Feudal Lords (IC, Closed)

[Pawn and King]

"An absolute honour to meet you, your reverence. May the Lord shine blessedly upon this meeting, and may we both construct great things from it." Pope Leo smiled at the man who stood opposite him, head inclined respectfully.
"Gracious words, your reverence. May Allah respect both our wishes, and may tolerance be received to all." The Caliph Yassin said, and smiled back at the Pope.
"I have sent messengers to all the Kingdoms under my religion to meet with you upon neutral terms, so that we may discuss recent problems of late - such as the growing number of pagan civilisations, which I believe it is in our combined wishes to destroy, the increase of attacks on Christian pilgrims by Mussulmen bandits, and the massive inflation on certain goods, especially silver and silk. We shall save these more pressing matters for later, however. Would you care for some wine?" The Pope was charming and acting humbly towards the Caliph - this modestly seemed to please the Caliph, as if he had found a true man of God.
"Unfortunately, my God forbids transmitting any drugs into our bodies, for as your scripture says, ones body is a temple, and we must not ruin it. Thank you, anyway. As to what you have said, I await eagerly. Shall they be coming here, to the Papal city?" The Caliph spoke Latin fluently, as he had studied it for many years in his youth, along with Arabic and Greek.
"No, they shall not. We will be travelling, under guard, to the lands of Fisnik Endrit, the leader of the Knights of the Grand Cross. You will be most safe there, for they are educated men, and respect your faith, regardless of the wars they have fought against you." The Pope spoke as he poured two glasses of water, not wishing for his guest to feel uncomfortable. He handed a silver goblet of water to the Caliph.
"I have had dealings with him in the past, and have found him a most agreeable man. I shall send a message to my people, then, for I have brought some leaders or their representatives from a few Islamic nations with me, as I thought it may be useful were we to discuss the rise of Paganism in our locales."

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The two dignified men, one in his Papal regalia of furs and velvets, and the other in his silks and cotton weaves, stepped into a carriage, pulled by 6 horses, and flanked by over a hundred Knights of the Grand Cross, battle hardened veterans, there to deter bandits to attack - they would be going through Christian lands, and no attack would be expected. Mingled with the Knights were the Papal Guard, more ceremonial, yet also a strong force in themselves, recruited from the most devout mounted-men-at-arms in Christendom, who had proven their capability. Ahead of these horsemen, a few miles ahead, marched a few hundred footmen, all trained and paid for by Papal money. It would be mid-day when this procession arrived in Endrit's land.

---

Fisnik Endrit, the Grand Commander of the Knights of the Grand Cross told his steward to report to him, as soon as guests began to arrive. He saw this occasion as a great opportunity to deepen the coffers of his Order even more, by getting more leaders to bank with the Order.

[Altorum]

The city of Altorum was bustling with activity, as always. Traders peddled their wares in the marketplace, militiamen roamed the streets searching for criminals, and artisans plyed their trades as they did every day. Unusual, however, was the activity flowing in and out of the city barracks as the army of Regnus mustered. Four thousand men within the city, as well as six thousand from without, would march from the Empire south to attempt to conquer the areas immediately west and south of the European territory of the Empire. This conquest was important for two reasons: it would expand the territory and prestiege of Altorum, of course, but it was also the first time that Julian II would be marching with his army. Titus Velechos would be accompanying him, leaving the Empire to be briefly governed by the Senatorial Council, made up of aristocrats from each of the provinces of the Empire. They were competent enough, but were truly nothing more than placeholders.

Julian and Titus, accompanied by the Imperial Household Bodyguard, marched out of the city to cheering crowds. The army followed behind them, pouring out of the barracks and meeting the Emperor outside the city. Spearmen in coats of plate and mail formed maniples outside of the walls; the cavalry formed around the Emperor and his Bodyguard of Kataphractoi; the heavy infantry, usually recruited from the hardier men in Western Regnus, was few, but they formed a unit themselves.

Julian blew a war trumpet and his soldiers cheered as they began the march westward to meet up with the provincial army of Altorum. It was true that the conquest would be taxing on the state, but Julian needed an easy military victory to boost his popularity with the people, which was lacking--not due to any fault of his, but rather to his father’s reputation as a hero of the people. The army formed up along the roads, and they marched westward, toward glory.

[Of the Quendi]

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The Khaganate of the Variags
The Holy City of Ammu Khand, the Province of Ylä-Khand
Domain of the Great Khagan Ûvatha II Itakh, Son of Heaven

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Esther Itakh and Ûvatha II Itakh

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The travelers began arriving at Ammu Khand, Holy City of the Variags, long before the sun was rising above the Altai mountains far to the east. Many had travelled for weeks from distant lands to the furthest east with slow caravans of camels and horse drawn wagons while others, chiefly the Khans and the Tarkhans and their various retainers had ridden to the city of the Khagan on fast horses in the matter of days. Almost no one had refrained from coming when summoned by their young Khagan, and those who had had all send their apologies explaining why they had been unable to come to Ammu. Nowhere in all of Khand was the Khagan’s supreme authority questioned, not by Variag or Ioriag or Asdriag or Barbarian. Ûvatha II ruled undisputed under Heaven.

Yet on this day of the 11th Khurultai of of his Khaganate Ûvatha II had called his Khans to counsel him in the first extraordinary assembly convened since the end of the Asdriag War. For a most disturbing rumour had reached the Son of Heaven. The Caliph of Islam, this Yassin of Egypt, had left Cairo behind and, what was most disturbing of all, not for Damascus or Mecca or Baghdad but for the West. Rome it was whispered. Though few men of consequence believed such nonsense some spoke of an alliance between Rome and Cairo, between Christianity and Islam. Were such an improbable union to take place it would certainly threaten the free people of the Steppe that proudly defied the authority of both. It could mean war, and that was why the khans were assembling.

But while the great Khans and the almost as great Tarkhans convened to discuss such matters in Khurultai with the masters the Khagan and the Tarkhan Beg the children of the many clans that now began to gather viewed the Khurultai as little more than an opportunity to meet new friends while the adults was busy. That at least was how Esther thought about it. Though at ten the wily and wild girl knew she was too old to run away and play but she did so anyway. ”Now stand still you fool.” She commanded one such friend, a boy a year her junior, as she drew back the arrow of her bow. The boy, whose name was Ovatha, trembled slightly, the apple on his head moving a little. ”Perhaps we shouldn’t be doing this Esther.” Another, much closer, friend suggested casting nervous glances at the scenery. ”Bollocks Bumin. Do you want them stuck-up Ovatharac boys to win the bet? I can do this.” Esther proclaimed.

A mock laughter from one such Ovatharac boy, a fourteen year old youth recently conscripted into the armies of Clan Ito and had stayed to observe the children play, greeted Esther and her friends. ”Listen to your friends little girl, it takes years of practice and skill for a man to learn this. You kids should just forget about it and leave archery to men.” He reiterated, while casting a hungry look at the apple. ”You just shut up Mänär, or whatever your name is. You are no more man than I am, and so says all the whores of Ammu.” Esther aggressively snapped, causing a mock laughter to erupt from her friends. Saying a few choice swear words Mänär snapped right back; ”Where you not the sister of the Khagan and a rather ugly child at that I would show you how much man I am, and had we another apple I should show you how it is done. Now shoot your arrow and pray Tengri that it hits.”

With no more words Esther kicked her steppe horse into a fast gallop, charging towards Ovatha, her arrow ready to pierce his apple. She didn’t know how somehow she always managed to get herself into such situations. Despite her prideful words Esther was not happy with the situation. Though she clearly couldn’t back down the thought of what could happen scared her quite a bit. Breathing deeply to calm herself and steady her hands the Khagan’s sister pulled her arrow as far back as she could and then, with an exhalation, she let go.

A squeal erupted from Ovatha as he dropped to the ground. He was unhit. He had jumped the moment Esther fired her arrow, unwilling to risk his life for a bet of honor. Cursing in a coarse language Esther scolded the boy, while Mänär seemed unable to overcome an uncontrollable laughter. Angrily grabbing an arrow she threw it at Ovatha, who again jumped away from her. ”Bloody fool, I had it, we would have won you stupid.” She screamed while Mänär continued to laugh behind her. Then suddenly he fell silent.

Looking over her shoulder to see what had silenced that irritable laughter Esther noticed a couple of dozen horsemen charging towards her from afar. Turning her horse in their direction she quickly noticed the banners. There were nine white ones; the symbol of the Khagan. Esther gulped.

As the horsemen approached Esther soon recognized her brother mounted atop a mighty destrier breed for war and conquest. While her friends and Mänär fell to their knees before the Heavenly Sovereign Esther prepared to meet her brother’s fury. As they approached the pace of the horsemen slowed down until all but the Khagan halted their horses a few meters from Esther. Ûvatha II Itakh rode his horse up next to his sister’s. Covered in furs and mounted atop a horse easily two hands taller than Esther’s Ûvatha looked a giant, and an angry one at that. For a moment he stared coldly at his siblings. Then his hand greeted her cheek.

Groggy for a moment Esther did her best to prevent even a single tear to fall from her eyes after the hard slap. She resumed her stare, meeting her brother’s gaze for a few more seconds. Then a smile cracked across the haughty face of the Khagan of the Variags. A roar of laughter erupted from him. ”Dear sister I pray every day for that man the Gods have seen fit to curse to be your husband one day. A mere hour our noble mother leave you alone and you almost impale one of my future soldiers with an arrow in a game that is only for soldiers. What am I to do with you, Esther?” Esther grinned back at her brother, whose hands on approach to punishment she did not mind. ”You shall give me your army and name me your Tarkhan Beg.” She boldly responded.

More laughter from the Khagan met her before he grabbed hold of her and, as easily as if she had been a babe, pulled her from her horse over on his. ”Maybe I should, at least then there would be an entire army ready to keep you out of trouble.” He said, turning his horse in the direction from which he had come. ”Now no complaints, mother has summoned you.” He said, kicking his horse into a steady canter, with his guards forming ranks around him.

Vawing a quick goodbye to her friends, and even the Mänär boy who had paled at the presence of the Khagan, Esther pulled her brother’s furs around her own slender frame. He was a good brother, the very best Esther could have hoped for. ”Shouldn’t you be in Khurultai?” She asked in the Hebrew language of their mother to exclude the guards from the conversation. Ûvatha grunted disapprovingly. ”The khans are a lacy bunch, they will not convene until midday. Not that I much care for their opinion of course.” He replied, the Semitic words flowing not as gracefully from his tongue as from his sister’s. ”Is it true what they say.” Esther asked. ”That the Pope and Caliph had raised an army of angels to conquer the Steppe and make all the world Christian and Muslim.”

Ûvatha laughed shaking his head in repudiation. ”You should not pay attention to camp fire tales like that. We don’t even know for certainty that the Caliph is in Rome much less if he has reached some sort of agreement with the Pope. But if they have … Well greater men than Leo of Rome and Yassin of Cairo has sought to conquer Turan. Where Cyrus and Alexander failed men like that could never triumph. Even if they send an army against us we would just retreat north and east leaving our raiders to harass their supply lines, foraging teams and even the periphery of their empires. No sweetling neither papal might or caliphatic power should worry you as much as maternal anger.” Ûvatha explained, laughing at his joke, receiving a small elbow punch in his stomach in return. ”If there is an alliance it won’t long last. Do you think the Pope cares if we are pagans or Muslims? If anything he probably prefer us as pagans so he can hope to get a chance to convert us. Same with the caliph.” He, more seriously added. ”We are perfectly safe.”

[Mahaan Bharatvarsha]

It was the third aniversary of High Chief Anmol's rise to power and citizens had took to the streets, celebrating. He was a people's hero, admired for the way he brought stability and unity to these diverse Pagan tribes of Iberia and made the kingdom even stronger by an efficient administration. He came out of the Temple of the Sun and waved his hand. Dressed in ornate robes and clutching a sword in his left arm, he slowly made his way through the crowd, flanked on both sides by his royal guard. His wife, Ishita stood before him. He respectfully took her hand and both ascended a chariot driven by two horses. Ishita said,"My lord, what makes you solemn on this blessed day?" Anmol said, "I am worried about Prince Pratham. He is barely 18 and out for an expedition to expand the territories of Amer". Ishita smiled reassuringly, "He is your son and an adept warrior. General Rintez is with him. I am sure he will be fine and achieve glory for Amer."
North border of Amer
Prince Pratham was having a pre war meeting with his generals. Everyone was hardy veteran except him, but he knew for sure that his father's glory depended on his success. "We have Biruga tribe to our north and Cejmo tribe to the west. Their centers are not too far from here. Are you sure you want to go forth?" enquired General Rintez. Pratham looked at him straight in the eyes, "I am certain, prepare the men, general".

[New Armarzia]

A servant approached Patrick with a sword in hand. Patrick turned from a table with a map and figurines to face the servant and said, "Thank you." Before taking the simple weapon. It was a relatively short blade with a gold, rounded hilt. Though Patrick doubted the hilt was truly made of gold, it was his fathers blade and he was a simple man when it cam to equipment.

"Patrick, we don't have much time before you have to depart," said an older man wearing armor nearly identical to that of Patrick's. The armor consisted of scale male and than plate armor over that covered the arms, chest, and feet; but left little protection to the legs. The armor was colored gold like the sword's hilt and leather was stitched onto the plate armor. However, the leather did not serve any apparent defensive function, but rather a stylistic function. Parts of the plate armor were uncovered and formed a number of patterns and shapes. most were unrecognizable and now meaningless symbols, but a dragon was apparent on the chest of both men.

Patrick abruptly stopped admiring his sword and sheathed it. "Of course, uncle," replied Patrick before turning back to face the table. The table map a map of Patrick's Kingdom and the surrounding territories of minor clans and nations. The nearest organized kingdom was across the Baltic and only their most northern shored were on the Southern edge of the map. On the map were wooden figurines of a dragon, a serpent, a horse, and a Sea Hawk. The serpent and dragon were positioned on the South-Eastern most end while the Hawk and horse were located on the northern border straight north of the other figurines.

"I will march along with Urbane along the South," said Patrick's uncle who pushed the dragon and serpent down to the SOuthern coast of the peninsula. "Ludvast and Rolley will move to the South-East until they are at that corner of the peninsula." He than moved the horse and hawk diagonally curving along the Eastern edges of the two larger bodies of water. With established dominance within that peninsula we can commence with spreading to the North-East towards are neighbor in the far East and close the gap. Of course that will take much time and is assuming nothing goes wrong. My main priority is here," said Patrick's uncle. He pointed to a larger island between the south-Eastern shore of the peninsula and the northern shores of the kingdom South of Armarz. "This island will allow us to establish dominance within the Baltic Sea and I am sure you understand the importance of that."

"Yes, I do, but I fear these actions may be too prone to error. We are splitting what forces we have into three pieces. One to guard the homeland, one under your banner and another under Ludvast and Rolley. If the enemy was to bring you to a halt it could prove disastrous. And this expansion may be seen as a hostile action to those kingdoms across the Baltic," said King Patrick.

"That is unlikely, these clans have so many rivalries none of them will unite to stop are advance ensuring us a numeric advantage and we are superior to these groups in both arms and training. And this is why you must go and see the Pope. Your father only converted five years ago and we have made no formal communications to the church. You are to go to this meeting for whatever reason it is being held and you must back the Pope in whatever he supports. He must know that you are willing to stand by the church no matter what. If the pope favors you than these other nations would have to be cautious about reacting to us conquering pagan land," replied his uncle. "You really should be going, we do not want to lose the light of day. Your escort will be waiting outside these halls. Ten of the Clans' Guards will be accompanying you, it isn't much, but it will have to do. I doubt we have conspiring enemies as of yet. I pray you be quick, for it would be good for you and the people to get back in time to lead these troops yourself before this campaign ends."


Patrick nodded and turned to leave the hall. Outside were ten men on horseback wearing similar armor to himself. However, the armor lacked the subtle designs and patterns that decorated Patrick's armor. Rather the armors only had the symbol on the chest, but the different men had symbols of dragons, hawks, horses, or serpents. Patrick mounted a horse that had already been prepared for him and the group trotted to the docks to take their boat across the sea to meet with the Pope and the representatives of the Christian nations...

[Solaris]

"Maermok Griswulf, I apologise for the interruption," the elderly, but powerful looking Hauskarl stood about ten meters away from Griswulf Stronghelm, who had been praying in his grove-garden, swaddled in furs. Griswulf had in fact heard him coming, a long time ago. His blindness from birth gave his other senses an almost otherwordly strength, and the Druids used to say he could foretell the future.
"It is no interruption, Fangrip.' The Maermok spoke, his eyes still closed. "I know you would only seek me out if something notable had occurred."

The Hauskarl quickly filled him in on the main details, that the Pope and Caliph were planning to eradicate Paganism and heresy from the face of the earth, and allow only their monotheistic Abrahamic religions survive, that their scouts had reported that their Southern neighbours were preparing to march for war. Griswulf listened to it carefully, as the two old men rode their stout work horses through swirling spring snow. Although not a storm, the Hauskarl still had to shout to make himself heard.

The two men arrived at the imposing grey stone fort of Wulfhaal as evening approached. Wulfhaal was the oldest and largest fort in the land, and where most of the soldiers were stationed. Around 4,000 people lived in the settlements protected by Wulfhaals vast wood and mud walls. These walls, easy to construct, had lasted for centuries; the centre of the mud rarely thawed. As such, key areas of the wall had been upgraded - with thicker and higher mud constructions, or embedded stone.

After the horses had been led away by a stageboy, and the two men had comfortably settled themselves in front of a roaring fire, tended to by an elderly widow, Griswulf spoke again. "Fangrip, we shall need to prepare. We have 500 soldiers here, and another 2,000 spread across the lands. It is time to cross the Waalwave." Fangrip took in a deep breath. "I know what you will say, Fangrip, but it is our only chance of survival. We shall maintain these lands for as long as possible, but it is time to move, once again. The Southerners threaten to kill us again." The Waalwave was a body of water which seperated the Maermok's land, to inhospitable land to the East.
"Summon all my Hauskarls and Thanes, as well as the Merlords. We shall begin to move at once.

[The Aaronian Empire]

The Emperor looked over the newest trade figures, they were more than disappointing. The Aaronian Empire had essentially complete control over the Gulf of Lyon but that wasn't enough unless more trade could be garnered from the eastern Mediterranean. This meant dealing with the Muslims and that was something the Emperor was hesitant to do.

The Emperor looked to his advisers, "Here is what we will do, for now we must send some small envoys to the various Muslim nations offering a trade route in to Europe. This will only be temporary though. As I wish to minimize our relations with them, if possible." The missive was to be sent with translators to help negotiate specifics. It would take quite a while for the small ships to arrive though.

Missives to Regnus Alba, Regnus Empire, Byzantine Empire, Supreme Caliph

It has been noticed by the Holy Aaronian Empire that your our nations could do well with trade as we could both act as linking points between regions. We have direct routes in to the rest of Europe and wish to expand this trade to yourselves.

Aaron V

Aaron V looked down at the map and saw the large areas of land that were only controlled by small noble families or barbarian tribes and realized that expansion was going to be key. He wanted to be the greatest King in the history of the Holy Aaronian Empire.

In order to increase influence, they would need to expand to control the Bay of Biscaye. He began to round up soldiers to march in to these areas but first he would also need to justify this to the Pope. He gathered a force of 3000 as a mixture of bowmen, kngihts freemen and pikemen. He also was sending 75 of his highly trained heavy cavalry. They would begin marching west as soon as they were assembled, skirting the northern side of the Pyrenees for now.

To His Holiness Pope Leo

The Holy Aaronian Empire, servants of the Church have found the growth of paganism alarming of late and we feel that in order to combat the spread, lands unclaimed must be taken in order to protect them from this heathenism. We will be marching west to take these lands for the good of Christendom. We would simply ask for your blessing and any assistance you may offer

Aaron V
Holy Aaronian Empire

[Tarsonis Survivors]

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[Of the Quendi]

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The Khaganate of the Variags
The Holy City of Ammu Khand, the Province of Ylä-Khand
Domain of the Great Khagan Ûvatha II Itakh, Son of Heaven

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The Itakh and the Ude Clans

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The fury of Queen Mother Rebekah was furious to behold not because it was passionate and burning but for the exact opposite reason. Her anger was a cold and callous one. More frosty than the winters of the arctic north where no tribes ever daunted to roam and more pervasive than any arrow fired by Variag or foreigner alike. Rebekah’s fury was that of a Queen. ”What a licentious and indelicate child you are.” The Queen Mother coldly proclaimed staring down at her youngest child. She did not grab hold of her progeny or in any way seemed but the slightest bit edgy, giving the tableau an almost surreal appearance. ”Your continuance to disobey me and shame our family by running away with the sons of cattle herders and townsfolk leaves me with no choice but to punish you. Severely. Now what do you have to say for yourself?” The Queen Mother continued.

Esther, who would have much preferred to be beat bloody by her brother rather than the cold disappointed glances from her mother, looked down on her feet. The brave zestful child from the morning was nowhere to be found in the chambers of Queen Mother Rebekah. ”I am sorry mommy.” She tried humbly. The Queen Mother greeted that with a cold silence. Then she gave a resigned shake of her majestic head. ”Why I truly wished you could be more like your sister. You don’t see Ariel shooting arrows after peasant boys do you.” The Queen Mother said making a graceful gesture towards Princess Ariel who was sitting on a low couch, looking ever so lovely and otherworldly and above all concerned for her poor younger sibling.

Ariel of the Itakh clan was not without reason the most desired maiden in all of the Variag Khaganate, and many a place beyond it as well. Not only was the dark haired woman stunningly beautiful she was also known for her kind and loving nature. In a warrior culture such as the Variag one a woman crying for the death of small animals was usually the subject of mockery, but when Ariel wept even the toughest and hardest of Variag warriors felt their hearts soften and their cheeks becoming moist, as the grief of the fair lady gripped their hearts. Similarly her laughter and her smiles inspired joy and merrymaking wherever she allowed it to be heard and seen. All her life Esther had been told to be more like her sister. It annoyed her incessantly, but before her mother she dared not to complain. She simply stood silent before the cold and callous Jewish woman who had won the heart of the greatest conqueror the Steppe had yet seen since the days of the Parthians.

Rebekah shook her fair head, her long elegant locks of smoldering dark hair shaking with it. ”In the name of Elohim Adonai, child, do you not know that you are of the blood of Solomon? You cannot behave like some savage tribe girl.” The Queen Mother insisted as her offspring offered no defense. This brought a slight angry blush to Esther’s long face. In a vain attempt at opposition she dared stare into the cold grey eyes of her dark haired progenitor. ”I am a savage.” She proclaimed. ”I am a Variag.” A shocked gasp of grief erupted from the sympathetic Ariel. The Queen Mother just glared at her progeny for a moment, and then a slap fell on Esther’s cheek.

It did not hurt a tenth as much as her brother’s uncompromising blow but the effect of receiving a physical punishment from her controlled mother made Esther tremble a bit. ”How little you know, child.” The Queen Mother remarked her words colder than ice and sharper than steel. A moment’s silence followed after which the Queen Mother proclaimed; ”I will that you join me and your sister in receiving the wives and concubines of the Khans with all due honors. When that is done you will follow Rabbi Elias to your chambers where you will resume those studies you have been so negligent in. Once your brother returns I will discuss any further punishment with him.” The Queen Mother said, terminating any further discussions.

For the next several hours Esther sat silently at the left side of her mother’s throne as the Khatun’s presented themselves before the Queen Mother. Against herself Esther could not help but admire how her mother treated each graciously and heard their various pleas and queries with both patience and sympathy. A Jewish woman was hardly the most likely choice for the chief wife of the greatest Khagan the Variag Khaganate had yet known and it spoke length of the competence of this delicate pale skinned foreign woman that she had managed to maintain a hold on her power even after her son came of age. Even when the discussions touched upon sore topics such as Religion, the possibility of war, the selection of a spouse for the Khagan and intertribal rivalries Rebekah performed admirably, her oldest daughter Ariel complimenting her well. Only Esther was unable to maintain more than the most basic polite manners.

Finally the Queen Mother dismissed her two daughters to continue conversations of a far more private nature with the Chief Rabbi, the Ayatollah and the Bishop of Ammu. The two siblings quickly left the Queen Mother’s chambers side by side. As soon as they left their mother’s chambers Ariel gave her lean athletic sibling a sympathetic squeeze, her gentle voice kindly consoling. ”Sweet sister, why you must always provoke our mother thus I shall never comprehend but have no doubt that she loves you greatly despite her cold and haughty demeanor.” The Gentlest of the Variags spoke. Esther, still furious, grunted in rebuke. ”Why will she not recognize that I am a savage and not a Jew?” Ariel shrugged as she led her sister towards Rabbi Elias’s chamber. ”You know how she wish us to properly honor HaShem. She fear that her children will follow Tengri before HaShem, is that so wrong?” Esther rolled her eyes. She bore neither God much love but where she to choose one Tengri would be her pick. ”Ûvatha follows Tengri and she makes no objections to that.” Esther insisted. Ariel paused and looked down at her wild sister. ”He is the Khagan, he has to follow his people’s religion.” She admitted. ”Speaking of our brother, have no worries he will be merciful towards you. He always is, and he will now how to calm the anger you rose in our mother when you said you were a savage.” Ariel continued, giving her sister yet a quick squeeze before continuing walking. Esther chuckled a little. ”He should, he is himself a savage.” She proclaimed. For a moment Ariel, gentle and courteous as she was, looked taken aback, then she covered her mouth and giggled a little at the impropriety of her sister in referring to the Son of Heaven as a savage. Even if it was very true.

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Ûvatha, the second of his name, Itakh steadied his horse, Atukhan, as he gazed fearlessly into the eyes of his rival, his sole equal, in anticipation of her next move. Flee or charge he fancied himself able to read in those deep pools of darkness. A savage smile crossed the Khagan’s as a tremble rolling through Atukhan alerted him that his foe had chosen the honorable path. She jumped, her colossal body coming down towards the Khagan while she roared in fury. The Khagan, courageously, thrust his lance towards the tigress while kicking a terrified Atukhan forward in a charge.

Quickly rider and beast came upon one another, Atukhan not failing his master despite its terror. The Khagan’s dark eyes glowed with an intense passion as he pointed his lance towards the heart of the beast. Of all creatures under Heaven only the Hyrcanian Tiger could threaten Heaven’s Son, but threaten him she could. A single blow by one of those paws would bring an abrupt and immediate end to the hold of the Itakh Clan on the Mandate of Heaven. Yet the thrill of the hunt was irresistible.

With a final roar of prideful anger the Tiger jumped against the Khagan who met her with his lance. A neigh of panic erupted from Atukhan as the horse, its rider and the tigress all fell down at the impact of the beast. Tumbling to the ground it was not possible to tell who was alive and who was not, and more than a few of the Khagan’s men trembled in fear. Then the Khagan moved, disentangling himself from the tigress and his steed.

Cheers greeted the reckless Khagan as he rose, they where no doubt more cheers of relief than triumph, but he paid them no heed. Gently caressing the skin of the still living tigress he drew his knife. ”Easy, now. It will all be over soon.” He whispered gently caressing the skin of the dying felid with one hand while the other searched for her throat. As he found it he acted quickly slitting it with his knife and slaying the noble beast. The Khagan of the steppe had vanquished the Queen of the river lands. With a last lingering, mourning, gaze towards the colossal cat Ûvatha II turned towards his retainers laughing towards them. ”A good hunt.” He proclaimed. ”Have her skinned and her pelt tended to.” He ordered as Atukhan found his footing again. The large black destrier still seemed shocked at the impact of a 200 kilo heavy cat but the presence of its rider calmed it. Variag warhorses was not easily cowed and Atukhan least of all.

Remounting his horse, now without the lance he had thoroughly broken, Ûvatha looked down upon his fallen rival. That was how he viewed the beast, as a rival and an enemy, never as prey. ”Rest now Tigress, may Father Sky receive you with all the glory befitting your strength and valor in his Eternal Blue Sky.” The khagan spoke before turning Atukhan away from the slain beast. Ögedei, a young Asdriag warrior whose family had served the Itakh Clan in the wars against their own People, rode his horse towards his friend and Sovereign. ”A good hunt my khan of khans, but we must return to Ammu.” He spoke, casting a glance of awe towards the tigress. The Khagan, strangely quiet after the conclusion of the hunt, merely kicked Atukhan into a canter, heading for the city and the Khurultai.

Ûvatha and his retainers rode for the better part of an hour during which time his friends shared much laughter and merriment while the Khagan himself sat silent in his saddle. As quick as he was to laughter as quick he was to sullen silence. When he laughed and jested and teased the Khagan was as anyother young man of the steppe only greater of stature and of mind. But when he had his darker moments and moods he was truly the Khagan. In those moments his eyes was lit by an inner fire as his mind was extended greedily towards those lands of Turan, and even beyond Turan, that did not bow before his will. In those moments he was a conqueror and no boy king. In those moments his neighbors had best beware.

Half way back to the city the Khagan’s guards discovered the dust clouds of riders approaching them from Ammu. Even if they were in the center of the Khagan’s domain they moved to create a defensive formation around the Son of Heaven but Ûvatha made no attempt to bring his horse down to a slower pace allowing such a formation to be formed. Rather the somber Khagan kicked Atukhan into a gallop, quickly out riding all but the fastest of his men. As the two groups neared one another Ûvatha could distinguish the banner of the Ude Clan with its red sun sigil. The Tarkhan Beg.

Meeting two hours from the city both groups halted their horses, the guards and retainers of the Khagan and the Tarkhan Beg anxiously observing one another as the two leaders of the Variag Khaganate led their horses towards one another. Baghatur bowed deeply from the saddle of his stallion, acknowledging his nominal inferiority to the much younger Khagan. ”My Khan of Khans, your humble servant pledges his allegiance to you now and forever, and rejoices at being in your illustrious presence.” The Tarkhan Beg spoke. He was a man in his early fifties who, despite being of an age most Variag men could not hope to obtain, had retained all the strength and vigor of youth, only adding experience and cunning to bravery and martial skills. A tall, slender and broad shouldered man with grey hair and a short shaven grey beard, the Tarkhan Beg was a man feared by all Khans and Tarkhans of the Khaganate and many claimed that even the mighty Khagan Böri had depended on his Tarkhan Beg, few however claimed that the new Khagan was any threat to Baghatur Ude’s power. ”Well met uncle, what business has you with your Khagan that cannot await my return to the capital.” Ûvatha responded, jovially but bluntly.

Driving his horse a little closer to the Khagan, a gesture that did not evade the attention of the Khagan’s guards the Tarkhan Beg spoke quietly at his superior. ”The affairs of the khagante, I am afraid, wait for no man, my khan of khans.” The Tarkhan Beg said, in what sounded dangerously like rebuke. ”It concerns the disturbing rumors of the West. A merchant from the Italian Kingdom has informed us that the Caliph has indeed landed in the West where he no doubt met with the Pope. It can no longer be denied that they are on surprisingly good terms and we will need to decide on a policy before we meet the Khurultai.” The Tarkhan Beg spoke. A dark shadow crossed the already somber face of the Khagan. What had the world not come to when he, the Tiger of the Steppe, would need to concern himself with such scheming mice as the Tuscan Pope and the Egyptian Caliph. They were not men of honor who would meet their enemies in open battle, but rather they plotted and hid behind the armies of those who bend their knees to them. Not for the first time Ûvatha wondered if Islam was worthy to one day become the religion of Variags, Ioriags and Asdriags. ”What will you counsel uncle?” The Khagan asked, his voice controlled and polite despite the anger he felt. ”That we mobilize. As soon as the Khurultai is over, if not before, I will go to Kyzilkum and call the Banners. If the Chigirtka, supported by this unholy alliance of Crescent and Cross, commence hostilities we will be prepared. Further I ask your Majesty to send ambassadors to all lands under Heaven that may have reason to hate Papacy or Caliphate but chief of all send ambassadors to the Caucasian Empire. They are close to our own lands and they may well prove able to withstand the tidal wave of Muslim and Christian we may soon face.” The Tarkhan Beg paused for a moment. ”I remind your Majesty, that you are unmarried.” He then added.

Ignoring the last part Ûvatha grunted in approval of the rest. ”I have never wanted hostility with Pope or Caliph.” He declared. ”In all of the Khaganate I have allowed them to send their missionairies, their prelates their preachers. I even thought to make Islam the faith of our People before the Chigirtka so callously persecuted our Zoroastrian brothers. Who has been to Caliph and Pope a more congenial neighbor than I, I ask? Yet if they seek to repay my kindness and generosity with force of arms they would do well to pray to their shared God, lest my fury shall overturn their frail empires and bring an end to both of them. I will heed your wise counsel uncle. If it is war these scheming clerics want, it is war they shall get.” The Khagan spoke calmly. Then, as if he was suddenly possessed by a spirit, he drew his sword in a swift motion raising it towards the sky. ”Hear me Tengri, hear my People of the Steppe. If against Turan the western prelates rise they to their shared Hell shall fall by my sword, in Tengri’s and my father’s name.” He roared, his blood boiling with the savage fury of the tigress he had slain. ”War, War, War …” He chanted, the chant quickly picked up by his men, and shortly thereafter even by the men of the Tarkhan Beg who had been touched by the charisma of the Khagan. Soon all, but the Tarkhan Beg himself, was chanting the cry, their swords pointed towards the eternal blue sky of the Steppe. ”To Ammu Khand.” Ûvatha cried, kicking Atukhan into a canter. Both his own and his uncle’s men immediately obeyed the command gathering around the Khagan. Mere moments before they had been Ude men and Itakh men, but now a few words from the Khagan had made them Khand’s Men. Placing his horse next to his nephew Baghatur observed the young man’s savage, almost mindless, passion with both awe and apprehension. One day the young man would either become an even greater Khagan than his father or he would become worse than Köngjü Khan, and which Baghatur could not tell. What he did know was that the Khaganate had interesting times ahead of it with such a ruler, Tengri watch over them.

[Kishrael]

Ujadevor, Kingdom of the Chigirtka, The Imperial Palace

Emir Xudo Biljhodu I, usually known as Xudo to his friends sat at the window of his palace. It was a stone structure, with cylindrical turrets at 4 points. It stood on the east side of Ujadevor, its eastern flank making up a portion of the eastern wall around the city. Ujadevor was the only large settlement for miles around, many of the Chigirtka choosing to live in quaint mobile villages which could be destroyed in minutes before the inhabitants took off in the face of an attack. The sky outside was bright, the sun shining in the glass window. Xudo looked up, over the eastern wall and into the barren landscape around. The small shrubs rustling gently betrayed the small breeze outside.

He strolled out of the room and into a lavish hall, hunting scenes adorning the walls, and fine material from the east covered the floor. Servants hurried about their business, giving a deep bow when he came in sight before carrying on with their work. He turned a left corner and down some stone steps, before continuing down the steps in a jog. From the steps, there were two exits, one to the courtyard, filled with beautiful plants and one to another hall. He stepped outside the sun defining his powerful features. A bench, ornate in decoration, but comfortable due to the soft cushioning on it. He sat down on the bench, thinking about the Kingdom that he'd helped secure. The blood he'd spilt of the Zoroasters, all in the name of his country and Allah, Was it worth it? No, I must erase such thoughts from my mind, I have done the right thing for my country.

A servant hurried towards him, the footsteps shattering his reverie. "What is it Axborot?" Xudo snapped irritatedly. "I'm sorry to disturb you Emir Xudo Biljhodu, but I have received news from the north and south. We are getting reports that the Caliph of the Great Caliphate is having talks with the Pope, we believe they are talking of an alliance." The servant, Axborot, Xudo's chief informer, but still a slave stepped back.
"And what, it'll bring peace, a world peace I'd go as far to say." Xudo replied, seemingly shaking off the concerned tone of Axborot's original message.
"Yes, sir, between Muslims and Christians, however reports from the north say that there is a chance that Christian and Islamic arms will be turned against Pagans, namely, the Variags and Caucasians. If that is so, the Caliph will insist on your assistance in the destruction of these nations. We would be plunged deep into war on two fronts, our lands are closest to these people, we will bare the brunt, or so I envision." He bowed his head, finished.
"Well keep your visions to yourself, we do not need you upsetting the harmony of the Kingdom with your wild prophecies... Dispatch a messenger to the Variags, make sure they understand that we will not side against them if the arms of Christendom and Islam were turned against them, go now."

A lone rider, equipped only with a scroll, a quiver of arrows and a bow cantered out of the gates near sunset, winding between the few travellers on the sandy road leading north...

[Zyvetskistaahn]

Staahnhalle, Zyveta

Duke Joachim sat upon his cold stone throne and looked at the assorted rich and wise men before him, he sighed heavily; how they irritated him, constantly telling him of the dangers of the peasantry or of the warmongering lords of Hügelhalten, pompous fools.

His mind wondered as they feasted upon his food and he remembered some days ago being told of a meeting between the Pope and some other religious madmen, what would they do, he considered, if they knew his disdain for their church and its nonsensical crusades.

And so the moot continued with nothing of true importance being discussed, these men were supposed to have power in Staahnbern but in practice power had always been with the duke. Eventually the moot came to an end and no descisions had been made, surely such long meetings must have something come out of it but no, he sighed again, called an end to the moot and walked out of the hall to his bedchamber.