Chapter 63

Heating Up

First light came early upon the empty city of Otrar, and with it, everyone who had not been on watch was roused from their sleep by a fairly anxious Lila. Getting underway was fairly simple, though the carriages had to move slower, both due to the added weight of extra supplies and because Lila was not able to walk as fast as the rest of them. She was not used to moving so rapidly, given that she lived in a city, and therefore had little reason to cover a large amount of distance in a short amount of time.

Still, Lila wasn’t the only one having problems.

“I can’t believe I’m feeling this way,” Asalah muttered as she, Eutropia, and Hadhayosh traveled together, her on the rear carriage and the other two walking alongside it at a brisk pace. “I’ve never been like this before, not even back in Africa.”

“It’s perfectly natural,” the minotaur replied as they crossed open countryside. “You must be coming into your season, it’s simply your biological clock telling you the best time for conceiving a foal will be upon you soon.”

“Yes, well, I can’t say I’m not happy for that,” the zebra replied. “I just can’t believe I’m having these urges to get Spike alone, and just... you know...”

“Of course, like I said, it’s perfectly natural,” Hadhayosh said. “However, doing so would definitely make our journey a bit more difficult, as we would then have to stop for some time, and the both of you needn’t use up more energy than you can spare. It’s not as if we have an unlimited amount of supplies to haul around.”

“What’s she supposed to do about it, then?” Eutropia asked. “It’s not like she can just use magic to suppress it, she already told me of the magical bleeding effect from when she was in Africa, and the zaniness that entailed.” Well, not all of the zaniness; Eutropia had made it clear she didn’t want to hear how long Spike and Asalah had been “romantically entangled”, even though she herself was a bit curious as to what he had done to make Asalah remember the event so vividly.

“No, but I do know of some herbal supplements that might be able to take the edge off of your “breeding crazy” mindset. At our next stop, I will whip you up a batch, but I must warn you, Asalah,” Hadhayosh said. “You must not take too many of these at once. They are not toxic by any means, but too many in your system will leave you feeling a bit empty. However, that is not the bad part, for once all of those supplements leave your system, you will be right back where you started, but with an even greater sense of mating urgency.”

“So, don’t take too many, or I’ll become unbearably frisky around Spike once they wear off,” the zebra said. “Got it. How far to our next stop, anyway?”

“The nearest town, according to Lila, isn’t much more than a few hours away,” Eutropia said. “By the way, what did she talk to you about last night, Hadhayosh?”

“Just some things on life and love, a little bit of our pasts,” the minotauress said. “However, I do not entirely believe she is being truthful with us.”

“What makes you say that?” Asalah asked.

“I believe she has more reason to be in the capital and see the king other than to just tell him of what happened to Otrar and petition for the fighting to come to an end. No, she strikes me as the kind of mare who is hiding something, maybe hiding many somethings. I don’t know, but keep your eyes and ears open for anything... suspicious. She might have the queen convinced, but I’ve traveled for many years, so trust isn’t something I give out freely.”

“But you trust us, right?” the zebra asked.

Hadhayosh smiled. “Of course. We’ve come this far together, I’ve come to know you all fairly well, given all the stories we have exchanged, and frankly, I’m still amazed at your husband’s insistence on helping those refugees all those weeks ago. Many others would have simply bid them goodwill and went on their way, or at the very least, simply directed them somewhere better than where they were.”

“That’s Spike for you,” Asalah said with a smile. “Always willing to help others, with his big heart, his big smile, and for some, with his really big di-,”

“Asalah!” Hadhayosh interjected, noticing the sudden blush on Eutropia’s face. “I don't think now is the best time to be so open about such a thing, present company being the reason," she said, giving a nod in Eutropia's direction. "I’ll be sure to give you that supplement as soon as we reach the capital and settle in, though there's no telling how long that will yet be.” There hadn't been any cities on the small map Lila carried between them and Persepolis, but then again, there were likely small towns somewhere in there, right?

Meanwhile, at the forefront carriage, Lila had long since fluttered up onto the roof and began to massage her hooves, the road conditions were fair, but the travelling was not what she had expected. When she told them “with all due haste,” she hadn’t thought they’d be going this fast.

“How are you holding up?” A voice asked, and from out the door, Chrysalis fluttered up onto the carriage roof, her wings struggling slightly to lift her increased weight. She hadn't flown much since she left Equestria with Spike, and now, as she entered near the middle of her pregnancy, it was becoming more and more difficult to do so. Eventually, near the very end, she'd likely be unable to fly altogether.

“Fine, I guess, but when you all decide to move, you really do move,” Lila said, wincing as she picked a small stone shard out from her hoof and tossed it away. “I just hope we can reach the capital soon, it’ll be better to tell the king sooner rather than later of what happened.” Going on the few roads that weren't torn up by the Marengols wasn't exactly quick, even with the self-propelling carriages. That, and they needed to keep an eye out, just in case anyone came their way will ill intentions.

“To Otrar?”

“Not just Otrar, but everything else,” she said. “He knows why this is happening, yet it doesn’t even seem that he’s trying to do something about it.”

“Why is it happening? Did the Marengols just declare total war for no reason?” The queen asked.

“They do not do so without some reason, despite what everyone else says of them,” Lila said. “No, the previous king did not wish to trade with the Khan’s lands, and instead simply executed most of the dignitaries, thinking of them as little more than illiterate herdponies. In response, the Khan himself met the king in battle, and slew him, along with a large portion of the kingdom’s army. After that, the current king, his younger brother, has tried to keep the kingdom and its armies together as best he can, but with the fall of Otrar now, and the burning of Samarkand so many weeks ago, it will be only a matter of time before a massive Marengol force marches on the capital city. Then, I’m afraid, all of Persia will fall.”

“Has he tried suing for peace?”

“He has not, from what I have heard. Perhaps he simply thinks he can outlast them? The Marengols are far from home, but they move as one unit, with their mares and foals alongside them as they travel, yet this is just one army, one small portion of the entire Marengol host, the whole of which I have heard is not at all that large. I can only hope the king will listen to the pleas of others, myself included, so that we can stop this before all we know and love is lost forever.”

“Sounds to me that the Khan’s anger was justified, though I don’t think how he’s handling it is in any way good,” the queen replied. “Seeking vengeance against one person is one thing, but an entire kingdom, like this... it’s insane.”

“It is the way things are,” Lila said angrily. “If not for the king’s older brother, none of this would have happened. We would trade with the Marengols, perhaps allow them passage through our lands, but no, now we are at war, and they will crush us unless a miracle happens.”

Meanwhile, in the other carriage, Maria was shuffling several sheets of parchment Spike had just burst into existence with a spout of green flame. The writing upon them, whilst not in Equestrian, were more than familiar to her, as they were from her family. It’d been so long since she’d even seen her native tongue in written form, that for a moment, she had believed Spike had received the wrong message.

“Let’s see, what do we have here?” she muttered, peering down at the first set of scribbles. “Ooh, Spike, good news!”

“What is it?” he asked, having decided that riding along with Trixie and Maria, instead of flying, was a good idea. No need to draw unwanted attention by making himself more visible to distant eyes.

“My brother’s been engaged!”

“Really? Which one?”

“My elder brother, Antonio! I knew father was in the process of setting up possible arrangements with other lords, but I didn’t think Antonio would go through with it so quickly. He was inordinately picky whenever we were at a ball when it came to dancing with a lady.” Her disbelief was evident as she continued to read.

Spike thought back to the family dinner and the unicorn he’d met; Antonio was a few years older than himself, if he recalled. Was it really all those months ago he’d arrived in Spreign and been a guest of Maria’s family? It felt like years since the night he’d married Maria, short and sweet, if only because he didn’t get to know her better before then.

How different would things have been had he not rushed into his first marriage with such haste? How his life would be now, if he had stayed with her family for some time, rather than marry a unicorn he’d barely known at the drop of a hat? He had no doubts it had worked out wonderfully, and he loved Maria dearly, but with the way things were now, there was no telling where he’d be now. Would Trixie have been unable to find him? Would he have not been taken captive by the Prench robber baron, or saved the king’s nephew? Would he and Asalah have ever met, or would Chrysalis have left him if he stayed in one place too long? The bandits in the Samarea desert, the warlord’s son and his pirate fleet, the troubles in Saddle Arabia, in Istanbull and Transylmania, the narrow avoidance of trouble in Russia… how would things be now?

The fact that all that had happened on this journey was either due to his own intervention or being in the right or wrong time and place made little difference to him. Come to think of it, given how long he’d been from home, what was his true purpose with this journey? He’d sent back countless artifacts and cultural pieces back to Equestria, but there had to be something more to this. Diplomacy was the biggest concern for him, trade being a close second, but other than that, what other purpose could there be? It vexed him to not know why Luna had truly sent him, everything she had told him was correct, but it wasn’t the whole story, he was sure of it…

“Spike?”

He blinked, realizing his silence must have been a bit strange. “Sorry,” he replied. “Got wrapped up in my head on something. What were you saying, Maria?”

“My brother Antonio has been engaged to the daughter of another Spreignish lord, those lands border my family’s,” his first wife replied. “Her name is Zorra, of the noble house of Trastamara. They are to be wed upon the end of the next month, and mother writes I am to send him a letter of congratulations, as well as a gift, should I find myself able to do so.”

Spike was silent for a moment. Her tone, the way her hands shook slightly while reading… “Maria?”

“Yes?”

“Is that a hint of… bitterness I hear?”

She sighed. “Was it that obvious?”

“Is there something wrong with this Zorra?”

“No, I’ve met her before, she’s actually quite nice,” his wife replied. “It is her brother that I have an issue with; Sancho is his name.” The way she practically spit his name nearly made Spike recoil; he’d heard anger in his wife’s voice before, but never with this much venom.

“I’m sensing a history there…”

“It is not something I like to talk about.”

“You can tell me,” he said, leaning forward and taking her left hand into his own, gently rubbing it as he did so. “We’re family, husband and wife, we don’t need to keep secrets like this from each other.”

“It’s not so much a secret as it is… shameful,” she replied.

“As shameful as me not telling you I was going to be a father before we were married?”

“That wasn’t by choice, that was just happenstance,” Maria said. “You also didn’t know, so I can’t really hold that against you, Trixie wouldn’t take kindly to that.”

Spike was glad trixie was riding on top of the carriage and somewhat out of earshot. This was a good time for some personal talk between himself and his first wife. It’d been so long since he’d had a good, deep talk with just one of them at a time. “Maria, whatever it is, I am sure I can handle it. If you’re still as strong and beautiful and smart as you are, even with this troubling you, I am sure I can handle it as well.”

Her lips curved upwards into a smile. “Okay, but promise you won’t laugh?”

Spike gave a smile of his own. “Now why would I laugh?”

“Promise?”

“I solemnly swear not to laugh at you.”

“I know Zorra is good because I met her family years ago at a ball. Father had insisted that I attend, as there were a few visiting dignitaries from Equestria as well, if I recall, and a daughter of good breeding was a surefire away to get the attention of men, or at the least, listen in on conversation. Father is a strongly honorable stallion, but he is no fool when it comes to politics like this.”

“As I recall, he was fairly surprised, but even more delighted, when I asked for his permission to marry you, let alone court you for such a short time,” Spike said.

“Indeed. At this ball, I was just a little less headstrong as the day we met. Remember that?”

“When you ran into me to escape your studies and little sisters, sending us both sprawling to the ground? Yes, I do, your red dress made it hard for you to get back up.”

She nodded. “Well, at this ball, I talked with Zorra for a while. While a tad snobbier than I am, though you might say otherwise, I found her to be a charming young mare. However, as we talked about the things young noblemares do, betrothals, dresses, family honor and news from near our realm, she introduced me to her brother.”

“Yes?”

“I was, I am sorry to say, starstruck by him. Tall, handsome, with a thick mane and an extremely well-tailored suit, he cut the picture of a noble extremely well. I could barely speak when he was near, and my younger sister Angelica thought I was having a fit, I was stuttering so much.”

“You had a crush on him?” Spike asked, wondering why he’d never heard this before. His own crush on Rarity had driven him to things like this, so he wasn’t surprised at his wife’s actions.

“Most definitely. I made it a point to see him whenever they visited, and to be frank, he was extremely charming for a young mare such as myself. Always whispering sweet nothings to me, going for walks in the garden, keeping himself as prim and proper and noble as any mare could ask for. I thought I was in love. Sometimes, when I was asleep, I thought I heard wedding bells, I was so swooned.”

“I’m sensing a “but then” coming up.”

“Indeed. One of those Equestrian nobles became a good friend of his. Some baron, I think, and if the rumors were to be believed, somewhat of a charmer himself. However, the more time I spent around Sancho, the more I saw the baron. I believe his name was Summersday. He too was a charmer, whispering sweet nothings as easily as one breathes. However, he seemed to avoid me in that regard. Perhaps he didn’t like being in a foreign place that much, or he simply thought of me as nothing more than spoken for, or not worth his time. I didn’t care, I thought I was in love with Sancho.”

“So, what happened?”

“I overheard the two of them talking, one night, when the rest of the guests were asleep. Their quarters were a level above mine, but the windows were open, and I could hear it plain as day. Sancho said I was a fine mare, but not the kind he was looking for. I was too… dangerous, he said. I had no idea what he meant at first, but then the baron asked about the maids Sancho was seeing.”

She shuddered slightly, a small fire erupting in her eyes. “Turns out the hijo de puta was seducing maids and other staff in his own realm, and had done so with more than one of ours. The baron then complimented him on not caring if any foals came from it, to which that culo simply said “they wouldn’t matter anyway” to him. His grandfather had sired bastards at his age until his marriage, “sowing his wild oats” as he called it, and while he thought me nice, I was too tempting a target. If he managed to seduce me, it’d ruin both him and me. He didn’t care about me, though, he only cared about himself, the gilipollas, and he certainly didn’t give a damn about those foals he’d knowingly put in the bellies of lowborn mares.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t even cry that night, I just stayed up, in shock, almost unable to process what I had heard. Only later, when I heard a visiting maid talking to another about how sick she felt in the morning, that I broke down and locked myself in my room. I couldn’t tell mother or father what was wrong, so I simply put it off as feeling stressed from all the balls and politics.”

Maria was silent for a moment. “That was about a year before I met you. I stopped seeing Sancho, simply putting it off that I “wasn’t feeling well” until he stopped coming around. Ended up engaged to some poor mare from southern Prance. That Summersday stallion left after the balls were done, and though I doubt he left any foals behind, he certainly left a few broken hearts.”

“Maria, I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Spike said softly.

“I’ve long since come to terms with that part of my life, emerging stronger still from it, even if I can still remember the night I heard him admit those things,” Maria said. “The worst part of it all, however, is that some of the infant foals you passed in the streets on the way to our fortress, I have no doubt, were his. I saw several of our maids leave to take care of them, and some that stayed were allowed to raise them in the palace, out of sight most of the time. I saw them, Spike, I saw some of the foals Sancho left behind, the mares he’d hurt and the ponies whose lives he’d changed forever. It just makes me hate him all the more.”

“So then, what about Zorra? Is she cut from the same cloth as her brother?”

“She’s nothing like that idiota, thankfully. I’m sure she and Antonio will be most happy together. I’ll write them when we reach the capital, wishing them the best of luck. Do you think there’s something the Persian king might have, should he receive us, that I could send them as a present, since I won’t be there myself?”

“I’m sure we’ll find something to send,” Spike replied. “Anything you think your brother would like?”

“Well, he does enjoy our collections of weapons, and liked patrolling the armory when he was younger. Perhaps a sword?”

The carriage came to a stop.

“What’s going on?” Maria asked.

“I’ll check it out,” Spike replied, opening the door and climbing out. He noticed the others were ahead of him, staring out over the crest of a hill. Walking over, he noticed none turned back to him. “Hey, what’s going on?” he asked.

“We’re here,” Lila replied. “We’ve reached the capital.”

“As has all of northern Persia,” Hadhayosh added.

Spike looked out across the hills and green plains before him. That was, across what little green he could see, for from the north came a veritable river of folk, of all shapes and sizes. Refugees, he realized, but the startling thing was not that there were refugees, but that there were this many. The massive path of them ventured beyond the horizon, with countless camps spread out across the open areas in front of the great city’s walls.

Built partially into the slope leading up to a mountain, Persepolis was indeed an ancient city, looking as if it had been merely carved from another mountain that no longer existed. A great terrace covered in massive buildings, glittering edifices of dark marble, with countless towers and spires meandering throughout the city. A vast, sprawling lower portion of the city, much like the plains surrounding the mountain it was built into, it spread out and was more than large enough to equal the upper portion several times over.

Upon the uppermost portion of the highest terrace sat a massive palace, similar to a castle but far more stylishly built, ideal for defense but also to impress anyone, be they friend or foe. The king would be in there, Spike surmised, but how to get there?

“I will get us an audience with the king,” Lila said, startling him. “Everyone, get in the carriages, and let me do the talking.”

Spike helped trixie down from the top of the carriage where she rode, her eyes never leaving the long trail of refugees. “There are so many,” she whispered as he helped her into the carriage, himself following shortly afterwards. “What are we getting ourselves into, Spike?”

“I don’t know,” Spike replied as he seated himself next to Maria. “I really, really don’t know. Princess Luna wanted me to go with the Marengols, to talk with them and learn what I could about them, and from them. I don’t think she expected me to have a family and three foals on the way when I did, though.”

“You’re not Persian, you have nothing to do with what happened or what is going on right now,” Maria said. “Surely they wouldn’t want to do something to you, or by extension, us?”

“You never know,” Spike said. “Wherever I go, trouble seems to follow.”

“I’ll call it convenience,” Lila said from the carriage window as she hopped up on top. “Life’s never boring if you’re never staying in one place for long, and it just so happens that wherever you go, something happens.”

“It’s not coincidence?”

“Most likely, no. Now sit tight, I’ll talk with the guards, they’ll want to hear what I have to say.”

Spike looked over at Trixie, and then over at Maria. He saw the fear in their eyes, but also the courage to keep going, and somehow, he knew Asalah and Chrysalis carried the same within them. Nodding softly, he held their hands in his own, and waited.

Lila sat in silence as the carriages moved, Hadhayosh for once sitting up beside her. “The guards will recognize you?” the minotauress asked.

“More or less, I’m betting one of the captains will,” the batpony replied. “I’ve been this way before, several times in fact, and even with all these others fleeing the Marengols, I doubt they’ll deny us initial entrance. Speaking to the king, however, will be a bit more difficult. He’s somewhat suspicious of outsiders, ever since what transpired between his brother and the Marengols. That, and he has embraced a fairly… peculiar form of mysticism.”

“Why do I feel this problem will be of little issue?”

“Because you’ve never met the king,” Lila said, as the crowds grew thicker around them. All around makeshift tents and carriages turned into small dwellings littered the open plains, many of them with small series of stakes around, as if to fend off the Marengols. Lila shook her head; the fools knew not the kind of the enemy that was marching upon them. “I have, long ago, and I’m sure he’ll remember me.”

“We’ll see,” the minotauress replied with a curious smile, the sounds of the others moving towards the city gates almost drowning her out.

Up ahead, under and through the massive gates that were the entrance into the city, lay a huge contingent of soldiers, many of them in rows serving as funnels to split the refugees into different groups. Some had their weapons drawn, expecting a fight to break out at any moment between the various scattered tribes harboring grudges within the safety of the walls. Others were busying themselves with what appeared to be a small army in and of itself of administrators, sorting and cataloguing everyone and everything they could. Everywhere, refugees sat in silence or amongst themselves, often conversing in hushed tones, fearfully glancing towards the horizon, as if expecting to see the approaching horde or hear its trumpet blasts.

Ahead, a small contingent of guards, their armor of brightly decorated robes strengthened with shining steel scales and face-shielding turbans, stood between the small entrance to the upper courtyard, and the teeming masses below. They were armed with short spears, swords, bows and arrows, and large shields, making them appear to be armed for almost anything that came their way, and fairly intimidating to boot. Parking the carriages in front of them, as one would always magically follow the other, the batpony dismounted and gave a bow.

“Greetings, I am Madame Lila, servant of the King,” she said with a rather pronounced flourish. “I wish to speak with your hazarapatish, I have important news that must reach the king.”

“I am he whom you seek. What of your guests?” one of the elite guards replied, stepping forward. The butt of his spear was not laden in silver, as were those of the others: his was gold. “Who are they, and why have they come to Persepolis?”

“A dragon and his family, with two companions, who were tasked to travel far and wide by the rulers of his native land,” she replied. "I believe they too seek an audience with the king."

“A dragon?” the lead guard repeated.

“Indeed.”

“Is this dragon, by chance, young, and heralding from across the great sea of the Barnlantic?”

“I do believe so, hazarapatish,” Lila said. “Is he expected?”

“Expected? The king has been waiting for him to arrive for some time now. Come, bring him and his family as quickly as you can, there is much the king wishes to discuss with him.”

Lila was more than a bit flabbergasted as the elite guards moved to the side, just wide enough for the carriages to pass through. “How special is the dragon to warrant such an immediate audience with the king? Is he royalty?”

“In a sense, yes,” the officer replied, motioning towards the carriage. “Escort them with all due haste. The Immortals will be needed elsewhere by the king shortly, and he is incredibly busy as it is, so if you wish to inform him of anything, I suggest you do it quick, Madame Lila. We will inform him of your arrival and that of your guests.”

Meanwhile…

The Khan was not one for taking insults lightly. As his army marched, he knew that the battle against his cousin would be brutal.. The winds of winter were upon them, and as such he needed to end this rival’s possible ambitions quickly, lest they tear the empire apart. He needed to be strong, as his father had been before his tragic death from his heart condition. As such, all due haste was made towards where the army of his cousin no doubt lay, unwilling to make the journey to the capital to fight over the succession. His other cousin was currently doing battle with raiders along the Chinese border, the peace deal so recently struck a source of frustration for the Khan. His father had deigned peace be better with an enemy on one side than to fight a war on all sides, but that was what his own father, the great conqueror, Khan of Khans, had done, had he not?

Though he had loved him and devoted himself to his decisions, the old Khan’s soft side and condition had made him weak, and as such, the current Khan knew that to be strong, he needed the same iron that had been instilled into his grandfather, the same iron that would bring the world under the heel of his armies, by the way of the bow, and the lance, and unrelenting push of the armies at his disposal.

The mountain passes through the desert were always treacherous, oftentimes the paths little more than the trails left behind by local goats and sheep. Sheers sides, high winds, occasional blasts of errant dust, and the bright glaring rays of the sun combatted all who moved through the area. The Khan himself was not immune to these dangers, nor way anypony in his army. The going was long and slow, with treacherous portions more than making up for the extremely scant sources of water.

“My Khan!” a voice called, rushing up from ahead, the rumbling of many hooves nearly drowning it out. One of the scouts he had sent earlier, no doubt. “I have news of the enemy!”

“What is it?” he asked, his bodyguards moving away to let the younger, smaller stallion through, but not too close. One couldn’t be too careful these days, after all.

“Over the next pass, they are gathered, down in a valley, their backs to a mountain stream,” he said. “There are no trees to mask our movement, but there is likely no way out of the valley, save for the way we can enter it.”

“Then we shall enter with all due haste, and make our way towards the enemy,” the Khan said, tasting blood on the air. The joy of battle was something he knew well, and even if going against his own gave him a foul aftertaste, it needed to be done. None could challenge him. “Show me your vantage, that I may direct the coming battle when it is time.”

The scout moved through rocks and around large clusters of dried shrubs, until he, the Khan and the elite bodyguards came to an outcropping of rocks overlooking the valley, the movement of so many soldiers behind making the very ground tremble. It was, as the scout said, an ideal place to attack. there was no way out of the valley save for the narrow pass that fed into it, and for all intents and purposes, the Khan’s cousin had made a terrible mistake in choosing this battlefield. Soon, the mountain stream would run red with the blood of Marengolians, but afterwards, once the Khan was victorious, the nation would emerge stronger for it. It would take a few days to reach the enemy, but they had time, and there was nowhere else for them to go.

“Excellent work,” the Khan replied, as the rumbling increased. “Marshal our forces with all due haste, and then we shall-,”

A loud crack split the air, and as a cry rose up, the Khan felt the ground move even more than before. However, this was not the work of his army, but of the rock itself. Another crack sounded, and the ground buckled under him, sending him sprawling into a large shrub. His mane and tail tangled in the branches, his armor wedging itself as well, he watched as the entire world seemed to spin suddenly. Struggling, he tried to pull himself free, but as he did so, the rock he was upon, along with the shrub, fell away, down from his army, his scout, his bodyguards, and down ito the gorge below.

He awoke to the sounds of hoofsteps over him, coughing. Blood, there was blood everywhere, why could he not feel his legs?

He opened his eyes and saw his bodyguards standing above him, their eyes betraying what he already suspected. “My back?” he asked, pain shooting up even as he spoke.

“There’s so much blood, you must have been pierced on something, your armor or sword, we cannot tell,” one spoke. “Your legs… they’ve been crushed as well, my Khan.”

“Then this is it,” the Khan replied, an odd feeling of relief and peace sweeping over him. “I have failed, yet also, succeeded. My time as Khan will pass, and so it seems, far sooner than I had anticipated.”

“What would you have us do, my Khan?”

“Send for my cousin, though I fear I will not live to see him,” he said, feeling his body go numb and his vision begin to blur. To think, only a short time ago he had been planning conquest and strengthening his nation, and now here he was, a broken stallion, dying to the most unfortunate of events. If he were to survive this, he'd scream in frustration, but no, there was no coming back from this. He'd seen what happened to those who were crushed, and no magic or potion was going to fix him soon enough, they didn't have access to it when on a campaign like this. “I confer onto him the right to decide who shall be the next Khan, with you as my witnesses to this order. I entrust you, my bodyguards, to remain loyal to him, and to avoid the bloodshed between his forces and our own that I had so recently been willing to commit. He will send for the others, the generals, to return to anoint the next leader of our kind. Help him with this to your fullest.”

“You can’t die,” one of the guards said, removing her helmet, a solitary tear streaming down her face. She was a tall and strong one of their kind, far more than others, but then again, with the father that had adopted her from the ruins of a raided caravan, was there ever any doubt she’d rise as she had? “You are our Khan, we would follow you until the sun no longer rose, and the grasses faded from our steppes.”

“Yes, I am your Khan, and I have no doubt you would. So as your Khan, I ask this last task of you,” he said, his voice growing fainter. “Do what is best for our nation, and for yourselves. Do not weep for my passing, nor for our people, for we are survivors, and will always live in our steppes. We will always be here, and... there will always… be a Khan.”

With that, his eyes closed, and as his bodyguards moved to lift his broken body from the ground, the Khan knew no more.

The last guard, replacing her helmet, turned to another guard, their eyes meeting, and a knowing nod shared between the two. “He shall be buried within the hall of his fathers,” she said, as they all carried the broken body of their leader out of the rubble that had become his downfall. “Just as he would have wished it.”

Meanwhile…

A whisper on the winter wind was all some needed to sense a change in the near future. In the city of Karakorum, his wounds still healing from his battles to the far north against the rabid volcanic tarragons, a figure sat in silence in his room. Incense burned from a small bowl to his right, and to his left, an unfinished painting of a pair of figures. To the untrained eye, they were simply figures, unfinished, but the artist who had created them so far did so with simple, single brush strokes, one for every day either of them were gone.

It was his way of coping with them no longer being home. So, as he sniffed the air, his ears perked up slightly, as with a soft groan, shifted in his seat.

“They will return soon,” he muttered, drawing the brush from the pot of ink. Lightly, with the delicateness of a falling flower petal, he moved the brush up, finishing the side of one figure. With another brush, he finished the outline of the other’s head. The two, facing away from one another, their poses as real in life as they were when home. Always together, but always apart; one against the other, but always nearby in case of trouble.

He had raised them the best he could, and now, as he smelled the oncoming change, he feared for them, as any father would. Why else would he ensure their safety, as he had so many other times?

The father sighed as he put away the ink and the brush. Another pair of strokes to save for tomorrow, it seemed. The sun long since set, the only light coming from the large braziers that kept his room warm, he slunk off to his bed. The news would reach the others soon enough, and soon the whole of Marengolia would be going through yet another change, so recently having come to terms with the passing of the last Khan.

Only, this time, the old father knew, this time, things would turn out differently. The smell of change on the air carried with it the scent of yet further change, emanating somewhere from the very borders of the empire. What it was exactly, he could not say, but he looked forward to it. Variety was the spice of life, and in his very long life, he had experienced much. He could only hope those whose painting he worked on every day could experience much of the same.