12th of Dzhambul, 1236 (Yuan Standard Calendar)
Ulaan Baatar, Yuan Khanate
Jahagahti was an imposing man, standing at roughly six feet with a crop of black hair woven perfectly into a single braid that stretched down the nape of his neck. Jahagahti adorned very ornately decorated robes, etched in gold and hand-sewn from the fur of several white foxes. The smooth white sickle-moon scar that went from the tip of his right eyebrow to his chin shone in the harsh fluorescent light that radiated from overhead in the high vaulted ceiling. Currently he was walking down the main promenade of the Khan's Palace, a magnificent structure that was a masterpiece of architecture and engineering, it look rather similar to a Gothic castle, and it was truly beautiful: he hated it. He hated every brick, stained-glass pane, and steel pipe that comprised the structure, Jahagahti would much rather rule from a yurt, where he could easily step outside and breath in fresh air and stare out across the wide open plains of Chogoris like Khans of old. Instead he was forced to sit and mope from a concrete prison of malice and purified air. Nonetheless, the place had been built by his father and in honor of his memory Jahagahti would make use of the place.
Flanked on either side by two Warriors Jahagahti proceeded down the hallway to the Council Chambers, where the Khan of every tribe from Ulaan baatar to the Plains was gathered for the commencement address. As Jahagahti neared the doors they were pushed open by his escorts and he proceed through to the sound of clapping as the assembled Khans stood from their seats. Jahagahti walked down the main aisle and up onto the dais where a large plain steel throne had been erected only hours before. Taking a seat an aid came to move the mic into position as Jahagahti got comfortable. Off in the distance he could see the glow of TV cameras though those were mostly there for the international community while his own people would most likely be listening in on radios around the camp bonfire. Jahagahti cleared his throat and began to speak, teleprompters were arranged at strategic locations but he did'n't need them. He had written the speech himself and remembered every word.
"Today, today is a great day for the people of Chogoris. We have, for the first time in centuries, become united under the rule of one Khan, that is thanks to my father, Temujin. It was he who led the Horde, it was he who conquered the Jurchens and freed our people from their oppressive rule." He looked at each Khan in turn as he read off their names.
"He freed the Khori Tümed, Khorilar, Dorben, Uriankhat, Ma'alikh baya'ut, Jarchi'ut Adangkhan, Belgunot, Khatagin, Jadaran, Baarin, Manan Ba'arin, Jaarud, Noyakin, Barlas, Buda'at, Adarkin, Chonos, Telenggut, and many others besides." He paused for dramatic effect.
"I am not my father, our destinies are different, it was his to unify our people, it is mine to build them up to their potential. To raise them not to just masters, but kings! To lead our people to Heaven!"
The rest of the speech had gone without incident, they had clapped and cheered just as he had expected them to. With as little flourish as possible, Jahagahti had skillfully left the room before being assaulted with questions by reporters and the Khans themselves. He had a lot to do, building a nation, and it was nigh the time that he got started.
