancient guardians, their peaks veiled in clouds and mystery. This is a land where the earth meets the sky, where each breath feels like drawing on the essence of the world itself.
And then, suddenly, the natural majesty of the Tengr mountains yields to a marvel of human ingenuity—a towering wall that cuts across the mountain pass. This wall, imposing and insurmountable, hides within its embrace a fortress and a checkpoint, a gateway between worlds. It serves as a toll for those who wish to pass, a stable for weary travelers, and a stark reminder of the empire's reach.
The fortress looms, silent and watchful, its battlements casting long shadows. The checkpoint bustles with activity, a hive of merchants, diplomats, and soldiers, each playing their part. Here, at the edge of Tepr and the threshold of inner Moukopl territory, the caravan makes a pause.
As Ma Xin engages in conversation with a soldier stationed at the fortress, Naci's gaze wanders, her mind racing to analyze every detail of the imposing structure before her. The sense of unrest within her is palpable, a stark contrast to the confidence that has carried her thus far. The formidable checkpoint, standing as a silent guardian of the Moukopl empire, challenges her expectations and ambitions. She had envisioned an empire teetering on the brink of collapse, its defenses eroded by time and neglect. Instead, she finds herself confronted with a bastion of strength, an obstacle that defies the might of Tepr and her dreams of conquest.
Naci's determination morphs into an obsession as she scrutinizes the fortress. Her eyes trace the lines of the walls, seeking vulnerabilities where none seem to exist. The realization that her forces, even united with all of Tepr, would stand no chance against such fortifications weighs heavily on her. The thought of siege engines and cannons crosses her mind, but the sheer scale of the defense mocks her strategical acumen.
Her longing for the fortress becomes almost palpable, a burning desire that eclipses reason. She imagines herself commanding the battlements, the checkpoint serving as a testament to her triumph. This desire, fierce and unyielding, whispers dark temptations, suggesting she would forsake anything for victory.
It's Ma Xin's gesture that snaps Naci back to the present, his motion brisk and expectant. Reluctantly tearing her gaze from the fortress, she follows him and the soldier through the labyrinthine passages of the checkpoint, each step taking her further from her reverie and closer to reality.
They are led to the office of an old general, a man whose presence commands attention despite his age. His gaze upon Naci is one of scrutiny, tinged with wariness. There's an unspoken challenge in his look.
In the austere confines of the general's office, the air thick with the scent of old maps and polished wood the old general welcomes Ma Xin with a gruff nod. "Welcome back, Ma Xin. Did my corps help you well?"
Ma Xin responds with a crisp salute, his demeanor momentarily shifting to that of a subordinate. "Yes, General Bo Ha Min, however, I am going to need them for the remaining trip to Pezijil. These northern barbarians, you see, are quite the unbridled ruffians and threatened my very life!"
The general's response is a dismissive chuckle, betraying no surprise. "I expected no better from them." His gaze then shifts, settling on Naci with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. "So who is this?"
Ma Xin opens his mouth to reply, but Naci, her patience frayed by the diplomat's narrative, cuts him off sharply. "I don't need you to present myself!" Stepping forward, her presence fills the room, a force unto itself. "I am Naci of Jabliu, Khan of Tepr, and I have been summoned to a meeting with your emperor! I ask for your permission to let me and my men go through or you might face royal punishment!"
General Bo Ha Min's reaction is a burst of laughter, a sound that echoes off the stone walls with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. "What is this? A lunatic?! Khan of Tepr? What does that even mean?!" Yet, his amusement fades as he acknowledges the heart of her claim. "But of course, you can go through, it's our Celestial Emperor's will after all. Maybe His Highness is in need of a new buffoon for His court."
Ma Xin, seizing the moment to affirm his earlier insinuations, adds, "Do not try to reason with the northern barbarians, General."
With a sharp snap of his fingers, General Bo Ha Min summons the soldier who had been lingering in the background. “Jinlü Feng. You will lead the corps to Pezijil.”
The soldier steps forward, his posture rigid and disciplined. Jinlü Feng is tall and lean, his face, marked by a few scarcely visible scars. His eyes, sharp and assessing, miss nothing, betraying a mind as disciplined as his form. His uniform, immaculately kept, bears the insignia of his rank and the pride of his service.
Saluting crisply, Jinlü Feng accepts his new orders without hesitation. "Yes, my General. Sir Ma Xin, your passport please."
Ma Xin retrieves a scroll from his sleeve and presents it to Jinlü Feng. The soldier, with a practiced motion, stamps the document with the seal from the general's desk, the action official and final.
"Have a nice trip," General Bo Ha Min dismisses them, his gaze lingering on Naci with a hint of warning. "And do keep an eye on the barbarian."
"Yes, my General!" Jinlü Feng, acknowledging the command, gestures for Naci to precede him out. His movement, intended to guide, comes across as patronizing to someone of Naci's stature.
Naci, her patience wearing thin, retorts sharply. "I speak Moukopl. No need to gesture to me the way like a sheep!"
Without warning, Jinlü Feng shoves her, nearly causing her to stumble. His voice is laced with incredulity and disdain. "No way! A barbarian that speaks the language of humans! And you think I would still not believe you to be an animal in disguise! Move now before I draw my sword, Khan of Tepr!" His words cut deeper than any blade.
Naci, caught between her anger and the precariousness of her position, clenches her fists. The urge to retaliate burns within her, yet she understands the folly of giving in to her impulses here, in the heart of enemy territory. She swallows her rage, a bitter pill, her resolve hardening. She may have to tolerate this indignity now, but she vows not to forget it.
As they leave the general's office, Naci's thoughts turn inward. Observation, patience, and hope become her armor against the slights and challenges she faces. Vengeance, a simmering promise in the back of her mind, will have its day—but not today. Today, she must navigate the path laid before her, a path fraught with danger and disrespect, yet leading ever onward to her goals.
