Zacharias legend grows, no doubt his brutality will be remembered long after his death.
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Screaming arrows the new terror from the Steppes. The Greeks didn't really have a chance did they?
hehe my hometown is Adana and my mother's side is from around Crimea
Maybe in this timeline, some ancestor of an Adana soldier and a Khazarian maiden will write on an internet messageboard about 1200 years later. Very true. By now, people would start to think something is wrong without the occasional bloodbath. Maybe that's just the way of things in the Steppes,
No.
They had all the chance in the world to get out of there in time though. It's going to remain a mystery why they waited for the 6000 men to beat them up.
Chapter 42 – Transition of Power
Chapter 42 – Transition of Power
Winter, 890/891 AD
The ultimately failed assault on the supposed heart of Khazaria virtually settled that there was nothing to gain for the Georgians in this war. In addition, two and a half thousand men had stayed in Georgia and gone for the capital when the news came in of the invasion in Oleshye. In the late days of November 890, the regency council representing the King of Georgia was forced to surrender to Zachariah. Their very own fortress Narikala had been overtaken a few days ago by the Khazarian troops under the command of Guyug the Mongol, the rapidly rising star of the army ranks who had recently been made a General at the tender age of 19 years.
Zachariah, his son Tarkhan and twenty-four of the Khagan's personal elite guards rode into the royal fortress that guarded the way to the south, where the capital city lay, under the cheers of his soldiers and the curious gazes of the locals. The young king Okhropir Bagrationi had to bow the knee personally and swear fealty to his new liege, who wouldn't miss the opportunity to take a look at his newest acquisition.
On his voyage to Tbilisi and back, the Khagan was more than pleased. Aside from the scenic landscapes, the countryside was largely untouched by the recent war and looked much more prosperous than the dirt poor and wartorn lands north of the Caucasus they had witnessed on the last such occasion. Although Zachariah and his entourage traveled off the main paths, they frequently came across towns and peasant villages where the populace, as soon as they were assured the two dozen grim-looking riders meant no harm, greeted them with awe (and just a little unease – word had spread about what happened to the Alanians).
The promises of no further violence being intended were sincere this time. Zakkai of Bartenstein, the steward who had been introduced after Ezra's demise, mostly stayed beyond the radar when it came to foreign politics, but he was an absolute expert at his job and immediately got to work when the war on Georgia was declared. He sensed there would be profit to be made, and a few weeks later he presented the Khagan an extensive estimation about the possible gains from Georgian taxes. Zachariah, hungover and deep in thoughts, only understood a third of what Zakkai was saying, but the perspective of raking in up to 2 gold pieces per month, which meant a doubling of the total income, was enough for him. In the end he had concurred to refrain from pillaging this time, at least until further notice – and what he now saw by himself was deemed good enough to keep it that way. Georgia would not see a skull throne anytime soon.
When word spread around the people on the Caucasus that apart from the Khazars being their King's new overlord they were to continue their lives as usual, the relief was great. Only in Alania, the news about the treatment of the people further south only added to the humiliation of the suffering peasants. The local Count and his Hashimid liege were barely able or willing keep the people fed as masses of refugees from the sackings of Durdzukia and Yegorlyk had fled and aggravated the already abundant poverty. Kibar of Bulanid, still the nominal suzerain of the land, was more absent than ever.
It was an angry and emotional sermon by a preacher named Savkudz on All Saints' Day that finally set off all the fury that had brewed in the Alanian people. For all those years they had been raided, pillaged, displaced and massacred, with none of their so-called 'lords' batting an eye. Soon, every grown-up and healthy peasant in Alania had taken up arms in the name of Savkudz to drive off the heathens that had their lands occupied and then ruined. The regent for the six-year-old Count had no idea of the scale of this revolt and ordered to resist forcibly.
That turned out a terrible idea. The small local forces were quickly overwhelmed, and the uprising stormed to the fort of their own chief who was now regarded complicit in their suppression. The Hashimid duchy would be in disarray for years to come.
August 7, 891 AD
The morning sun glistened over the waters of the Dnieper that flew by leisurely before they would merge with the Black Sea a few dozen miles further. Tarkhan Ashina, the heir to the Khaganate of Khazaria, and his younger brother Yabghu had taken a bath in the river, as they had done so often with their other siblings when they were younger, and now they sat at the banks of the river, enjoying the moment of silence. Yesterday Yabghu had turned 16. As usual the festivities were lavish, but the two had left early.
"Ahh, that feels good." Tarkhan sighed pensively. "Wonderful to enjoy a little bit of home before being on the road again. Though I wouldn't have thought that you would be with me for the way back." He pat his younger brother on the shoulder and let out a hearty laugh.
"Neither did I. Neither did anyone, I figure." replied Yabghu, not equally joyous but rather confused. He hadn't slept much after his unexpected promotion of yesterday evening. "I'm still thinking that he'll reveal it was all a joke after a dramatic goodbye, or something like that. I mean, sure, I've read my share of books, but Court Rabbi? Upon my sixteenth birthday? Who's ever seen a teenager holding sermons, bestowing titles, all that dignified stuff? And who's going to explain this to Khan Hezekiah?"
"Oh, I don't think he'll mind all too much. He's never cared much for that position. Says his place is at the frontline. Well, considering how uncomfortable he always seems on horseback, I'd say it's the strategy table rather than that. But who cares - point is he's a much better general than Rabbi. Anyway I'm excited to have you along for at least a bit of the way back. And maybe getting to see other places in the name of God instead of his Scourge isn't all too bad for the afterlife." Both snickered. Yabghu knew well that Tarkhan had quickly grown into military life and was eager to further prove himself, very much regardless of his perspectives in the afterlife.
"Maybe you're right. But to judge that is my job now, you laic – didn't anyone ever teach you that we're all equal in death?" The brothers laughed again. "Oh man, I'll need to get used to this for quite some time. At least it's only Abkhazia for the beginning. That's a short voyage, should Dad get another idea quickly. Not as if it was the first time."
"True. But there's also stories about how he forgot councillors, who didn't receive new orders for years and just went on with their work, even if it was long obsolete. You really never know what to expect of him." replied Tarkhan.
Yabghu objected "Well, sometimes you do. Like when Itakh complained again yesterday that he lost a battle against Kiev – apparently for the first time in the whole long war, but he was neither going to win it before – and Dad was as unresponsive as always and told him to go home."
Tarkhan nodded. "Yeah, there's some continuities, no denying that. Not going into Kiev is one of them. That Jabdertim guy should really know by now that this war is his own problem. And it's a growing problem if you ask me. Hezekiah told me he mainly declared that war to push through with a point and didn't expect the Kievans to resist for so long. A white peace would have been his favored outcome, but now it's looking as if he would lose against the Kievans. That would be quite the drag to his good name."
"I didn't ask, but thanks for the heads up. How come the Kievans didn't show up all the time and are now back with enough men to beat the Jabdertim?"
Now Tarkhan was in his element. He paid close attention to the developments around the realm that stood to be his eventually and loved to explain them to anyone who asked.
"I'll tell you why: about a month ago, the Kievans have finally been smart enough to call off their own war on the Bolghar Khaganate. That freed up enough of their forces to get back at the Jabdertim. Khagan Batir is even more of a tough bastard than everyone thought as it turns out. At one point, he's had three invasions against him and basically the entirety of his lands conquered. Only by holding through with his army in exile, occasional counterattacks and essentially waiting for the attackers to wear themselves out has he managed to win all three of these wars."
"That's really impressive. I've only known stories about him being a paper tiger and virtually powerless, just like his other tributaries." Yabghu replied.
"Well, he's not entirely wrong about that. The other Khaganates under our suzerainty are – or were – in despicable shape. Burtas will soon disappear from the map one way or the other, and Bashkiria is falling apart with Khagan Tatus unable to react. He's predictably lost against the revolting Khan Kugel of Tzopon, who is now a Khagan, and his only other vassal of notice got himself and half his family imprisoned in that war and won't be able to help him out anytime soon."
And with a sly grin, Tarkhan added "There's...rumours about them being renounced as a tributary soon. The other Khans and Dad agree that Tatus doesn't bring enough to the table for the land he occupies and that he's to be...relieved of some of that land. Marshal Itakh and I have seen to prepare the Eastern horde for that case and move them to the Caspian region."
Yabghu had lead a youth in court and was educated under the watch of Court Steward Zakkai. He had had a lot of opportunity to observe how this kind of decision usually took its course in Khazaria. He doubted that their father was even involved up to this point. Zachariah wasn't a man of much discretion, and he had never once mentioned anything in his frequent and extensive, though barely coherent, deliberations about the state of the realm. He still chose to keep quiet about it. From now on, he was a player in this game. And he did not in the least intend to stay Court Rabbi for the rest of his life.
"You're going to war against Bashkiria? That's quite a stab in the back. I'm sure if Tatus suspected something, he would see to join the other Pagans that organized in a defensive pact after the subjugation of Georgia." And in this moment he realized why it was that no one had informed Zachariah yet.
"Sometimes the ends justify the means." was all Tarkhan had to say.
Yabghu sensed that in the world out there, this would be the rule rather than the exception. "And what ends might those be? Giving up a tributary isn't exactly a proud moment for a Khagan."
"As if Dad would actually care about his reputation anymore. But now that you ask, the actual specifications aren't sure until now. I guess it won't be long until we find out. Speaking of it – we seriously have to get going. We each have a long journey before us."
Yabghu was irritated how uncommunicative Tarkhan had suddenly become. He seemed erratic and absent when the brothers packed up and made their way back to the camp. On the ride home, he noticed Tarkhan breathing heavily, as if in distress. Yet when he asked, Tarkhan dismissed him and said he was imagining things.
***
Tarkhan didn't suspect it, but the intention of the war on Bashkiria was already fully laid out to its true perpetrators, the Khans of Bulçir and Kabar. They saw a chance for their own expansion in Khagan Tatus' weakness and had worked out a plan to subtly move the council – and ultimately Zachariah – in the direction of an attack on Bashkiria. To them, Tarkhan's eagerness to gain reputation was a welcome way to get Zachariah on board.
Two weeks later, when Tarkhan arrived back at the army camp that by now had moved to Itil, the eastern tip of Khazaria, everything worked according to plan. Bulçan had managed to convince Zachariah that giving up Bashkiria was in his, and especially his son's, best interest and would pose a great expansion opportunity. The same day, war was declared to take Atyrau, on the northern coast of the Caspian Sea, for the Bulçir clan.
February 26, 892 AD
Oleshye
Khan Bulçan was relieved to have steady ground under his feet again. His joints were aching and he had craved a good meal for days. He didn't make the long and tedious ship voyage from Tunis to the Black Sea coast often anymore, and he frequently thought about retiring from the spymaster position and permanently returning to his home on the banks of the Volga lately. His passion for gathering intelligence and his admiration for the splendor of Tunis, the capital of the Sultanate of Ifriqiya, ran deep – but he felt that the responsibilities of two positions were growing past him. The long nights and the tireless work for his domain and his Khagan took their toll. The daily matters of his own Khanate were mostly governed by his oldest son and designated successor Yilig when he wasn't around, but Bulçan had all connections he needed and knew well what transpired, making sure to exert his influence on the important decisions.
The reason for his trip back to Khazaria was that he was to officially be named Count of Atyrau. The Bashkirian Khagan had surrendered not long ago. On the same day, on a surprising suggestion from Zachariah himself, the council majority agreed to declare another war on the now independent Khaganate of Tzopon, with the intention of acquiring additional lands for Khan Menümarót of Kibar this time. The Khagan was quoted that he found the Khan loyal and unpretentious, thus deserving of another county. As the war would neither take long nor was there much danger of failure, the rest of the council was largely indifferent.
The ceremony was neat, but not particularly enthralling to Bulçan, who had seen many such occasions in his life. He couldn't think of much but the dinner that would follow – finally getting something else than dried fish and rusk. At least it was mildly amusing to see someone as young as Yabghu, the Khagan's son, hold a sermon and try to come across very grave and serious. Everyone has his own struggles, as it seems. Especially third-born sons.
When the night dawned, Bulçan went to his accomodations well fed and very content with himself. This would only be the start. With Bashkiria no longer tributary to Zachariah, they would quickly continue to fall apart – and there would be ample opportunity to grab lands along the new Eastern border. Yilig will one day be thankful for those additional lands. Just one more trip to Tunis. Then we'll prepare everything for a new, larger war.
Khan Bulçan went to bed, further contemplating the future course of action along the new frontier and how to tie up loose ends in Tunis before his resignation. Like so many times before, he could barely sleep from all the thoughts running through his head.
That was when a stinging pain hit his left shoulder all of a sudden and radiated into his chest. It was literally breathtaking, sharp and searing, unlike anything he had ever felt before. Bulçan tried to scream, but his lungs weren't reacting and his chords not sounding. Only an uncontrolled sob left Bulçan's lips when his legs gave way. Seconds later, the pain subsided.
They found Khan Bulçan cold and lifeless in the next morning. His son Yilig, whose acquaintance Zachariah had already made on his visit to Georgia, was declared Khan the same day.
***
While Bulçan's family was as prepared as they could for the eventual death of a man nearing sixty years, a biblical age in the steppes (and there weren't many Bibles around for obvious reasons), it also meant that a new spymaster and a new Lord Regent had to be found for the realm. Bulçan had been probably the last Khan that Zachariah had put some degree of trust in. While the Khagan had no objection to Yilig's suggestion to succeed his father as spymaster as someone had to do it after all, the regency carried a great deal of responsibility and prestige at the court. Yilig seemed like a decent man, but Zachariah thought there was no reason to hand him that much power at once. There were still light moments in a reign that by now mostly consisted of drinking, rambling and occasionally shouting at a courtier who happened to be in the vicinity.
The only problem was that when thinking of the right person, Zachariah quickly had to realize that with his own family disallowed from the regency position, there was no one eligible he trusted enough and who he deemed up to the task. For hours, Zachariah went through the possible candidates, but everyone who seemed to have at least some talent to reign was deeply untrustworthy to him. Just because he didn't fear his enemies like he used to, it didn't mean they weren't there after all.
Zachariah had just thought about flipping his desk over, like he often did with great enjoyment if something upset him, but was interrupted by a sound at the door. Outside was Yençepi, a young man who had turned up in Oleshye about seven years ago. He had been a soldier in some mercenary gang until captured while working for a revolt in the Byzantine Empire. The Romans had let him go, but not before subjecting him (and any other non-Christian they could get their hands on) to their "special treatment" and changing his life forever.
Upon arriving in Khazaria, Yençepi quickly showed that he was a smart and charming fellow and soon the court physician Azariah took him in as his apprentice. His own "condition" proved a veritable asset for gaining new customers in the Middle East, who seeked treatment of the Khazarian medici's specialty: venereal diseases. The harems of the Muslim rulers there were regularly forbidden for men other than the respective Sheikh, Emir or Sultan – but these restrictions didn't apply to eunuchs. Soon Azariah's scholar had learned everything the master had known - and a little on top. Zachariah was a known supporter of the Khazarian medical department and had little trouble naming him a second Court Physician aside his master. Azariah had also been the tutor for the courtal children, a task which also fell to Yençepi now. The man was very thankful to be held in such high honor despite his low birth and was loyal to Zachariah, also because he was professional enough to not be judgemental of Zachariah's numerous quirks and bad habits.
Why haven't you thought of that? was all Zachariah's inner monologue had to tell him. At least for now, that means the problem is out of the way. But there are going to be more positions refilled, sooner or later...you have to think of something else in the long run.
Zachariah greeted his physician - who had just wanted to come by to inform him of their next regular appointment - frantically, and without Yençepi having much of a say in the matter he was designated to be Zachariah's Regent two minutes later.
Winter, 890/891 AD
The ultimately failed assault on the supposed heart of Khazaria virtually settled that there was nothing to gain for the Georgians in this war. In addition, two and a half thousand men had stayed in Georgia and gone for the capital when the news came in of the invasion in Oleshye. In the late days of November 890, the regency council representing the King of Georgia was forced to surrender to Zachariah. Their very own fortress Narikala had been overtaken a few days ago by the Khazarian troops under the command of Guyug the Mongol, the rapidly rising star of the army ranks who had recently been made a General at the tender age of 19 years.
Zachariah, his son Tarkhan and twenty-four of the Khagan's personal elite guards rode into the royal fortress that guarded the way to the south, where the capital city lay, under the cheers of his soldiers and the curious gazes of the locals. The young king Okhropir Bagrationi had to bow the knee personally and swear fealty to his new liege, who wouldn't miss the opportunity to take a look at his newest acquisition.
On his voyage to Tbilisi and back, the Khagan was more than pleased. Aside from the scenic landscapes, the countryside was largely untouched by the recent war and looked much more prosperous than the dirt poor and wartorn lands north of the Caucasus they had witnessed on the last such occasion. Although Zachariah and his entourage traveled off the main paths, they frequently came across towns and peasant villages where the populace, as soon as they were assured the two dozen grim-looking riders meant no harm, greeted them with awe (and just a little unease – word had spread about what happened to the Alanians).
The promises of no further violence being intended were sincere this time. Zakkai of Bartenstein, the steward who had been introduced after Ezra's demise, mostly stayed beyond the radar when it came to foreign politics, but he was an absolute expert at his job and immediately got to work when the war on Georgia was declared. He sensed there would be profit to be made, and a few weeks later he presented the Khagan an extensive estimation about the possible gains from Georgian taxes. Zachariah, hungover and deep in thoughts, only understood a third of what Zakkai was saying, but the perspective of raking in up to 2 gold pieces per month, which meant a doubling of the total income, was enough for him. In the end he had concurred to refrain from pillaging this time, at least until further notice – and what he now saw by himself was deemed good enough to keep it that way. Georgia would not see a skull throne anytime soon.
When word spread around the people on the Caucasus that apart from the Khazars being their King's new overlord they were to continue their lives as usual, the relief was great. Only in Alania, the news about the treatment of the people further south only added to the humiliation of the suffering peasants. The local Count and his Hashimid liege were barely able or willing keep the people fed as masses of refugees from the sackings of Durdzukia and Yegorlyk had fled and aggravated the already abundant poverty. Kibar of Bulanid, still the nominal suzerain of the land, was more absent than ever.
It was an angry and emotional sermon by a preacher named Savkudz on All Saints' Day that finally set off all the fury that had brewed in the Alanian people. For all those years they had been raided, pillaged, displaced and massacred, with none of their so-called 'lords' batting an eye. Soon, every grown-up and healthy peasant in Alania had taken up arms in the name of Savkudz to drive off the heathens that had their lands occupied and then ruined. The regent for the six-year-old Count had no idea of the scale of this revolt and ordered to resist forcibly.
That turned out a terrible idea. The small local forces were quickly overwhelmed, and the uprising stormed to the fort of their own chief who was now regarded complicit in their suppression. The Hashimid duchy would be in disarray for years to come.
August 7, 891 AD
The morning sun glistened over the waters of the Dnieper that flew by leisurely before they would merge with the Black Sea a few dozen miles further. Tarkhan Ashina, the heir to the Khaganate of Khazaria, and his younger brother Yabghu had taken a bath in the river, as they had done so often with their other siblings when they were younger, and now they sat at the banks of the river, enjoying the moment of silence. Yesterday Yabghu had turned 16. As usual the festivities were lavish, but the two had left early.
"Ahh, that feels good." Tarkhan sighed pensively. "Wonderful to enjoy a little bit of home before being on the road again. Though I wouldn't have thought that you would be with me for the way back." He pat his younger brother on the shoulder and let out a hearty laugh.
"Neither did I. Neither did anyone, I figure." replied Yabghu, not equally joyous but rather confused. He hadn't slept much after his unexpected promotion of yesterday evening. "I'm still thinking that he'll reveal it was all a joke after a dramatic goodbye, or something like that. I mean, sure, I've read my share of books, but Court Rabbi? Upon my sixteenth birthday? Who's ever seen a teenager holding sermons, bestowing titles, all that dignified stuff? And who's going to explain this to Khan Hezekiah?"
"Oh, I don't think he'll mind all too much. He's never cared much for that position. Says his place is at the frontline. Well, considering how uncomfortable he always seems on horseback, I'd say it's the strategy table rather than that. But who cares - point is he's a much better general than Rabbi. Anyway I'm excited to have you along for at least a bit of the way back. And maybe getting to see other places in the name of God instead of his Scourge isn't all too bad for the afterlife." Both snickered. Yabghu knew well that Tarkhan had quickly grown into military life and was eager to further prove himself, very much regardless of his perspectives in the afterlife.
"Maybe you're right. But to judge that is my job now, you laic – didn't anyone ever teach you that we're all equal in death?" The brothers laughed again. "Oh man, I'll need to get used to this for quite some time. At least it's only Abkhazia for the beginning. That's a short voyage, should Dad get another idea quickly. Not as if it was the first time."
"True. But there's also stories about how he forgot councillors, who didn't receive new orders for years and just went on with their work, even if it was long obsolete. You really never know what to expect of him." replied Tarkhan.
Yabghu objected "Well, sometimes you do. Like when Itakh complained again yesterday that he lost a battle against Kiev – apparently for the first time in the whole long war, but he was neither going to win it before – and Dad was as unresponsive as always and told him to go home."
Tarkhan nodded. "Yeah, there's some continuities, no denying that. Not going into Kiev is one of them. That Jabdertim guy should really know by now that this war is his own problem. And it's a growing problem if you ask me. Hezekiah told me he mainly declared that war to push through with a point and didn't expect the Kievans to resist for so long. A white peace would have been his favored outcome, but now it's looking as if he would lose against the Kievans. That would be quite the drag to his good name."
"I didn't ask, but thanks for the heads up. How come the Kievans didn't show up all the time and are now back with enough men to beat the Jabdertim?"
Now Tarkhan was in his element. He paid close attention to the developments around the realm that stood to be his eventually and loved to explain them to anyone who asked.
"I'll tell you why: about a month ago, the Kievans have finally been smart enough to call off their own war on the Bolghar Khaganate. That freed up enough of their forces to get back at the Jabdertim. Khagan Batir is even more of a tough bastard than everyone thought as it turns out. At one point, he's had three invasions against him and basically the entirety of his lands conquered. Only by holding through with his army in exile, occasional counterattacks and essentially waiting for the attackers to wear themselves out has he managed to win all three of these wars."
"That's really impressive. I've only known stories about him being a paper tiger and virtually powerless, just like his other tributaries." Yabghu replied.
"Well, he's not entirely wrong about that. The other Khaganates under our suzerainty are – or were – in despicable shape. Burtas will soon disappear from the map one way or the other, and Bashkiria is falling apart with Khagan Tatus unable to react. He's predictably lost against the revolting Khan Kugel of Tzopon, who is now a Khagan, and his only other vassal of notice got himself and half his family imprisoned in that war and won't be able to help him out anytime soon."
And with a sly grin, Tarkhan added "There's...rumours about them being renounced as a tributary soon. The other Khans and Dad agree that Tatus doesn't bring enough to the table for the land he occupies and that he's to be...relieved of some of that land. Marshal Itakh and I have seen to prepare the Eastern horde for that case and move them to the Caspian region."
Yabghu had lead a youth in court and was educated under the watch of Court Steward Zakkai. He had had a lot of opportunity to observe how this kind of decision usually took its course in Khazaria. He doubted that their father was even involved up to this point. Zachariah wasn't a man of much discretion, and he had never once mentioned anything in his frequent and extensive, though barely coherent, deliberations about the state of the realm. He still chose to keep quiet about it. From now on, he was a player in this game. And he did not in the least intend to stay Court Rabbi for the rest of his life.
"You're going to war against Bashkiria? That's quite a stab in the back. I'm sure if Tatus suspected something, he would see to join the other Pagans that organized in a defensive pact after the subjugation of Georgia." And in this moment he realized why it was that no one had informed Zachariah yet.
"Sometimes the ends justify the means." was all Tarkhan had to say.
Yabghu sensed that in the world out there, this would be the rule rather than the exception. "And what ends might those be? Giving up a tributary isn't exactly a proud moment for a Khagan."
"As if Dad would actually care about his reputation anymore. But now that you ask, the actual specifications aren't sure until now. I guess it won't be long until we find out. Speaking of it – we seriously have to get going. We each have a long journey before us."
Yabghu was irritated how uncommunicative Tarkhan had suddenly become. He seemed erratic and absent when the brothers packed up and made their way back to the camp. On the ride home, he noticed Tarkhan breathing heavily, as if in distress. Yet when he asked, Tarkhan dismissed him and said he was imagining things.
***
Tarkhan didn't suspect it, but the intention of the war on Bashkiria was already fully laid out to its true perpetrators, the Khans of Bulçir and Kabar. They saw a chance for their own expansion in Khagan Tatus' weakness and had worked out a plan to subtly move the council – and ultimately Zachariah – in the direction of an attack on Bashkiria. To them, Tarkhan's eagerness to gain reputation was a welcome way to get Zachariah on board.
Two weeks later, when Tarkhan arrived back at the army camp that by now had moved to Itil, the eastern tip of Khazaria, everything worked according to plan. Bulçan had managed to convince Zachariah that giving up Bashkiria was in his, and especially his son's, best interest and would pose a great expansion opportunity. The same day, war was declared to take Atyrau, on the northern coast of the Caspian Sea, for the Bulçir clan.
February 26, 892 AD
Oleshye
Khan Bulçan was relieved to have steady ground under his feet again. His joints were aching and he had craved a good meal for days. He didn't make the long and tedious ship voyage from Tunis to the Black Sea coast often anymore, and he frequently thought about retiring from the spymaster position and permanently returning to his home on the banks of the Volga lately. His passion for gathering intelligence and his admiration for the splendor of Tunis, the capital of the Sultanate of Ifriqiya, ran deep – but he felt that the responsibilities of two positions were growing past him. The long nights and the tireless work for his domain and his Khagan took their toll. The daily matters of his own Khanate were mostly governed by his oldest son and designated successor Yilig when he wasn't around, but Bulçan had all connections he needed and knew well what transpired, making sure to exert his influence on the important decisions.
The reason for his trip back to Khazaria was that he was to officially be named Count of Atyrau. The Bashkirian Khagan had surrendered not long ago. On the same day, on a surprising suggestion from Zachariah himself, the council majority agreed to declare another war on the now independent Khaganate of Tzopon, with the intention of acquiring additional lands for Khan Menümarót of Kibar this time. The Khagan was quoted that he found the Khan loyal and unpretentious, thus deserving of another county. As the war would neither take long nor was there much danger of failure, the rest of the council was largely indifferent.
The ceremony was neat, but not particularly enthralling to Bulçan, who had seen many such occasions in his life. He couldn't think of much but the dinner that would follow – finally getting something else than dried fish and rusk. At least it was mildly amusing to see someone as young as Yabghu, the Khagan's son, hold a sermon and try to come across very grave and serious. Everyone has his own struggles, as it seems. Especially third-born sons.
When the night dawned, Bulçan went to his accomodations well fed and very content with himself. This would only be the start. With Bashkiria no longer tributary to Zachariah, they would quickly continue to fall apart – and there would be ample opportunity to grab lands along the new Eastern border. Yilig will one day be thankful for those additional lands. Just one more trip to Tunis. Then we'll prepare everything for a new, larger war.
Khan Bulçan went to bed, further contemplating the future course of action along the new frontier and how to tie up loose ends in Tunis before his resignation. Like so many times before, he could barely sleep from all the thoughts running through his head.
That was when a stinging pain hit his left shoulder all of a sudden and radiated into his chest. It was literally breathtaking, sharp and searing, unlike anything he had ever felt before. Bulçan tried to scream, but his lungs weren't reacting and his chords not sounding. Only an uncontrolled sob left Bulçan's lips when his legs gave way. Seconds later, the pain subsided.
They found Khan Bulçan cold and lifeless in the next morning. His son Yilig, whose acquaintance Zachariah had already made on his visit to Georgia, was declared Khan the same day.
***
While Bulçan's family was as prepared as they could for the eventual death of a man nearing sixty years, a biblical age in the steppes (and there weren't many Bibles around for obvious reasons), it also meant that a new spymaster and a new Lord Regent had to be found for the realm. Bulçan had been probably the last Khan that Zachariah had put some degree of trust in. While the Khagan had no objection to Yilig's suggestion to succeed his father as spymaster as someone had to do it after all, the regency carried a great deal of responsibility and prestige at the court. Yilig seemed like a decent man, but Zachariah thought there was no reason to hand him that much power at once. There were still light moments in a reign that by now mostly consisted of drinking, rambling and occasionally shouting at a courtier who happened to be in the vicinity.
The only problem was that when thinking of the right person, Zachariah quickly had to realize that with his own family disallowed from the regency position, there was no one eligible he trusted enough and who he deemed up to the task. For hours, Zachariah went through the possible candidates, but everyone who seemed to have at least some talent to reign was deeply untrustworthy to him. Just because he didn't fear his enemies like he used to, it didn't mean they weren't there after all.
Zachariah had just thought about flipping his desk over, like he often did with great enjoyment if something upset him, but was interrupted by a sound at the door. Outside was Yençepi, a young man who had turned up in Oleshye about seven years ago. He had been a soldier in some mercenary gang until captured while working for a revolt in the Byzantine Empire. The Romans had let him go, but not before subjecting him (and any other non-Christian they could get their hands on) to their "special treatment" and changing his life forever.
Upon arriving in Khazaria, Yençepi quickly showed that he was a smart and charming fellow and soon the court physician Azariah took him in as his apprentice. His own "condition" proved a veritable asset for gaining new customers in the Middle East, who seeked treatment of the Khazarian medici's specialty: venereal diseases. The harems of the Muslim rulers there were regularly forbidden for men other than the respective Sheikh, Emir or Sultan – but these restrictions didn't apply to eunuchs. Soon Azariah's scholar had learned everything the master had known - and a little on top. Zachariah was a known supporter of the Khazarian medical department and had little trouble naming him a second Court Physician aside his master. Azariah had also been the tutor for the courtal children, a task which also fell to Yençepi now. The man was very thankful to be held in such high honor despite his low birth and was loyal to Zachariah, also because he was professional enough to not be judgemental of Zachariah's numerous quirks and bad habits.
Why haven't you thought of that? was all Zachariah's inner monologue had to tell him. At least for now, that means the problem is out of the way. But there are going to be more positions refilled, sooner or later...you have to think of something else in the long run.
Zachariah greeted his physician - who had just wanted to come by to inform him of their next regular appointment - frantically, and without Yençepi having much of a say in the matter he was designated to be Zachariah's Regent two minutes later.
A big conquest to the south, id imagine the Byzantines are alarmed at how quickly Khazaria has expanded, they should be watched, and a good oppurtunity to Yabghu to prove his worth to his father, his ambition is something that could alienate the brothers however.
The Byzantines have been busy with perpetual civil wars over the last decades, but now they definitely should pay more attention. Actual conflict isn't brewing though, as no side has a serious interest in antagonizing the other for the moment. In contrast, you're correct to assume the harmony between the brothers isn't built to last.
That will soon become painfully obvious.
Sometimes I have the feeling that all that reading and commenting has given you some serious foreshadowing abilities expressed through short remarks, much like - wait for it - an AARacle.
Chapter 43 – Blood, Sweat and Horseshoes
Chapter 43 – Blood, Sweat and Horseshoes
August 31, 892 AD
Votyaki, Perm
"Curses!" uttered a mud-covered Tarkhan Ashina. A band of Permian skirmishers, no more than two dozen men, had attacked the moving troops a few minutes ago, caused several injured horses and then escaped back into the forests as quick as they had appeared. Tarkhan and several of his men had tried to follow by foot and stop them, but the locals were too quick. "All men stay back! Following them will only lead us into more traps. We're moving on together. The hillfort can't be far anymore."
Perm. An attack on Perm of all places. Why on Earth are we here? thought Tarkhan, not for the first time and no doubt representative of each of the men he and his fellows were commanding.
These blasted countries to the north were insufferable. In friendly territory, the locals were at least willing to support their safe passage through the perilous woods and swamps with supplies and – more importantly – information about their surroundings. Here they were on their own entirely, except for the hundreds of thousands of mosquitoes. Moving on horseback was tedious, ambushes were frequent and sickness ran rampant along the Khazarian soldiers. The few supplies they could provide for themselves quickly proved insufficient and it was unsure how long the troops could sustain themselves.
Whatever has got into Dad. He never cared about his tributaries for the least, and now we're to lead an aggressive war for them? And why didn't the Marshal prevent the worst at least and keep us in friendly territory, out of this unending nightmare?
Indeed there were many open questions. Three months ago, the conquest of Kangly was finished without much ordeal and the troops were resting and filling up their ranks. Then the rather unexpected order to move north and support the Bolghar subjugation war on Perm – which was already running quite well for Khagan Batir - arrived from Oleshye.
General Hezekiah headed off to the court and promised to provide answers, but could only report upon returning that he was put off by Marshal Itakh with empty phrases about showing strength to enemies and responsibility to friends. He also came back with the definitive order to besiege Permian lands and unusually specific instructions where to move. Upon getting to the hillfort of the Votyaki chief, the army was supposed to split and one half of it to leave under General Hezekiah for the even more inhospitable Keltma.
Zachariah himself was busy at the time with his newly acquired falcon and in no mood to explain government matters to anyone, least the treacherous Khan of Hekel. This turned out to be a response the council gave to more people over the coming time. The war on Perm was highly unpopular and stirred up all kinds of complaints, and the Khagan was always looking for new diversions. Zachariah was bored quickly and constantly needed new ways to avoid the emptiness that spread inside him whenever he was supposed to do something he loathed - such as listening to complaints. And when the emptiness came, it made room for the endless spirals of thought, the craving for self-destruction, the rage. Falconing was his newest fad, and in it somehow he found a hidden talent and some peace of mind he so desired.
Back in Perm, the siege of the Votyaki fort was set up by Tarkhan and his men, but it would not take long for the abysmal conditions to demand casualties by the dozens. For the coming weeks, men would die of fever, because of injuries contracted in the continuing raids by the defenders or – the most terrifying way to die – swallowed by sinkholes in the swamps. Several of the men disappeared without a trace this way. The siege was unsuccessful as well, and at that pace the defenders would soon outnumber the Khazarian troops.
***
Only about six weeks after the march into Perm, hunger and sickness started to spiral out of control. Hezekiah and Tarkhan both had to retreat unless they wanted their remaining men to openly mutiny. The armies regrouped across the border and a message was sent to the court about the problems in Perm. To the great surprise of the generals, no one in Oleshye – least the Khagan – seemed to care particularly. The reply from Zachariah insinuated he didn't have much of an idea why the order to march into Perm had gone out in the first place and that they were probably right about ending the attempt before even greater losses occurred.
Tarkhan was angry over the disillusion carried by this sparse explanation. These were his fathers' own men, and that was how he took care of their whereabouts? And why in Adonai's name would Itakh give out such orders in the first place if it wasn't due to the Khagan's whims? There would be a lot of questions to answer once this whole ordeal was over. And all this while his twin brother was enjoying his life as a mercenary captain, spending everything he was supposed to earn the realm and more on wine and Kazakh girls.
It's not fair, Tarkhan thought to himself more than once. I'm not going to take it. Little did he know how long it would still take for him to eventually confront his superiors.
June 18, 893 AD
Pereyaslavl, Jabdertim
Khan Itakh of Jabdertim and his wife Ayten sat upon their thrones, with their court grouped around them. The Khagan's envoy would arrive any minute – and they would bring favorable news at last. Some success was overdue. The Jabdertim clan had gone through a rough time.
Their encampment had been sacked by the Hekel raiders soon after Hezekiah's betrayal five years back, and the war on Kiev had gone ever worse since then. Itakh tried everything to turn the tide, but neither in Kiev nor in Oleshye, where he kept trying to persuade the Khagan to support his war, his efforts lead to anything substantial. Only the intervention of his wife made him recognize that the war wasn't going to be won anytime soon and he needed to refocus. Ayten was a true Khanum, a strong and independent woman who made up for much of the foresight and the sense for details her husband was lacking. It was her who quickly derived a course of action to get back at Hezekiah last year when the call to arms from Bolghar arrived.
She knew very well that the Khagan carried a grudge on Hezekiah too. This, and the absence of Zachariah's other landed councillors, would be their advantage. Getting him to accept Batir's call and subsequently sending Hezekiah to the far north with the troops was tricky, but turned out to be exactly the intended diversion. A neat side effect was that a Bolghar Khaganate in full control over Perm would be a major roadblock to the Hekel clan in the future and every bit of support towards that outcome would help.
Still, Itakh's and Ayten's true intentions lay elsewhere – they longed for the Duchy of Chernigov. The title still belonged to High Chief Voislav of Kiev, who had usurped it from Dyre Oskyldr long ago before he had to succumb to King Vyshata and the Rus. Yet the actual lands around Chernigov were now parted between the Jabdertim and Hekel clans, with Novgorod-Seversky the only province belonging to Hekel. As the Duke of Chernigov, Itakh would be rightfully entitled to that province.
Voislav, and thus his liege, had to be at peace for the title to become up for usurpation – which had not been the case for the time of his reign, mostly through Itakh's own doings. Still, now the Jabdertim's own failing war was the only thing between the Rus finally being at peace for once after their shameful retreat from Bolghar. As much as it hurt him, Itakh finally surrendered on February 28th to make way for the follow-up before someone else thought of attacking the weary, but tenacious Kievans.
The surrender to Kiev was supposed to be the end of the Jabdertim clan's long string of misfortune. But fate seemingly always had another arrow in the quiver for Itakh. As if an actual curse lay upon the lands, just as Khagan Zachariah kept going on and on about, the same day the peace was declared, Itakh's oldest daughter Savkelti was bitten by her own dog, a docile and well-tempered being for all his life. At first it seemed inexplicable why the animal would suddenly behave like this and Savkelti reported she felt fine, but the court physician had a terrible suspicion. His worries started to manifest when she started developing high fever three weeks later. Her condition got worse quickly, and there was nothing anyone could do for her. On March 24th, Savkelti died of rabies.
The landed sibling is her half-brother from her mother's former marriage.
Despite Itakh's great grief, the Jabdertim diplomacy had to continue. Had the war not drained their coffers and prevented any opportunity to loot for years, Itakh could have usurped the Duchy of Chernigov himself – but as it was, he needed Zachariah to do the deed for him. There was no time to wait until he could afford it himself.
Luckily for the clan's emissaries, Zachariah was actually aware of the situation in the area and very much amused by the notion of upsetting both the Kievan High Chief and his "arrogant scumbag of a vassal" with one move. He quickly agreed to put in an according motion as soon as his time allowed it...which then took another two months and cost Itakh a substantial amount of nerve, but in the end no new war emerged in the Rus and the council unanimously, except for Hezekiah who had been in Bolghar all the time and caught by surprise, approved of the course.
***
The herald announced the arrival of the Khazarian diplomatic envoy. Everyone stood up and the room got silent. In stepped Chancellor Belet, followed by two scribes and two armed guards, and made his way towards the royal couple. The Khan and him knew each other well from the council, and the greetings were formal, yet acquainted.
"Most revered Khan Itakh of Jabdertim and Khanum Ayten, my honoured Jabdertim clansmen and courtsfolk!", Belet started. "We're here to officially acknowledge and execute the Khazarian council's decision about the beloved Khagan's motion to pass over his title of Duke of Chernigov. As you might already know, the motion has been passed."
The crowd applauded and one of the scribes handed Belet a formal charter. The chancellor read the charter which stated Itakh's ownership of the title before God and the Khagan aloud, then asked Itakh to formally announce his acceptance of this honour.
"I accept, revered chancellor" said Itakh with solace in his eyes, and Belet handed him the scroll.
"Then you, Khan Itakh of Jabdertim, are hereby the new rightful Duke of Chernigov. I congratulate you in the name of the Khagan."
The court broke into cheers. It had been a long time since there'd been a reason to celebrate, and everyone was relieved that things seemed to finally go upwards again for the clan. They were even more enthusiastic when Khan Itakh acclaimed that tonight there would be a feast.
***
The chancellor was an aging man, clearly marked by his past as a soldier, but he was a gregarious personality who got along with pretty much everyone and who never showed averse to the amenities of life at court. He gladly accepted Itakh's cordial invitation to stay at his court over night. While being used to Zachariah's exorbitant carousals, Belet still enjoyed a more traditional, humbler one – as long as there was enough wine and womanfolk present.
At the Ashina court, throwing feasts was about perpetual entertainment, often consisting of bizarre exploitation of humans and animals, and boundless gluttony. This was different. This was no more than rather ordinary people having a good time with their fellows, and it felt refreshing. Belet had lead lots of enjoyable and enlightening conversations, and even the royal couple seemed approachable.
"I hope everything is to your liking, Belet" Itakh said when he took place next to his fellow councillor and added with a smile "Even though it doesn't quite compare to the parties at the Khagan's court."
"Oh, don't worry about that, really. I'm always glad to meet new people. Who knows how many chances I still get." Belet assured him. "And I'm thankful for a change. When the Khagan throws a feast, there's always so much absurdity to process that you barely get to eat or speak. It's distressing, to be honest. And you can't bring your children."
Itakh laughed. "I'm glad I can provide you with a more down to earth experience. Is there anything new about what he's planning to do with our Court Rabbi, now that Yilig has revealed that he's plotting against his brother?"
Belet sighed. "He's still insisting those are naught but boys' games, and that they should sort it out amongst themselves. I'm sure that's what will happen eventually – but succession squabbles are bound to be troublesome and insisting that people sort out their own stuff isn't exactly showing stable leadership. At least Tarkhan knows about his brother's intentions. Or so I guess, I'm not sure if the news have already reached the troops in the north."
The thought of the troops, and Khan Hezekiah along them, still being stuck far away delighted Itakh almost as much as Belet mentioning Zachariah and stable leadership in the same breath. He started to snort with laughter, to the irritation of the chancellor who had not intended a joke and excused himself soon after.
Belet found it rather worrisome that now not only Zachariah's vassals, but also his sons engaged in fighting among each other. The Khans kept looting each others' lands, and now Khan Kibar Bulanid had declared his ambition to revoke his late father's elusive decision to give his province Manych to the Kabar clan. The Kabar under Khan Menümarót had received a second province on the Caspian Sea the year before, which Kibar now took as sufficient reason to evict them from Manych by force.
Succession conflicts would be the last thing to benefit a Khaganate that was already subject to so many different interests and an ever more absent man at its top. But there was always trouble on the horizon, and Belet told himself that it shouldn't stop him from appreciating the present. And so he poured himself another wine and walked towards an attractive lass who had been suspiciously alone all night.
July 17, 893 AD
Zachariah and his entourage were on their way back from another day of successful falconing, and the Khagan rode a few metres behind his men. He felt youthful and inspired. Getting out into the nature was always relieving, and while people were ever more disapproving of Zachariah, his animals neither judged him nor did they constantly object or say he made no sense. They just listened and else minded their own business. When he thought about it – had an animal ever tried to kill one of his friends or children? Had an animal ever deceived him and lied to his face over years? Had an animal accused him of being responsible for thousands of unintended deaths or being inhuman for thousands of intentional deaths?
No! Each and every time, it had been people. Everything bad came from people.
"I sometimes wonder why humans and not you horses rule the place, considering how much superior you are. People are so pathetic, you know?" he muttered aloud to his faithful horse.
Glitterhoof was really the best horse he had ever seen. He was reliable, strong and always kept his temper. A few years back, Zachariah had silver horseshoes made for him and his daughter Sarantay went wild with enthusiasm about the horse's shiny optics, as would any seven-year-old. She soon insisted to call the horse "Glitterhoof". Zachariah, all family man, immediately issued an order for it to be punishable by death to refer to his horse anyhow but as Glitterhoof.
"Well, we're rarely asked. We also have it quite well in the steppes on average and don't exactly strive for more. I mean, imagine just having to stand around most of the time and occasionally take a stroll", it sounded from below.
Zachariah was puzzled. It was known that horses understood humans on a basic level – every experienced rider communicated with his horse in many different ways. Still there was little doubt that horses weren't supposed to answer in human language.
"Is that...you, Glitterhoof?" Zachariah asked, muffling his voice so the riders in front of him wouldn't take note and interrupt them.
"Who else would it be? You were talking to me, for all I know." the voice from below replied.
The Khagan could hardly believe what was happening. "Well, but you have never talked to me before. Why now?"
"What? I'm talking to you all the time. I also talked to the people who brought me up. Good people, really. It's just that humans usually don't understand what we're saying. Sometimes they give the most hilarious answers because they have no idea what we just said. No idea why you can sudenly hear me, to be honest. But I can assure you the others don't." And Glitterhoof neighed heartily, clearly calling the rider in front of them the son of a cameleer, but to no reaction at all.
"Amazing, really. How exciting is that? I take it you know there's a lot of people who were already suspecting that, but I haven't heard of someone whose horse actually talked to him!"
"Well, there you go. Of course we know what people think of us. We basically live alongside each other and they're quite talkative around us, so we get to hear a lot of things.", Glitterhoof replied calmly. "Though most often they're petty and inconsequential, to be honest."
"I told you - people are pathetic, right?"
"Well, 'pathetic' isn't how I would put it. Most of them are simple folk and don't have a lot to contemplate about. They feed us, we carry them. As long as everyone treats each other with respect, it's a simple deal that works very well for everyone involved."
Zachariah had already forgotten that horses weren't supposed to talk and was amazed by the insight Glitterhoof showed. "Are you always that articulate? You said no one ever asks you to rule, but you're easily more capable than most of the sorry bunch who call themselves politicians – and I could always rely on you, I'm sure. You horses are so much more reliable than people..."
"We tend to stick with our decisions once made, that is true. We're flight animals, remember? We don't like surprises in the slightest - and from that point it's only logical to stay predictable and cooperative as long as there's no actual danger." Glitterhoof explained. "You should see the Western horses. Remember when you were in Bulgaria? There they grow up in stables, used to nothing but serving their masters from very early age. Those poor wretches are completely broken, docile as dogs."
Zachariah was beyond fascinated. It had been about time that God rewarded his achievements against the heretics with some kind of gift – and nothing short of a miracle could be the reason for this. Glitterhoof talking to him opened a whole new world. "You're an exceptional horse, Glitterhoof."
Zachariah and Glitterhoof continued to share their views for the whole way back to the encampment. While they were talking, a thought grew in Zachariah's mind. Had Glitterhoof not stated that no one ever asked horses to govern? When they were back home, the Khagan had made up his mind.
"Glitterhoof, now that I'm able to understand you...how would you like to become my chancellor? I can't think of anyone wiser and more eloquent, and I'm really lacking good personnel lately. I'd be honored to have you in my council."
"Oh my, that's a big question....Are you sure? I mean, there's once been a Roman emperor who pulled that off, but everyone to date thinks he was just completely insane..."
"Well, everyone knows that I'm not. I'm sure people will understand once I tell them of my divine gift and that I will translate everything you contribute."
"Oh, that should help, yes. Well, this is flattering. But it's a chance not many horses get. I'm your man!" replied a surprised and very proud Glitterhoof.
Zachariah was overjoyed. Finally someone in the council he could rely on beyond doubt. Also, someone who he could absolutely trust to lead a stable and quiet regency in his absence – he sensed that his court physician, competent as he was, felt uncomfortable with that much responsibility. Everyone would win. This was the best thing that happened to him since the fire-eater from Persia accidentally ignited himself back on some birthday celebration. That had quite literally been a blast – but today would be one of those days when the realm was taking a huge step forward.
August 31, 892 AD
Votyaki, Perm
"Curses!" uttered a mud-covered Tarkhan Ashina. A band of Permian skirmishers, no more than two dozen men, had attacked the moving troops a few minutes ago, caused several injured horses and then escaped back into the forests as quick as they had appeared. Tarkhan and several of his men had tried to follow by foot and stop them, but the locals were too quick. "All men stay back! Following them will only lead us into more traps. We're moving on together. The hillfort can't be far anymore."
Perm. An attack on Perm of all places. Why on Earth are we here? thought Tarkhan, not for the first time and no doubt representative of each of the men he and his fellows were commanding.
These blasted countries to the north were insufferable. In friendly territory, the locals were at least willing to support their safe passage through the perilous woods and swamps with supplies and – more importantly – information about their surroundings. Here they were on their own entirely, except for the hundreds of thousands of mosquitoes. Moving on horseback was tedious, ambushes were frequent and sickness ran rampant along the Khazarian soldiers. The few supplies they could provide for themselves quickly proved insufficient and it was unsure how long the troops could sustain themselves.
Whatever has got into Dad. He never cared about his tributaries for the least, and now we're to lead an aggressive war for them? And why didn't the Marshal prevent the worst at least and keep us in friendly territory, out of this unending nightmare?
Indeed there were many open questions. Three months ago, the conquest of Kangly was finished without much ordeal and the troops were resting and filling up their ranks. Then the rather unexpected order to move north and support the Bolghar subjugation war on Perm – which was already running quite well for Khagan Batir - arrived from Oleshye.
General Hezekiah headed off to the court and promised to provide answers, but could only report upon returning that he was put off by Marshal Itakh with empty phrases about showing strength to enemies and responsibility to friends. He also came back with the definitive order to besiege Permian lands and unusually specific instructions where to move. Upon getting to the hillfort of the Votyaki chief, the army was supposed to split and one half of it to leave under General Hezekiah for the even more inhospitable Keltma.
Zachariah himself was busy at the time with his newly acquired falcon and in no mood to explain government matters to anyone, least the treacherous Khan of Hekel. This turned out to be a response the council gave to more people over the coming time. The war on Perm was highly unpopular and stirred up all kinds of complaints, and the Khagan was always looking for new diversions. Zachariah was bored quickly and constantly needed new ways to avoid the emptiness that spread inside him whenever he was supposed to do something he loathed - such as listening to complaints. And when the emptiness came, it made room for the endless spirals of thought, the craving for self-destruction, the rage. Falconing was his newest fad, and in it somehow he found a hidden talent and some peace of mind he so desired.
Back in Perm, the siege of the Votyaki fort was set up by Tarkhan and his men, but it would not take long for the abysmal conditions to demand casualties by the dozens. For the coming weeks, men would die of fever, because of injuries contracted in the continuing raids by the defenders or – the most terrifying way to die – swallowed by sinkholes in the swamps. Several of the men disappeared without a trace this way. The siege was unsuccessful as well, and at that pace the defenders would soon outnumber the Khazarian troops.
***
Only about six weeks after the march into Perm, hunger and sickness started to spiral out of control. Hezekiah and Tarkhan both had to retreat unless they wanted their remaining men to openly mutiny. The armies regrouped across the border and a message was sent to the court about the problems in Perm. To the great surprise of the generals, no one in Oleshye – least the Khagan – seemed to care particularly. The reply from Zachariah insinuated he didn't have much of an idea why the order to march into Perm had gone out in the first place and that they were probably right about ending the attempt before even greater losses occurred.
Tarkhan was angry over the disillusion carried by this sparse explanation. These were his fathers' own men, and that was how he took care of their whereabouts? And why in Adonai's name would Itakh give out such orders in the first place if it wasn't due to the Khagan's whims? There would be a lot of questions to answer once this whole ordeal was over. And all this while his twin brother was enjoying his life as a mercenary captain, spending everything he was supposed to earn the realm and more on wine and Kazakh girls.
It's not fair, Tarkhan thought to himself more than once. I'm not going to take it. Little did he know how long it would still take for him to eventually confront his superiors.
June 18, 893 AD
Pereyaslavl, Jabdertim
Khan Itakh of Jabdertim and his wife Ayten sat upon their thrones, with their court grouped around them. The Khagan's envoy would arrive any minute – and they would bring favorable news at last. Some success was overdue. The Jabdertim clan had gone through a rough time.
Their encampment had been sacked by the Hekel raiders soon after Hezekiah's betrayal five years back, and the war on Kiev had gone ever worse since then. Itakh tried everything to turn the tide, but neither in Kiev nor in Oleshye, where he kept trying to persuade the Khagan to support his war, his efforts lead to anything substantial. Only the intervention of his wife made him recognize that the war wasn't going to be won anytime soon and he needed to refocus. Ayten was a true Khanum, a strong and independent woman who made up for much of the foresight and the sense for details her husband was lacking. It was her who quickly derived a course of action to get back at Hezekiah last year when the call to arms from Bolghar arrived.
She knew very well that the Khagan carried a grudge on Hezekiah too. This, and the absence of Zachariah's other landed councillors, would be their advantage. Getting him to accept Batir's call and subsequently sending Hezekiah to the far north with the troops was tricky, but turned out to be exactly the intended diversion. A neat side effect was that a Bolghar Khaganate in full control over Perm would be a major roadblock to the Hekel clan in the future and every bit of support towards that outcome would help.
Still, Itakh's and Ayten's true intentions lay elsewhere – they longed for the Duchy of Chernigov. The title still belonged to High Chief Voislav of Kiev, who had usurped it from Dyre Oskyldr long ago before he had to succumb to King Vyshata and the Rus. Yet the actual lands around Chernigov were now parted between the Jabdertim and Hekel clans, with Novgorod-Seversky the only province belonging to Hekel. As the Duke of Chernigov, Itakh would be rightfully entitled to that province.
Voislav, and thus his liege, had to be at peace for the title to become up for usurpation – which had not been the case for the time of his reign, mostly through Itakh's own doings. Still, now the Jabdertim's own failing war was the only thing between the Rus finally being at peace for once after their shameful retreat from Bolghar. As much as it hurt him, Itakh finally surrendered on February 28th to make way for the follow-up before someone else thought of attacking the weary, but tenacious Kievans.
The surrender to Kiev was supposed to be the end of the Jabdertim clan's long string of misfortune. But fate seemingly always had another arrow in the quiver for Itakh. As if an actual curse lay upon the lands, just as Khagan Zachariah kept going on and on about, the same day the peace was declared, Itakh's oldest daughter Savkelti was bitten by her own dog, a docile and well-tempered being for all his life. At first it seemed inexplicable why the animal would suddenly behave like this and Savkelti reported she felt fine, but the court physician had a terrible suspicion. His worries started to manifest when she started developing high fever three weeks later. Her condition got worse quickly, and there was nothing anyone could do for her. On March 24th, Savkelti died of rabies.
The landed sibling is her half-brother from her mother's former marriage.
Despite Itakh's great grief, the Jabdertim diplomacy had to continue. Had the war not drained their coffers and prevented any opportunity to loot for years, Itakh could have usurped the Duchy of Chernigov himself – but as it was, he needed Zachariah to do the deed for him. There was no time to wait until he could afford it himself.
Luckily for the clan's emissaries, Zachariah was actually aware of the situation in the area and very much amused by the notion of upsetting both the Kievan High Chief and his "arrogant scumbag of a vassal" with one move. He quickly agreed to put in an according motion as soon as his time allowed it...which then took another two months and cost Itakh a substantial amount of nerve, but in the end no new war emerged in the Rus and the council unanimously, except for Hezekiah who had been in Bolghar all the time and caught by surprise, approved of the course.
***
The herald announced the arrival of the Khazarian diplomatic envoy. Everyone stood up and the room got silent. In stepped Chancellor Belet, followed by two scribes and two armed guards, and made his way towards the royal couple. The Khan and him knew each other well from the council, and the greetings were formal, yet acquainted.
"Most revered Khan Itakh of Jabdertim and Khanum Ayten, my honoured Jabdertim clansmen and courtsfolk!", Belet started. "We're here to officially acknowledge and execute the Khazarian council's decision about the beloved Khagan's motion to pass over his title of Duke of Chernigov. As you might already know, the motion has been passed."
The crowd applauded and one of the scribes handed Belet a formal charter. The chancellor read the charter which stated Itakh's ownership of the title before God and the Khagan aloud, then asked Itakh to formally announce his acceptance of this honour.
"I accept, revered chancellor" said Itakh with solace in his eyes, and Belet handed him the scroll.
"Then you, Khan Itakh of Jabdertim, are hereby the new rightful Duke of Chernigov. I congratulate you in the name of the Khagan."
The court broke into cheers. It had been a long time since there'd been a reason to celebrate, and everyone was relieved that things seemed to finally go upwards again for the clan. They were even more enthusiastic when Khan Itakh acclaimed that tonight there would be a feast.
***
The chancellor was an aging man, clearly marked by his past as a soldier, but he was a gregarious personality who got along with pretty much everyone and who never showed averse to the amenities of life at court. He gladly accepted Itakh's cordial invitation to stay at his court over night. While being used to Zachariah's exorbitant carousals, Belet still enjoyed a more traditional, humbler one – as long as there was enough wine and womanfolk present.
At the Ashina court, throwing feasts was about perpetual entertainment, often consisting of bizarre exploitation of humans and animals, and boundless gluttony. This was different. This was no more than rather ordinary people having a good time with their fellows, and it felt refreshing. Belet had lead lots of enjoyable and enlightening conversations, and even the royal couple seemed approachable.
"I hope everything is to your liking, Belet" Itakh said when he took place next to his fellow councillor and added with a smile "Even though it doesn't quite compare to the parties at the Khagan's court."
"Oh, don't worry about that, really. I'm always glad to meet new people. Who knows how many chances I still get." Belet assured him. "And I'm thankful for a change. When the Khagan throws a feast, there's always so much absurdity to process that you barely get to eat or speak. It's distressing, to be honest. And you can't bring your children."
Itakh laughed. "I'm glad I can provide you with a more down to earth experience. Is there anything new about what he's planning to do with our Court Rabbi, now that Yilig has revealed that he's plotting against his brother?"
Belet sighed. "He's still insisting those are naught but boys' games, and that they should sort it out amongst themselves. I'm sure that's what will happen eventually – but succession squabbles are bound to be troublesome and insisting that people sort out their own stuff isn't exactly showing stable leadership. At least Tarkhan knows about his brother's intentions. Or so I guess, I'm not sure if the news have already reached the troops in the north."
The thought of the troops, and Khan Hezekiah along them, still being stuck far away delighted Itakh almost as much as Belet mentioning Zachariah and stable leadership in the same breath. He started to snort with laughter, to the irritation of the chancellor who had not intended a joke and excused himself soon after.
Belet found it rather worrisome that now not only Zachariah's vassals, but also his sons engaged in fighting among each other. The Khans kept looting each others' lands, and now Khan Kibar Bulanid had declared his ambition to revoke his late father's elusive decision to give his province Manych to the Kabar clan. The Kabar under Khan Menümarót had received a second province on the Caspian Sea the year before, which Kibar now took as sufficient reason to evict them from Manych by force.
Succession conflicts would be the last thing to benefit a Khaganate that was already subject to so many different interests and an ever more absent man at its top. But there was always trouble on the horizon, and Belet told himself that it shouldn't stop him from appreciating the present. And so he poured himself another wine and walked towards an attractive lass who had been suspiciously alone all night.
July 17, 893 AD
Zachariah and his entourage were on their way back from another day of successful falconing, and the Khagan rode a few metres behind his men. He felt youthful and inspired. Getting out into the nature was always relieving, and while people were ever more disapproving of Zachariah, his animals neither judged him nor did they constantly object or say he made no sense. They just listened and else minded their own business. When he thought about it – had an animal ever tried to kill one of his friends or children? Had an animal ever deceived him and lied to his face over years? Had an animal accused him of being responsible for thousands of unintended deaths or being inhuman for thousands of intentional deaths?
No! Each and every time, it had been people. Everything bad came from people.
"I sometimes wonder why humans and not you horses rule the place, considering how much superior you are. People are so pathetic, you know?" he muttered aloud to his faithful horse.
Glitterhoof was really the best horse he had ever seen. He was reliable, strong and always kept his temper. A few years back, Zachariah had silver horseshoes made for him and his daughter Sarantay went wild with enthusiasm about the horse's shiny optics, as would any seven-year-old. She soon insisted to call the horse "Glitterhoof". Zachariah, all family man, immediately issued an order for it to be punishable by death to refer to his horse anyhow but as Glitterhoof.
"Well, we're rarely asked. We also have it quite well in the steppes on average and don't exactly strive for more. I mean, imagine just having to stand around most of the time and occasionally take a stroll", it sounded from below.
Zachariah was puzzled. It was known that horses understood humans on a basic level – every experienced rider communicated with his horse in many different ways. Still there was little doubt that horses weren't supposed to answer in human language.
"Is that...you, Glitterhoof?" Zachariah asked, muffling his voice so the riders in front of him wouldn't take note and interrupt them.
"Who else would it be? You were talking to me, for all I know." the voice from below replied.
The Khagan could hardly believe what was happening. "Well, but you have never talked to me before. Why now?"
"What? I'm talking to you all the time. I also talked to the people who brought me up. Good people, really. It's just that humans usually don't understand what we're saying. Sometimes they give the most hilarious answers because they have no idea what we just said. No idea why you can sudenly hear me, to be honest. But I can assure you the others don't." And Glitterhoof neighed heartily, clearly calling the rider in front of them the son of a cameleer, but to no reaction at all.
"Amazing, really. How exciting is that? I take it you know there's a lot of people who were already suspecting that, but I haven't heard of someone whose horse actually talked to him!"
"Well, there you go. Of course we know what people think of us. We basically live alongside each other and they're quite talkative around us, so we get to hear a lot of things.", Glitterhoof replied calmly. "Though most often they're petty and inconsequential, to be honest."
"I told you - people are pathetic, right?"
"Well, 'pathetic' isn't how I would put it. Most of them are simple folk and don't have a lot to contemplate about. They feed us, we carry them. As long as everyone treats each other with respect, it's a simple deal that works very well for everyone involved."
Zachariah had already forgotten that horses weren't supposed to talk and was amazed by the insight Glitterhoof showed. "Are you always that articulate? You said no one ever asks you to rule, but you're easily more capable than most of the sorry bunch who call themselves politicians – and I could always rely on you, I'm sure. You horses are so much more reliable than people..."
"We tend to stick with our decisions once made, that is true. We're flight animals, remember? We don't like surprises in the slightest - and from that point it's only logical to stay predictable and cooperative as long as there's no actual danger." Glitterhoof explained. "You should see the Western horses. Remember when you were in Bulgaria? There they grow up in stables, used to nothing but serving their masters from very early age. Those poor wretches are completely broken, docile as dogs."
Zachariah was beyond fascinated. It had been about time that God rewarded his achievements against the heretics with some kind of gift – and nothing short of a miracle could be the reason for this. Glitterhoof talking to him opened a whole new world. "You're an exceptional horse, Glitterhoof."
Zachariah and Glitterhoof continued to share their views for the whole way back to the encampment. While they were talking, a thought grew in Zachariah's mind. Had Glitterhoof not stated that no one ever asked horses to govern? When they were back home, the Khagan had made up his mind.
"Glitterhoof, now that I'm able to understand you...how would you like to become my chancellor? I can't think of anyone wiser and more eloquent, and I'm really lacking good personnel lately. I'd be honored to have you in my council."
"Oh my, that's a big question....Are you sure? I mean, there's once been a Roman emperor who pulled that off, but everyone to date thinks he was just completely insane..."
"Well, everyone knows that I'm not. I'm sure people will understand once I tell them of my divine gift and that I will translate everything you contribute."
"Oh, that should help, yes. Well, this is flattering. But it's a chance not many horses get. I'm your man!" replied a surprised and very proud Glitterhoof.
Zachariah was overjoyed. Finally someone in the council he could rely on beyond doubt. Also, someone who he could absolutely trust to lead a stable and quiet regency in his absence – he sensed that his court physician, competent as he was, felt uncomfortable with that much responsibility. Everyone would win. This was the best thing that happened to him since the fire-eater from Persia accidentally ignited himself back on some birthday celebration. That had quite literally been a blast – but today would be one of those days when the realm was taking a huge step forward.
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Really like how youve dealt with Zacharias insanity, will be interested to see how his vassals and children react. Bad news about Yabghu and Tarkhan, but not unexpected.
Pun intended?
Thanks!
Being cruel and insane without descending into a cliché iron-fist tyrant (which wouldn't be very suitable to Zachariah after all) is quite the task, as I've learned over the past few chapters. Good to know it catches on.No, but now I wish it was.
Wow. That's a big honor, especially from someone who's (probably literally) read all of them. Thank you!
Hardly - LOTS of CK2 AARs I have not read, trust meWow. That's a big honor, especially from someone who's (probably literally) read all of them. Thank you!
But usually Glitterhoof only makes it into a gameplay or purposefully comedic AAR.
Chapter 44 – Next Gen Problems
Chapter 44 – Next Gen Problems
December 9, 893 AD
Six men and a horse were grouped around the large table in the Clan gathering hall. The council convened, as it did more frequently in the recent past. Khazaria needed guidance, and especially Court Steward Zakkai was insisting on regular meetings to resume. His perseverance was probably the only reason today's main matter - a motion to shift the obligations of feudal vassals to the Khagan towards more taxes and less potentially levied troops - even got onto the table. Right now he was standing at the table, making his case for the law change.
"My revered colleagues, His Highness Khagan Zachariah!", Zakkai started speaking. "You're all aware by now that the Khazarian treasury is in considerable disequilibrium right now. All efforts have been undertaken in the past months to rectify the situation and we're on the right path, I can assure you of that. But there's still a lesson to learn from this. We need to put Khazarian finances on a stable basis without the need to extract 'specific tributes', which are often perceived arbitrary and intransparent by the local populace...."
Earlier...
Zakkai's job had become considerably more complex in the past months. Khagan Zachariah was apathetic and at least half drunk most of the time, talking to himself or staring into the blank for hours on end and simply not responding. He seemed to only spring to life when it was time for carousing or hunting with his beloved falcon and his....chancellor. Usually those were the occasions when people could get through to him – if he and Glitterhoof felt like listening.
It still wasn't as if Zachariah was never making decisions at all. His priorities were very distinct though: the hall had undergone costly customisations to accomodate a horse on a regular basis, and remembering his old acquaintance to the well-connected gold smith Savaçka he had ordered a splendid plate armor covered in ornaments for his chancellor.
Although people were very impressed by the result, it had clearly never been among Zachariah's greatest strenghts to estimate in advance if he could actually afford impressive smithwork. In fact, he couldn't in the slightest. The coffers of Khazaria were notoriously slim, mostly due to the perpetual wars (nowadays with fewer prisoners) and Zachariah's extravagant lifestyle. Ironically, the Kings and Dukes in Europe could borrow from moneylenders in occasions such as this one, who were more often than not Jews who were prohibited from working land or practicing a craft. Here, where virtually everyone was Jewish, lending money to a government simply had never been heard of in most of the place. The Nomadic lifestyle, although Khazaria did have a currency, didn't favour financial institutions, and if the Khagan spent too much money he simply couldn't pay his people.
Court Steward Zakkai of Bartenstein tried to talk him out of the idea, but there was no way to convince him of anything if Glitterhoof didn't concur – and of course, Zachariah was the one to determine and "translate" if that was the case. And Glitterhoof was not content with his armor being anything but marvellous. In the end, instead of the order being canceled, Zakkai was sent to Tiflis to press Georgia for extra taxes.
Zakkai also tried to warn Zachariah that with or without tribute from Georgia, it would not be possible for quite a while to pay the horde and the small divisions that kept order in the lands under his reign paid properly. He was unheard. Over time, more and more signs of lawlessness started to pop up through Zachariah's domain, without the Khagan caring much or even recognizing it, with his steward now in Georgia most of the time – and there was no sign of control being gained back anytime soon.
The crumbling law enforcement was restricted to the areas in Zachariah's personal domain, so the other Khans (who still made up half the council) were largely indifferent to this particular side effect of Zachariah's sub-par handling of the realm finances. Their concerns lay with the realm's safety rather, with the troops undergoing pay cuts that severely hit their morale. They also had their own worries: Itakh of Jabdertim still was recovering from his desastrous war on Kiev, Hezekiah of Hekel had to manage a pointless and tedious campaign in Siberia that kept on subjecting him and the men to terrible conditions – and that now was lacking funding as well. Menümarót of Kabar had expectably lost his war for Manych and was now exiled to Kangly, the remote province on the Caspian shore he had been awarded shortly before. He was still busy accomodating his people and his court to their new home, yet he was optimistic that the new place could prove a chance in the long run, compared to a bit of land surrounded by Bulanid and Bulçir domains.
Only Khan Yilig seemed to be in a largely comfortable place after his father's successful moves to expand his clan's influence in his late years. Yilig wasn't exactly a master when it came to deriving and deciphering plots, but he was diligent and efficient – even though the Khagan would rarely actually listen to him. Even distressing news like his own sons trying to kill each other seemed to just pass his attention. There were even rumours about a group of people wanting to get rid of Zachariah himself – but without proper evidence, nothing could be done anyway and it was entirely unsure if and how the Khagan would react.
***
The debate on the nobles' taxes was sloughing along. Zakkai was an undisputed expert in the field and a rather elaborate talker, but tax policy just couldn't really excite the rest of the council. The only one actively opposing Zakkai's suggestion to further ease the strain on the treasury was surprisingly Zachariah's own son Yabghu who chiefly argued that law changes were to be handled carefully, and a short-term lack of money didn't pose a sufficient reason to alter Khazarian law permanently. The other councillors were surprised how openly Yabghu opposed the apparent interest of his own father – and without any immediate repercussion. The Khagan himself sat quietly during the speeches, staring and occasionally looking at his chancellor. No one was sure if he was actually processing what was going on.
To Zakkai's great relief, the Khagan apparently managed to pull himself together when the time came for the vote. The council had to put up with Zachariah essentially casting two votes now, as chancellor Glitterhoof never disagreed with him. Anytime someone mentioned anything about the horse, Zachariah would be distinctive about making him know that he too could well be replaced by a horse tomorrow. Like this, the majority for Zakkai was almost secure – and the other Khans mostly had no interest to go against the Khagan in an issue that didn't directly concern them.
A higher regular tax rate on the prosperous Georgian lands would help to fix the financial situation, which was everything Zakkai had worked so hard on in the last months. The German clerk was a little proud of himself. The Khagan was surely going to prove his gratitude, and soon he wouldn't need to be in Tiflis all the time any longer. Maybe he would even witness his first child's birth in Summer!
June 18, 894 AD
Mordva
The relief was graspable with hands at the makeshift army camp the Khazarian Horde had set up in Mordva, at the northernmost edge of Khan Hezekiah's lands. This morning the long awaited envoy from Khagan Batir of Bolghar had arrived: Perm had surrendered, the war was over. Almost two years after the short-lived campaign to Siberia, they would see their homes and their families again – even though they hadn't been as far away for the past months.
Tarkhan and Hezekiah were both packing up their belongings. Their ways would part soon, and while both retained a professional distance, they inevitably had grown used to each other and found mutual interests over the past two years. That, and the turmoil in and around Oleshye, had saved them from another failure like in Siberia. After their retreat from Permian soil and the lukewarm reaction from the Khagan and the court, the troops had stayed within the Bolghar borders and assisted in preventing the enemy from crossing them in lack of more precise orders. Only when the news arrived a year ago that the Khagan's warhorse would now be in charge of foreign affairs, the command decided it was enough. Raiders from a Russian chief had turned up in Mordva shortly before, and Hezekiah was eager to pull the army out and deal with them.
"I can still hardly believe we could return to Khazaria just like that without anyone even recognizing" pondered a contemplative Tarkhan who just wrapped a large hunting knife in several layers of rags.
"You'll understand soon enough." Hezekiah waved dismissively. "There's more than enough trouble back at your home, and Khagan Batir – who was very understanding, you know it – was on the winning side anyway. That fool Itakh has once more decided to try his luck in Eastern Europe, and with him busy preparing, no one was left to actually care about what happens in the far north."
"That sounds sadly accurate. It was the right decision to pull the men out entirely, after all. We never had any business there in the first place."
Tarkhan had his own reasons to no longer fight in Batir's war just because of his fathers' whims. Not only had the nightmares and the panic attacks that plagued him through his youth returned after the deadly expedition to Siberia. He also knew well that his fathers' suzerainty over Batir wouldn't be inherited by his successor. Which still stood to be him, for all he knew. And a Bolghar that could fall back to Perm would pose at least an uncomfortable roadblock in the future. Although it was apparent that the Bolghar would have won the war one way or the other, Tarkhan had a feeling he would some day loathe his father for this decision even more.
"No, we didn't." replied Hezekiah and stretched himself copiously. "I told you from the beginning that it was all just glib talk by Batir and a little nudge from Itakh. And then Zachariah shows how much in control he is – by appointing his horse to the council. Have you heard that he's actually sent Glitterhoof to Poland for 'diplomatic consultations'?"
Tarkhan nodded. "They weren't amused in the slightest. And their formal complaint was the only reason he learned that Poland won their war against Bulgaria. Or that they'd been at war, for that matter."
Hezekiah was mildly amused. "I didn't know he was that oblivious. Yet it makes perfect sense that Zachariah has no clue. Who's going to inform him after all about foreign affairs? The Northern Caucasus has grown independent from the Muslims in January. And there's no sign of a reaction of any kind, although the other half of the army would be ready and available. I doubt that would have happened to the Scourge of God with proper personnel."
Tarkhan threw him a dire gaze. "Not the only thing that isn't supposed to happen under an actual leader." In stark contrast to his father, he was preoccupied by his younger brothers' plot. He knew they were no children anymore and apparently determined to get to power. And he was the first and foremost obstacle for anyone vying for power. At least as long as Muhan was God knew where.
No, he wouldn't go back to Oleshye like a lamb to the butchery. Until now, there were no orders what was to happen with the men he commanded. With the realm at peace, he could just take them and raid Russian lands – he would be safe of his brothers for some time and pick up some riches and reputation.
And so when Khan Hezekiah departed, Tarkhan Ashina and 1250 riders made their way to Russia instead of returning home.
February 5, 895 AD
Oleshye
The winter was mild, as it was common in the maritime climate along the Black Sea shore. Zachariah's younger sons Yabghu and Baghathur, both children to the former Khanum (and short-term Khatun) Asli Andjogli, frequently took rides through the surroundings. They had a lot to discuss in these days.
The reason Yabghu was back in Oleshye was quite simple: the Georgians had little interest in being converted, and the Jewish tradition wasn't enforcing missionary work. Judaism was usually spread by family ties, not by conversion. This, and Yabghu's inexperience in religious matters, regularly stirred up conflicts between his missionaries and the locals. When such a disagreement erupted into violence and Yabghu and his men could barely save their skins, the Court Rabbi decided it was enough and conversion was too dangerous at this time.
Still his failure frustrated him, and with the Khagan not seeming interested in stopping his plans, his efforts to get rid of his older brother Tarkhan doubled. This also involved his younger brother by now.
Baghathur had turned 16 well over a year ago, which had gone largely unnoticed at the time by a delirious and mentally absent Zachariah. He got no official celebration and no honors as his brothers did, and Baghathur was disappointed beyond imagination. When Khan Yilig, the spymaster got wind of him supporting his older brother Yabghu's plot against their brother Tarkhan, he had already feared he would now be entirely out of favour with his father – only to receive a message mere days later that he was to be promoted to commandership and the honorary position of an Ishad.
Before the ceremony, Zachariah profusedly apologized in private to Baghathur for his initial ignorance and assured him that he wouldn't ever believe the vile rumours about a brothers' war in Khazaria. The lad was thankful in a way for the belated honors and the apparent trust his father set in him, but he was unsure what to think of his reaction. Even at his young age, Baghathur recognized very well that his father was in no way in control of himself, let alone the realm. He and his brother had been caught trying to get his chosen heir out of the way – and he refused to act? Sure, he wouldn't complain about it – but this also meant he couldn't count on protection either.
Around the same time, an old acquaintance perished. King Vyshata of the Kievan Rus, the great liberator and unificator of the vast land to the Northwest, died suddenly and unprecedented in October. The toils of the constant warring and the grief about his family sitting in foreign dungeons for many years had taken their toll on the king. He was honored all around the Slavic lands as the founder of a strong Russian kingdom, an expecptional and most honorable man. The local customs still demanded the realm to be split up between his two sons Ingvar and Stanislav, who were both still sitting in the prison of Khan Bulçan for almost seven years.
Ingvar inherited the larger part of the kingdom and a sizeable demesne of five chiefdoms for himself, while his younger brother Stanislav had to rule his northern Kingdom of Novgorod from a single chiefdom. Upon taking the reins, the Rus' new regent High Chief Voislav immediately commanded to jump to the Moldavians' defense against the Jabdertim troops. That meant they were again involved in a war against the Kievans. Rumours had it that upon hearing of this, Khan Itakh uttered something about feeling like in a perpetual nightmare.
***
"...and now the Poles have joined in, too?", Baghathur asked his brother. Yabghu, being on the council, usually got news from around the realm faster than him.
"That's what it looks like. Itakh was devastated. He's still not learned his lesson about going into Eastern Europe, as it seems. Although to his credit – he couldn't know that the Kievans or Poland would even care about Moldavia. Not long ago, the Poles took land of them."
"I guess it's not really about Moldavia. They're making a point by repeatedly posing trouble for Itakh. They know that Dad isn't reliable and they have to keep feeding his doubts." said Baghathur. Yabghu was surprised - those thoughts hadn't occurred to him until now, and Baghathur didn't have any experience to speak of with those matters.
Baghathur was similar to his older brother Muhan in many ways – a keen observer with an instinct for the politics of power. And he had learned everything he could about the recent history, especially the time of his fathers' reign as Khagan. Largely unsupervised by Zachariah, Baghathur had developed into a talented and ambitious young man who wasn't going to give into a fate of playing second fiddle, just because his brothers were older. Apart from his sense for intrigue, he had also proved himself a formidable fighter and tactician who more than deserved the commander position he'd been hastily awarded after Zachariah had taken note of his continued existence.
"That sounds pretty convincing", Yabghu replied. "When I think about it, it's what most people in Khazaria do – cater to father's primal urge that currently suits them the most and otherwise do their own business. At least the steward is a sensible man. He's actually managed to get us out of debt – last week the treasury reported they were at an even point again and the proper payments for the guards and the horde can finally resume."
"I'm looking forward to meet him.", Baghathur smiled elusively. "Not the only reason why a seat on the council would be very helpful to our common little project."
"We'll manage that when the time comes. You know that. For now, we can leave him in the sense that we're not serious.", Yabghu replied and smiled back.
December 9, 893 AD
Six men and a horse were grouped around the large table in the Clan gathering hall. The council convened, as it did more frequently in the recent past. Khazaria needed guidance, and especially Court Steward Zakkai was insisting on regular meetings to resume. His perseverance was probably the only reason today's main matter - a motion to shift the obligations of feudal vassals to the Khagan towards more taxes and less potentially levied troops - even got onto the table. Right now he was standing at the table, making his case for the law change.
"My revered colleagues, His Highness Khagan Zachariah!", Zakkai started speaking. "You're all aware by now that the Khazarian treasury is in considerable disequilibrium right now. All efforts have been undertaken in the past months to rectify the situation and we're on the right path, I can assure you of that. But there's still a lesson to learn from this. We need to put Khazarian finances on a stable basis without the need to extract 'specific tributes', which are often perceived arbitrary and intransparent by the local populace...."
Earlier...
Zakkai's job had become considerably more complex in the past months. Khagan Zachariah was apathetic and at least half drunk most of the time, talking to himself or staring into the blank for hours on end and simply not responding. He seemed to only spring to life when it was time for carousing or hunting with his beloved falcon and his....chancellor. Usually those were the occasions when people could get through to him – if he and Glitterhoof felt like listening.
It still wasn't as if Zachariah was never making decisions at all. His priorities were very distinct though: the hall had undergone costly customisations to accomodate a horse on a regular basis, and remembering his old acquaintance to the well-connected gold smith Savaçka he had ordered a splendid plate armor covered in ornaments for his chancellor.
Although people were very impressed by the result, it had clearly never been among Zachariah's greatest strenghts to estimate in advance if he could actually afford impressive smithwork. In fact, he couldn't in the slightest. The coffers of Khazaria were notoriously slim, mostly due to the perpetual wars (nowadays with fewer prisoners) and Zachariah's extravagant lifestyle. Ironically, the Kings and Dukes in Europe could borrow from moneylenders in occasions such as this one, who were more often than not Jews who were prohibited from working land or practicing a craft. Here, where virtually everyone was Jewish, lending money to a government simply had never been heard of in most of the place. The Nomadic lifestyle, although Khazaria did have a currency, didn't favour financial institutions, and if the Khagan spent too much money he simply couldn't pay his people.
Court Steward Zakkai of Bartenstein tried to talk him out of the idea, but there was no way to convince him of anything if Glitterhoof didn't concur – and of course, Zachariah was the one to determine and "translate" if that was the case. And Glitterhoof was not content with his armor being anything but marvellous. In the end, instead of the order being canceled, Zakkai was sent to Tiflis to press Georgia for extra taxes.
Zakkai also tried to warn Zachariah that with or without tribute from Georgia, it would not be possible for quite a while to pay the horde and the small divisions that kept order in the lands under his reign paid properly. He was unheard. Over time, more and more signs of lawlessness started to pop up through Zachariah's domain, without the Khagan caring much or even recognizing it, with his steward now in Georgia most of the time – and there was no sign of control being gained back anytime soon.
The crumbling law enforcement was restricted to the areas in Zachariah's personal domain, so the other Khans (who still made up half the council) were largely indifferent to this particular side effect of Zachariah's sub-par handling of the realm finances. Their concerns lay with the realm's safety rather, with the troops undergoing pay cuts that severely hit their morale. They also had their own worries: Itakh of Jabdertim still was recovering from his desastrous war on Kiev, Hezekiah of Hekel had to manage a pointless and tedious campaign in Siberia that kept on subjecting him and the men to terrible conditions – and that now was lacking funding as well. Menümarót of Kabar had expectably lost his war for Manych and was now exiled to Kangly, the remote province on the Caspian shore he had been awarded shortly before. He was still busy accomodating his people and his court to their new home, yet he was optimistic that the new place could prove a chance in the long run, compared to a bit of land surrounded by Bulanid and Bulçir domains.
Only Khan Yilig seemed to be in a largely comfortable place after his father's successful moves to expand his clan's influence in his late years. Yilig wasn't exactly a master when it came to deriving and deciphering plots, but he was diligent and efficient – even though the Khagan would rarely actually listen to him. Even distressing news like his own sons trying to kill each other seemed to just pass his attention. There were even rumours about a group of people wanting to get rid of Zachariah himself – but without proper evidence, nothing could be done anyway and it was entirely unsure if and how the Khagan would react.
***
The debate on the nobles' taxes was sloughing along. Zakkai was an undisputed expert in the field and a rather elaborate talker, but tax policy just couldn't really excite the rest of the council. The only one actively opposing Zakkai's suggestion to further ease the strain on the treasury was surprisingly Zachariah's own son Yabghu who chiefly argued that law changes were to be handled carefully, and a short-term lack of money didn't pose a sufficient reason to alter Khazarian law permanently. The other councillors were surprised how openly Yabghu opposed the apparent interest of his own father – and without any immediate repercussion. The Khagan himself sat quietly during the speeches, staring and occasionally looking at his chancellor. No one was sure if he was actually processing what was going on.
To Zakkai's great relief, the Khagan apparently managed to pull himself together when the time came for the vote. The council had to put up with Zachariah essentially casting two votes now, as chancellor Glitterhoof never disagreed with him. Anytime someone mentioned anything about the horse, Zachariah would be distinctive about making him know that he too could well be replaced by a horse tomorrow. Like this, the majority for Zakkai was almost secure – and the other Khans mostly had no interest to go against the Khagan in an issue that didn't directly concern them.
A higher regular tax rate on the prosperous Georgian lands would help to fix the financial situation, which was everything Zakkai had worked so hard on in the last months. The German clerk was a little proud of himself. The Khagan was surely going to prove his gratitude, and soon he wouldn't need to be in Tiflis all the time any longer. Maybe he would even witness his first child's birth in Summer!
June 18, 894 AD
Mordva
The relief was graspable with hands at the makeshift army camp the Khazarian Horde had set up in Mordva, at the northernmost edge of Khan Hezekiah's lands. This morning the long awaited envoy from Khagan Batir of Bolghar had arrived: Perm had surrendered, the war was over. Almost two years after the short-lived campaign to Siberia, they would see their homes and their families again – even though they hadn't been as far away for the past months.
Tarkhan and Hezekiah were both packing up their belongings. Their ways would part soon, and while both retained a professional distance, they inevitably had grown used to each other and found mutual interests over the past two years. That, and the turmoil in and around Oleshye, had saved them from another failure like in Siberia. After their retreat from Permian soil and the lukewarm reaction from the Khagan and the court, the troops had stayed within the Bolghar borders and assisted in preventing the enemy from crossing them in lack of more precise orders. Only when the news arrived a year ago that the Khagan's warhorse would now be in charge of foreign affairs, the command decided it was enough. Raiders from a Russian chief had turned up in Mordva shortly before, and Hezekiah was eager to pull the army out and deal with them.
"I can still hardly believe we could return to Khazaria just like that without anyone even recognizing" pondered a contemplative Tarkhan who just wrapped a large hunting knife in several layers of rags.
"You'll understand soon enough." Hezekiah waved dismissively. "There's more than enough trouble back at your home, and Khagan Batir – who was very understanding, you know it – was on the winning side anyway. That fool Itakh has once more decided to try his luck in Eastern Europe, and with him busy preparing, no one was left to actually care about what happens in the far north."
"That sounds sadly accurate. It was the right decision to pull the men out entirely, after all. We never had any business there in the first place."
Tarkhan had his own reasons to no longer fight in Batir's war just because of his fathers' whims. Not only had the nightmares and the panic attacks that plagued him through his youth returned after the deadly expedition to Siberia. He also knew well that his fathers' suzerainty over Batir wouldn't be inherited by his successor. Which still stood to be him, for all he knew. And a Bolghar that could fall back to Perm would pose at least an uncomfortable roadblock in the future. Although it was apparent that the Bolghar would have won the war one way or the other, Tarkhan had a feeling he would some day loathe his father for this decision even more.
"No, we didn't." replied Hezekiah and stretched himself copiously. "I told you from the beginning that it was all just glib talk by Batir and a little nudge from Itakh. And then Zachariah shows how much in control he is – by appointing his horse to the council. Have you heard that he's actually sent Glitterhoof to Poland for 'diplomatic consultations'?"
Tarkhan nodded. "They weren't amused in the slightest. And their formal complaint was the only reason he learned that Poland won their war against Bulgaria. Or that they'd been at war, for that matter."
Hezekiah was mildly amused. "I didn't know he was that oblivious. Yet it makes perfect sense that Zachariah has no clue. Who's going to inform him after all about foreign affairs? The Northern Caucasus has grown independent from the Muslims in January. And there's no sign of a reaction of any kind, although the other half of the army would be ready and available. I doubt that would have happened to the Scourge of God with proper personnel."
Tarkhan threw him a dire gaze. "Not the only thing that isn't supposed to happen under an actual leader." In stark contrast to his father, he was preoccupied by his younger brothers' plot. He knew they were no children anymore and apparently determined to get to power. And he was the first and foremost obstacle for anyone vying for power. At least as long as Muhan was God knew where.
No, he wouldn't go back to Oleshye like a lamb to the butchery. Until now, there were no orders what was to happen with the men he commanded. With the realm at peace, he could just take them and raid Russian lands – he would be safe of his brothers for some time and pick up some riches and reputation.
And so when Khan Hezekiah departed, Tarkhan Ashina and 1250 riders made their way to Russia instead of returning home.
February 5, 895 AD
Oleshye
The winter was mild, as it was common in the maritime climate along the Black Sea shore. Zachariah's younger sons Yabghu and Baghathur, both children to the former Khanum (and short-term Khatun) Asli Andjogli, frequently took rides through the surroundings. They had a lot to discuss in these days.
The reason Yabghu was back in Oleshye was quite simple: the Georgians had little interest in being converted, and the Jewish tradition wasn't enforcing missionary work. Judaism was usually spread by family ties, not by conversion. This, and Yabghu's inexperience in religious matters, regularly stirred up conflicts between his missionaries and the locals. When such a disagreement erupted into violence and Yabghu and his men could barely save their skins, the Court Rabbi decided it was enough and conversion was too dangerous at this time.
Still his failure frustrated him, and with the Khagan not seeming interested in stopping his plans, his efforts to get rid of his older brother Tarkhan doubled. This also involved his younger brother by now.
Baghathur had turned 16 well over a year ago, which had gone largely unnoticed at the time by a delirious and mentally absent Zachariah. He got no official celebration and no honors as his brothers did, and Baghathur was disappointed beyond imagination. When Khan Yilig, the spymaster got wind of him supporting his older brother Yabghu's plot against their brother Tarkhan, he had already feared he would now be entirely out of favour with his father – only to receive a message mere days later that he was to be promoted to commandership and the honorary position of an Ishad.
Before the ceremony, Zachariah profusedly apologized in private to Baghathur for his initial ignorance and assured him that he wouldn't ever believe the vile rumours about a brothers' war in Khazaria. The lad was thankful in a way for the belated honors and the apparent trust his father set in him, but he was unsure what to think of his reaction. Even at his young age, Baghathur recognized very well that his father was in no way in control of himself, let alone the realm. He and his brother had been caught trying to get his chosen heir out of the way – and he refused to act? Sure, he wouldn't complain about it – but this also meant he couldn't count on protection either.
Around the same time, an old acquaintance perished. King Vyshata of the Kievan Rus, the great liberator and unificator of the vast land to the Northwest, died suddenly and unprecedented in October. The toils of the constant warring and the grief about his family sitting in foreign dungeons for many years had taken their toll on the king. He was honored all around the Slavic lands as the founder of a strong Russian kingdom, an expecptional and most honorable man. The local customs still demanded the realm to be split up between his two sons Ingvar and Stanislav, who were both still sitting in the prison of Khan Bulçan for almost seven years.
Ingvar inherited the larger part of the kingdom and a sizeable demesne of five chiefdoms for himself, while his younger brother Stanislav had to rule his northern Kingdom of Novgorod from a single chiefdom. Upon taking the reins, the Rus' new regent High Chief Voislav immediately commanded to jump to the Moldavians' defense against the Jabdertim troops. That meant they were again involved in a war against the Kievans. Rumours had it that upon hearing of this, Khan Itakh uttered something about feeling like in a perpetual nightmare.
***
"...and now the Poles have joined in, too?", Baghathur asked his brother. Yabghu, being on the council, usually got news from around the realm faster than him.
"That's what it looks like. Itakh was devastated. He's still not learned his lesson about going into Eastern Europe, as it seems. Although to his credit – he couldn't know that the Kievans or Poland would even care about Moldavia. Not long ago, the Poles took land of them."
"I guess it's not really about Moldavia. They're making a point by repeatedly posing trouble for Itakh. They know that Dad isn't reliable and they have to keep feeding his doubts." said Baghathur. Yabghu was surprised - those thoughts hadn't occurred to him until now, and Baghathur didn't have any experience to speak of with those matters.
Baghathur was similar to his older brother Muhan in many ways – a keen observer with an instinct for the politics of power. And he had learned everything he could about the recent history, especially the time of his fathers' reign as Khagan. Largely unsupervised by Zachariah, Baghathur had developed into a talented and ambitious young man who wasn't going to give into a fate of playing second fiddle, just because his brothers were older. Apart from his sense for intrigue, he had also proved himself a formidable fighter and tactician who more than deserved the commander position he'd been hastily awarded after Zachariah had taken note of his continued existence.
"That sounds pretty convincing", Yabghu replied. "When I think about it, it's what most people in Khazaria do – cater to father's primal urge that currently suits them the most and otherwise do their own business. At least the steward is a sensible man. He's actually managed to get us out of debt – last week the treasury reported they were at an even point again and the proper payments for the guards and the horde can finally resume."
"I'm looking forward to meet him.", Baghathur smiled elusively. "Not the only reason why a seat on the council would be very helpful to our common little project."
"We'll manage that when the time comes. You know that. For now, we can leave him in the sense that we're not serious.", Yabghu replied and smiled back.
Khazar is so far weathering the ... progression ... of Zachariah's state about as well as can be expected (ie, not well, but could be worse) but one wonders for how long.
Poland and Kieven Rus offering their assistance is worrying, it seems that eastern Europe will make a united stand against future conquests in the area.
Zachariah is "progressing" indeed, but he's going to stay unpredictable - for better or worse. With everything going on in and around Khazaria, one still wonders what a true warlord could have achieved.
Yep, Eastern Europe is not willing to be razed and displaced at all - and they've got the numbers (and painful enemy attrition rates) to make that very clear.
Chapter 45 – The Trap
Chapter 45 – The Trap
March 17, 895 AD
Khan Yilig of Bulçir felt his heart thumping. This was it. For months he had been bribing courtiers and gathering evidence. Now the time was right, the dominos ready to fall. He only had to step into the Khagan's yurt and deliver the news. It was hard to get through to Zachariah, but he had been on the hunt earlier that day, that helped clear his mind - and while Zachariah wasn't able to see his sons as adults fighting for his succession, he would still be sensible when his own life was being threatened. At least that's what the spymaster hoped sincerely.
A barrage of thoughts shot through Yilig's head. Just as his father always told him, he had played his hand safe and carefully guarded the information until there was enough of it to benefit him. Although Yilig wasn't as worldly as the late Bulçan, he had learned a lot from his father and made for a formidable domestic spy by now. He had known of Bozçin's plans to have the Khagan killed for a long time (though the reason she was so furious at the Khagan was unknown to him). But she was a lowly courtier, supported only by her mother and the wife of former chancellor Belet, who was apparently furious about the circumstances of her husband's demission and his successor. Like this, it was no more than vile talk from some hags. There was no chance they would get anywhere on their own. And Yilig waited.
Until someone much more interesting showed himself careless enough to get involved with the foolish plan.
Khan Kibar had been a pariah among the Khazarian royalty from the day of his ascension. Despite commanding the second largest host in the realm and his Bulanid Clan still occupying the heartlands of Khazaria, his rash temperament and his open hostility towards his own Khagan had always prevented him from strengthening his position. The other Khans had little interest of being associated with him in any way after his dismissal from the council, and Khan Kibar did little to convince them otherwise. He was set on extracting the wealth the Caucasus still had to offer and on his revenge against Zachariah, seemingly oblivious to the harsh reality that without allies, there was not much he could do.
Kibar was alone, and he posessed valuable lands other Khans wanted. And now he had made a mistake and stepped out of his cover. The poor fool, Yilig thought to himself. "In with you!" a slurring voice came from inside the Khagan's yurt.
The spymaster stepped in and found Khagan Zachariah behind his desk, besides him stacks of paper and a conspicuously large drinking horn. He rarely receipted guests these days between his extravagant carousals, and Yilig couldn't remember the Khagan looking so old and worn-out when he'd seen him last time.
"Greetings, my Khagan."
Zachariah didn't seem very excited. "I hope it's important. Because I'm really busy. Apparently the Poles still refuse to conduct governmental business with my distinguished chancellor, and they just don't leave me alone with their inappropriate demands I replace him."
"That is...inconvenient, I'm sure. But yes, I have important news and I need you to listen carefully. Do you know a Bozçin by any chance?"
Zachariah looked puzzled, but at least his attention was engaged. "It's a common name, I guess...I've heard of so many people that I can't recall all of them...but what's the matter with that Bozçin?"
"Well, your majesty...she apparently leads a group of people at the court who want to see you dead."
Zachariah's eyes widened with surprise, just to give way for an even more confused gaze than before. "See me dead? But how come I didn't notice any of this – or who this woman seems to be? Has my sense of danger left me?"
"There's little need to put it like this. It's my duty after all to inform you of treachery like that – and until most recently, there was nothing but vile talk to be expected with no one but two old women tagging along. But now her little conspiracy has gained the support of more dangerous forces. There's evidence that Khan Kibar of Bulanid is backing this attempted murder on you, my Khagan."
Zachariah's face turned red with anger. "So that is this little hoodlum's way of trying to get back at me now, with no one backing his claim on my throne. I knew he would try something someday...they all do!"
The Khagan started rambling to himself about the untrustworthiness of the world. Yilig was unsure if he should interrupt him, but before he tried Zachariah shouted out "I want this Bozçin and especially Kibar brought to me in chains. See to it!"
Yilig was boggled. "Not so loud, my Khagan! We still need a council decision for that. No one is going to oppose the imprisonment, I assure you that, but until then we need absolute secrecy lest the conspirators prepare for what's coming to them."
"Then convene the council!", Zachariah barked at him without minding the least about secrecy.
The spymaster broke out in sweat. There it was, the one thing he hadn't accounted for. Damn it! Father would never have let that happened. "Y- Yes, my Khagan, as quick as tomorrow, but please keep quiet about it!" was all he could utter.
"I'm the Khagan, I can say what I want!" was all Yilig heard when he left Zachariah's yurt in a hurry. The embarassment was almost physically hitting him. There went all hopes for a surprise effect.
March 28, 895 AD
Khan Yilig of Bulçir felt like he shrunk with each step towards the Khagan's yurt. Minutes ago he had got the message from his contact in Kuban, the Bulanid court's location, that he had been waiting for all day. Only that he wished for another outcome. After what the guard captain had reported after the raid on Bozçin's home, this meant that after ten days he had nothing to show for.
What's the Khagan going to say? Everything could have gone so smooth. And now...
The past days had been an ordeal. His plans had been constantly overthrown, mostly by the sheer unreason of the same man who he was trying to spare unnecessary trouble while disposing of a rival for him. After his talk with Zachariah about the alleged murder plot against him, it didn't take long until about everyone of importance knew what was going to happen. At the council meeting (which was originally meant to be held in secret), everybody was already informed what was going on. The meeting was another embarassment for Yilig - but at least he had got the formal majorities for the strike against the conspirators.
The only problem proved to be that the news inevitably had reached Bozçin and Kibar as well. While Yilig didn't know it yet, the Bulanid horde was already taking revenge on the spymaster for ratting on their Khan and ultimately for causing the now inevitable.
With their knowledge of the impending danger, the conspirators would also be much harder to catch off guard. Khan Yilig suspected that, but there was no turning back. Squadrons of elite guards were assembled and sent out towards various locations where Bozçin or Kibar were suspected to resort.
And now Yilig had to tell the Khagan that each and every one of his teams had failed. Bozçin had apparently already fled days ago in anticipation. Khan Kibar simply never left the vicinity of his extensive personal guard - and upon the attempted hit, he decided to state another example. The whole garrison of Kuban set their own trap for the Khagan's henchmen. They overwhelmed the Khazarian convoy and killed every last of them.
***
...and now we're in a civil war, Yilig finished his thought. What if Zachariah blames me? Yilig was an accomplished general and never feared a battle. But delivering bad news to unpredictable mighty men was a different story.
But there was no way out for the spymaster. It was time to bear the news to the Khagan. Yilig entered the yurt to find Zachariah already waiting and looking at him with tired, bloodlined eyes. "Out with it. I've already heard from my guards you haven't brought any prisoners. Where are they?"
"My Khagan, there seem to have been indiscretions..."
Zachariah interrupted him stridently. "There always are. It's not easy to keep it a secret if you want to imprison a Khan. But I didn't ask for half-baked explanations. Where are Bozçin and Kibar, Khan Yilig?"
Yilig took a deep breath. "I have to inform you that Bozçin seems to have fled to Kuban...as Khan Kibar..." - he swallowed heavily – "has defied the guards sent to capture him and declared his secession from your rule. Unless you plan to grant him that, this means...."
"....we're at war." Zachariah added and slowly got up from his pompous work throne (a rather expensive from Persia). Yilig wasn't a particularly pious man, but in that moment he sent a quick and silent prayer to Adonai.
Zachariah stepped in front of the considerably taller Yilig, placed his hand upon his shoulder and said "You've done a tremendous deed for me, Yilig, and you will be rewarded richly."
The spymaster was utterly baffled. Was the Khagan in a drunken stupor again? How could he say that inciting a civil war instead of the capture of a disobedient Khan, as were his orders before, was the right deed and even worthy of great reward? All the guards were dead, and there would be many more lives lost.
The only thing that lightened up his mind that if Zachariah was actually serious, he would be safe from harm. And so Khan Yilig decided to play along, after an instant of awkward silence.
"Yes, my Khagan. I reckon what...chance this poses for Khazaria and your rule to settle the Bulanid question on the battlefield. Still, I have to say that the lives of the men sent to imprison Kibar could have been saved with a different approach. Twenty-four men! We should consider..."
"Oh, the poor guards. They signed up for this in full possession of their mind. The chessboard is a dangerous place, especially for the pawns."
Yilig was appalled by the Khagan's coldness toward his own faithful soldiers. Pawns on a chessboard?
"Their sacrifice was for a greater cause", Zachariah went on. "The restoration of the Ashina bloodline as the true and only successors to the great Muhan Ashina, Liberator of all Khazarians, is about to be finished. And the restoration of my fathers' lands as well. The face of Khazaria will change and the Bulanid disappear from it.
This would not be possible without this war. God and the law would not allow such transformations only on account of an alleged plot. Sure, if Kibar had surrendered himself, I could have him publicly humiliated. Maybe even strip him of a bit of land and then execute him. But to what end? He has two sons by now, and having his children killed to grab land is despicable.
Defection, however, justifies about everything. You break your loyalty, you fight for your autonomy - and you keep it or you perish. Maybe I'll even let him live for doing me the favour."
The surprises wouldn't stop for the spymaster. His head was twisting. Here was the man who everyone thought cared for nothing but the next instance of debauchery. And who had seemingly outplayed everyone. Kibar, who had to know that giving into Zachariah's demands would only lead to the same fate his older brother had endured. The council and the generals, who surely would have had objections against an open war. And not least Yilig himself, who had planned for a smooth and clean extraction and whose troops were now taking the toll of Kibar's anger on the other side of the realm. "Never underestimate Zachariah" had his father once told him. "But neither overestimate him. It's best to not make estimates at all. You'll only be wrong all the time." Now Yilig understood what Bulçan the Wise meant.
"Don't just stand there, Khan", Zachariah interrupted his thoughts. "Get a message out to the councillors and the general staff. In particular, I expect Marshal Itakh to be here as fast as possible. I'll care myself about notifying Glitterhoof in Krakow. As brilliant as he is, his help isn't urgent right now and his work very important."
Khan Yilig left, not knowing how to make sense of what he had just witnessed, what to do now or what to believe anymore.
March 17, 895 AD
Khan Yilig of Bulçir felt his heart thumping. This was it. For months he had been bribing courtiers and gathering evidence. Now the time was right, the dominos ready to fall. He only had to step into the Khagan's yurt and deliver the news. It was hard to get through to Zachariah, but he had been on the hunt earlier that day, that helped clear his mind - and while Zachariah wasn't able to see his sons as adults fighting for his succession, he would still be sensible when his own life was being threatened. At least that's what the spymaster hoped sincerely.
A barrage of thoughts shot through Yilig's head. Just as his father always told him, he had played his hand safe and carefully guarded the information until there was enough of it to benefit him. Although Yilig wasn't as worldly as the late Bulçan, he had learned a lot from his father and made for a formidable domestic spy by now. He had known of Bozçin's plans to have the Khagan killed for a long time (though the reason she was so furious at the Khagan was unknown to him). But she was a lowly courtier, supported only by her mother and the wife of former chancellor Belet, who was apparently furious about the circumstances of her husband's demission and his successor. Like this, it was no more than vile talk from some hags. There was no chance they would get anywhere on their own. And Yilig waited.
Until someone much more interesting showed himself careless enough to get involved with the foolish plan.
Khan Kibar had been a pariah among the Khazarian royalty from the day of his ascension. Despite commanding the second largest host in the realm and his Bulanid Clan still occupying the heartlands of Khazaria, his rash temperament and his open hostility towards his own Khagan had always prevented him from strengthening his position. The other Khans had little interest of being associated with him in any way after his dismissal from the council, and Khan Kibar did little to convince them otherwise. He was set on extracting the wealth the Caucasus still had to offer and on his revenge against Zachariah, seemingly oblivious to the harsh reality that without allies, there was not much he could do.
Kibar was alone, and he posessed valuable lands other Khans wanted. And now he had made a mistake and stepped out of his cover. The poor fool, Yilig thought to himself. "In with you!" a slurring voice came from inside the Khagan's yurt.
The spymaster stepped in and found Khagan Zachariah behind his desk, besides him stacks of paper and a conspicuously large drinking horn. He rarely receipted guests these days between his extravagant carousals, and Yilig couldn't remember the Khagan looking so old and worn-out when he'd seen him last time.
"Greetings, my Khagan."
Zachariah didn't seem very excited. "I hope it's important. Because I'm really busy. Apparently the Poles still refuse to conduct governmental business with my distinguished chancellor, and they just don't leave me alone with their inappropriate demands I replace him."
"That is...inconvenient, I'm sure. But yes, I have important news and I need you to listen carefully. Do you know a Bozçin by any chance?"
Zachariah looked puzzled, but at least his attention was engaged. "It's a common name, I guess...I've heard of so many people that I can't recall all of them...but what's the matter with that Bozçin?"
"Well, your majesty...she apparently leads a group of people at the court who want to see you dead."
Zachariah's eyes widened with surprise, just to give way for an even more confused gaze than before. "See me dead? But how come I didn't notice any of this – or who this woman seems to be? Has my sense of danger left me?"
"There's little need to put it like this. It's my duty after all to inform you of treachery like that – and until most recently, there was nothing but vile talk to be expected with no one but two old women tagging along. But now her little conspiracy has gained the support of more dangerous forces. There's evidence that Khan Kibar of Bulanid is backing this attempted murder on you, my Khagan."
Zachariah's face turned red with anger. "So that is this little hoodlum's way of trying to get back at me now, with no one backing his claim on my throne. I knew he would try something someday...they all do!"
The Khagan started rambling to himself about the untrustworthiness of the world. Yilig was unsure if he should interrupt him, but before he tried Zachariah shouted out "I want this Bozçin and especially Kibar brought to me in chains. See to it!"
Yilig was boggled. "Not so loud, my Khagan! We still need a council decision for that. No one is going to oppose the imprisonment, I assure you that, but until then we need absolute secrecy lest the conspirators prepare for what's coming to them."
"Then convene the council!", Zachariah barked at him without minding the least about secrecy.
The spymaster broke out in sweat. There it was, the one thing he hadn't accounted for. Damn it! Father would never have let that happened. "Y- Yes, my Khagan, as quick as tomorrow, but please keep quiet about it!" was all he could utter.
"I'm the Khagan, I can say what I want!" was all Yilig heard when he left Zachariah's yurt in a hurry. The embarassment was almost physically hitting him. There went all hopes for a surprise effect.
March 28, 895 AD
Khan Yilig of Bulçir felt like he shrunk with each step towards the Khagan's yurt. Minutes ago he had got the message from his contact in Kuban, the Bulanid court's location, that he had been waiting for all day. Only that he wished for another outcome. After what the guard captain had reported after the raid on Bozçin's home, this meant that after ten days he had nothing to show for.
What's the Khagan going to say? Everything could have gone so smooth. And now...
The past days had been an ordeal. His plans had been constantly overthrown, mostly by the sheer unreason of the same man who he was trying to spare unnecessary trouble while disposing of a rival for him. After his talk with Zachariah about the alleged murder plot against him, it didn't take long until about everyone of importance knew what was going to happen. At the council meeting (which was originally meant to be held in secret), everybody was already informed what was going on. The meeting was another embarassment for Yilig - but at least he had got the formal majorities for the strike against the conspirators.
The only problem proved to be that the news inevitably had reached Bozçin and Kibar as well. While Yilig didn't know it yet, the Bulanid horde was already taking revenge on the spymaster for ratting on their Khan and ultimately for causing the now inevitable.
With their knowledge of the impending danger, the conspirators would also be much harder to catch off guard. Khan Yilig suspected that, but there was no turning back. Squadrons of elite guards were assembled and sent out towards various locations where Bozçin or Kibar were suspected to resort.
And now Yilig had to tell the Khagan that each and every one of his teams had failed. Bozçin had apparently already fled days ago in anticipation. Khan Kibar simply never left the vicinity of his extensive personal guard - and upon the attempted hit, he decided to state another example. The whole garrison of Kuban set their own trap for the Khagan's henchmen. They overwhelmed the Khazarian convoy and killed every last of them.
***
...and now we're in a civil war, Yilig finished his thought. What if Zachariah blames me? Yilig was an accomplished general and never feared a battle. But delivering bad news to unpredictable mighty men was a different story.
But there was no way out for the spymaster. It was time to bear the news to the Khagan. Yilig entered the yurt to find Zachariah already waiting and looking at him with tired, bloodlined eyes. "Out with it. I've already heard from my guards you haven't brought any prisoners. Where are they?"
"My Khagan, there seem to have been indiscretions..."
Zachariah interrupted him stridently. "There always are. It's not easy to keep it a secret if you want to imprison a Khan. But I didn't ask for half-baked explanations. Where are Bozçin and Kibar, Khan Yilig?"
Yilig took a deep breath. "I have to inform you that Bozçin seems to have fled to Kuban...as Khan Kibar..." - he swallowed heavily – "has defied the guards sent to capture him and declared his secession from your rule. Unless you plan to grant him that, this means...."
"....we're at war." Zachariah added and slowly got up from his pompous work throne (a rather expensive from Persia). Yilig wasn't a particularly pious man, but in that moment he sent a quick and silent prayer to Adonai.
Zachariah stepped in front of the considerably taller Yilig, placed his hand upon his shoulder and said "You've done a tremendous deed for me, Yilig, and you will be rewarded richly."
The spymaster was utterly baffled. Was the Khagan in a drunken stupor again? How could he say that inciting a civil war instead of the capture of a disobedient Khan, as were his orders before, was the right deed and even worthy of great reward? All the guards were dead, and there would be many more lives lost.
The only thing that lightened up his mind that if Zachariah was actually serious, he would be safe from harm. And so Khan Yilig decided to play along, after an instant of awkward silence.
"Yes, my Khagan. I reckon what...chance this poses for Khazaria and your rule to settle the Bulanid question on the battlefield. Still, I have to say that the lives of the men sent to imprison Kibar could have been saved with a different approach. Twenty-four men! We should consider..."
"Oh, the poor guards. They signed up for this in full possession of their mind. The chessboard is a dangerous place, especially for the pawns."
Yilig was appalled by the Khagan's coldness toward his own faithful soldiers. Pawns on a chessboard?
"Their sacrifice was for a greater cause", Zachariah went on. "The restoration of the Ashina bloodline as the true and only successors to the great Muhan Ashina, Liberator of all Khazarians, is about to be finished. And the restoration of my fathers' lands as well. The face of Khazaria will change and the Bulanid disappear from it.
This would not be possible without this war. God and the law would not allow such transformations only on account of an alleged plot. Sure, if Kibar had surrendered himself, I could have him publicly humiliated. Maybe even strip him of a bit of land and then execute him. But to what end? He has two sons by now, and having his children killed to grab land is despicable.
Defection, however, justifies about everything. You break your loyalty, you fight for your autonomy - and you keep it or you perish. Maybe I'll even let him live for doing me the favour."
The surprises wouldn't stop for the spymaster. His head was twisting. Here was the man who everyone thought cared for nothing but the next instance of debauchery. And who had seemingly outplayed everyone. Kibar, who had to know that giving into Zachariah's demands would only lead to the same fate his older brother had endured. The council and the generals, who surely would have had objections against an open war. And not least Yilig himself, who had planned for a smooth and clean extraction and whose troops were now taking the toll of Kibar's anger on the other side of the realm. "Never underestimate Zachariah" had his father once told him. "But neither overestimate him. It's best to not make estimates at all. You'll only be wrong all the time." Now Yilig understood what Bulçan the Wise meant.
"Don't just stand there, Khan", Zachariah interrupted his thoughts. "Get a message out to the councillors and the general staff. In particular, I expect Marshal Itakh to be here as fast as possible. I'll care myself about notifying Glitterhoof in Krakow. As brilliant as he is, his help isn't urgent right now and his work very important."
Khan Yilig left, not knowing how to make sense of what he had just witnessed, what to do now or what to believe anymore.
Cant blame Kibar for wanting the Khagan dead, but he chose the wrong allies and it looks like he will pay the price.