Well, it sounds like just an ordinary healthy, fulfilling father-son relationship
Doesn't it?
Hopefully the other eight children he has are as easy to handle.-
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Doesn't it?
Hopefully the other eight children he has are as easy to handle.
Interesting to see how Muhan is doing, I think he may have the right idea staying away until Zacharias death, same with Baghatur. Tarkhan has a bit of his fathers mad streak but at least Zacharia had some cold logic to his decisions, it appears Tarkhans greatest obstacle to becoming the next Khagan is himself.
Beyond doubt, the court doesn't have enough room for all the competitors to properly shine and leading a band of warriors carries a lot of opportunity. Taking it on your own is still a risky endeavour and far from a sure shot. Tarkhan, on the other hand, definitely has his issues, and Zachariah isn't all wrong to assume he doesn't yet have what it takes.
All of the mentioned will continue to play vital roles for the affairs of the realm. Zachariah doesn't get younger.
Chapter 50 – Asymmetric Warfare
Chapter 50 – Asymmetric Warfare
December 24, 897 AD
Khazarian horde camp, Odessa region
After the short-lived trip to Belgorod and Tarkhan's subsequent removal from his responsibilities, the Khazarian horde held its guard at the border without further incidents, although it remained a mystery to most of the men what the Khagan had meant by them being needed soon. Then, a few days ago, Marshal Itakh arrived from Tmutarakan, ostensibly to announce the tragic perishing of Zachariah's oldest daughter Ikalay. She had been captured by a chief from the far north of Russia that her brother-in-law tried to invade unsuccessfully and taken the harsh conditions there very badly. Before anyone in Khazaria was even informed of her fate, Ikalay had died of disease and been disposed of in a Vologdan mass grave.
While a day of grief for the Princess was ordered, the troops were put in increased readiness to move soon after. Obviously Ikalay's death wasn't the whole story of Itakh's apperance. Yet since then, there had been no signs of activity in the surroundings.
Until today, when scouts brought notice about troops being pulled together across the border. The word spread around the Khazarian camp quickly, and soon an envoy under unusual flags, certainly not the Kingdom's, appeared on the horizon and crossed the Dniester. Their apparel gave off that they came in peace, and upon being noticed of them the generals ordered to let them enter freely.
Earlier...
The Clans were starting to get unruly and over the past year the peace in Khazaria turned brittle at best. Khan Yilig had declared war on Alania over their part of the Caspian coast in May, in order to profit from their seemingly endless internal quarrels. Although he claimed he harboured no intention of destroying property or displace people, his war inevitably took its toll on the populace while the Alanian army was busy further east, fighting against the disloyal count of Derbent.
In September, quarrels broke out in the West when the horde of Hekel tried to venture into Jabdertim territory, apparently unaware of the lands being well defended again after Itakh's last unfortunate campaign against Moldavia. The mutual distrust between the Clans only grew after Hezekiah's demise, but few had expected the Hekel horde to step forward and into a sounding defeat.
Despite these eruptions of fighting, Zachariah and his marshal kept up their strict orders to hold ground in Odessa. The quarrels of the Khazarian vassals were no business for the horde anyways, even if Zachariah had wanted to intervene. And so the troops waited.
***
Much different from the last time, the general staff including Itakh were not surprised by the visitors from across the border and awaited them together and in full uniform. The strangers were carrying red-black flags, oftentimes the sign of renegade movements. Their supposed leader was a red-bearded man in his forties who saluted to the Khazarian generals first, for his companions to follow suit. The Khazarians returned the salute and Marshal Itakh addressed his counterpart.
"I bid you welcome to Khazaria. Chancellor Dragoman, I suppose?"
"If you wish so. I generally also answer to Mayor Dragoman or General Dragoman." The visitor laughed heartily. "But I'm not here to flaunt. I see you've been introduced to the general state of affairs. Very good. Does anyone else already know?"
Itakh cocked an eyebrow. "That, my friend, is none of your business. Our command chains work as they do, also in the case of confidential material. What I can assure you of is that no information has left the encampment."
"Fair enough. After all, nobody plans to intervene anyway, isn't that so?" Dragoman laughed another time, though not quite as confident as before.
"Intervene in what?", Itakh replied straightfaced. Dragoman faltered, and the Marshal grinned at him with a hint of scorn. "I presume you'll explain everything to us in the comfort of our command yurt, and we'll be able to figure out the details there." Turning to Guyug and Simsam, he added "And you get the troops ready to move by the evening. You know where we're heading. I'll fill you in on the rest later."
Although nothing further was announced, to the bystanders it was obvious what was happening. Local leaders under renegade flags, talks of the horde moving soon, the whole secrecy of the past weeks and months. Civil war had broken out in Bulgaria.
A few moments later Itakh, Yeçtirek and their guest Dragoman took place in the rather spacious yurt where the Khazarian general staff conducted its business when on the road.
Itakh addressed Dragoman again. "As you presumed correctly, we're informed about the general situation. Count Krsto has declared a Revolt War against the king to install Duke Simeon of Strymon, brother to King Gavril - and the husband of Lady Yeldem Ashina, hence we're to help with it by decree of the Khagan. Formally declaring war on Bulgaria is out of question – too many risks, too little reward over causing distress to Gavril in a more....informal way. What is the situation within the Kingdom after the uprising?"
"I'll be glad to fill you in, not least because the numbers look much better for our side. Along with Krsto and Simeon, the northern parts of the country and the coastal Duchy of Karvuna, a very prosperous and well-armed part of the country, have joined their cause. Altogether, we can field close to 5000 men right now, not counting for reserve troops – almost double as much as Gavril brings to the field. They're gathering in northern Strymon right now, largely undisturbed. Fortunately nothing got through to King Gavril and his court in advance, and his reinforcements still need to fully mobilize."
"Excellent", Itakh asserted. "Makes it easier for us. More profitable as well."
Over the next hours, the three men counseled about the strategy to the coming war. Half of the Khazarian troops at the border were to pour into the heartlands of Bulgaria and disrupt the King's reinforcement troops to prevent them from properly gathering. The other half would stay in Belgorod and throroughly sack the landscape this time, to make the support worthwhile to Khazaria. With the Duke of Karvuna on their own side, Belgorod was one of only two remaining ports in the hands of the King and its fall would also disrupt the economy heavily.
This would help both sides – the Khazarians because of the riches in Belgorod, the rebels from an enemy having to fight on two fronts. Departure was scheduled for the early morning of the next day.
November 23, 898 AD
Avlonas, Adriatic coast
Khagan Zachariah stopped his horse and took a moment to admire the scenery. He was on a narrow path that just reached the top of a cliff. Before him, a mountain creek cascaded into the Mediterranean, which calmly branded against the shore fifty metres beneath and reflected the morning sun.
His companion appeared behind him. "Isn't it magnificent?" asked a familiar female voice. "I couldn't think of a better place for a summer residence. Or for a Khagan to take a break."
"It is indeed." Zachariah replied smiling. "You were right, Yeldem. Taking some time off was a great idea. The athmosphere in Tmutarakan has taken its toll on all our moods lately."
"Is that why you didn't bring your wife?", Yeldem asked roguishly and both laughed.
She had lost none of her snarkiness from earlier years - though like her brother, she had come a long way. The Duchess was renowned and revered by the people, and there was no shortage of people suspecting she was the true force behind all this. For twenty years, she and Simeon had waited patiently for everything to align and pulled strings in the back - King Gavril was universally viewed as unfit for his position, but knowing this he ruled with iron fist and suppressed dissent brutally. Many of his vassals simply feared him too much to join forces against him. Only recently did that change profusely enough to warrant the eventual rebellion.
Over the years, Zachariah and Yeldem had never entirely ceased to exchange the occasional letter and they had visited each other for important occasions, but never had he been to Duke Simeon's properties at the Adriatic coast which he had conquered from the stuggling Serbs a decade ago.
"You could say that, in a way." responded Zachariah, after thinking for a few seconds. "Not that I think she's up for mischief...but we've not been exactly close lately. I haven't even thought about bringing her along, to be honest. Sometimes I forget I'm married at all. There's just so many fish in the sea...and so does she think, if there's anything to the rumours about her and General Simsam's wife..."
Yeldem chuckled. "Neat. Although one Rabbi or the other might take offense at this view of marriage, you two just staying out of each other's way is still better than her trying to murder your offspring."
Zachariah surprisedly looked at her. "How do you know that it isn't her? The spymaster is clueless and insists that he can't find evidence of any kind, but they speak of Menümarót and Çilen being under threat. I don't know who they are, but I hear them..."
"I was referring to what Asli tried years ago. But that explains why you took Virág and the kids along.", Yeldem answered unmoved. "But didn't you just say you don't think she is up to something?"
"Yes, that is true. I much rather think that this shady shmuck Shimon is behind it." Zachariah's expression darkened. "I've been shadowing him for months now, but that guy is really good. It's uncanny how he gives off the impression of being just a regular man from Kuban and never falls out of his role."
"Ahh, the ghosts in the shadows. We've got some catching up to do, it seems."
"As usual. Once you're Queen, we have to take up more intense diplomatic relationships." Now the Khagan was more light-hearted again. "Sometimes those spies actually find out stuff. Do you already know the story of what happened to Khan Yilig after he wouldn't refrain from talking smear about me and the Ashina clan?"
"No."
"Well...his mother died. And then his wife, just a week ago. That'll show him!", Zachariah said smugly.
Now Yeldem was the surprised one. "What?! No, you didn't...."
"What?! No, of course I didn't take part in it. One was old, the other sick. I just love to imagine his face when he got the news."
Yeldem cocked an eyebrow. "To gloat over a guy losing family because he talked behind your back...that's quite, let me say, radical. But what illness did his wife have?"
"Huh? Nothing."
Yeldem rolled her eyes. "You're still all about the right priorities. Gossiping about your vassals. If at least you'd make fun of them for constantly running into the same walls. How many times has the Jabdertim Khan now tried to grab some land in Eastern Europe, only to find himself against a vastly superior coalition army?"
"How would I know? Glitterhoof is the man for keeping track of these things....four times? Five? Or would that include his father's successful try in Chernigov...? No, I think it's the fourth time now.
But I have a bonus run into a wall for you: One week before they headed out, the Hekel arrived again and tried to make a fuss. Apparenly they knew something about the impending war declaration and expected the Jabdertim to already be gone at the time. Predictable how that went – after the last time, just six weeks ago, and with their troops still battered from it."
Yeldem laughed heartily. "Now that is the kind of stuff I love Khazaria for. Khans can be so staggeringly stupid in so many different ways...but the best stories are when they choose to stick to their particular brand of idiocy."
"Can't argue with that. Sometimes I miss the days of old, when Khans were still Khans. Can you believe that I'm the only one left from when we were young?"
Yeldem was still chuckling. "Hardly. And all that before I get to finally be Queen. I still remember Khan Yavdi predicting it was only a matter of time."
Zachariah and Yeldem resumed their ride along the coast and contemplated silently. Indeed it looked like a matter of time by now. The civil war was still running, but Zachariah's and Count Krsto's armies effectively controlled the traffic routes and the Khagan could even arrange a troop visit while on his way to the far west of the Kingdom of Bulgaria. Tarkhan's adventure to Belgorod proved valuable after all, as the forttress of Cetatea Alba was still recovering from his brief stint and fell quickly. The city of Belgorod couldn't withstand long either, and it yielded a sizeable prize for the Khazarian horsemen. Soon the monastery of Tighina would fall too.
In the meantime, the other half of the Khazarian horde flooded Central Bulgaria, cut off the King's army from smaller troops throughout the country and pursued these small reinforcement bands relentlessly. King Gavril, his resources under such heavy attack, could only resort to hire mercenaries. At the same time, his main army was no match for the united levies of the rebellion and the Bosnian neighbours had declared war as well. At this rate, he wouldn't be able to hold on much longer.
Shortly before they were about to enter the coastal town of Pinarizza in the shadows of Simeon's fortress high on the hill, Yeldem spoke up again. "Say, Zachariah...you mentioned yourself being the last one remaining after thirty-two years. Have you given any thought lately about who's going to follow should you one day...?"
Zachariah stayed silent for a while. Then he cautiously replied "It's not for me to decide, you know that. I'm only trying to be fair and have them make the best of what they're given. I don't know why they're all so unthankful."
"Are they, really? You think it's a matter of thankfulness? Tarkhan's incursion to Belgorod was as much desperately courageous as Baghathur's attempt to gain coin and prestige in Israel all on his own, with less than thousand men. They're driven by their ambition. Although I agree that it's questionable to throw away their careers in the horde like that."
"Desperate courage is just the right term. I can hardly stop them from causing trouble for themselves, but it's certainly not my fault if they see too little challenge in serving in the horde, is it?"
Yeldem kept silent, sensing the last bit not coming off as confident as Zachariah might have wished for.
December 24, 897 AD
Khazarian horde camp, Odessa region
After the short-lived trip to Belgorod and Tarkhan's subsequent removal from his responsibilities, the Khazarian horde held its guard at the border without further incidents, although it remained a mystery to most of the men what the Khagan had meant by them being needed soon. Then, a few days ago, Marshal Itakh arrived from Tmutarakan, ostensibly to announce the tragic perishing of Zachariah's oldest daughter Ikalay. She had been captured by a chief from the far north of Russia that her brother-in-law tried to invade unsuccessfully and taken the harsh conditions there very badly. Before anyone in Khazaria was even informed of her fate, Ikalay had died of disease and been disposed of in a Vologdan mass grave.
While a day of grief for the Princess was ordered, the troops were put in increased readiness to move soon after. Obviously Ikalay's death wasn't the whole story of Itakh's apperance. Yet since then, there had been no signs of activity in the surroundings.
Until today, when scouts brought notice about troops being pulled together across the border. The word spread around the Khazarian camp quickly, and soon an envoy under unusual flags, certainly not the Kingdom's, appeared on the horizon and crossed the Dniester. Their apparel gave off that they came in peace, and upon being noticed of them the generals ordered to let them enter freely.
Earlier...
The Clans were starting to get unruly and over the past year the peace in Khazaria turned brittle at best. Khan Yilig had declared war on Alania over their part of the Caspian coast in May, in order to profit from their seemingly endless internal quarrels. Although he claimed he harboured no intention of destroying property or displace people, his war inevitably took its toll on the populace while the Alanian army was busy further east, fighting against the disloyal count of Derbent.
In September, quarrels broke out in the West when the horde of Hekel tried to venture into Jabdertim territory, apparently unaware of the lands being well defended again after Itakh's last unfortunate campaign against Moldavia. The mutual distrust between the Clans only grew after Hezekiah's demise, but few had expected the Hekel horde to step forward and into a sounding defeat.
Despite these eruptions of fighting, Zachariah and his marshal kept up their strict orders to hold ground in Odessa. The quarrels of the Khazarian vassals were no business for the horde anyways, even if Zachariah had wanted to intervene. And so the troops waited.
***
Much different from the last time, the general staff including Itakh were not surprised by the visitors from across the border and awaited them together and in full uniform. The strangers were carrying red-black flags, oftentimes the sign of renegade movements. Their supposed leader was a red-bearded man in his forties who saluted to the Khazarian generals first, for his companions to follow suit. The Khazarians returned the salute and Marshal Itakh addressed his counterpart.
"I bid you welcome to Khazaria. Chancellor Dragoman, I suppose?"
"If you wish so. I generally also answer to Mayor Dragoman or General Dragoman." The visitor laughed heartily. "But I'm not here to flaunt. I see you've been introduced to the general state of affairs. Very good. Does anyone else already know?"
Itakh cocked an eyebrow. "That, my friend, is none of your business. Our command chains work as they do, also in the case of confidential material. What I can assure you of is that no information has left the encampment."
"Fair enough. After all, nobody plans to intervene anyway, isn't that so?" Dragoman laughed another time, though not quite as confident as before.
"Intervene in what?", Itakh replied straightfaced. Dragoman faltered, and the Marshal grinned at him with a hint of scorn. "I presume you'll explain everything to us in the comfort of our command yurt, and we'll be able to figure out the details there." Turning to Guyug and Simsam, he added "And you get the troops ready to move by the evening. You know where we're heading. I'll fill you in on the rest later."
Although nothing further was announced, to the bystanders it was obvious what was happening. Local leaders under renegade flags, talks of the horde moving soon, the whole secrecy of the past weeks and months. Civil war had broken out in Bulgaria.
A few moments later Itakh, Yeçtirek and their guest Dragoman took place in the rather spacious yurt where the Khazarian general staff conducted its business when on the road.
Itakh addressed Dragoman again. "As you presumed correctly, we're informed about the general situation. Count Krsto has declared a Revolt War against the king to install Duke Simeon of Strymon, brother to King Gavril - and the husband of Lady Yeldem Ashina, hence we're to help with it by decree of the Khagan. Formally declaring war on Bulgaria is out of question – too many risks, too little reward over causing distress to Gavril in a more....informal way. What is the situation within the Kingdom after the uprising?"
"I'll be glad to fill you in, not least because the numbers look much better for our side. Along with Krsto and Simeon, the northern parts of the country and the coastal Duchy of Karvuna, a very prosperous and well-armed part of the country, have joined their cause. Altogether, we can field close to 5000 men right now, not counting for reserve troops – almost double as much as Gavril brings to the field. They're gathering in northern Strymon right now, largely undisturbed. Fortunately nothing got through to King Gavril and his court in advance, and his reinforcements still need to fully mobilize."
"Excellent", Itakh asserted. "Makes it easier for us. More profitable as well."
Over the next hours, the three men counseled about the strategy to the coming war. Half of the Khazarian troops at the border were to pour into the heartlands of Bulgaria and disrupt the King's reinforcement troops to prevent them from properly gathering. The other half would stay in Belgorod and throroughly sack the landscape this time, to make the support worthwhile to Khazaria. With the Duke of Karvuna on their own side, Belgorod was one of only two remaining ports in the hands of the King and its fall would also disrupt the economy heavily.
This would help both sides – the Khazarians because of the riches in Belgorod, the rebels from an enemy having to fight on two fronts. Departure was scheduled for the early morning of the next day.
November 23, 898 AD
Avlonas, Adriatic coast
Khagan Zachariah stopped his horse and took a moment to admire the scenery. He was on a narrow path that just reached the top of a cliff. Before him, a mountain creek cascaded into the Mediterranean, which calmly branded against the shore fifty metres beneath and reflected the morning sun.
His companion appeared behind him. "Isn't it magnificent?" asked a familiar female voice. "I couldn't think of a better place for a summer residence. Or for a Khagan to take a break."
"It is indeed." Zachariah replied smiling. "You were right, Yeldem. Taking some time off was a great idea. The athmosphere in Tmutarakan has taken its toll on all our moods lately."
"Is that why you didn't bring your wife?", Yeldem asked roguishly and both laughed.
She had lost none of her snarkiness from earlier years - though like her brother, she had come a long way. The Duchess was renowned and revered by the people, and there was no shortage of people suspecting she was the true force behind all this. For twenty years, she and Simeon had waited patiently for everything to align and pulled strings in the back - King Gavril was universally viewed as unfit for his position, but knowing this he ruled with iron fist and suppressed dissent brutally. Many of his vassals simply feared him too much to join forces against him. Only recently did that change profusely enough to warrant the eventual rebellion.
Over the years, Zachariah and Yeldem had never entirely ceased to exchange the occasional letter and they had visited each other for important occasions, but never had he been to Duke Simeon's properties at the Adriatic coast which he had conquered from the stuggling Serbs a decade ago.
"You could say that, in a way." responded Zachariah, after thinking for a few seconds. "Not that I think she's up for mischief...but we've not been exactly close lately. I haven't even thought about bringing her along, to be honest. Sometimes I forget I'm married at all. There's just so many fish in the sea...and so does she think, if there's anything to the rumours about her and General Simsam's wife..."
Yeldem chuckled. "Neat. Although one Rabbi or the other might take offense at this view of marriage, you two just staying out of each other's way is still better than her trying to murder your offspring."
Zachariah surprisedly looked at her. "How do you know that it isn't her? The spymaster is clueless and insists that he can't find evidence of any kind, but they speak of Menümarót and Çilen being under threat. I don't know who they are, but I hear them..."
"I was referring to what Asli tried years ago. But that explains why you took Virág and the kids along.", Yeldem answered unmoved. "But didn't you just say you don't think she is up to something?"
"Yes, that is true. I much rather think that this shady shmuck Shimon is behind it." Zachariah's expression darkened. "I've been shadowing him for months now, but that guy is really good. It's uncanny how he gives off the impression of being just a regular man from Kuban and never falls out of his role."
"Ahh, the ghosts in the shadows. We've got some catching up to do, it seems."
"As usual. Once you're Queen, we have to take up more intense diplomatic relationships." Now the Khagan was more light-hearted again. "Sometimes those spies actually find out stuff. Do you already know the story of what happened to Khan Yilig after he wouldn't refrain from talking smear about me and the Ashina clan?"
"No."
"Well...his mother died. And then his wife, just a week ago. That'll show him!", Zachariah said smugly.
Now Yeldem was the surprised one. "What?! No, you didn't...."
"What?! No, of course I didn't take part in it. One was old, the other sick. I just love to imagine his face when he got the news."
Yeldem cocked an eyebrow. "To gloat over a guy losing family because he talked behind your back...that's quite, let me say, radical. But what illness did his wife have?"
"Huh? Nothing."
Yeldem rolled her eyes. "You're still all about the right priorities. Gossiping about your vassals. If at least you'd make fun of them for constantly running into the same walls. How many times has the Jabdertim Khan now tried to grab some land in Eastern Europe, only to find himself against a vastly superior coalition army?"
"How would I know? Glitterhoof is the man for keeping track of these things....four times? Five? Or would that include his father's successful try in Chernigov...? No, I think it's the fourth time now.
But I have a bonus run into a wall for you: One week before they headed out, the Hekel arrived again and tried to make a fuss. Apparenly they knew something about the impending war declaration and expected the Jabdertim to already be gone at the time. Predictable how that went – after the last time, just six weeks ago, and with their troops still battered from it."
Yeldem laughed heartily. "Now that is the kind of stuff I love Khazaria for. Khans can be so staggeringly stupid in so many different ways...but the best stories are when they choose to stick to their particular brand of idiocy."
"Can't argue with that. Sometimes I miss the days of old, when Khans were still Khans. Can you believe that I'm the only one left from when we were young?"
Yeldem was still chuckling. "Hardly. And all that before I get to finally be Queen. I still remember Khan Yavdi predicting it was only a matter of time."
Zachariah and Yeldem resumed their ride along the coast and contemplated silently. Indeed it looked like a matter of time by now. The civil war was still running, but Zachariah's and Count Krsto's armies effectively controlled the traffic routes and the Khagan could even arrange a troop visit while on his way to the far west of the Kingdom of Bulgaria. Tarkhan's adventure to Belgorod proved valuable after all, as the forttress of Cetatea Alba was still recovering from his brief stint and fell quickly. The city of Belgorod couldn't withstand long either, and it yielded a sizeable prize for the Khazarian horsemen. Soon the monastery of Tighina would fall too.
In the meantime, the other half of the Khazarian horde flooded Central Bulgaria, cut off the King's army from smaller troops throughout the country and pursued these small reinforcement bands relentlessly. King Gavril, his resources under such heavy attack, could only resort to hire mercenaries. At the same time, his main army was no match for the united levies of the rebellion and the Bosnian neighbours had declared war as well. At this rate, he wouldn't be able to hold on much longer.
Shortly before they were about to enter the coastal town of Pinarizza in the shadows of Simeon's fortress high on the hill, Yeldem spoke up again. "Say, Zachariah...you mentioned yourself being the last one remaining after thirty-two years. Have you given any thought lately about who's going to follow should you one day...?"
Zachariah stayed silent for a while. Then he cautiously replied "It's not for me to decide, you know that. I'm only trying to be fair and have them make the best of what they're given. I don't know why they're all so unthankful."
"Are they, really? You think it's a matter of thankfulness? Tarkhan's incursion to Belgorod was as much desperately courageous as Baghathur's attempt to gain coin and prestige in Israel all on his own, with less than thousand men. They're driven by their ambition. Although I agree that it's questionable to throw away their careers in the horde like that."
"Desperate courage is just the right term. I can hardly stop them from causing trouble for themselves, but it's certainly not my fault if they see too little challenge in serving in the horde, is it?"
Yeldem kept silent, sensing the last bit not coming off as confident as Zachariah might have wished for.
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A shame that Yeldem and Zacharia dont see eachother often, she seems to have a rather calming and restraining effect on him. As fort he Khazarian vassals, the more stupid and disorganized the better...for the Ashinas of course.
A very tricksy conversation really, despite the affection. One never knows with dear Zachariah when he will start being ... well, being excessively Zachariah, if one understands my point.
Hopefully Yeldem's soon-to-be Queendom helps to connect them more often again, but you never know how those things go...
Vassals constantly failing and/or going at each other might become a problem once you want to wage big wars, raise a unified horde and such. As long as you have a ruler like Zachariah who goes ways to avoid all that hassle anyway, they are indeed exactly what you need.
You really never know. There are also the times when it's all suspension and no release. The only certain thing is that the next outburst is always only a matter of time.
Chapter 51 – Expand Or Be Damned
Chapter 51 – Expand Or Be Damned
June 8, 899 AD
Yegorlyk, Alania
Khan Yeçtirek of Kozar stepped into the rather spartanic commander yurt, removed his helmet and let himself sink into one of the large hay sacks that were used as mattresses or bag chairs, exhausted from yet another day of driving the army to the East. It was his first longer campaign as a General, and they had been on the move for almost a year and a half now, chasing Bulgarians for a whole year and then heading back to the North Caucasus.
He was still glad they were here. Only a few days into the new year, a warlord of Russian descent had emerged in Terek, the location of Yeçtirek's main base, and terrorized the local populace. Vladimir was the descendant of the former Count of Ingria, who had recently lost his home to Swedish invaders who were becoming more prevalent throughout the North again. The Khagan and the council quickly decided to drive him off with all means available to protect the Kozar clan, seeing that the civil war in Bulgaria was already at a considerable advantage for the rebels fighting for Simeon.
Khan Yilig of Bulçir entered the yurt and saw his fellow. They had both gained their ranks in the wake of the Ashina brothers subsequently dropping out of service and soon discovered mutual interests. Both men saluted rather sloppily and grinned. "Can't be more than a few days until we get that sorry bunch and teach them a lesson. How're you holding up?" asked Bulçir.
About six weeks ago, Vladimir and his troops headed out of Terek to avoid the approaching Khazarian horde, only days before the outnumbered local garrison would have had to give up and let them raze the camp. To their misfortune the Russians, who had no knowledge of the surroundings, got into a sandstorm that got them so far off course that after a prolonged aimless detour through the Steppes they arrived almost where they started - and now the Khazarian horde was right on their heels.
"Just fine. Feels exactly like a regular visit back home, just with more entourage." Yeçtirek responded with a yawn. "And I guess they would have headed east next, to the cities on the Caspian now under your control. So you should feel home too, I suppose."
Yilig waved dismissively. "It's barely been two months since the war is over. I didn't even have a chance to take a closer look at the local holdings yet. I've already ordered to replace the local Barons with Khazar nobles from my court to speed up the integration of the lands, but it's certainly going to take a while until a Bulçir will set up his home there...Anyway, I'm still very much interested in not having all this disrupted by a bunch of Russian rabble, so you're right in a way."
"You're not going to lay waste to the structures and drive off the population?"
"Why would I? There's a reason why the settlements on the Caspian coast are so wealthy. It would be foolish to destroy that potential instead of tapping it. The men have had their share during the war. In the long run, everyone will profit from the Alan townspeople working into our pockets."
"Fair enough. Although I'm not sure whether cities, castles and all that stuff can ultimately be reigned properly from a yurt..."
"I don't worry much about that. It's only a strip of land. The Kievan Rus is apparently reigned from a cage inside a yurt for years and years."
Yeçtirek laughed loud and Yilig added in a more serious tone "They won't be able to pay a ransom anytime soon, too. The constant wars Itakh starts in Eastern Europe might seem futile, but they certainly do have the effect of constantly draining the Kievans' resources."
"Yeah, and now there's probing from others if they can make something out of his previous work." Yeçtirek was an avid beholder of the events around the western Khazarian borders, sensing that the Slavs would pose an issue for a long time to come.
"Only that doesn't help Itakh at all. While he was still rejoicing over the news that Irkhan of Ezgil starting their own campaign on Kiev, the Poles stomped his camp to the ground and took his family prisoner. It had to happen at some point, if you ask me. At least they're determined to trade them in for an extended truce. I guess they have enough for the moment, too."
Yilig nodded. "Not as if they were having a good time on that whole endeavour. War is never pleasant. But at least they win those wars in the end while Itakh only sinks everything he has into futile attempts."
"I wonder if he'll ever learn. Probably not. People rarely do" was all Yeçtirek could add. A short silence followed. "And how's the family?"
"Fabulous! Ikalay's getting accustomed better and better to life as a Khanum, and for my part I'm so glad I'm rid of those hags, always on my back, criticizing each of my moves...."
A little later
Although the new members of the general staff were chatty at times, they lead their armies well and the raiding group was successfully caught and beaten up badly only a few days later. Through a daring maneuver, a Khazarian shock troop could even get the leader imprisoned.
This was of course the immediate end of Vladimir's endeavours. Yet, although the rebellion in Bulgaria was still going on and King Gavril had by the time hired a mercenary band with his last coin, the horde received orders to stay put for the moment. Yilig and Yeçtirek took the pleasant opportunity to see after things personally at their homes, but soon after they were called back to Tmutarakan.
January 4, 900 AD
Kabar Encampment, Kangly, Caspian shore
Khatir Kabar bolted into the camp like a cannonball, gasping for air and with his face dark red from the exertion. He had been running at least half a mile from the outpost he and his ward were occupying. "They're coming! They're coming!" Two months ago the lad, youngest son to the clan's founder Zebulun Kabar and thus brother to the Khan, had turned twelve and taken into military service. This was by far the most exciting thing to happen to him on his duties until now.
Although visibly exhausted, Khatir kept running and shouting until he bumped into Buzer, Chancellor to the clan and his nephew, though ten years his senior. "A group of riders is coming...and they're....carrying the Khazarian banners...the Khagan is finally coming!"
The news spread like wildfire through the humble camp. Today would be the biggest day in the clan's history. Khan Menümarót could hardly believe his luck. A few days earlier, he had received message that Khagan Zachariah the Scourge of God would personally do him the honor of bestowing upon him all of the newly conquered lands around Aqtobe. Soon, the victorious troops would return and Khan Yilig of Bulçir would have to give his congratulations in person or come off as an ungraceful barbarian. The thought was pleasing to Menümarót.
The Kabar clan had gained its independence shortly before the demise of Khagan Manasseh II Bulanid, more than twenty years ago. For all this time, the Kabar people had been confined to small patches of land with little prospect to gain more of it by themselves. Their numbers were no larger than two thousand souls all in all, including women and children – but it seemed like everyone was on his legs now.
Earlier...
When summer was still blazing over the steppes, things were looking much different at least according to Menümarót of Kabar. It was as if a curse lay upon him and his people. The Grand Khazarian Reformation had left them out of the gains, but the Khagan refused to take new lands at the borders because of it. The persistent lack of space led to bitter conflicts with the slightly condescending and much stronger neighbours from the Bulçir clan which deepened over time and further weakened Menümarót's influence at the court.
Accordingly unfruitful were his efforts to get the Khagan to take lands at the Eastern borders, and first nothing happened after the truce with Bashkiria ran out in March. Even when a buzzed Khagan promised him his full support at the festivities for the birth of the first Ashina granddaughter, he wouldn't know (or admit) anything of what he had said later. Menümarót was frustrated to no degree.
It took a war declaration from the Karakhanids against Bashkiria a week later to shake everyone up and prompt the council to act. By stripping the steadily disappearing Bashkirians of the central chunk of their lands, Khazaria would assert its hegemony. Should incursions from the East be stopped for good, at least the lands west of the Ural foothills needed to be controlled by trustworthy leaders. At least that was the tone the other Khans suddenly adopted, and Menümarót was slightly baffled why he had never thought of this himself.
***
When the Khagan arrived, waving out of a convertible palaquin that was carried by four of the most disciplined and experienced warhorses, the amazement was great among the common folk. Few of them had ever seen Zachariah in person, and his personal guard was more impressive than what Kabar could put together as its whole army. In the rear of the procession following the Khagan, a gagged man in underpants and a strange leather harness was tied to a stake on a large carriage. He was bleeding from numerous small wounds across his upper body, and occasionally a bored-looking servant flogged him, to the effect of muffled sounds of discomfort from the man at the stake. Parents covered their children's eyes, and questions about the purpose of this display ran abound.
Khan Menümarót and his kin welcomed their visitor on the large space in front of the festive yurt. Salutes were held, the usual pleasantries exchanged and the Bashkirian lands officially proclaimed Kabar property from now on. All according to protocol and to great exultation of the attendance. Then the Khagan took up word again.
"Now that the official part is all done for, I've still got a special surprise for you and your people, Khan Menümaròt. Be not worried, none of you will be put in any kind of danger. I'm sure everyone will find it very enlightening and entertaining."
Menümarót didn't look all too content, but Zachariah had already waved and a half dozen of his servants began setting up a contration looking not unlike a gallows tree, but somehow...different.
The crowd started to murmur and Menümarót lowered his voice. "I'm beyond thankful, my Khagan, and forever in your debt – but dare I ask how this surprise is going to turn out?"
"Well, since you're the Khan, I should probably inform you in advance, that's true. I'll execute a prisoner here, the scum who tried to make trouble last summer. To show your people what happens to people invading their turf in the future and make them feel safe from harm. Good, right?"
Menümarót turned a little pale. "While the logic is certainly sound, my Khagan, I'm not sure if..."
A loud ooh from the crowd cut Menümarót off. The servants had all disappeared in the meantime, to now come back with a sizeable anvil on a small cart, two men dragging the cart and two pushing from behind.
"What in the Nine Hells...?"
"Oh, all's going to be well. I'll even see to unleash the finish myself, only to ensure everyone's safety." Zachariah said with tangible anticipation.
"I'm not worried about public safety, that isn't it..."
"Well then, what are we waiting for?" The Khagan stood up and the man from before was brought forth, still bound and gagged and now also with a blind over his eyes. The anvil was by now readily tied up within the wooden construction. The man was bound to a wooden board on the ground, face down and unable to move in any kind.
"Khan Menümarót of Kabar, the Kabar Clan, and all people of Kangly! I am honored to be here with you an such a momentous occasion. The future will be bright for you and yours, thanks to the unity and the prowess of all Khazarian clans! ..."
After about half an hour of more or less interesting talk about future greatness garnered with seemingly pointless (but subtly critical on society and mankind) anecdotes, the Khagan finally moved on.
"Let me tell you the tale of a man who thought Khazaria to be caught out cold while its force was directed elsewhere. He came from the North to the South. He besieged a camp. He got cold feet when he heard word of an incoming intervention. He got into trouble getting away from said intervention. He made mistakes, but where people work, mistakes happen, do they not?"
Zachariah made a dramatic break and walked over to another servant who passed him a sword. Gazing into the sword, Zachariah carried on.
"It was all just a mistake. I'm sure each of you has made a mistake before. They happen, and people move on."
He neared the not-quite-gallows. The anvil pended little more than a metre over the unlucky Vladimir Rostislavovich Fyodyorov who desperately mumbled and twitched.
"Only if the initial mistake is to trespass into Khazarian lands...it might get a little more complicated. Be sure of that, people of Kabar. You will be protected."
Khagan Zachariah cut the rope. An ugly, cracking thud, then dead silence.
June 8, 899 AD
Yegorlyk, Alania
Khan Yeçtirek of Kozar stepped into the rather spartanic commander yurt, removed his helmet and let himself sink into one of the large hay sacks that were used as mattresses or bag chairs, exhausted from yet another day of driving the army to the East. It was his first longer campaign as a General, and they had been on the move for almost a year and a half now, chasing Bulgarians for a whole year and then heading back to the North Caucasus.
He was still glad they were here. Only a few days into the new year, a warlord of Russian descent had emerged in Terek, the location of Yeçtirek's main base, and terrorized the local populace. Vladimir was the descendant of the former Count of Ingria, who had recently lost his home to Swedish invaders who were becoming more prevalent throughout the North again. The Khagan and the council quickly decided to drive him off with all means available to protect the Kozar clan, seeing that the civil war in Bulgaria was already at a considerable advantage for the rebels fighting for Simeon.
Khan Yilig of Bulçir entered the yurt and saw his fellow. They had both gained their ranks in the wake of the Ashina brothers subsequently dropping out of service and soon discovered mutual interests. Both men saluted rather sloppily and grinned. "Can't be more than a few days until we get that sorry bunch and teach them a lesson. How're you holding up?" asked Bulçir.
About six weeks ago, Vladimir and his troops headed out of Terek to avoid the approaching Khazarian horde, only days before the outnumbered local garrison would have had to give up and let them raze the camp. To their misfortune the Russians, who had no knowledge of the surroundings, got into a sandstorm that got them so far off course that after a prolonged aimless detour through the Steppes they arrived almost where they started - and now the Khazarian horde was right on their heels.
"Just fine. Feels exactly like a regular visit back home, just with more entourage." Yeçtirek responded with a yawn. "And I guess they would have headed east next, to the cities on the Caspian now under your control. So you should feel home too, I suppose."
Yilig waved dismissively. "It's barely been two months since the war is over. I didn't even have a chance to take a closer look at the local holdings yet. I've already ordered to replace the local Barons with Khazar nobles from my court to speed up the integration of the lands, but it's certainly going to take a while until a Bulçir will set up his home there...Anyway, I'm still very much interested in not having all this disrupted by a bunch of Russian rabble, so you're right in a way."
"You're not going to lay waste to the structures and drive off the population?"
"Why would I? There's a reason why the settlements on the Caspian coast are so wealthy. It would be foolish to destroy that potential instead of tapping it. The men have had their share during the war. In the long run, everyone will profit from the Alan townspeople working into our pockets."
"Fair enough. Although I'm not sure whether cities, castles and all that stuff can ultimately be reigned properly from a yurt..."
"I don't worry much about that. It's only a strip of land. The Kievan Rus is apparently reigned from a cage inside a yurt for years and years."
Yeçtirek laughed loud and Yilig added in a more serious tone "They won't be able to pay a ransom anytime soon, too. The constant wars Itakh starts in Eastern Europe might seem futile, but they certainly do have the effect of constantly draining the Kievans' resources."
"Yeah, and now there's probing from others if they can make something out of his previous work." Yeçtirek was an avid beholder of the events around the western Khazarian borders, sensing that the Slavs would pose an issue for a long time to come.
"Only that doesn't help Itakh at all. While he was still rejoicing over the news that Irkhan of Ezgil starting their own campaign on Kiev, the Poles stomped his camp to the ground and took his family prisoner. It had to happen at some point, if you ask me. At least they're determined to trade them in for an extended truce. I guess they have enough for the moment, too."
Yilig nodded. "Not as if they were having a good time on that whole endeavour. War is never pleasant. But at least they win those wars in the end while Itakh only sinks everything he has into futile attempts."
"I wonder if he'll ever learn. Probably not. People rarely do" was all Yeçtirek could add. A short silence followed. "And how's the family?"
"Fabulous! Ikalay's getting accustomed better and better to life as a Khanum, and for my part I'm so glad I'm rid of those hags, always on my back, criticizing each of my moves...."
A little later
Although the new members of the general staff were chatty at times, they lead their armies well and the raiding group was successfully caught and beaten up badly only a few days later. Through a daring maneuver, a Khazarian shock troop could even get the leader imprisoned.
This was of course the immediate end of Vladimir's endeavours. Yet, although the rebellion in Bulgaria was still going on and King Gavril had by the time hired a mercenary band with his last coin, the horde received orders to stay put for the moment. Yilig and Yeçtirek took the pleasant opportunity to see after things personally at their homes, but soon after they were called back to Tmutarakan.
January 4, 900 AD
Kabar Encampment, Kangly, Caspian shore
Khatir Kabar bolted into the camp like a cannonball, gasping for air and with his face dark red from the exertion. He had been running at least half a mile from the outpost he and his ward were occupying. "They're coming! They're coming!" Two months ago the lad, youngest son to the clan's founder Zebulun Kabar and thus brother to the Khan, had turned twelve and taken into military service. This was by far the most exciting thing to happen to him on his duties until now.
Although visibly exhausted, Khatir kept running and shouting until he bumped into Buzer, Chancellor to the clan and his nephew, though ten years his senior. "A group of riders is coming...and they're....carrying the Khazarian banners...the Khagan is finally coming!"
The news spread like wildfire through the humble camp. Today would be the biggest day in the clan's history. Khan Menümarót could hardly believe his luck. A few days earlier, he had received message that Khagan Zachariah the Scourge of God would personally do him the honor of bestowing upon him all of the newly conquered lands around Aqtobe. Soon, the victorious troops would return and Khan Yilig of Bulçir would have to give his congratulations in person or come off as an ungraceful barbarian. The thought was pleasing to Menümarót.
The Kabar clan had gained its independence shortly before the demise of Khagan Manasseh II Bulanid, more than twenty years ago. For all this time, the Kabar people had been confined to small patches of land with little prospect to gain more of it by themselves. Their numbers were no larger than two thousand souls all in all, including women and children – but it seemed like everyone was on his legs now.
Earlier...
When summer was still blazing over the steppes, things were looking much different at least according to Menümarót of Kabar. It was as if a curse lay upon him and his people. The Grand Khazarian Reformation had left them out of the gains, but the Khagan refused to take new lands at the borders because of it. The persistent lack of space led to bitter conflicts with the slightly condescending and much stronger neighbours from the Bulçir clan which deepened over time and further weakened Menümarót's influence at the court.
Accordingly unfruitful were his efforts to get the Khagan to take lands at the Eastern borders, and first nothing happened after the truce with Bashkiria ran out in March. Even when a buzzed Khagan promised him his full support at the festivities for the birth of the first Ashina granddaughter, he wouldn't know (or admit) anything of what he had said later. Menümarót was frustrated to no degree.
It took a war declaration from the Karakhanids against Bashkiria a week later to shake everyone up and prompt the council to act. By stripping the steadily disappearing Bashkirians of the central chunk of their lands, Khazaria would assert its hegemony. Should incursions from the East be stopped for good, at least the lands west of the Ural foothills needed to be controlled by trustworthy leaders. At least that was the tone the other Khans suddenly adopted, and Menümarót was slightly baffled why he had never thought of this himself.
***
When the Khagan arrived, waving out of a convertible palaquin that was carried by four of the most disciplined and experienced warhorses, the amazement was great among the common folk. Few of them had ever seen Zachariah in person, and his personal guard was more impressive than what Kabar could put together as its whole army. In the rear of the procession following the Khagan, a gagged man in underpants and a strange leather harness was tied to a stake on a large carriage. He was bleeding from numerous small wounds across his upper body, and occasionally a bored-looking servant flogged him, to the effect of muffled sounds of discomfort from the man at the stake. Parents covered their children's eyes, and questions about the purpose of this display ran abound.
Khan Menümarót and his kin welcomed their visitor on the large space in front of the festive yurt. Salutes were held, the usual pleasantries exchanged and the Bashkirian lands officially proclaimed Kabar property from now on. All according to protocol and to great exultation of the attendance. Then the Khagan took up word again.
"Now that the official part is all done for, I've still got a special surprise for you and your people, Khan Menümaròt. Be not worried, none of you will be put in any kind of danger. I'm sure everyone will find it very enlightening and entertaining."
Menümarót didn't look all too content, but Zachariah had already waved and a half dozen of his servants began setting up a contration looking not unlike a gallows tree, but somehow...different.
The crowd started to murmur and Menümarót lowered his voice. "I'm beyond thankful, my Khagan, and forever in your debt – but dare I ask how this surprise is going to turn out?"
"Well, since you're the Khan, I should probably inform you in advance, that's true. I'll execute a prisoner here, the scum who tried to make trouble last summer. To show your people what happens to people invading their turf in the future and make them feel safe from harm. Good, right?"
Menümarót turned a little pale. "While the logic is certainly sound, my Khagan, I'm not sure if..."
A loud ooh from the crowd cut Menümarót off. The servants had all disappeared in the meantime, to now come back with a sizeable anvil on a small cart, two men dragging the cart and two pushing from behind.
"What in the Nine Hells...?"
"Oh, all's going to be well. I'll even see to unleash the finish myself, only to ensure everyone's safety." Zachariah said with tangible anticipation.
"I'm not worried about public safety, that isn't it..."
"Well then, what are we waiting for?" The Khagan stood up and the man from before was brought forth, still bound and gagged and now also with a blind over his eyes. The anvil was by now readily tied up within the wooden construction. The man was bound to a wooden board on the ground, face down and unable to move in any kind.
"Khan Menümarót of Kabar, the Kabar Clan, and all people of Kangly! I am honored to be here with you an such a momentous occasion. The future will be bright for you and yours, thanks to the unity and the prowess of all Khazarian clans! ..."
After about half an hour of more or less interesting talk about future greatness garnered with seemingly pointless (but subtly critical on society and mankind) anecdotes, the Khagan finally moved on.
"Let me tell you the tale of a man who thought Khazaria to be caught out cold while its force was directed elsewhere. He came from the North to the South. He besieged a camp. He got cold feet when he heard word of an incoming intervention. He got into trouble getting away from said intervention. He made mistakes, but where people work, mistakes happen, do they not?"
Zachariah made a dramatic break and walked over to another servant who passed him a sword. Gazing into the sword, Zachariah carried on.
"It was all just a mistake. I'm sure each of you has made a mistake before. They happen, and people move on."
He neared the not-quite-gallows. The anvil pended little more than a metre over the unlucky Vladimir Rostislavovich Fyodyorov who desperately mumbled and twitched.
"Only if the initial mistake is to trespass into Khazarian lands...it might get a little more complicated. Be sure of that, people of Kabar. You will be protected."
Khagan Zachariah cut the rope. An ugly, cracking thud, then dead silence.
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I must admit I also laughed at the line of Russia being ruled from a cage inside a yurt.
There's no shame in admitting that. Khan Yilig is on fire in each possible respect.
True. Zachariah has hell of a reputation about that to lose by now.
Chapter 52 – Divine Whims
Chapter 52 – Divine Whims
April 3, 900 AD
Terek
"Da-Dy!" squeaked little Sirma when a slightly tired, but light-hearted Khan Yeçtirek of Kozar entered his yurt. He had only been gone for a week for the inauguration of the new Council Hall in Tmutarakan, but he'd already missed his little girl awfully. He went into a perch to embrace the toddler wiggling towards him enthustiastically, pick her up and whirl her around a few times. Sirma squeaked with delight.
Khanum Karacik watched the scene smiling. Yeçtirek put Sirma back on the floor, only for her to involuntarily stumble around and fall on her bottom. She started to wail, less because she'd hurt herself than because everything was suddenly so confusing. A maid quickly took care of her, not without a minute chastising gaze toward the Khan. He couldn't help but chuckle and looked over to his wife.
As every time he came back home, his heart sank just a tiny bit. Her nose was still way too big for her face, her eyes too far apart and her jaw too rectangular for his taste. More importantly, she would regularly waste what little money there was and then blame it on him, all while the housework was managed by the servants they would pay because Karacik frankly proclaimed it below her to sweep floors or prepare food. His parents had arranged the marriage long ago to further his career, not unsuccessfully in that respect but also in complete disregard of their daughter-in-law's specifics.
At least she had turned out to be a good mother in recent times – even full of support and care for Sirma, although the girl was born to one of the concubines he took in after gaining land. It even appeared that the sudden competition kindled a fire in their marriage that had never really been there before, resulting in Yeçtirek's first son Alp being born to Karacik, almost exactly nine months after Sirma.
"So, my mighty Khan...how was the official visit?", Karacik said with a smirk when her husband approached her.
"Oh God, where do I even start?" Yeçtirek gave his wife a kiss with only the last indiscernible bit of reluctance that persisted through the years of getting used to each other. "You've yet to meet the Khagan. There's hardly a description for that guy."
"I can imagine. There are so many stories around him - if only a tenth is true he has to be an exceptional figure."
"Well, judging from the stories he tells himself if nobody stops him, it's all a great understatement" laughed Yeçtirek. "And nobody stops him telling stories for sure. When a squire dared to interrupt a piece about unending armies of Roman legionnaires, he gave order to hang him from the ceiling for three days, so he would have time to learn listening properly."
"Wow. Three days upside down? Isn't that dangerous?"
"He would have died for sure, but they took him down once Zachariah was out of sight. Said he would forget about it in no time anyway, which was exactly how it went. I heard that's how a lot of these things are handled these days."
Yeçtirek chuckled again and went on to tell humorous and astonishing anecdotes about his visit.
"...you see, Zachariah's certainly mad and full of himself, but there's always these occasional bouts of brilliance. For instance, I cannot but believe the secret behind his skills with falcons is the philosophy he's built around it. It's fascinating how he spins ancient legends of our forefathers and the Jewish scriptures into paraboles about Earth and Sky, derives the course of the hunt this way and is successful every time. You can feel how he is drawing strength from it."
Karacik listened eagerly, but frowned at that point. "I've heard they're also dangerous and quite a tedium to provide for..."
"Sure thing, but I have to admit I think it's worth it. Think about how a falcon would look in the eyes of the courtiers and the other Khagans!"
Khan Yeçtirek was displeased that his wife, who was no stranger to indulgence, tried to talk him out of such a formidable idea. Yet he chose to remain calm and overrule her foolish misgivings. And so it came that a few days later, Zachariah received a note that his guest had got himself a falcon too, with special thanks for the formidable experience.
August 8, 900 AD
"Tea?" asked Zachariah who rested on a Persian divan instead of the usual hammocks that the nomad cultures employed as loungers. The young woman opposite to him nodded and a servant poured again. She thanked him with marked coquetry and the lad turned bright red before leaving the room again.
"Where was I....oh, right. They are after me and my family, and if they're as dangerous as I suppose, that includes you!" Zachariah showed a worried expression. "And this is why I'll create an additional regiment of 500 specially trained men just for the protection of the court. They're going to be named 'Divine Guard', a heavy standing troop that will strike against every lowly raider and cut-throat who thinks to threaten the Ashina clan. They are only going to defend on the spot, so no horses are needed. For the first time, foot troops will march in Khazaria."
"Oh, don't make this about me", the woman responded in amusement and with warm voice. "There's so many more people around here who deserve all the protection the Khaganate can provide." She smiled, and Zachariah felt very confirmed in that his new guard was a good idea.
The yet unknown visitor to the Khagan was a common sight as of late. Wojslawa Kujawski, sister to the Polish King Wladyslaw and wed to Zachariah's oldest son Muhan, regularly accompanied her husband when he turned to the east with his mercenary company, but now she'd been in Tmutarakan for a few weeks already.
Ostensibly Muhan and his band were up to take on a dangerous contract and he didn't want to endanger her. Wojslawa knew that he most likely just wanted to enjoy the local womanfolk with less disturbance, but she thought little of Muhan anyway and was not all too sad about time she didn't spend around him. In his younger years, Muhan was a thoughtful and rather courteous man, but his years as a mercenary had made him rough, vulgar and indulgent. Maybe this was the way you had to act if you were to keep a band of mediocre freelance fighters under control, but to the Wojslawa who had been brought up as a princess it was plain annoying. Seeing at least a resemblance of civilization was thus much to her own liking, and more than once had she thought to not go back to Muhan's band ever again.
Upon her arrival and being personally introduced to Zachariah the Scourge of God, it quickly became clear to Wojslawa that the Khagan was profoundly involved in deriving syncretisms between Jewish beliefs and traditional ones stemming from Tengri rites, especially when it came to handling animals. She had never been forced to convert from her own Pagan beliefs and remarked that Zachariah's philosophy bore resemblance to a lot of what the Shamans had told her in Poland when she was still a child. That caught the Khagan's attention, and soon the two were often seen debating different outlooks on the world and its unexplained mysteries.
Wojslawa was fully aware that Zachariah was sometimes delusional; everybody knew it and it was hard to miss when dealing with him. Yet she appreciated his open mind and the moments when his vast experience leading a Clan showed. He sure had his weaknesses, but a Polish princess among steppe nomads couldn't be all too picky with her allies, figured Wojslawa. And the mightiest man around was surely not the worst idea to befriend.
However, today an additional visitor was already on his way. I'm too old for this, thought the dignified grey-bearded man while striding towards the Khagan's accomodations. He was uncomfortable, though what lay ahead wasn't particularly new to him, it just hadn't been necessary in a while.
Over the years, Azariah of Bryakhimov, the distinguished court physician of Khazaria, had left the bulk of the daily business of colds and rashes to his former apprentice (and once short-time regent to the realm) Yençepi. He mainly resorted to treating the highest of nobles and since shortly composing a book supposed to manifest all his approved treatments and the advances in traditional Khazarian medicine over the last three decades on paper. Luckily the Khagan was supportive of the idea and granted Azariah the needed funds.
All the while, Yençepi could develop his own practical skills further and become increasingly independent of Azariah's watchful advice. Only one thankless task remained that no one could relieve the head physician of the court from. It was one of those days when he had to deliver bad news to Khagan Zachariah.
He took a deep breath, stepped toward the yurt and addressed the guards. "I need to speak to the Khagan. Urgently and in private." After a few moments, he was told to step in.
"Welcome, Doctor Azariah!" the Khagan exclaimed. Azariah bowed and looked at him with a quizzical expression. "Excuse me. I heard that's what they call their medical scholars in East Francia, and I found it to be quite poetic", Zachariah added quickly.
"I didn't know that, your majesty. May I ask for a moment of privacy?" the visibly dejected Azariah replied.
"Of course. I was just about to be on my way." Wojslawa answered gracefully. She gave the physician a questioning look, seemed to recognize the gloom in his face and left the yurt with a grave and flawless curtsy.
"So..." Zachariah broke an uncomfortable silence. "What do you have for me?"
"It's about Yabghu, your majesty. As you know, he's been complaining about headaches and fatigue for quite some time. Recently, he would feel worse than ever and barely eat or sleep from the pain, according to his own description."
"Yes... we're all worrying about him. Did you finally find something? Is he being poisoned, as I've suspected all the time? That has to be it, right?"
Azariah swallowed hard. "Yes, we...found something. No poison, but...I had another grim suspicion for some time." He paused again. Zachariah looked at him increasingly anxious. "It's....I fear that...what we did find could be a carcinoma, my Khagan. I'm..."
"I don't understand Latin. What did you find and what does that word mean?"
"Yabghu has a growing cancer, your majesty. Untreated, such disease is almost certainly deadly within short time."
Now Zachariah seemed to finally understand. Disbelief and pain were slowly making their way to the Khagan's frozen face.
"We will immediately apply every known cure should the Prince not object to it, but there is always the possibility that the growth is unresponsive or others develop. In this case, we can only pray. I'm...terribly sorry." Azariah looked to the floor in discomfort.
Zachariah was still unable to say anything. Thoughts raced through his head. This had to somehow be part of the big plan to eradicate the Ashina clan. There was no other possibility. Too much had he seen and heard. They weren't only coming for him or the children, they were coming for all of his family. No one was meant to survive.
"What do I do, Azariah?" it suddenly burst out of him. "I'm in danger, and so is everyone around me. The spymaster is clueless and the realm needs me." Zachariah hid his face in his hands and shook his head, moaning loudly. "I'm in a cage...and the bars come closer..."
Azariah tried to calm the Khagan down, but Zachariah only carried on rambling to himself and barely noticed the physician. He knew that in this state, little was to be done. "I'm going to leave you alone, majesty. I'm at your disposal should you need something."
"What do I do....yes, yes. Leave me alone and you're at my disposal..."
...yes, yes, leave me alone...leave me...leave leave...leave alone...alone me...Alone............
April 3, 900 AD
Terek
"Da-Dy!" squeaked little Sirma when a slightly tired, but light-hearted Khan Yeçtirek of Kozar entered his yurt. He had only been gone for a week for the inauguration of the new Council Hall in Tmutarakan, but he'd already missed his little girl awfully. He went into a perch to embrace the toddler wiggling towards him enthustiastically, pick her up and whirl her around a few times. Sirma squeaked with delight.
Khanum Karacik watched the scene smiling. Yeçtirek put Sirma back on the floor, only for her to involuntarily stumble around and fall on her bottom. She started to wail, less because she'd hurt herself than because everything was suddenly so confusing. A maid quickly took care of her, not without a minute chastising gaze toward the Khan. He couldn't help but chuckle and looked over to his wife.
As every time he came back home, his heart sank just a tiny bit. Her nose was still way too big for her face, her eyes too far apart and her jaw too rectangular for his taste. More importantly, she would regularly waste what little money there was and then blame it on him, all while the housework was managed by the servants they would pay because Karacik frankly proclaimed it below her to sweep floors or prepare food. His parents had arranged the marriage long ago to further his career, not unsuccessfully in that respect but also in complete disregard of their daughter-in-law's specifics.
At least she had turned out to be a good mother in recent times – even full of support and care for Sirma, although the girl was born to one of the concubines he took in after gaining land. It even appeared that the sudden competition kindled a fire in their marriage that had never really been there before, resulting in Yeçtirek's first son Alp being born to Karacik, almost exactly nine months after Sirma.
"So, my mighty Khan...how was the official visit?", Karacik said with a smirk when her husband approached her.
"Oh God, where do I even start?" Yeçtirek gave his wife a kiss with only the last indiscernible bit of reluctance that persisted through the years of getting used to each other. "You've yet to meet the Khagan. There's hardly a description for that guy."
"I can imagine. There are so many stories around him - if only a tenth is true he has to be an exceptional figure."
"Well, judging from the stories he tells himself if nobody stops him, it's all a great understatement" laughed Yeçtirek. "And nobody stops him telling stories for sure. When a squire dared to interrupt a piece about unending armies of Roman legionnaires, he gave order to hang him from the ceiling for three days, so he would have time to learn listening properly."
"Wow. Three days upside down? Isn't that dangerous?"
"He would have died for sure, but they took him down once Zachariah was out of sight. Said he would forget about it in no time anyway, which was exactly how it went. I heard that's how a lot of these things are handled these days."
Yeçtirek chuckled again and went on to tell humorous and astonishing anecdotes about his visit.
"...you see, Zachariah's certainly mad and full of himself, but there's always these occasional bouts of brilliance. For instance, I cannot but believe the secret behind his skills with falcons is the philosophy he's built around it. It's fascinating how he spins ancient legends of our forefathers and the Jewish scriptures into paraboles about Earth and Sky, derives the course of the hunt this way and is successful every time. You can feel how he is drawing strength from it."
Karacik listened eagerly, but frowned at that point. "I've heard they're also dangerous and quite a tedium to provide for..."
"Sure thing, but I have to admit I think it's worth it. Think about how a falcon would look in the eyes of the courtiers and the other Khagans!"
Khan Yeçtirek was displeased that his wife, who was no stranger to indulgence, tried to talk him out of such a formidable idea. Yet he chose to remain calm and overrule her foolish misgivings. And so it came that a few days later, Zachariah received a note that his guest had got himself a falcon too, with special thanks for the formidable experience.
August 8, 900 AD
"Tea?" asked Zachariah who rested on a Persian divan instead of the usual hammocks that the nomad cultures employed as loungers. The young woman opposite to him nodded and a servant poured again. She thanked him with marked coquetry and the lad turned bright red before leaving the room again.
"Where was I....oh, right. They are after me and my family, and if they're as dangerous as I suppose, that includes you!" Zachariah showed a worried expression. "And this is why I'll create an additional regiment of 500 specially trained men just for the protection of the court. They're going to be named 'Divine Guard', a heavy standing troop that will strike against every lowly raider and cut-throat who thinks to threaten the Ashina clan. They are only going to defend on the spot, so no horses are needed. For the first time, foot troops will march in Khazaria."
"Oh, don't make this about me", the woman responded in amusement and with warm voice. "There's so many more people around here who deserve all the protection the Khaganate can provide." She smiled, and Zachariah felt very confirmed in that his new guard was a good idea.
The yet unknown visitor to the Khagan was a common sight as of late. Wojslawa Kujawski, sister to the Polish King Wladyslaw and wed to Zachariah's oldest son Muhan, regularly accompanied her husband when he turned to the east with his mercenary company, but now she'd been in Tmutarakan for a few weeks already.
Ostensibly Muhan and his band were up to take on a dangerous contract and he didn't want to endanger her. Wojslawa knew that he most likely just wanted to enjoy the local womanfolk with less disturbance, but she thought little of Muhan anyway and was not all too sad about time she didn't spend around him. In his younger years, Muhan was a thoughtful and rather courteous man, but his years as a mercenary had made him rough, vulgar and indulgent. Maybe this was the way you had to act if you were to keep a band of mediocre freelance fighters under control, but to the Wojslawa who had been brought up as a princess it was plain annoying. Seeing at least a resemblance of civilization was thus much to her own liking, and more than once had she thought to not go back to Muhan's band ever again.
Upon her arrival and being personally introduced to Zachariah the Scourge of God, it quickly became clear to Wojslawa that the Khagan was profoundly involved in deriving syncretisms between Jewish beliefs and traditional ones stemming from Tengri rites, especially when it came to handling animals. She had never been forced to convert from her own Pagan beliefs and remarked that Zachariah's philosophy bore resemblance to a lot of what the Shamans had told her in Poland when she was still a child. That caught the Khagan's attention, and soon the two were often seen debating different outlooks on the world and its unexplained mysteries.
Wojslawa was fully aware that Zachariah was sometimes delusional; everybody knew it and it was hard to miss when dealing with him. Yet she appreciated his open mind and the moments when his vast experience leading a Clan showed. He sure had his weaknesses, but a Polish princess among steppe nomads couldn't be all too picky with her allies, figured Wojslawa. And the mightiest man around was surely not the worst idea to befriend.
However, today an additional visitor was already on his way. I'm too old for this, thought the dignified grey-bearded man while striding towards the Khagan's accomodations. He was uncomfortable, though what lay ahead wasn't particularly new to him, it just hadn't been necessary in a while.
Over the years, Azariah of Bryakhimov, the distinguished court physician of Khazaria, had left the bulk of the daily business of colds and rashes to his former apprentice (and once short-time regent to the realm) Yençepi. He mainly resorted to treating the highest of nobles and since shortly composing a book supposed to manifest all his approved treatments and the advances in traditional Khazarian medicine over the last three decades on paper. Luckily the Khagan was supportive of the idea and granted Azariah the needed funds.
All the while, Yençepi could develop his own practical skills further and become increasingly independent of Azariah's watchful advice. Only one thankless task remained that no one could relieve the head physician of the court from. It was one of those days when he had to deliver bad news to Khagan Zachariah.
He took a deep breath, stepped toward the yurt and addressed the guards. "I need to speak to the Khagan. Urgently and in private." After a few moments, he was told to step in.
"Welcome, Doctor Azariah!" the Khagan exclaimed. Azariah bowed and looked at him with a quizzical expression. "Excuse me. I heard that's what they call their medical scholars in East Francia, and I found it to be quite poetic", Zachariah added quickly.
"I didn't know that, your majesty. May I ask for a moment of privacy?" the visibly dejected Azariah replied.
"Of course. I was just about to be on my way." Wojslawa answered gracefully. She gave the physician a questioning look, seemed to recognize the gloom in his face and left the yurt with a grave and flawless curtsy.
"So..." Zachariah broke an uncomfortable silence. "What do you have for me?"
"It's about Yabghu, your majesty. As you know, he's been complaining about headaches and fatigue for quite some time. Recently, he would feel worse than ever and barely eat or sleep from the pain, according to his own description."
"Yes... we're all worrying about him. Did you finally find something? Is he being poisoned, as I've suspected all the time? That has to be it, right?"
Azariah swallowed hard. "Yes, we...found something. No poison, but...I had another grim suspicion for some time." He paused again. Zachariah looked at him increasingly anxious. "It's....I fear that...what we did find could be a carcinoma, my Khagan. I'm..."
"I don't understand Latin. What did you find and what does that word mean?"
"Yabghu has a growing cancer, your majesty. Untreated, such disease is almost certainly deadly within short time."
Now Zachariah seemed to finally understand. Disbelief and pain were slowly making their way to the Khagan's frozen face.
"We will immediately apply every known cure should the Prince not object to it, but there is always the possibility that the growth is unresponsive or others develop. In this case, we can only pray. I'm...terribly sorry." Azariah looked to the floor in discomfort.
Zachariah was still unable to say anything. Thoughts raced through his head. This had to somehow be part of the big plan to eradicate the Ashina clan. There was no other possibility. Too much had he seen and heard. They weren't only coming for him or the children, they were coming for all of his family. No one was meant to survive.
"What do I do, Azariah?" it suddenly burst out of him. "I'm in danger, and so is everyone around me. The spymaster is clueless and the realm needs me." Zachariah hid his face in his hands and shook his head, moaning loudly. "I'm in a cage...and the bars come closer..."
Azariah tried to calm the Khagan down, but Zachariah only carried on rambling to himself and barely noticed the physician. He knew that in this state, little was to be done. "I'm going to leave you alone, majesty. I'm at your disposal should you need something."
"What do I do....yes, yes. Leave me alone and you're at my disposal..."
...yes, yes, leave me alone...leave me...leave leave...leave alone...alone me...Alone............
Sometimes paranoia is not justified, and sometimes ... well sometimes it is just a healthy state of mind
This could be the straw that breaks the camels back and leads to Zacharia snapping, his enemies or anyone who has wronged him should beware.
Sometimes paranoia is not justified, and sometimes ... well sometimes it is just a healthy state of mind
Considering that the Nomads haven't been all too keen on backstabbing until now, one could assume he's just seeing ghosts...but that is exactly what they would want him to think, right?
They should definitely know not to underestimate him. As soon as they show themselves...
Chapter 53 – Chains of Command
Chapter 53 – Chains of Command
March 18, 901 AD
"Aaaaaand...turn! No slowing down! Keep your shields up!" Marshal Itakh bellowed a string of orders to a group of heavily clad recruits that were exercising in the spacious courtyard of the Horde campus, a large quarter of the encampment dedicated to the Khazarian military that encompassed extensive training grounds, stables, smitheries and much more. The ranks of the Divine Guard weren't yet properly filled, and the Khan of Jabdertim now had time to look after his duties to Khazaria more often.
God knew he owed it to the Khagan. Over the years, he had grasped that Zachariah was only refusing to get into his campaigns because he was looking out for his own people foremost and correctly thought Russia to be a mass grave. He only wanted to discourage him from sacrificing his own men. After Zachariah used his own funds years ago to usurp the titular Duchy of Chernigov for Itakh, he swore himself to stay loyal no matter what. Now that he couldn't gain lands by himself, he could at least serve the Khaganate in doing so.
Training troops was also relieving to the Khan in a way. At least the recruits didn't look down upon him, as his peers did by now. There was no lack of taunting and outright contempt from the other Khans and even his own vassals in Chernigov since his return from the latest failed attempt or taking land in Russia. At least his chancellor was ultimately able to negotiate an exchange of prisoners with King Stanislav and save Itakh's family from further harm. Never had Itakh realized before how much danger he was putting himself and his kin into by his continued attempts to attack Russian lords.
He had enough, for good this time. Not only had their imprisonment been a severe blow to Itakh's morale and that of his clan, but the continued war efforts left him impoverished and discredited. His own men were discontent with their pay suspended and his vassals with their levies constantly on the road. With things looking so unstable at home and overwhelmed with the whole mess his dedication had led to at last, Itakh was secretly glad to get out of it at times and do what he was good at – shout at soldiers and order officers around.
Everything had gone quite routinely since his return to Zachariah's court. While some raiders from the remains of Bashkiria had caused trouble in the newly acquired lands far to the East, he trusted the division of 2000 men under the accomplished generals Guyug and Simsam that was sent sent to take care of the problem.
Unfortunately for Khan Menümarót, the intruders quickly overwhelmed his small garrison and trashed his shortly relocated and expanded encampments before the support from Khazaria could arrive. But according to Itakh, that was Menümaróts own problem foremost and at least he could count on the Horde, even if it came a little late.
Not as if anyone ever promised them protection, right?
A rider entered the courtyard. Marshal Itakh recognized his appearance immediately. He was an Ançaryon, a member of the elite messenger corps that relied on strings of relais stations along important routes all across the Khaganate and so could spread vital information very quickly. Only the fastest horses and the most trusted men were deployed for this important task. The principle was centuries old and well spread throughout the steppes, although in many swathes of land it regularly broke down because of hostilities between or within the Clans occupying them. In Khazaria though, it had worked fine for decades.
The messenger got off his horse and nodded toward Itakh from a distance. "Tabghaç!" shouted the Marshal, apparently calling for one of his officers. "Continue with those rookies. I'll be needed here."
Lieutenant Tabghaç hurried to his superior, saluted and carried on snarling at the recruits in their cumbersome steel shells. The Marshal walked toward the messenger, who saluted as well. "Marshal Itakh. I'm most honored to meet you, milord."
"Yeah, yeah, me too.", Itakh replied surly. "I've been waiting for news from the east for quite some time."
"I'll be happy to provide you with the report from the commanders." said the messenger with unchanged professional politeness. "The raiders from Äyle have been dispatched as ordered. Yet Bashkiria keeps on disintegrating, and the Karakhanids are almost done spreading into their remains. They have taken over Sakmara and intend to seize it for themselves."
Now Itakh was a lot more attentive. "The Karakhanids. That's interesting indeed, yet expectable sooner or later. Are there any troops in the vicinity of ours?"
"None that we know of. The Khagan himself only fields one and a half thousand men, yet little is certain about the clans under him – neither their strength nor what they are up to."
"Good. Little to work with, but important news. I will take care to send the Generals fresh orders as quickly as possible. Here, have a coin for your services."
"Many thanks, milord." The messenger bowed and swiftly made his way to his horse.
Marshal Itakh returned to his adjutant and instructed him briefly. "Keep them going for a little more. I have business to conduct at the court."
***
Thirty minutes later, the Marshal, now in decidedly lighter gear, stepped into the Clan gathering hall of Tmutarakan. The supposed center of government affairs had been augmented several times over the past years and by now, apart from space for all council affairs, housed a sizeable throne that even managed to make Zachariah's infamous jewelled ornaments a little less out of place. Still the Khagan spent little time there, and to Itakh it was a convenient surprise he didn't have to search for him somewhere out in the wilds hunting nor in the camp's brothels. Instead, he found the Khagan conversing with his spymaster Khan Böri of Khwaliz in a roomy compartment of the yurt.
"Well, if it isn't Khan Itakh of Jabdertim, Marshal of Khazaria!" Zachariah welcomed his guest with a broad smile. Böri added a friendly "God be with you, Itakh of Jabdertim". The Khans knew and appreciated each other; Böri's oldest son and designated heir was married to one of Itakh's younger sisters and they shared the Kharazian border to the west, which lead to frequent consultations. Only sometimes, the Khan of Khwaliz wished he could command over three and a half thousand men as well, for instance when the Bulçir had come and thrashed his camp in January.
Itakh bowed deep. "Khagan Zachariah, there's news from the east I wanted to bear personally. I hope I'm not interrupting you two."
"Not at all", Zachariah said full of sweetness. "In fact, I was thinking not too long ago how great it would be if you were here. Some wishes do come true, as it seems. Have a seat with us."
The Marshal didn't quite know what to make of all that friendliness, but took seat on one of the chairs around a small table between them nonetheless. "Well....now I'm here. Had I known of you requiring me, I would have...."
"No, it's all fine" Zachariah interrupted him. "I would have sent for you later anyways, but first tell us of the news you have."
"To put it shortly, the Karakhanids are finally about to win against Bashkiria and take Sakmara. It's been over a year since we made our own stance in the region, and we only have the division meant to repel raiding troops there. Our intelligence on the number and the whereabouts of the Karakhanid troops is meager, but it's safe to assume this will not be enough to beat them."
"And we do want to beat them...?" asked Zachariah. Itakh couldn't contain the annoyment in his face. Khan Böri understood quickly and stepped in. "Yes, your majesty, we do. When we discussed the war on Bashkiria in council, you even translated much of the reasoning to Glitterhoof... The Karakhanids have been creeping westwards for the better part of three decades and caused the Cumans perpetual trouble. Now they're cutting through their lands completely."
The Khagan nodded and scratched his head. "And here I was, thinking this was all sweet talk to honeycoat that we're forcefully taking over a swath of Bashkirian lands. Do you imply there's actual reason to be worried about them?"
"As I mentioned" replied Itakh again, "we don't have sufficient information on their armies to make a meaningful guess. I can only recommend to send more forces there and conduct more intensive scouting in the surroundings."
"I trust your judgement, Khan Itakh. The remaining men will be sent to the East to deal with the Karakanakhids. Only the Divine Guard will stay here. I'm sure you understand... As for the intelligence, I already have a solution in mind...but that is another matter to be discussed, isn't it, Khan Böri?"
The spymaster raised an eyebrow only for an instant. "Indeed it is. Under less...pressing circumstances, the Chancellor and his staff would be..."
"Glitterhoof is busy." he was cut short. Zachariah glared at him coldly. "I've told you more than once, Böri of Khwaliz. His work in Tiflis is vital to the realm's integrity, although his efforts are arguably taking longer than expected to come into effect. There will be no further discussion of this."
Böri took a deep breath. "Of course, my Khagan. It's just that with him...so much needed in Georgia and me being entirely committed to the incomparable responsibility of ensuring your safety in these perilous times, little capacities are left to inquire further parties."
"And this is why we will get down to the root of the trouble instead of having you poking around in the dark. This is what I'm talking about."
Itakh had no idea what he was talking about, and neither how any of this came close to a solution to them not knowing where the enemies' troops were. Yet Böri seemed to slowly catch up on something.
"I'm also going to put it shortly, Itakh", Zachariah began again and poured himself a cup of wine from a skin hanging on the separator beside him. "I have a problem that I want to solve, and I might need every truly loyal subject to Khazaria to do me a certain favor." He lowered his voice. "This might result in great misfortune for certain people with a...less loyal disposition."
"Great misfortune, hmh?" Itakh replied. "And I presume a solution of your problem would also solve my intelligence problem in Bashkiria?"
"It would certainly make way for more of the needed veteran spies to be deployed to the horde's service immediately." replied Böri. The Khagan nodded.
Itakh raised his head with grim resolve and looked Zachariah in the eyes. "I'm no friend of 'solutions' like this one. You know this well enough. Yet if it means that the horde can keep counting on all information it needs to be successful - then you can count on my loyalty, your majesty."
Zachariah lightened up again. "Fabulous! Like this, the problem will be eradicated soon. Now have you already heard the newest from Russia? The Poles apparently got so used to kicking Nomad butt that they've joined the faltering Kievan defense against Ezgil. Wouldn't be surprising if they could turn that war around too."
"Yes, I've heard that. I know myself around the region quite well and it's been a few weeks ago. Now if you would excuse me, I have urgent orders to give." With that, a disgruntled Itakh left the yurt without awaiting a response.
November 3, 901 AD
Tmutarakan
Marshal Itakh was getting impatient. Although he knew he could not count all too much on Zachariah's timeliness, the Khagan was supposed to be at the Council Hall fourty minutes ago. For weeks had he been on the road for his recent troop visit, and he longed for a proper meal and some rest. Finally there was movement around the large yurt's entrance, and a strong smell of livestock hit Itakh's nose. What in the name of Adonai...is someone bringing a goat along?
Yet only Zachariah appeared. When he neared Itakh, he swayed a little - and the stench virtually floored the Marshal. He was a seasoned soldier and used to much, but this was intense nonetheless.
Itakh saluted. "Greetings, Khagan Zachariah" he said with nasal voice but straight face. "I bring the report from the operation against the Karakhanids."
"Be welcomed, Khan Itakh" replied the Khagan. "You sound slightly ailing. Have you caught a cold on your travel?" he added worriedly and grabbed for his wine tube on the wall.
"Thanks for your concern. Don't mind it – it's only a reaction on the weather, I suppose."
Zachariah took a deep drag of the wine. "I certainly hope so. Should it become more of a problem, I'd certainly recommend traditional therapy. Helps me with just about everything for decades. And don't get yourself deceived by trends. I should have never listened to that fachidiot Yençepi when he came to me with his talk of 'innovation' and the methods of our ancestors being outdated. Outdated! They've helped people for centuries, and this guy comes along and cites studies from Roman physicians saying fish are the key to everything!"
"...I'll certainly keep it in mind, your majesty. I take it he's gone back to the more established methods by now?"
"He did, after a very clear instruction to refrain from experiments. But how would you know?"
"You're...clearly looking very healthy and vital again." replied Itakh, still breathing through his mouth.
Zachariah gave him an amused look. "You're a horribly bad liar, Khan Itakh. I know it's hard to bear. I've been undergoing goat flatulence therapy for weeks now, but what are we going to do? Health always comes first, that's always been my most important principle."
"Of course. Now, as helpful as it is, I didn't come here for therapy advice..."
"Ah, yes, you mentioned the report. Go ahead." Zachariah poured himself another goblet of wine.
Itakh looked at him skeptically. "If you wish so. The enemy originally had about 4500 men to his disposal – a sizeable force if united, but it includes his loyal vassals' troops. Somehow they seemed to not see our attack coming and we were able to disrupt the Karakhanid's own troops only a few weeks into the war, before reinforcements from the Karlukids could arrive.
Those reinforcements have now turned around and are moving eastward again, hoping to catch up with 1500 men from Zhetysu, but our men are on the move and will hopefully cut them off in Irgiz, east of their current position, before the enemies' forces can join."
"Soooo....that means we're winning again. Right?"
"Yes, it does." Itakh confirmed with pride in his voice. "Sakmara is under our firm control. If we beat the Karlukids, the war could be as good as over in a month. The horde is exceeding itself once again, my Khagan."
"That is very reassuring, Khan Itakh. I thank you for bringing the good word, and I wish you and the generals all the fortune you might need." Zachariah sounded almost serene. "Listen, Itakh. You're a good man, and I've always thought you can do better than grinding yourself up in that living hell they call the Rus." As Itakh looked grumpy again, he quickly added "Don't get angry, I'm not trying to taunt you. I do find the joking kind of stale myself, especially since word spread how the Ezgil Khan took the big Slavic coalition now going up against him."
"Yes, those were grim news...things were looking well for him in the east. Now his brother Tiradin will have to put up with the Kievans and the Poles. I wish him luck." Itakh answered toneless.
Zachariah came toward him and put a hand on his shoulder. The Marshal smelled a slight note of wine and ajvar through the intense goat odour. "Listen, Itakh, I'm honestly glad you came to your senses instead of going down the same road. You're the kind of man a proper horde needs behind its back. You know, in East Francia they say something along the lines of 'he who has the damage, need not provide for the scorn'. It will subside with time and with success on the field."
Itakh looked up. "Seems to be my turn to thank for the kind words. Be assured it means a lot to me. And it definitely would have to Father."
In that moment Zakkai of Bartenstein stepped into the Council Hall.
Zachariah was puzzled. Can I now summon people by citing proverbs from their homelands? And directed towards Zakkai, he exclaimed "Aren't you supposed to be in Georgia still? There's no meeting scheduled anytime soon..."
"There's been a little change in plans. Actually, me and Glitterhoof have just arrived from Bulgaria. The civil war there is over, Simeon and Yeldem have been crowned King and Queen only five days ago."
"They finally made it! Now that is what I call a good day!" shouted an excited Zachariah. Zakkai didn't look quite as confident, but the Khagan had already turned around and continued with great gesture. "Now that they're on our side, the Romans can no longer count on their most important brothers in faith. The further way to Jerusalem is free!"
Itakh and Zakkai looked at each other with bafflement. Never had there been plans or talks about going after Rome. And while their lands in Anatolia were still large and prosperous, the way to Jerusalem wouldn't necessarily encompass their territory.
"Once everything is set up, we will march for Constantinople. We've seen the unimpeccability of our great horde countless times. Together with the troops from the Khanates and from Bulgaria we will..."
Zakkai was the first to collect himself. "Uhm. About that..."
"What is it? I'm making future here, can't you see?" said Zachariah and turned back to his councillors.
"I was not finished with...Glitterhoof's findings from Strymon. King Simeon has actually...declined the alliance proposal, against all former proclamations and for no apparent reason."
The Khagan was thunderstruck. "What? When did that happen? Why?", he stammered.
"The second night after his ascension. As I said, we do not know why. They didn't even let us through to him anymore. His envoy only cited 'political concerns'. That lackey could have just as well told us to screw ourselves and go home, so snooty was he about it." Zakkai looked at the floor in great discontent.
Zachariah flopped into a nearby hammock and moaned "But why would Simeon and Yeldem keep up a lie for so long and reveal themselves just now? It makes no sense...they have to be under pressure from outside...or threat....yes, this can only mean that the dark cabal that is after me and my dearest have prolonged their grasp all the way to Strymon. We're doomed...What do I do, what do I do?"
Itakh and Zakkai uncomfortably looked at each other again. What to do with this audacious string of conclusions?
It was Itakh who broke the silence. "I can only assure you that the Divine Guard – and the horde as a whole, of course - stands on your side no matter what, my Khagan. But maybe we should postpone the plans of going after Byzantium under these circumstances."
"I'll send for Khan Böri" added Zakkai and gave Itakh an appreciative wink. "I'm sure he'll know what to do."
"Thank you both. Now leave me, I have to think." it sounded from the hammock.
March 18, 901 AD
"Aaaaaand...turn! No slowing down! Keep your shields up!" Marshal Itakh bellowed a string of orders to a group of heavily clad recruits that were exercising in the spacious courtyard of the Horde campus, a large quarter of the encampment dedicated to the Khazarian military that encompassed extensive training grounds, stables, smitheries and much more. The ranks of the Divine Guard weren't yet properly filled, and the Khan of Jabdertim now had time to look after his duties to Khazaria more often.
God knew he owed it to the Khagan. Over the years, he had grasped that Zachariah was only refusing to get into his campaigns because he was looking out for his own people foremost and correctly thought Russia to be a mass grave. He only wanted to discourage him from sacrificing his own men. After Zachariah used his own funds years ago to usurp the titular Duchy of Chernigov for Itakh, he swore himself to stay loyal no matter what. Now that he couldn't gain lands by himself, he could at least serve the Khaganate in doing so.
Training troops was also relieving to the Khan in a way. At least the recruits didn't look down upon him, as his peers did by now. There was no lack of taunting and outright contempt from the other Khans and even his own vassals in Chernigov since his return from the latest failed attempt or taking land in Russia. At least his chancellor was ultimately able to negotiate an exchange of prisoners with King Stanislav and save Itakh's family from further harm. Never had Itakh realized before how much danger he was putting himself and his kin into by his continued attempts to attack Russian lords.
He had enough, for good this time. Not only had their imprisonment been a severe blow to Itakh's morale and that of his clan, but the continued war efforts left him impoverished and discredited. His own men were discontent with their pay suspended and his vassals with their levies constantly on the road. With things looking so unstable at home and overwhelmed with the whole mess his dedication had led to at last, Itakh was secretly glad to get out of it at times and do what he was good at – shout at soldiers and order officers around.
Everything had gone quite routinely since his return to Zachariah's court. While some raiders from the remains of Bashkiria had caused trouble in the newly acquired lands far to the East, he trusted the division of 2000 men under the accomplished generals Guyug and Simsam that was sent sent to take care of the problem.
Unfortunately for Khan Menümarót, the intruders quickly overwhelmed his small garrison and trashed his shortly relocated and expanded encampments before the support from Khazaria could arrive. But according to Itakh, that was Menümaróts own problem foremost and at least he could count on the Horde, even if it came a little late.
Not as if anyone ever promised them protection, right?
A rider entered the courtyard. Marshal Itakh recognized his appearance immediately. He was an Ançaryon, a member of the elite messenger corps that relied on strings of relais stations along important routes all across the Khaganate and so could spread vital information very quickly. Only the fastest horses and the most trusted men were deployed for this important task. The principle was centuries old and well spread throughout the steppes, although in many swathes of land it regularly broke down because of hostilities between or within the Clans occupying them. In Khazaria though, it had worked fine for decades.
The messenger got off his horse and nodded toward Itakh from a distance. "Tabghaç!" shouted the Marshal, apparently calling for one of his officers. "Continue with those rookies. I'll be needed here."
Lieutenant Tabghaç hurried to his superior, saluted and carried on snarling at the recruits in their cumbersome steel shells. The Marshal walked toward the messenger, who saluted as well. "Marshal Itakh. I'm most honored to meet you, milord."
"Yeah, yeah, me too.", Itakh replied surly. "I've been waiting for news from the east for quite some time."
"I'll be happy to provide you with the report from the commanders." said the messenger with unchanged professional politeness. "The raiders from Äyle have been dispatched as ordered. Yet Bashkiria keeps on disintegrating, and the Karakhanids are almost done spreading into their remains. They have taken over Sakmara and intend to seize it for themselves."
Now Itakh was a lot more attentive. "The Karakhanids. That's interesting indeed, yet expectable sooner or later. Are there any troops in the vicinity of ours?"
"None that we know of. The Khagan himself only fields one and a half thousand men, yet little is certain about the clans under him – neither their strength nor what they are up to."
"Good. Little to work with, but important news. I will take care to send the Generals fresh orders as quickly as possible. Here, have a coin for your services."
"Many thanks, milord." The messenger bowed and swiftly made his way to his horse.
Marshal Itakh returned to his adjutant and instructed him briefly. "Keep them going for a little more. I have business to conduct at the court."
***
Thirty minutes later, the Marshal, now in decidedly lighter gear, stepped into the Clan gathering hall of Tmutarakan. The supposed center of government affairs had been augmented several times over the past years and by now, apart from space for all council affairs, housed a sizeable throne that even managed to make Zachariah's infamous jewelled ornaments a little less out of place. Still the Khagan spent little time there, and to Itakh it was a convenient surprise he didn't have to search for him somewhere out in the wilds hunting nor in the camp's brothels. Instead, he found the Khagan conversing with his spymaster Khan Böri of Khwaliz in a roomy compartment of the yurt.
"Well, if it isn't Khan Itakh of Jabdertim, Marshal of Khazaria!" Zachariah welcomed his guest with a broad smile. Böri added a friendly "God be with you, Itakh of Jabdertim". The Khans knew and appreciated each other; Böri's oldest son and designated heir was married to one of Itakh's younger sisters and they shared the Kharazian border to the west, which lead to frequent consultations. Only sometimes, the Khan of Khwaliz wished he could command over three and a half thousand men as well, for instance when the Bulçir had come and thrashed his camp in January.
Itakh bowed deep. "Khagan Zachariah, there's news from the east I wanted to bear personally. I hope I'm not interrupting you two."
"Not at all", Zachariah said full of sweetness. "In fact, I was thinking not too long ago how great it would be if you were here. Some wishes do come true, as it seems. Have a seat with us."
The Marshal didn't quite know what to make of all that friendliness, but took seat on one of the chairs around a small table between them nonetheless. "Well....now I'm here. Had I known of you requiring me, I would have...."
"No, it's all fine" Zachariah interrupted him. "I would have sent for you later anyways, but first tell us of the news you have."
"To put it shortly, the Karakhanids are finally about to win against Bashkiria and take Sakmara. It's been over a year since we made our own stance in the region, and we only have the division meant to repel raiding troops there. Our intelligence on the number and the whereabouts of the Karakhanid troops is meager, but it's safe to assume this will not be enough to beat them."
"And we do want to beat them...?" asked Zachariah. Itakh couldn't contain the annoyment in his face. Khan Böri understood quickly and stepped in. "Yes, your majesty, we do. When we discussed the war on Bashkiria in council, you even translated much of the reasoning to Glitterhoof... The Karakhanids have been creeping westwards for the better part of three decades and caused the Cumans perpetual trouble. Now they're cutting through their lands completely."
The Khagan nodded and scratched his head. "And here I was, thinking this was all sweet talk to honeycoat that we're forcefully taking over a swath of Bashkirian lands. Do you imply there's actual reason to be worried about them?"
"As I mentioned" replied Itakh again, "we don't have sufficient information on their armies to make a meaningful guess. I can only recommend to send more forces there and conduct more intensive scouting in the surroundings."
"I trust your judgement, Khan Itakh. The remaining men will be sent to the East to deal with the Karakanakhids. Only the Divine Guard will stay here. I'm sure you understand... As for the intelligence, I already have a solution in mind...but that is another matter to be discussed, isn't it, Khan Böri?"
The spymaster raised an eyebrow only for an instant. "Indeed it is. Under less...pressing circumstances, the Chancellor and his staff would be..."
"Glitterhoof is busy." he was cut short. Zachariah glared at him coldly. "I've told you more than once, Böri of Khwaliz. His work in Tiflis is vital to the realm's integrity, although his efforts are arguably taking longer than expected to come into effect. There will be no further discussion of this."
Böri took a deep breath. "Of course, my Khagan. It's just that with him...so much needed in Georgia and me being entirely committed to the incomparable responsibility of ensuring your safety in these perilous times, little capacities are left to inquire further parties."
"And this is why we will get down to the root of the trouble instead of having you poking around in the dark. This is what I'm talking about."
Itakh had no idea what he was talking about, and neither how any of this came close to a solution to them not knowing where the enemies' troops were. Yet Böri seemed to slowly catch up on something.
"I'm also going to put it shortly, Itakh", Zachariah began again and poured himself a cup of wine from a skin hanging on the separator beside him. "I have a problem that I want to solve, and I might need every truly loyal subject to Khazaria to do me a certain favor." He lowered his voice. "This might result in great misfortune for certain people with a...less loyal disposition."
"Great misfortune, hmh?" Itakh replied. "And I presume a solution of your problem would also solve my intelligence problem in Bashkiria?"
"It would certainly make way for more of the needed veteran spies to be deployed to the horde's service immediately." replied Böri. The Khagan nodded.
Itakh raised his head with grim resolve and looked Zachariah in the eyes. "I'm no friend of 'solutions' like this one. You know this well enough. Yet if it means that the horde can keep counting on all information it needs to be successful - then you can count on my loyalty, your majesty."
Zachariah lightened up again. "Fabulous! Like this, the problem will be eradicated soon. Now have you already heard the newest from Russia? The Poles apparently got so used to kicking Nomad butt that they've joined the faltering Kievan defense against Ezgil. Wouldn't be surprising if they could turn that war around too."
"Yes, I've heard that. I know myself around the region quite well and it's been a few weeks ago. Now if you would excuse me, I have urgent orders to give." With that, a disgruntled Itakh left the yurt without awaiting a response.
November 3, 901 AD
Tmutarakan
Marshal Itakh was getting impatient. Although he knew he could not count all too much on Zachariah's timeliness, the Khagan was supposed to be at the Council Hall fourty minutes ago. For weeks had he been on the road for his recent troop visit, and he longed for a proper meal and some rest. Finally there was movement around the large yurt's entrance, and a strong smell of livestock hit Itakh's nose. What in the name of Adonai...is someone bringing a goat along?
Yet only Zachariah appeared. When he neared Itakh, he swayed a little - and the stench virtually floored the Marshal. He was a seasoned soldier and used to much, but this was intense nonetheless.
Itakh saluted. "Greetings, Khagan Zachariah" he said with nasal voice but straight face. "I bring the report from the operation against the Karakhanids."
"Be welcomed, Khan Itakh" replied the Khagan. "You sound slightly ailing. Have you caught a cold on your travel?" he added worriedly and grabbed for his wine tube on the wall.
"Thanks for your concern. Don't mind it – it's only a reaction on the weather, I suppose."
Zachariah took a deep drag of the wine. "I certainly hope so. Should it become more of a problem, I'd certainly recommend traditional therapy. Helps me with just about everything for decades. And don't get yourself deceived by trends. I should have never listened to that fachidiot Yençepi when he came to me with his talk of 'innovation' and the methods of our ancestors being outdated. Outdated! They've helped people for centuries, and this guy comes along and cites studies from Roman physicians saying fish are the key to everything!"
"...I'll certainly keep it in mind, your majesty. I take it he's gone back to the more established methods by now?"
"He did, after a very clear instruction to refrain from experiments. But how would you know?"
"You're...clearly looking very healthy and vital again." replied Itakh, still breathing through his mouth.
Zachariah gave him an amused look. "You're a horribly bad liar, Khan Itakh. I know it's hard to bear. I've been undergoing goat flatulence therapy for weeks now, but what are we going to do? Health always comes first, that's always been my most important principle."
"Of course. Now, as helpful as it is, I didn't come here for therapy advice..."
"Ah, yes, you mentioned the report. Go ahead." Zachariah poured himself another goblet of wine.
Itakh looked at him skeptically. "If you wish so. The enemy originally had about 4500 men to his disposal – a sizeable force if united, but it includes his loyal vassals' troops. Somehow they seemed to not see our attack coming and we were able to disrupt the Karakhanid's own troops only a few weeks into the war, before reinforcements from the Karlukids could arrive.
Those reinforcements have now turned around and are moving eastward again, hoping to catch up with 1500 men from Zhetysu, but our men are on the move and will hopefully cut them off in Irgiz, east of their current position, before the enemies' forces can join."
"Soooo....that means we're winning again. Right?"
"Yes, it does." Itakh confirmed with pride in his voice. "Sakmara is under our firm control. If we beat the Karlukids, the war could be as good as over in a month. The horde is exceeding itself once again, my Khagan."
"That is very reassuring, Khan Itakh. I thank you for bringing the good word, and I wish you and the generals all the fortune you might need." Zachariah sounded almost serene. "Listen, Itakh. You're a good man, and I've always thought you can do better than grinding yourself up in that living hell they call the Rus." As Itakh looked grumpy again, he quickly added "Don't get angry, I'm not trying to taunt you. I do find the joking kind of stale myself, especially since word spread how the Ezgil Khan took the big Slavic coalition now going up against him."
"Yes, those were grim news...things were looking well for him in the east. Now his brother Tiradin will have to put up with the Kievans and the Poles. I wish him luck." Itakh answered toneless.
Zachariah came toward him and put a hand on his shoulder. The Marshal smelled a slight note of wine and ajvar through the intense goat odour. "Listen, Itakh, I'm honestly glad you came to your senses instead of going down the same road. You're the kind of man a proper horde needs behind its back. You know, in East Francia they say something along the lines of 'he who has the damage, need not provide for the scorn'. It will subside with time and with success on the field."
Itakh looked up. "Seems to be my turn to thank for the kind words. Be assured it means a lot to me. And it definitely would have to Father."
In that moment Zakkai of Bartenstein stepped into the Council Hall.
Zachariah was puzzled. Can I now summon people by citing proverbs from their homelands? And directed towards Zakkai, he exclaimed "Aren't you supposed to be in Georgia still? There's no meeting scheduled anytime soon..."
"There's been a little change in plans. Actually, me and Glitterhoof have just arrived from Bulgaria. The civil war there is over, Simeon and Yeldem have been crowned King and Queen only five days ago."
"They finally made it! Now that is what I call a good day!" shouted an excited Zachariah. Zakkai didn't look quite as confident, but the Khagan had already turned around and continued with great gesture. "Now that they're on our side, the Romans can no longer count on their most important brothers in faith. The further way to Jerusalem is free!"
Itakh and Zakkai looked at each other with bafflement. Never had there been plans or talks about going after Rome. And while their lands in Anatolia were still large and prosperous, the way to Jerusalem wouldn't necessarily encompass their territory.
"Once everything is set up, we will march for Constantinople. We've seen the unimpeccability of our great horde countless times. Together with the troops from the Khanates and from Bulgaria we will..."
Zakkai was the first to collect himself. "Uhm. About that..."
"What is it? I'm making future here, can't you see?" said Zachariah and turned back to his councillors.
"I was not finished with...Glitterhoof's findings from Strymon. King Simeon has actually...declined the alliance proposal, against all former proclamations and for no apparent reason."
The Khagan was thunderstruck. "What? When did that happen? Why?", he stammered.
"The second night after his ascension. As I said, we do not know why. They didn't even let us through to him anymore. His envoy only cited 'political concerns'. That lackey could have just as well told us to screw ourselves and go home, so snooty was he about it." Zakkai looked at the floor in great discontent.
Zachariah flopped into a nearby hammock and moaned "But why would Simeon and Yeldem keep up a lie for so long and reveal themselves just now? It makes no sense...they have to be under pressure from outside...or threat....yes, this can only mean that the dark cabal that is after me and my dearest have prolonged their grasp all the way to Strymon. We're doomed...What do I do, what do I do?"
Itakh and Zakkai uncomfortably looked at each other again. What to do with this audacious string of conclusions?
It was Itakh who broke the silence. "I can only assure you that the Divine Guard – and the horde as a whole, of course - stands on your side no matter what, my Khagan. But maybe we should postpone the plans of going after Byzantium under these circumstances."
"I'll send for Khan Böri" added Zakkai and gave Itakh an appreciative wink. "I'm sure he'll know what to do."
"Thank you both. Now leave me, I have to think." it sounded from the hammock.
So Zacharia means to go for Byzantium....a bold plan. How are the Byzantines doing anyway?
Basileios keeps things stable at large and has managed to expand his influence around the Mediterranean. At this point, a war would definitely be an audacious move, the particular plan to march to Constantinople might well be a bit overambitious.
Anyhow, they're to be featured more extensively soon.
Zachariah is truly mighty indeed - and not only in his own head. Itakh - well I sympathise with the guy. It by playing pass-the-parcell with a present that has a ticking alarm clock, only you don't know if it contains a bomb or a pile of sweets.
He might even be more powerful than he knows. The important vassals have his back, and a united horde would be hard to stop for about anyone at this point.
Luckily for the rest of the world, the struggle with the forces within himself consume the bulk of the Khagan's attention...