Zachariah going for Constantinople could prove to a great triumph or a foolish tragedy. Even as others advise against it he appears to have decided for it. Things could get very interesting.
-
We have updated our Community Code of Conduct. Please read through the new rules for the forum that are an integral part of Paradox Interactive’s User Agreement.
Oooooor....everything could go completely different.
Mind that he relied on support from the new Bulgarian King. Even though it's debatable if Khazaria could even take on Byzantium on its own by now, a change of plans is never out of the question with Zachariah.
Chapter 54 – You Can't Run
Chapter 54 – You Can't Run
January 23, 902 AD
Horde campus, Tmutarakan
When Khan Yeçtirek of Kozar entered the large plaza in the center of the horde's quarter, he was content with the progress made while he had been in Sakmara. Every corner was guarded by the first generation of fully trained Divine Guards whose mission, and in consequence their attire and demeanor, was much different from the usual steppe riders. Their presence left a visible mark on the Khazarian encampment as a whole and signified the inevitable progress creeping in from Europe.
Khan Itakh of Jabdertim was already waiting for Yeçtirek when he entered the command center. The Marshal stood up and both men saluted. "General Yeçtirek. It's good to have you back in one piece", said Itakh and smirked. "I did not yet have the chance to congratulate you on the proceedings in Sakmara. Cutting off the Karlukids timely was an outstanding feat. The Khagan is more than pleased and said he will prove himself grateful."
"I'm honored, Marshal Itakh." Yeçtirek bowed deeply. "Yet at least as much credit needs to be given to Simsam and especially Guyug. Their experience was what made everything fall into place and crush the Karakhanids so quickly."
Itakh leaned back and looked past Yeçtirek. "Again, things fall into place as if they'd always been meant to. The Karakhanids were unbeaten for two decades, and now they have been beaten thoroughly in three months. It's almost scary sometimes."
Yeçtirek frowned. "I agree that it was faster than anyone expected, but things meant to be falling into place? What do you mean?"
"You know, it's not the first time by far that everything works out the absolute best way to think of. Have you never asked yourself how a man with so many obvious flaws can grow so powerful, almost without resistance to speak of? How there never was an unprecedented obstacle or a serious threat to Zachariah?
Muhan the Great was said to be a half-god by the preachers at the time. Maybe there is some streak of divinity to his successors after all."
"Luck is a thing even among Khagans. And who would be the ones to pose a danger to him after all? All the other steppe hordes are weak and divided, and the Europeans have little interest in our grazing lands. No, if anyone endangered the Khagan, it had to be you and your fellows. Not that I'd encourage that in any way. I am as loyal to the Khagan as you are, and I have my reasons. If you think of yours, there you have the secret to his alleged divinity.
Also, we're not even remotely praying anymore to those Gods that allegedly made the Ashina clan. Wouldn't they rather be disappointed and cast misfortune upon us if it worked that way?"
Itakh wasn't convinced, although he couldn't deny to himself that Yeçtirek's point made some sense. "Then what about the following: Zachariah had what we thought to be a crazy impulse again when forging the now called off alliance with Bulgaria. He talked of Constantinople falling. Two weeks later, their longtime Emperor Basileios dies and leaves the throne to his third-born son, a syphilitic who has no fortune or experience at all, spent half of his life in some desolate county in Ireland and has therefore become a staunch Catholic.
I'm no expert to the quarrels between the different branches of Christianity, but from what I've heard this is a serious problem to the other nobles in the Empire. There's bound to be endless strife around him, and it will weaken the Byzantines for God knows how long. How do you explain that?"
"...Basileios was really old, Itakh. He wouldn't have lived forever if Zachariah never mentioned Byzantium, would he? And luckily there has been no sign of the council pulling through with that craziness."
Itakh said nothing for a few seconds. "Maybe you're right....and maybe not. I need to think about it. But let me tell you, I know this man for quite some time now and there's certainly something profoundly strange about him. And it feels otherworldly at times."
"I'd never disagree with that." Now Yeçtirek smirked. "But if I were you, I'd rather direct my thought upon the Bulçir horde causing havoc in the western regions. They've bullied Khan Böri, plundered Kiev with its nominal ruler still in their own imprisonment, and are now on their way to Hekel. Those people all have in common that their lands border yours. And as I know my dear neighbour, it's only a matter of time before you have to deal with his men yourself."
Itakh waved him off. "They can raid the Hekel scum all they want. I can not and do not want to pull my horde back to the defense right now. The clan needs resources and they're making a good cut in Moldavia right now. Should the Bulçir try and cause trouble, be assured that I'll be able to handle them without your advice."
"I'm sorry, I didn't want to patronize. I'm positive you know best what you are doing." a somewhat caught Yeçtirek replied.
"I sure would advise you not to patronize, considering the two hundred men backing up your words." Itakh said sharply. "Anyhow, you're assigned to command the Divine Guard again from now on. I'll go back to supervise cavalry training for the main horde. Make the best of it, General."
June 1, 902 AD
Yabghu Ashina had kept up his work as Court Rabbi without slowing down despite the growing discomfort his illness caused him. It was as if knowing his time was limited made him work even harder. Relentlessly he would be spreading the thoughts and customs from more advanced regions of the world through Tmutarakan and the Khagan's following, barely taking time to eat or sleep.
It was only natural why he was the first one to find Zachariah's letter in the Council Hall this morning. The content almost made him wish he had it all behind him.
The Khagan had somehow gained the idea that his ominous perpetrators were behind the state of Yabghu - and that if they were so powerful as to cause cancer in living beings, Zachariah would not be any safer just by putting up guards. He would thus go into hiding indefinitely. He had gone on about the threat to his family for years without any evidence ever appearing, and now he had obviously snapped.
Oh God. This is not good... thought the shocked Yabghu. He felt that sooner or later he wouldn't be up to what was coming. Of the other councillors, only Khan Böri was in Tmutarakan at the moment. Yabghu immediately sent for him, and the spymaster quickly appeared. He was equally struck by Zachariah's submergence.
The Khagan had already been hardly present at court in the past weeks because of his vivid fears of conspirations, but it was rarely a problem as long as he was there to give his approval at the right times. Now it was different. No Khagan being there at all and indefinitely long meant that someone else would take over the Khagan's main responsibilities as his regent...and this someone was, by Zachariah's own appointment and seemingly to no one else's attention until now, his chancellor and former warhorse Glitterhoof.
While the letter also said something of taking the younger Ashina children with him, a quick check at Zachariah's family yurt revealed that they were all present. Obviously something had gone wrong with that plan and the Khagan went all by himself. At least they don't have to suffer from this idiocy was all Yabghu could think.
An hour later, messengers were heading toward the other council members, vassals and dignitaries, calling for a general assembly. This was the default course of things when the customs of governance, derived by the Council of the Eldest upon their sparse meetings, provided no clear course of action. Still no one, even the Eldest themselves, could remember such an occasion in their lifetimes. Now the investments in the Clan Gathering Hall would pay off.
June 10, 902 AD
"ORDEEEER!", Khan Itakh barked into the general murmur of the about thirty-five people filling the yurt. The noise died off quickly and the Marshal showed Zakkai of Bartenstein a content nod. The steward nodded back thankfully. He was sitting at a large table which was facing the others who were seated all across the room, along with spymaster Böri of Khwaliz and a pale and skinny Yabghu Ashina in his finest Rabbi garments. Almost fifteen years had he worked in the Khazarian court now, and now this great responsibility. Who would have thought that when I sat in Noli counting the booty of a band of raiders?
Zakkai cleared his throat. "Thank you, Marshal Itakh – and thanks to all of you for your appearance and your attention, my Lords and Ladies. This is a special day in every respect, an occasion without an example for decades, maybe centuries. It's also a benchmark for how resilient our governance is to a sudden failure of the ordinary provisions. We're all carrying great responsibility today.
Which brings us to our first mandatory issue of the day: While it is a great honor to initiate this unique get-together, there is the strict rule that immediately after the opening of the Assembly, a majority of it needs to confirm the authority to preside over the further proceedings. Of course, as is the rule for General Assemblies, everyone will be equally entitled to bring forth his own positions on every issue to come – including the one at stake right now.
I suggest Court Rabbi Yabghu, Spymaster Böri of Khwaliz and myself to lead the conference to equal parts. Is there any objection before we enter the according vote?"
Zakkai looked into the room. Just when he wanted to proceed, someone stood up. "Yes. I suggest to replace Yabghu. He is a sick man and not to be trusted, since he's an attempted murderer."
It was Tarkhan Ashina, who had made little notable appearance at the court for his lack of influence since his demission as a general. Nonetheless he was still the heir to the realm, and like all other adult descendants of Zachariah he was entitled to a place in the assembly. Not that they had all made the trip – Muhan, far off in Mongolia, and Baghathur who was still commanding his host around Antioch, were missing.
The mumbling resumed and Zakkai sighed. This would be even more tedious than expected.
Earlier...
Although the Khaganate was vast, the assembly was able to gather within less than two weeks. The roads were safe throughout Khazaria, and the formidable Ançaryon's infrastructure was a great boon to small envoys on their travels. One after another, the greater and lesser dignitaries of the realm arrived in Tmutarakan. Among the first of them was Zakkai, who took the reins in organizing the further process along spymaster Böri and the withering, but grimly determined Yabghu.
It was a task with certain complexities to accomodate all of the others. Not all clans were on good terms with each other. Especially Khan Yilig of Bulçir drew quite some disapproval on himself lately with his troops continuously causing trouble in the other Khans' lands. The rivalry between Jabdertim and Hekel continued to linger, although both hordes were currently off to plunder in Moldavia and Russia. And finally, nobody knew really what to think of King Okhropir Bagrationi of Georgia, who had come of age two years ago and would make his first appearance to Khazaria for the assembly.
All those lords brought their families and personal guards along. The Tmutarakan camp grew sizeably in advance of the upcoming assembly. By careful planning and the presence of the Divine Guard, conflict could be prevented though. The Khazarian horde was still on its way back and around the Caspian steppe region now, but the Generals Guyug and Simsam could make the way on time.
***
The assembly sloughed along. Tarkhan's motion to replace Yabghu at the front table with himself didn't go through, but that was only the start. The small and large conflicts the participants brought to the table continued to obstruct much progress toward an acceptable temporary state of affairs for the Khaganate.
Through Zakkai and his colleagues' judicious moderation of the debate, they had at least been able to focus on the most urgent factual issue at hand: while the important decisions were always decided in the council anyway, it was the Khagan's or his regent's prerogative to pose issues to said council in the first place. As both of these options were unavailable for obvious reasons, another solution had to be found. Yet the conflicting interests were many. Especially King Okhropir of Georgia made it abundantly clear that he hedged no intention to take part in Khazarian affairs and wanted to be left alone foremost. Still, as long as he was under the Khaganate (and paid sizeable taxes), his voice mattered as much as anyone else's.
After a long debate and a lot of back and forth between the inclusion of as many stakeholders as possible and the various practical issues of coordination in a realm as spacious as Khazaria, a decision was made with razor-thin majority. Only an unanimous council decision to bring forth an issue which would usually be up to the Khagan could put the same issue on the table at all, and if a Khanate was directly affected the respective Khan had a veto right. With the council's current composition, this came close to a political blockade, but it was the only compromise that seemed in reach when the night broke. At least the ritual of dragging poor Glitterhoof along to official occasions could be suspended with great majority - and the final issue of the day was decided upon quickly and without debate: every disposable spy throughout the realm should be sent out to find the Khagan.
It took another meeting on the following day to consult on the supreme command of the Horde. The old and distinguished General Simsam Tarbesid, a loyal servant to the horde for all his life, presented the general staff's position.
"The horde's loyalty is exclusively to the Khagan and even a Regent's authority over the soldiers would be subject to heavy restrictions compared to Zachariah's own. In complete absence of a commander in chief, the horde is pledged to uphold the stability and integrity of the Khaganate, and it will live up to it. The lesser officer corps has also made it abundantly clear that it will not accept any solution that would make the horde subject of a conflict of interest."
The Khans, especially Marshal Itakh, were predictably discontent with that gesture of independence. The control over the horde, by now easily the largest force throughout the Steppes, was an amazing prize – yet if it now developed a stance on its own, there would be little they could do. The debate underlined the limitations to their power. Simsam and his fellow Guyug staunchly refused all attempts of intimidation and sweet talk. They knew exactly that the Khans had no means of enforcing their words, at the very least as long as they squabbled among each other.
In the end, the Assembly granted the horde the autonomy of action the Generals had demanded for. The Khans Itakh, Yilig and Yectirek were allowed to keep their positions, but only to coordinate efforts to defend the realm should they become necessary. Offensive action, if at all, could only be invoked upon consensus in the council, and the generals had a veto right just as the Khanates did. This rule set was considered a major blow to the Khans' ambitions and a vast elevation of the officer corps. Simsam and Guyug as their involuntary spokesmen were the most sought men of the day.
While a lot of questions were still open, the General Assembly was generally considered a success when it was finally closed after two days of intense debating and negotiations. Stability was ensured, and many people were rather fond of the further decentralization of power at the hands of the generals. The details would now have to be decided upon over time.
September 11, 902 AD
It was late at night, and everyone was sound asleep around the Ashina encampment. The Divine Guard mainly kept to the Horde campus and rarely patrolled the outskirts or the largely civilian quarters around the market square. Like this, it was no big problem for the cowled figure that was striding through the camp to remain unnoticed. A careful look to the left and ride, then a swift and silent shadow moved toward the large pillory in the center of the square. Only a few moment later, it disappeared back into the maze of yurts and small yards that Nomad camps largely consisted of.
Thirty minutes later, the mysterious figure slipped back into her accomodations and took off the cowl, revealing two queues accurately braided to her head. Save for her loyal personal guard, no one had noticed her disappearance. Not the hardest way to gain some coin – and even more of the trust of the Khagan, a content Wojslawa thought to herself. I just have to keep my head down.
The following morning, when the usual merchants, hunters from the countryside and peasants selling the produce of their small-scale farming activities set up shop as every day, the first of them to notice the large piece of paper hanging on the pillory didn't pay all too much notice. Although few people were literate in the Steppes, it wasn't uncommon that pamphlets were placed at the market. It still did usually not happen overnight and in the middle of the place, and so it didn't take long until a curious cloth trader took a closer look. The message was written in large, clumsy letters, red as if written in blood.
I AM WELL AND PROSPEROUS. FEAR NOT FOR ME. FEAR FOR YOUR CHILDREN, SHIMON OF MONTE CASSINO IS COMING FOR THEM!
THE SCOURGE OF GOD
Word spread quickly of an alleged message by the Khagan himself, and theories abounded if it was him after all. No one had heard anything of him for three months or knew if he was still among the living. The spymaster - who had had no success whatsoever in finding out about the Khagan's whereabouts - was summoned to the place immediately, and he could confirm that it was Zachariah's handwriting as well as his sigil. The note was authentic, for all that could be known.
While there was confusion about what Zachariah could mean about Shimon of Monte Cassino and of course there was no evidence whatsoever, some of the discussion kept sticking upon the man. It was very embarassing to him, and so was it to the spymaster that the Khagan could apparently slip through messages to the public without him catching upon anything. For everyone to see, Zachariah was certainly a step ahead of even the most cunning spies, even on his own and in an unknown place.
January 23, 902 AD
Horde campus, Tmutarakan
When Khan Yeçtirek of Kozar entered the large plaza in the center of the horde's quarter, he was content with the progress made while he had been in Sakmara. Every corner was guarded by the first generation of fully trained Divine Guards whose mission, and in consequence their attire and demeanor, was much different from the usual steppe riders. Their presence left a visible mark on the Khazarian encampment as a whole and signified the inevitable progress creeping in from Europe.
Khan Itakh of Jabdertim was already waiting for Yeçtirek when he entered the command center. The Marshal stood up and both men saluted. "General Yeçtirek. It's good to have you back in one piece", said Itakh and smirked. "I did not yet have the chance to congratulate you on the proceedings in Sakmara. Cutting off the Karlukids timely was an outstanding feat. The Khagan is more than pleased and said he will prove himself grateful."
"I'm honored, Marshal Itakh." Yeçtirek bowed deeply. "Yet at least as much credit needs to be given to Simsam and especially Guyug. Their experience was what made everything fall into place and crush the Karakhanids so quickly."
Itakh leaned back and looked past Yeçtirek. "Again, things fall into place as if they'd always been meant to. The Karakhanids were unbeaten for two decades, and now they have been beaten thoroughly in three months. It's almost scary sometimes."
Yeçtirek frowned. "I agree that it was faster than anyone expected, but things meant to be falling into place? What do you mean?"
"You know, it's not the first time by far that everything works out the absolute best way to think of. Have you never asked yourself how a man with so many obvious flaws can grow so powerful, almost without resistance to speak of? How there never was an unprecedented obstacle or a serious threat to Zachariah?
Muhan the Great was said to be a half-god by the preachers at the time. Maybe there is some streak of divinity to his successors after all."
"Luck is a thing even among Khagans. And who would be the ones to pose a danger to him after all? All the other steppe hordes are weak and divided, and the Europeans have little interest in our grazing lands. No, if anyone endangered the Khagan, it had to be you and your fellows. Not that I'd encourage that in any way. I am as loyal to the Khagan as you are, and I have my reasons. If you think of yours, there you have the secret to his alleged divinity.
Also, we're not even remotely praying anymore to those Gods that allegedly made the Ashina clan. Wouldn't they rather be disappointed and cast misfortune upon us if it worked that way?"
Itakh wasn't convinced, although he couldn't deny to himself that Yeçtirek's point made some sense. "Then what about the following: Zachariah had what we thought to be a crazy impulse again when forging the now called off alliance with Bulgaria. He talked of Constantinople falling. Two weeks later, their longtime Emperor Basileios dies and leaves the throne to his third-born son, a syphilitic who has no fortune or experience at all, spent half of his life in some desolate county in Ireland and has therefore become a staunch Catholic.
I'm no expert to the quarrels between the different branches of Christianity, but from what I've heard this is a serious problem to the other nobles in the Empire. There's bound to be endless strife around him, and it will weaken the Byzantines for God knows how long. How do you explain that?"
"...Basileios was really old, Itakh. He wouldn't have lived forever if Zachariah never mentioned Byzantium, would he? And luckily there has been no sign of the council pulling through with that craziness."
Itakh said nothing for a few seconds. "Maybe you're right....and maybe not. I need to think about it. But let me tell you, I know this man for quite some time now and there's certainly something profoundly strange about him. And it feels otherworldly at times."
"I'd never disagree with that." Now Yeçtirek smirked. "But if I were you, I'd rather direct my thought upon the Bulçir horde causing havoc in the western regions. They've bullied Khan Böri, plundered Kiev with its nominal ruler still in their own imprisonment, and are now on their way to Hekel. Those people all have in common that their lands border yours. And as I know my dear neighbour, it's only a matter of time before you have to deal with his men yourself."
Itakh waved him off. "They can raid the Hekel scum all they want. I can not and do not want to pull my horde back to the defense right now. The clan needs resources and they're making a good cut in Moldavia right now. Should the Bulçir try and cause trouble, be assured that I'll be able to handle them without your advice."
"I'm sorry, I didn't want to patronize. I'm positive you know best what you are doing." a somewhat caught Yeçtirek replied.
"I sure would advise you not to patronize, considering the two hundred men backing up your words." Itakh said sharply. "Anyhow, you're assigned to command the Divine Guard again from now on. I'll go back to supervise cavalry training for the main horde. Make the best of it, General."
June 1, 902 AD
Yabghu Ashina had kept up his work as Court Rabbi without slowing down despite the growing discomfort his illness caused him. It was as if knowing his time was limited made him work even harder. Relentlessly he would be spreading the thoughts and customs from more advanced regions of the world through Tmutarakan and the Khagan's following, barely taking time to eat or sleep.
It was only natural why he was the first one to find Zachariah's letter in the Council Hall this morning. The content almost made him wish he had it all behind him.
The Khagan had somehow gained the idea that his ominous perpetrators were behind the state of Yabghu - and that if they were so powerful as to cause cancer in living beings, Zachariah would not be any safer just by putting up guards. He would thus go into hiding indefinitely. He had gone on about the threat to his family for years without any evidence ever appearing, and now he had obviously snapped.
Oh God. This is not good... thought the shocked Yabghu. He felt that sooner or later he wouldn't be up to what was coming. Of the other councillors, only Khan Böri was in Tmutarakan at the moment. Yabghu immediately sent for him, and the spymaster quickly appeared. He was equally struck by Zachariah's submergence.
The Khagan had already been hardly present at court in the past weeks because of his vivid fears of conspirations, but it was rarely a problem as long as he was there to give his approval at the right times. Now it was different. No Khagan being there at all and indefinitely long meant that someone else would take over the Khagan's main responsibilities as his regent...and this someone was, by Zachariah's own appointment and seemingly to no one else's attention until now, his chancellor and former warhorse Glitterhoof.
While the letter also said something of taking the younger Ashina children with him, a quick check at Zachariah's family yurt revealed that they were all present. Obviously something had gone wrong with that plan and the Khagan went all by himself. At least they don't have to suffer from this idiocy was all Yabghu could think.
An hour later, messengers were heading toward the other council members, vassals and dignitaries, calling for a general assembly. This was the default course of things when the customs of governance, derived by the Council of the Eldest upon their sparse meetings, provided no clear course of action. Still no one, even the Eldest themselves, could remember such an occasion in their lifetimes. Now the investments in the Clan Gathering Hall would pay off.
June 10, 902 AD
"ORDEEEER!", Khan Itakh barked into the general murmur of the about thirty-five people filling the yurt. The noise died off quickly and the Marshal showed Zakkai of Bartenstein a content nod. The steward nodded back thankfully. He was sitting at a large table which was facing the others who were seated all across the room, along with spymaster Böri of Khwaliz and a pale and skinny Yabghu Ashina in his finest Rabbi garments. Almost fifteen years had he worked in the Khazarian court now, and now this great responsibility. Who would have thought that when I sat in Noli counting the booty of a band of raiders?
Zakkai cleared his throat. "Thank you, Marshal Itakh – and thanks to all of you for your appearance and your attention, my Lords and Ladies. This is a special day in every respect, an occasion without an example for decades, maybe centuries. It's also a benchmark for how resilient our governance is to a sudden failure of the ordinary provisions. We're all carrying great responsibility today.
Which brings us to our first mandatory issue of the day: While it is a great honor to initiate this unique get-together, there is the strict rule that immediately after the opening of the Assembly, a majority of it needs to confirm the authority to preside over the further proceedings. Of course, as is the rule for General Assemblies, everyone will be equally entitled to bring forth his own positions on every issue to come – including the one at stake right now.
I suggest Court Rabbi Yabghu, Spymaster Böri of Khwaliz and myself to lead the conference to equal parts. Is there any objection before we enter the according vote?"
Zakkai looked into the room. Just when he wanted to proceed, someone stood up. "Yes. I suggest to replace Yabghu. He is a sick man and not to be trusted, since he's an attempted murderer."
It was Tarkhan Ashina, who had made little notable appearance at the court for his lack of influence since his demission as a general. Nonetheless he was still the heir to the realm, and like all other adult descendants of Zachariah he was entitled to a place in the assembly. Not that they had all made the trip – Muhan, far off in Mongolia, and Baghathur who was still commanding his host around Antioch, were missing.
The mumbling resumed and Zakkai sighed. This would be even more tedious than expected.
Earlier...
Although the Khaganate was vast, the assembly was able to gather within less than two weeks. The roads were safe throughout Khazaria, and the formidable Ançaryon's infrastructure was a great boon to small envoys on their travels. One after another, the greater and lesser dignitaries of the realm arrived in Tmutarakan. Among the first of them was Zakkai, who took the reins in organizing the further process along spymaster Böri and the withering, but grimly determined Yabghu.
It was a task with certain complexities to accomodate all of the others. Not all clans were on good terms with each other. Especially Khan Yilig of Bulçir drew quite some disapproval on himself lately with his troops continuously causing trouble in the other Khans' lands. The rivalry between Jabdertim and Hekel continued to linger, although both hordes were currently off to plunder in Moldavia and Russia. And finally, nobody knew really what to think of King Okhropir Bagrationi of Georgia, who had come of age two years ago and would make his first appearance to Khazaria for the assembly.
All those lords brought their families and personal guards along. The Tmutarakan camp grew sizeably in advance of the upcoming assembly. By careful planning and the presence of the Divine Guard, conflict could be prevented though. The Khazarian horde was still on its way back and around the Caspian steppe region now, but the Generals Guyug and Simsam could make the way on time.
***
The assembly sloughed along. Tarkhan's motion to replace Yabghu at the front table with himself didn't go through, but that was only the start. The small and large conflicts the participants brought to the table continued to obstruct much progress toward an acceptable temporary state of affairs for the Khaganate.
Through Zakkai and his colleagues' judicious moderation of the debate, they had at least been able to focus on the most urgent factual issue at hand: while the important decisions were always decided in the council anyway, it was the Khagan's or his regent's prerogative to pose issues to said council in the first place. As both of these options were unavailable for obvious reasons, another solution had to be found. Yet the conflicting interests were many. Especially King Okhropir of Georgia made it abundantly clear that he hedged no intention to take part in Khazarian affairs and wanted to be left alone foremost. Still, as long as he was under the Khaganate (and paid sizeable taxes), his voice mattered as much as anyone else's.
After a long debate and a lot of back and forth between the inclusion of as many stakeholders as possible and the various practical issues of coordination in a realm as spacious as Khazaria, a decision was made with razor-thin majority. Only an unanimous council decision to bring forth an issue which would usually be up to the Khagan could put the same issue on the table at all, and if a Khanate was directly affected the respective Khan had a veto right. With the council's current composition, this came close to a political blockade, but it was the only compromise that seemed in reach when the night broke. At least the ritual of dragging poor Glitterhoof along to official occasions could be suspended with great majority - and the final issue of the day was decided upon quickly and without debate: every disposable spy throughout the realm should be sent out to find the Khagan.
It took another meeting on the following day to consult on the supreme command of the Horde. The old and distinguished General Simsam Tarbesid, a loyal servant to the horde for all his life, presented the general staff's position.
"The horde's loyalty is exclusively to the Khagan and even a Regent's authority over the soldiers would be subject to heavy restrictions compared to Zachariah's own. In complete absence of a commander in chief, the horde is pledged to uphold the stability and integrity of the Khaganate, and it will live up to it. The lesser officer corps has also made it abundantly clear that it will not accept any solution that would make the horde subject of a conflict of interest."
The Khans, especially Marshal Itakh, were predictably discontent with that gesture of independence. The control over the horde, by now easily the largest force throughout the Steppes, was an amazing prize – yet if it now developed a stance on its own, there would be little they could do. The debate underlined the limitations to their power. Simsam and his fellow Guyug staunchly refused all attempts of intimidation and sweet talk. They knew exactly that the Khans had no means of enforcing their words, at the very least as long as they squabbled among each other.
In the end, the Assembly granted the horde the autonomy of action the Generals had demanded for. The Khans Itakh, Yilig and Yectirek were allowed to keep their positions, but only to coordinate efforts to defend the realm should they become necessary. Offensive action, if at all, could only be invoked upon consensus in the council, and the generals had a veto right just as the Khanates did. This rule set was considered a major blow to the Khans' ambitions and a vast elevation of the officer corps. Simsam and Guyug as their involuntary spokesmen were the most sought men of the day.
While a lot of questions were still open, the General Assembly was generally considered a success when it was finally closed after two days of intense debating and negotiations. Stability was ensured, and many people were rather fond of the further decentralization of power at the hands of the generals. The details would now have to be decided upon over time.
September 11, 902 AD
It was late at night, and everyone was sound asleep around the Ashina encampment. The Divine Guard mainly kept to the Horde campus and rarely patrolled the outskirts or the largely civilian quarters around the market square. Like this, it was no big problem for the cowled figure that was striding through the camp to remain unnoticed. A careful look to the left and ride, then a swift and silent shadow moved toward the large pillory in the center of the square. Only a few moment later, it disappeared back into the maze of yurts and small yards that Nomad camps largely consisted of.
Thirty minutes later, the mysterious figure slipped back into her accomodations and took off the cowl, revealing two queues accurately braided to her head. Save for her loyal personal guard, no one had noticed her disappearance. Not the hardest way to gain some coin – and even more of the trust of the Khagan, a content Wojslawa thought to herself. I just have to keep my head down.
The following morning, when the usual merchants, hunters from the countryside and peasants selling the produce of their small-scale farming activities set up shop as every day, the first of them to notice the large piece of paper hanging on the pillory didn't pay all too much notice. Although few people were literate in the Steppes, it wasn't uncommon that pamphlets were placed at the market. It still did usually not happen overnight and in the middle of the place, and so it didn't take long until a curious cloth trader took a closer look. The message was written in large, clumsy letters, red as if written in blood.
I AM WELL AND PROSPEROUS. FEAR NOT FOR ME. FEAR FOR YOUR CHILDREN, SHIMON OF MONTE CASSINO IS COMING FOR THEM!
THE SCOURGE OF GOD
Word spread quickly of an alleged message by the Khagan himself, and theories abounded if it was him after all. No one had heard anything of him for three months or knew if he was still among the living. The spymaster - who had had no success whatsoever in finding out about the Khagan's whereabouts - was summoned to the place immediately, and he could confirm that it was Zachariah's handwriting as well as his sigil. The note was authentic, for all that could be known.
While there was confusion about what Zachariah could mean about Shimon of Monte Cassino and of course there was no evidence whatsoever, some of the discussion kept sticking upon the man. It was very embarassing to him, and so was it to the spymaster that the Khagan could apparently slip through messages to the public without him catching upon anything. For everyone to see, Zachariah was certainly a step ahead of even the most cunning spies, even on his own and in an unknown place.
Last edited:
I wonder how Zacharia will be remembered by future generations, a cruel wrothul lunatic or a great unifier, wouldnt surprise me if time smoothed some of his flaws.
It's always been what he was best at.
But there's only a few more twists and turns ahead for them. And the lessons in self-administration might come in handy in the future.The Nomads keep little written records, and it's indeed probable that his character will be glorified in the light of his achievements.
At least in Khazarian legends - Georgian or Alanian chronists will likely see it differently.
Chapter 55 – Not Quite Absent
Chapter 55 – Not Quite Absent
January 16, 903 AD
Yabghu Ashina felt terrible, and somehow this made him even more determined. If he was going to die – and he knew he was, the medici couldn't hide it from him no longer – he could at least pave the way for his brother Baghatur. Today was the opportunity to give him the slingshot he needed to surpass Tarkhan's credentials and become heir to the Khaganate. He had spent weeks to send out envoys and carefully inquired with his fellow councillors what their interests were, and in the end he was positive there would be a way to convince each of them.
He also talked to the generals and made sure the horde would understand how such an endeavour would benefit the clan and the Khaganate in the long run. It was surprisingly easy to get them on his side, considering the reputation Baghatur still enjoyed among the officer corps and with the troops starting to itch for engagement. While the horde had made a strong stance on its autonomy in the Assembly, they were still hardied warriors who got bored after a while of peace.
Today the crucial meeting on the support for Baghatur would convene.
Earlier...
While the rulings of the General Assembly did indeed prove suitable to secure the stability of Khazaria as a whole, this came at the obvious price of close to complete inaction while the world kept turning around Khazaria. In autumn, the long predicted conflict in the Byzantine Empire erupted in the open when a band of Dukes under a Strategitissa Evanthia 'the Cruel' demanded another Basileus. It would soon prove to be only the beginning to a long string of rebellions and internal strife under the reign of Basileus Bardas Makedon.
The other astounding news were from Russia. Khan Tiradin of Ezgil had persevered through tactical prowess and the well-known strengh of the Steppe hordes against the tribal levies the Slavs of Eastern Europe fielded. After a war that lasted almost four years and took tremendous sacrifices, the Kievans surrendered the Duchy of Vladimir to Tiradin in November 902.
This was widely regarded a turnaround in the greater scheme concerning the overlordship over the Russian lands, and a most painful blow to the Kievan Rus' unification efforts. Khan Tiradin took pride in his achievement and would soon have everybody call him "the Bane of the Kievan Rus". At the same time, his horde was already getting ready to push further into the disarray of independent tribes along the Volga. A week ago, word had reached the council that he was attacking Merya now, with great chances of a quick success.
And only today, the news spread that Wladyslaw, the King of Poland, had succumbed to a wound...which he had also come down with in the war against Ezgil, when for the first time his support wasn't enough for the Slavs to prevail. Now his eleven year old son sat on the throne. It would at least take some time before his power even resembled his father's.
While the Khans were mostly busy with their own realms and their struggles among each other, the paralysis of the Khaganate toward the changing environment and the growing future challenges unsettled especially the remaining Ashina brothers with stakes in the greater game – although they would draw very different consequences.
Tarkhan didn't trust Khan Böri's confidence nor his intentions toward the realm's future. He couldn't do anything from his home, and he didn't want to sit and watch the world shape around the realm he stood to inherit. This wasn't the time to hold grudges, he figured. If the realm was to stay strong, it needed its leader. Shortly after the first message of his well-being appeared in Tmutarakan, Tarkhan had headed out by himself to find his father. While he kept up with his wife Yartilek, the sister of Marshal Itakh, and he was reported to be well and healthy in general, the council had not further heard of him (or asked) ever since.
Yabghu in contrast started to derive his plan how he could unite the council and the horde behind the cause of his brother Baghathur.
***
Yabghu stepped up, looking worn out and enfeebled by his sickness, but he was as determined as never before.
"My fair fellows. I stand before you to argue for an assignment of the Horde to support Baghathur Ashina's war for Antioch on Duke Hethum 'the Liberator' of Edessa...and maybe to fight my final battle for a legacy worth its name. My time is running out. This is probably the last occasion for me." Yabghu coughed into his sleeve, only to leave slight marks of blood on his pristine white garment.
"If Baghathur should be successful through our support, he would be the first Jewish holder of these lands since ancient days. He would be the stuff of legends even before his eventual ascension to be the Khagan – which is the second reason why this endeavour is the right thing for the realm's future. We need a Khagan in his right mind, and one who's not shy of great risks for great rewards. If Tarkhan inherits Khazaria, this will result in essentially what we are experiencing now. Endless waivering, inaction until the world forces its mark upon you..."
Yabghu kept talking for fifteen minutes and quite literally invested the last bit of his energy in his speech - an emotional pledge that very much conveyed the feeling of a dying man's last wish. When he was done, the Court Rabbi sank onto his chair and felt like he was literally never going to raise again.
The council was deep in thought for minutes after he had finished. All felt in a way that Yabghu had a point, that it was a matter of honor and of pursuing a rightful cause - and if he had the horde on his side, there was little way the Khazarian subjects could lose anything from it. Even Zakkai of Bartenstein, the most notorious opponent to costly military endeavours far from home, stated that he was impressed by Yabghu's determination to take care of a future he'd never witness and he would make an exception to his rule.
In the end, the council decided in consensus, for what felt like the first time since Zachariah's disappearance. The horde accepted the assignment and would move out again – to Antioch this time.
June 9, 903 AD
A whole year had now passed since Khagan Zachariah's mysterious submergence. Over time, there had been various signs of life from him, and although mostly they were as petty as his accusations against Shimon, they were enough to convince people that the Khagan was still alive and somewhere out there.
The horde made its way to Edessa, with resupply problems in the Armenian Highland leading to quite severe losses to hunger and cold. When they entered the area, it showed that things were looking quite grim for Baghathur. His host had already been defeated multiple times by Duke Hethum's troops, and he would certainly have lost this war already without the prospect of the Steppe Horde coming to his aid.
While the losses sustained on the way were not easily to replace soon, the numbers of the Khazarian horde were still large, and the men set up camp to besiege the fortress guarding the Pass of Aintab. It was tremendously important and separated the coastal lands of Duke Hethum, rich and full of history but also ridden with disease and torn by numerous wars, from the bulk of his demesne in the mainland. Should Aintab fall, Baghathur's chances for victory would be restored and Duke Hethum would at least have a serious problem. Accordingly ferocious was the defense the Armenians under Duke Hethum put up, and the Khazarians again had to take painful losses during the early phase of the siege.
At home, the council convened regularly, although they had soon gone back to their old habit of being unable to find a consensus on anything and thus obstructing nearly every step the Khaganate could do. Today, the first reports from Edessa were to be acknowledged by the council and a general course of action to be derived if possible (which no one really expected it to be). Almost everyone was there and waiting. Only Yabghu didn't show, although it was already fifteen minutes late to begin the session and get through with it as fast as possible.
This was entirely unlike him. Even in his pitiful state, he kept on working. Only days ago, he had – in slight bending of the according rules – betrothed his sister Çilen to Egill Rögnvaldrsson, a late Norse chief's son of lowborn descent who she had apparently met when he was resupplying from a raiding operation on Tana and immediately found to her liking. The lad apparently shared the sentiment and his brother, the current Chief, was more than happy to have him off his back.
It was met with wide indifference among the court, mostly for the low esteem of young women in the steppes, but the people who noticed what was going on admired Çilen's determination. While all the other Ashina children had been married off arranged by the court some way or the other and such a match would unlikely be accepted by Zachariah was he there, she just took her chances that the decision vacuum posed for her.
But that had been days ago. Now the councillors were waiting. A grim suspicion was already looming when a squire appeared in the Council hall. With unsteady voice he announced: "My Lords, I must tell you that...the Court Rabbi Yabghu Ashina...has drawn his last breath an hour ago.
Someone urgently needs to take care of his family...or what remains of it. His wife wishes to return to her father in Kirghiz at once and states that her daughter Mala would be better off without her...she's already preparing her leave. The girl is only two years old!" the young man sputtered until Khan Böri slowed him down.
"Calm down, boy", said the spymaster. "You've done your part and I'm sure there will be a solution for the child – although it's of course tragic that she would lose both of her parents so early. But she is an Ashina child and has lots of relatives around. Mala will be cared for, there's no doubt about that."
The squire nodded, and Marshal Itakh slipped a coin in his hand when he made his way out of the yurt. A prolonged silence followed. Everybody had known that this would happen sooner or later, but the reality of the empty chair in front of them was something different nonetheless.
"So now that we're without a Court Rabbi....Who's going to hold his burial after all?" was the first thing that finally came to Khan Yilig of Bulçir's mind.
Zakkai, who had been deep in thought, raised his head. "We need a new man as soon as possible. As regularly it would be up to the Khagan to appoint one, it's once again up to us to find a consensus. Only that dissent isn't an option this time. Someone needs to give Yabghu his final blessings, so his soul can ascend and he be buried...before things literally get ugly."
"Always with your mind on business, eh?", Menümarót of Kabar said with mild voice. "You're of course right, and I did think about a suitable replacement for quite some time. I am sure I am not the only one."
His brother-in-law Itakh of Jabdertim nodded slightly. They had talked before about who could possibly succeed Yabghu and knew there weren't all that many options to consider after all. Khazaria was a place of hardy and tough warriors, not of erudite bookworms. And the few people who were deemed capable of the task were either people from Kibar's former court who no one really trusted, they had at least one explicit adversary, or they were already needed otherwise. In the end, the council was only able to agree on who they didn't want for the position for the moment and that they would meet again in the evening to resume the negotiations.
Khan Böri was the first one to return to the Council Hall. He had talked to a few people and found out that Yabghu's small daughter Mala would luckily find a new home with her aunt Sarantay and her husband Vencel, a Hungarian prince who had been smart enough to get out of the short-lived kingdom his father had conquered before its subsequent collapse. While Zachariah's remaining sons were all still childless, the pair already had three boys of their own and were happy to accomodate another child.
Upon entering the Council Hall, Böri immediately recognized the large sheet of paper on the table. How did that get here?, he thought. The place is supposed to be watched at all times. When he stepped closer, he saw large letters in a familiar handwriting:
AZARIAH OF BRYAKHIMOV IS YOUR MAN BY MY INCONTESTIBLE DECREE.
KHAGAN ZACHARIAH THE SCOURGE OF GOD
Judging by the few similar notes that had popped up over the past months (and the countless, but rarely accurate, counterfeits that had become a popular practical joke and a favorite pastime among certain courtiers), it seemed to be authentic. Böri looked up and toward the guard. "You! How did that piece of paper turn up here?"
"I don't know sir. I've only been on duty for the past hour and I'm not supposed to snoop into the hall itself..."
Khan Böri turned his eyes. "Well, who was here before you then? Somehow someone must have got in here not too long ago, and I absolutely need to know who it was."
The guard shrugged. "His name is Burak or something, I think. Not that I know him well. You'd need to ask the officer in charge with the duty roster about where he is, but at this time of the day the administrative ranks aren't on duty anymore..."
"Now that's an inconvenient coincidence. Do you happen to know who that officer is?"
"No, Sir. I only get the assignments from my superior."
Böri sighed, but kept his temper. "Then could you tell me who your superior is so I can ask him a few questions about Burak or something?"
In the meantime, Menümarót and Itakh had appeared and stepped toward the two. Just as the guard wanted to answer, Marshal Itakh said "What's the matter here?".
"We seem to have got instructions. There's a note, supposedly from the Khagan. See for yourself."
"What?", both men asked with one voice. "How did that get here?"
"We don't know yet, but I'm already on it." Khan Böri replied with slight annoyment, but with the appropriate countenance.
Khan Itakh walked inside the hall to take a closer look at the note. Böri turned to the guard again. "Now, about your superior..."
From the interior Itakh shouted "Looks genuine, judging by the other notes that..."
"You don't say!" Khan Böri answered back a hint too loud. Khan Menümarót jolted and saw the veins on Böri's temple pulse. In placatory tone, he said "We should just wait for the others. If we agree that the note is real, the question is settled. Yet maybe we don't even need to know and can settle for Azariah anyway. Look, there comes Khan Yilig."
Indeed Yilig was just arriving back at the scenery. "What's all this shouting about? It's really not necessary to hold our meetings over the long distance..."
Menümarót had to laugh. "That's not what we are trying. There's a note from the Khagan inside, hence the fuss."
"What? How did that get there?"
Khan Böri looked at Yilig in a distinct mix of hatred and resignation, then took a deep breath. And then another one. "We don't know yet. Can we all please just go inside and have that meeting now? You go ahead, Menümarót. Do me the favor."
"But Zakkai's still missing", objected Itakh who had joined the others in front of the Council Hall again. Böri looked like he was about to implode and without a further word made his way into the yurt.
Itakh looked at the others bewildered. "Did I say anything wrong?"
Yilig shrugged. "I don't know what's the matter with him either. He seems awfully tense."
It took another three minutes until Zakkai arrived. The councillors except Böri were still outside debating, and upon hearing of the news, the steward was of course curious how the ominous note might have got into the Council hall when it was guarded at all times. His answer was a prolonged scream of rage from inside.
At least now that everyone was there, it was quickly found that the note was probably genuine and Azariah was a solution they could live with.
December 30, 903 AD
Somewhere around Tmutarakan
It was dark outside and the winter nights could get freezing cold in the Steppes, but a crackling fire in the centre of the small yurt radiated light and heat, and a ledge protected it from the weather. Pillows and pelts even provided a certain sense of coziness unusual for a Nomad accomodation. A familiar banner in the colors of Muhan's Khazar band and other intricate tailorwork adorned much of the interior.
"Tea?" asked a serene Khagan Zachariah. He was sun-tanned and a mighty beard adorned his face.
"With pleasure" answered Wojslawa, graceful as ever. "It's good to recognize how much you've recovered from all the stress."
Zachariah smiled broadly. "Now imagine how good the feeling is." Since his leave from the court, he had finally found his sleep - and the capability to think clearly - again. Ever more often he woke up to feel a dull pain throughout his spine, but after two mugs of wine it usually subsided. It was probably only old age taking its toll, the Khagan then told himself.
While pouring the tea for his guest, he added, "You know, it's not been easy to let go. Who knows what kind of chaos could have resulted. Only when I heard Glitterhoof is safely in charge, I could start to actually throw off the stress."
"You can rely on him. And us." Wojslawa sipped on her tea. At the same time, a horse neared outside. "How fitting. That's going to be the new report", she said with a slight smirk on her face. "I'll still go and have a look, before an overzealous scout ruins his own day."
Zachariah stayed back in the yurt, deep in thought. Glitterhoof. Man, how I wish he was here. It's a shame that he's always unavailable when I ask Wojslawa to take him along, but I can't judge...it has to be amazingly hard for a horse to gain all the respect a ruler deserves.
Wojslawa came back and said "Nope, it's him." Zachariah nodded satisfied, and the horse came closer until it reached the ledge.
Tarkhan Ashina entered the yurt and bowed before Wojslawa. "Good evening, milady." Directed toward his father, he added "This place is looking better every time I see it. You wouldn't think it's a shack in the middle of nowhere."
"Most of the shacks in the middle of nowhere don't house a Khagan.", Zachariah replied not without self-complacency. "I'm still wondering how you managed to distinguish this one from the outside..."
"Everything's fine with the hideout, there's no way you just stumble upon this place" said Tarkhan. "I already told you I had help. Ashina blood opens you a lot of doors."
"It wasn't always that way, you know."
"Yes, I know, were it not for you, the Ashina would be gone. You've told the story countless times."
"Okay, okay. Then you go ahead and tell me new stories. That's why you were here anyway if I remember correctly."
"Exactly." Tarkhan pulled out a drawing that depicted the lands where the horde was fighting Edessa. "The horde is now in the South for close to seven months and has fortified its positions in the mountains around Aintab. They've spent the better part of the time starving out the namesake fortress, which was impossible to assault due to its location right above a crucial passway, but eventually had to surrender.
The final obstacle between the coast, where Baghathur's men are sieging, and the mainland under attack from our own troops, is Kyrrhos. It is a fortified mountain village around a desecrated former Orthodox church and won't be able to hold out much longer."
"I see. And what are those troops doing further east?"
"The horde had to put up a lot of effort and manpower to effectively block the supply routes for Aintab. Spread out like this, the general staff noticed they couldn't supply over six thousand men and sent a second siege troop to the hinterlands. They are barely defended, as most of the Duke's troops are standing in Antioch and fighting Camp Fever rather than their enemy."
"Smart move, as I would expect it from the command. I mean the splitting of the troops of course, not the Edessans staying in disease-ridden lands... So the enemy is afraid to attack, and we're gradually taking over their lands unless we move out. Sounds like a stable situation from our point."
"Indeed. At least there has been no notable movement whatsoever since the horde arrived. Like this it's still going to be a long way to go. Baghathur was already on the brink of defeat, and the Duke of Edessa won't be convinced easily."
"He will be convinced eventually. Until then, the horde has something to do. That's important, you know it better than anyone else." Zachariah gave his son a wink.
Tarkhan rolled his eyes. "I'll have a tea, then be on my way again. Less questions back home when I don't stay too long."
January 16, 903 AD
Yabghu Ashina felt terrible, and somehow this made him even more determined. If he was going to die – and he knew he was, the medici couldn't hide it from him no longer – he could at least pave the way for his brother Baghatur. Today was the opportunity to give him the slingshot he needed to surpass Tarkhan's credentials and become heir to the Khaganate. He had spent weeks to send out envoys and carefully inquired with his fellow councillors what their interests were, and in the end he was positive there would be a way to convince each of them.
He also talked to the generals and made sure the horde would understand how such an endeavour would benefit the clan and the Khaganate in the long run. It was surprisingly easy to get them on his side, considering the reputation Baghatur still enjoyed among the officer corps and with the troops starting to itch for engagement. While the horde had made a strong stance on its autonomy in the Assembly, they were still hardied warriors who got bored after a while of peace.
Today the crucial meeting on the support for Baghatur would convene.
Earlier...
While the rulings of the General Assembly did indeed prove suitable to secure the stability of Khazaria as a whole, this came at the obvious price of close to complete inaction while the world kept turning around Khazaria. In autumn, the long predicted conflict in the Byzantine Empire erupted in the open when a band of Dukes under a Strategitissa Evanthia 'the Cruel' demanded another Basileus. It would soon prove to be only the beginning to a long string of rebellions and internal strife under the reign of Basileus Bardas Makedon.
The other astounding news were from Russia. Khan Tiradin of Ezgil had persevered through tactical prowess and the well-known strengh of the Steppe hordes against the tribal levies the Slavs of Eastern Europe fielded. After a war that lasted almost four years and took tremendous sacrifices, the Kievans surrendered the Duchy of Vladimir to Tiradin in November 902.
This was widely regarded a turnaround in the greater scheme concerning the overlordship over the Russian lands, and a most painful blow to the Kievan Rus' unification efforts. Khan Tiradin took pride in his achievement and would soon have everybody call him "the Bane of the Kievan Rus". At the same time, his horde was already getting ready to push further into the disarray of independent tribes along the Volga. A week ago, word had reached the council that he was attacking Merya now, with great chances of a quick success.
And only today, the news spread that Wladyslaw, the King of Poland, had succumbed to a wound...which he had also come down with in the war against Ezgil, when for the first time his support wasn't enough for the Slavs to prevail. Now his eleven year old son sat on the throne. It would at least take some time before his power even resembled his father's.
While the Khans were mostly busy with their own realms and their struggles among each other, the paralysis of the Khaganate toward the changing environment and the growing future challenges unsettled especially the remaining Ashina brothers with stakes in the greater game – although they would draw very different consequences.
Tarkhan didn't trust Khan Böri's confidence nor his intentions toward the realm's future. He couldn't do anything from his home, and he didn't want to sit and watch the world shape around the realm he stood to inherit. This wasn't the time to hold grudges, he figured. If the realm was to stay strong, it needed its leader. Shortly after the first message of his well-being appeared in Tmutarakan, Tarkhan had headed out by himself to find his father. While he kept up with his wife Yartilek, the sister of Marshal Itakh, and he was reported to be well and healthy in general, the council had not further heard of him (or asked) ever since.
Yabghu in contrast started to derive his plan how he could unite the council and the horde behind the cause of his brother Baghathur.
***
Yabghu stepped up, looking worn out and enfeebled by his sickness, but he was as determined as never before.
"My fair fellows. I stand before you to argue for an assignment of the Horde to support Baghathur Ashina's war for Antioch on Duke Hethum 'the Liberator' of Edessa...and maybe to fight my final battle for a legacy worth its name. My time is running out. This is probably the last occasion for me." Yabghu coughed into his sleeve, only to leave slight marks of blood on his pristine white garment.
"If Baghathur should be successful through our support, he would be the first Jewish holder of these lands since ancient days. He would be the stuff of legends even before his eventual ascension to be the Khagan – which is the second reason why this endeavour is the right thing for the realm's future. We need a Khagan in his right mind, and one who's not shy of great risks for great rewards. If Tarkhan inherits Khazaria, this will result in essentially what we are experiencing now. Endless waivering, inaction until the world forces its mark upon you..."
Yabghu kept talking for fifteen minutes and quite literally invested the last bit of his energy in his speech - an emotional pledge that very much conveyed the feeling of a dying man's last wish. When he was done, the Court Rabbi sank onto his chair and felt like he was literally never going to raise again.
The council was deep in thought for minutes after he had finished. All felt in a way that Yabghu had a point, that it was a matter of honor and of pursuing a rightful cause - and if he had the horde on his side, there was little way the Khazarian subjects could lose anything from it. Even Zakkai of Bartenstein, the most notorious opponent to costly military endeavours far from home, stated that he was impressed by Yabghu's determination to take care of a future he'd never witness and he would make an exception to his rule.
In the end, the council decided in consensus, for what felt like the first time since Zachariah's disappearance. The horde accepted the assignment and would move out again – to Antioch this time.
June 9, 903 AD
A whole year had now passed since Khagan Zachariah's mysterious submergence. Over time, there had been various signs of life from him, and although mostly they were as petty as his accusations against Shimon, they were enough to convince people that the Khagan was still alive and somewhere out there.
The horde made its way to Edessa, with resupply problems in the Armenian Highland leading to quite severe losses to hunger and cold. When they entered the area, it showed that things were looking quite grim for Baghathur. His host had already been defeated multiple times by Duke Hethum's troops, and he would certainly have lost this war already without the prospect of the Steppe Horde coming to his aid.
While the losses sustained on the way were not easily to replace soon, the numbers of the Khazarian horde were still large, and the men set up camp to besiege the fortress guarding the Pass of Aintab. It was tremendously important and separated the coastal lands of Duke Hethum, rich and full of history but also ridden with disease and torn by numerous wars, from the bulk of his demesne in the mainland. Should Aintab fall, Baghathur's chances for victory would be restored and Duke Hethum would at least have a serious problem. Accordingly ferocious was the defense the Armenians under Duke Hethum put up, and the Khazarians again had to take painful losses during the early phase of the siege.
At home, the council convened regularly, although they had soon gone back to their old habit of being unable to find a consensus on anything and thus obstructing nearly every step the Khaganate could do. Today, the first reports from Edessa were to be acknowledged by the council and a general course of action to be derived if possible (which no one really expected it to be). Almost everyone was there and waiting. Only Yabghu didn't show, although it was already fifteen minutes late to begin the session and get through with it as fast as possible.
This was entirely unlike him. Even in his pitiful state, he kept on working. Only days ago, he had – in slight bending of the according rules – betrothed his sister Çilen to Egill Rögnvaldrsson, a late Norse chief's son of lowborn descent who she had apparently met when he was resupplying from a raiding operation on Tana and immediately found to her liking. The lad apparently shared the sentiment and his brother, the current Chief, was more than happy to have him off his back.
It was met with wide indifference among the court, mostly for the low esteem of young women in the steppes, but the people who noticed what was going on admired Çilen's determination. While all the other Ashina children had been married off arranged by the court some way or the other and such a match would unlikely be accepted by Zachariah was he there, she just took her chances that the decision vacuum posed for her.
But that had been days ago. Now the councillors were waiting. A grim suspicion was already looming when a squire appeared in the Council hall. With unsteady voice he announced: "My Lords, I must tell you that...the Court Rabbi Yabghu Ashina...has drawn his last breath an hour ago.
Someone urgently needs to take care of his family...or what remains of it. His wife wishes to return to her father in Kirghiz at once and states that her daughter Mala would be better off without her...she's already preparing her leave. The girl is only two years old!" the young man sputtered until Khan Böri slowed him down.
"Calm down, boy", said the spymaster. "You've done your part and I'm sure there will be a solution for the child – although it's of course tragic that she would lose both of her parents so early. But she is an Ashina child and has lots of relatives around. Mala will be cared for, there's no doubt about that."
The squire nodded, and Marshal Itakh slipped a coin in his hand when he made his way out of the yurt. A prolonged silence followed. Everybody had known that this would happen sooner or later, but the reality of the empty chair in front of them was something different nonetheless.
"So now that we're without a Court Rabbi....Who's going to hold his burial after all?" was the first thing that finally came to Khan Yilig of Bulçir's mind.
Zakkai, who had been deep in thought, raised his head. "We need a new man as soon as possible. As regularly it would be up to the Khagan to appoint one, it's once again up to us to find a consensus. Only that dissent isn't an option this time. Someone needs to give Yabghu his final blessings, so his soul can ascend and he be buried...before things literally get ugly."
"Always with your mind on business, eh?", Menümarót of Kabar said with mild voice. "You're of course right, and I did think about a suitable replacement for quite some time. I am sure I am not the only one."
His brother-in-law Itakh of Jabdertim nodded slightly. They had talked before about who could possibly succeed Yabghu and knew there weren't all that many options to consider after all. Khazaria was a place of hardy and tough warriors, not of erudite bookworms. And the few people who were deemed capable of the task were either people from Kibar's former court who no one really trusted, they had at least one explicit adversary, or they were already needed otherwise. In the end, the council was only able to agree on who they didn't want for the position for the moment and that they would meet again in the evening to resume the negotiations.
Khan Böri was the first one to return to the Council Hall. He had talked to a few people and found out that Yabghu's small daughter Mala would luckily find a new home with her aunt Sarantay and her husband Vencel, a Hungarian prince who had been smart enough to get out of the short-lived kingdom his father had conquered before its subsequent collapse. While Zachariah's remaining sons were all still childless, the pair already had three boys of their own and were happy to accomodate another child.
Upon entering the Council Hall, Böri immediately recognized the large sheet of paper on the table. How did that get here?, he thought. The place is supposed to be watched at all times. When he stepped closer, he saw large letters in a familiar handwriting:
AZARIAH OF BRYAKHIMOV IS YOUR MAN BY MY INCONTESTIBLE DECREE.
KHAGAN ZACHARIAH THE SCOURGE OF GOD
Judging by the few similar notes that had popped up over the past months (and the countless, but rarely accurate, counterfeits that had become a popular practical joke and a favorite pastime among certain courtiers), it seemed to be authentic. Böri looked up and toward the guard. "You! How did that piece of paper turn up here?"
"I don't know sir. I've only been on duty for the past hour and I'm not supposed to snoop into the hall itself..."
Khan Böri turned his eyes. "Well, who was here before you then? Somehow someone must have got in here not too long ago, and I absolutely need to know who it was."
The guard shrugged. "His name is Burak or something, I think. Not that I know him well. You'd need to ask the officer in charge with the duty roster about where he is, but at this time of the day the administrative ranks aren't on duty anymore..."
"Now that's an inconvenient coincidence. Do you happen to know who that officer is?"
"No, Sir. I only get the assignments from my superior."
Böri sighed, but kept his temper. "Then could you tell me who your superior is so I can ask him a few questions about Burak or something?"
In the meantime, Menümarót and Itakh had appeared and stepped toward the two. Just as the guard wanted to answer, Marshal Itakh said "What's the matter here?".
"We seem to have got instructions. There's a note, supposedly from the Khagan. See for yourself."
"What?", both men asked with one voice. "How did that get here?"
"We don't know yet, but I'm already on it." Khan Böri replied with slight annoyment, but with the appropriate countenance.
Khan Itakh walked inside the hall to take a closer look at the note. Böri turned to the guard again. "Now, about your superior..."
From the interior Itakh shouted "Looks genuine, judging by the other notes that..."
"You don't say!" Khan Böri answered back a hint too loud. Khan Menümarót jolted and saw the veins on Böri's temple pulse. In placatory tone, he said "We should just wait for the others. If we agree that the note is real, the question is settled. Yet maybe we don't even need to know and can settle for Azariah anyway. Look, there comes Khan Yilig."
Indeed Yilig was just arriving back at the scenery. "What's all this shouting about? It's really not necessary to hold our meetings over the long distance..."
Menümarót had to laugh. "That's not what we are trying. There's a note from the Khagan inside, hence the fuss."
"What? How did that get there?"
Khan Böri looked at Yilig in a distinct mix of hatred and resignation, then took a deep breath. And then another one. "We don't know yet. Can we all please just go inside and have that meeting now? You go ahead, Menümarót. Do me the favor."
"But Zakkai's still missing", objected Itakh who had joined the others in front of the Council Hall again. Böri looked like he was about to implode and without a further word made his way into the yurt.
Itakh looked at the others bewildered. "Did I say anything wrong?"
Yilig shrugged. "I don't know what's the matter with him either. He seems awfully tense."
It took another three minutes until Zakkai arrived. The councillors except Böri were still outside debating, and upon hearing of the news, the steward was of course curious how the ominous note might have got into the Council hall when it was guarded at all times. His answer was a prolonged scream of rage from inside.
At least now that everyone was there, it was quickly found that the note was probably genuine and Azariah was a solution they could live with.
December 30, 903 AD
Somewhere around Tmutarakan
It was dark outside and the winter nights could get freezing cold in the Steppes, but a crackling fire in the centre of the small yurt radiated light and heat, and a ledge protected it from the weather. Pillows and pelts even provided a certain sense of coziness unusual for a Nomad accomodation. A familiar banner in the colors of Muhan's Khazar band and other intricate tailorwork adorned much of the interior.
"Tea?" asked a serene Khagan Zachariah. He was sun-tanned and a mighty beard adorned his face.
"With pleasure" answered Wojslawa, graceful as ever. "It's good to recognize how much you've recovered from all the stress."
Zachariah smiled broadly. "Now imagine how good the feeling is." Since his leave from the court, he had finally found his sleep - and the capability to think clearly - again. Ever more often he woke up to feel a dull pain throughout his spine, but after two mugs of wine it usually subsided. It was probably only old age taking its toll, the Khagan then told himself.
While pouring the tea for his guest, he added, "You know, it's not been easy to let go. Who knows what kind of chaos could have resulted. Only when I heard Glitterhoof is safely in charge, I could start to actually throw off the stress."
"You can rely on him. And us." Wojslawa sipped on her tea. At the same time, a horse neared outside. "How fitting. That's going to be the new report", she said with a slight smirk on her face. "I'll still go and have a look, before an overzealous scout ruins his own day."
Zachariah stayed back in the yurt, deep in thought. Glitterhoof. Man, how I wish he was here. It's a shame that he's always unavailable when I ask Wojslawa to take him along, but I can't judge...it has to be amazingly hard for a horse to gain all the respect a ruler deserves.
Wojslawa came back and said "Nope, it's him." Zachariah nodded satisfied, and the horse came closer until it reached the ledge.
Tarkhan Ashina entered the yurt and bowed before Wojslawa. "Good evening, milady." Directed toward his father, he added "This place is looking better every time I see it. You wouldn't think it's a shack in the middle of nowhere."
"Most of the shacks in the middle of nowhere don't house a Khagan.", Zachariah replied not without self-complacency. "I'm still wondering how you managed to distinguish this one from the outside..."
"Everything's fine with the hideout, there's no way you just stumble upon this place" said Tarkhan. "I already told you I had help. Ashina blood opens you a lot of doors."
"It wasn't always that way, you know."
"Yes, I know, were it not for you, the Ashina would be gone. You've told the story countless times."
"Okay, okay. Then you go ahead and tell me new stories. That's why you were here anyway if I remember correctly."
"Exactly." Tarkhan pulled out a drawing that depicted the lands where the horde was fighting Edessa. "The horde is now in the South for close to seven months and has fortified its positions in the mountains around Aintab. They've spent the better part of the time starving out the namesake fortress, which was impossible to assault due to its location right above a crucial passway, but eventually had to surrender.
The final obstacle between the coast, where Baghathur's men are sieging, and the mainland under attack from our own troops, is Kyrrhos. It is a fortified mountain village around a desecrated former Orthodox church and won't be able to hold out much longer."
"I see. And what are those troops doing further east?"
"The horde had to put up a lot of effort and manpower to effectively block the supply routes for Aintab. Spread out like this, the general staff noticed they couldn't supply over six thousand men and sent a second siege troop to the hinterlands. They are barely defended, as most of the Duke's troops are standing in Antioch and fighting Camp Fever rather than their enemy."
"Smart move, as I would expect it from the command. I mean the splitting of the troops of course, not the Edessans staying in disease-ridden lands... So the enemy is afraid to attack, and we're gradually taking over their lands unless we move out. Sounds like a stable situation from our point."
"Indeed. At least there has been no notable movement whatsoever since the horde arrived. Like this it's still going to be a long way to go. Baghathur was already on the brink of defeat, and the Duke of Edessa won't be convinced easily."
"He will be convinced eventually. Until then, the horde has something to do. That's important, you know it better than anyone else." Zachariah gave his son a wink.
Tarkhan rolled his eyes. "I'll have a tea, then be on my way again. Less questions back home when I don't stay too long."
Last edited:
intriguing stuff and a shocking revelation at the end
have you played further? because on an earlier version when a landed son inherited a khaganate it would turn into a no government realm which is crap. It ruined one of my runs. if that's still the case you should be cautious about Baghatur getting landed and being in a position to inherit.
have you played further? because on an earlier version when a landed son inherited a khaganate it would turn into a no government realm which is crap. It ruined one of my runs. if that's still the case you should be cautious about Baghatur getting landed and being in a position to inherit.
intriguing stuff and a shocking revelation at the end
have you played further? because on an earlier version when a landed son inherited a khaganate it would turn into a no government realm which is crap. It ruined one of my runs. if that's still the case you should be cautious about Baghatur getting landed and being in a position to inherit.
I'm a few years (and one succession) ahead in the game, and they did apparently fix that. What now happens to landed heirs will be of importance in an update soon to come.
I had a feeling that someone else knew where Zacharia was, and it is quite telling that Zacharia has chosen Tarkhan. Rather surprising that Tarkhan has offered little resistance to the idea of his brother gaining fame and land.
In some respects I cannot recall being quite so disturbed by Zachariah in this update.
As @diskoerekto already hinted at, gaining land - particularly with holdings on it - has its implications for Nomadic princes... And there's always the question if the lands can be defended without Daddy's troops intervening. Both aspects will play a role soon.
I'll take that as a compliment.
Him feeling better without actually regaining sanity was rather tough to get across. If it reads weird, it's working as intended.
Finally got myself current with this story, and I have to say it's been an enjoyable tale Zachariah may be mad, but he seems to be "crazy like a fox," gifted in some ways with special insight that more sane men may not approach. Even without his direct intervention, things have a habit of working out for him... which is all part of the plan, I suppose.
Zachariah may be mad, but he seems to be "crazy like a fox," gifted in some ways with special insight that more sane men may not approach. Even without his direct intervention, things have a habit of working out for him... which is all part of the plan, I suppose.
Finally got myself current with this story, and I have to say it's been an enjoyable tale
Thanks for tuning in, glad you're enjoying it! It has to be quite some work to catch up at this point
Zachariah has truly grown into an odd kind of instinct - and even him growing so old, while hardly his own doing with all the drinking and the STDs, is something that will benefit his clan for a long time. The future will show if there was a plan behind it all.
Chapter 56 – The show must go on
Chapter 56 – The show must go on
June 8, 904 AD
Zachariah's Hideout
Oh, please not again, thought a slightly overfatigued Tarkhan when his horse trotted along the winding way toward the yurt under the ledge. From the distance, loud and flat singing was to be heard, and there was little doubt it was his father. This had also already happened more than once. This needs to stop. Like this, any goat herder in the area will catch onto something sooner or later. And then...
Tarkhan wasn't sure what would happen when someone would accidentally stumble upon his father's lair, but neither could he imagine it going any way but desastrous. What if it comes to violence? Or if the goat herder doesn't believe father and thinks he's crazy and tells everyone? What if bandits catch him and...
His mind was racing. He was bearing news from the south. The Edessan army finally had made its move into the hinterland and toward Baghathur's small force in Aintab. The area was under Khazarian control though, and the horde was coming for the incoming invaders. Baghathur's troops would have to prevail ten days before the Khazarian horde would arrive and defend the mountainous area with their superior numbers.
This would be a hugely important event for the war. And with each step his younger brother Baghathur was taking toward seizing his own land, the horror inside Tarkhan Ashina grew stronger again.
The most distinct sign were the nightmares and the panic attacks getting worse and more frequent. Ever since Tarkhan's childhood, he had felt this horror, sometimes more, sometimes less. It was different from the fear that made you survive in the Steppes, the fear that kept the hunter from crashing into the gorge behind the dense brush and the soldier from plunging into an ambush. It was also different to the cowards' fear that made them run instead of fight in the face of battle.
Tarkhan had never run from a battle. The horror was a consuming and bemusing veil, one that painted the past, present and future in the darkest colours in Tarkhan's eyes whenever it befit him again.
Zachariah was in outstanding temper and kept on with his Khazarian folk song when his son entered the hiding yurt. Only two days ago, a trustworthy middleman had procured him a shipment of fine wine, which was a welcome alternation from the generic stuff he had in larger supply. The singing Khagan walked toward Tarkhan with open arms.
Tarkhan was not in a friendly mood at all. He dodged the hug attempt and Zachariah stumbled across the yurt. Tarkhan caught him just before crashing into a pelt rack.
"What in the Nine Hells are you doing, father? Are you out of your mind?" he jangled and put the Khagan on his feet.
Zachariah looked at his son in utter incomprehension and uttered a slurred "What 're you talkin' about? Why 're you so upset?"
"You are audible within miles. It's mere luck if nobody has caught notice of you yet. You wanna hide, but like this you're putting yourself in more danger than you could ever be in at home!" it broke out of Tarkhan. "This all....it cannot go on forever. This is not benefitting you, father. I mean it. The wine and the loneliness...it blurs your judgement and makes you careless."
Zachariah stood there crestfallen. How could he have been so oblivious? Of course Tarkhan was right, if anyone caught him here there would be no way out. The wine he had enjoyed so much moments ago now seemed to throb inside his head and made a pathetic, thoughtless sack of meat of the otherwise so proud 'Scourge of God'. Zachariah couldn't find words and only looked at his son in confusion.
Tarkhan returned the stare and after a few seconds of silence continued: "I know your fears, believe me. I know them better than anyone else. But like this, you are handing victory on a plate to the forces opposed to us. The Khaganate is paralysed without you, father. Yet the world keeps turning. Byzantium is in deep trouble, more so than ever. For every revolt Bardas deals with, two new ones pop up. Bulgaria doesn't come to rest either. The Khaganate of Bolghar keeps on growing into the tribal lands in northern Russia now that Kiev is out of the way. And all the council can agree on is to send the horde to Antioch and fight Baghathur's war for him."
Zachariah's head hurt. He struggled to comprehend the meaning behind the names and places Tarkhan was throwing at him and felt pathetic for it. When had he stopped being a true Khagan and in control of things?
Zachariah tried to speak clearly. "You're right, Tarkhan...I was out of my mind and this cannot go on. I need to take back the reins and finally go after the threat to me and the Clan..."
While talking he reached for his wine again, but Tarkhan, still looking at him intensely, would not let him. He slapped the goblet out of his father's hands with a loud and affirmative "No!". Zachariah looked puzzled again.
"This needs to stop too! Do you not recognize how you're killing yourself – and your judgement – with all the wine? You were different once, father...you were a conqueror, the man that brought the Khaganate under his control and eliminated the Bulanid...and now? Now you are sitting under a rock while others make history!
You need to find back to yourself at once, father. For the sake of your Clan...and for the sake of Khazaria."
Tarkhan fell silent. He was surprised of his own courage and wondering where he had taken the audacity to say something like that. Never had he opposed his father so openly, too afraid of what would happen should he fall in disfavor. It was like a strange force from within had infused him, but it was nothing like the horror taking over. It felt like his royal blood finally speaking through him.
To his big surprise, Zachariah sank on his chair, hid his face in his hands and started to silently...cry. Only occasional sobs reached the surface. Tarkhan was struck. Suddenly he felt terribly uncomfortable and didn't know what to do.
Finally, he took seat next to the Khagan and put a hand on his shoulder. Zachariah raised his head all of a sudden. His eyes were red, but his voice steady when he said: "I am so sorry for everything, Tarkhan. I will change...I promise. I vow it not only to you, but to every Khazarian. This is going to end tonight. We're leaving, Tarkhan. Together."
Tarkhan was overwhelmed. He had come only to bear the news of an impending battle in Edessa, and now his father would come back. And he promised to cut the drinking!
This time, he did not avoid his father's embrace.
The next day
Zakkai of Bartenstein was very content. Word about the return of the Khagan had reached him right before breakfast and stimulated his appetite. Now he was well fed and whistled while making his way to the Council Hall. He had been the one to quickly put together the bits when the first note appeared, recognize Wojslawa as Zachariah's link to the outer world and stick this observation through to Tarkhan, together with another quite important piece of information.
Tarkhan succeeding to bring Zachariah back was a good sign in any respect, although everything had gone according to plan in his absence. Not only was Zakkai tired of the endless debates in the council that constantly had to find compromises, a present Khagan also constrained the Khans who had become all too self-confident in the past two years for his taste. I should meet up with Tarkhan later to congratulate him and discuss the next steps, Zakkai thought while strolling past the large Clan Gathering Hall.
August 21, 904 AD
General Simsam gazed majestically into the large valley beneath him. For several days he and his men had been hunting the remnants of the Duke's army through the mountains. Now the last of the Edessan troops under Hethum's command were finally trapped, their way cut off by another large brigade, lead by Baghatur Ashina personally. Bodies littered the fields. Only the Duke himself was nowhere to be seen. That little sneak, thought Simsam. I wonder how his people think about him leaving the sinking ship.
The division that Simsam's own men were originally after had been annihilated to a man weeks ago, outnumbered and already outworn from the fierce defense Baghatur's men had put up before the way more numerous Khazarians arrived. The band held its ground for ten days under heavy losses, but unyielding, and in the end Like this, the horde was able to constantly outmaneuver the Edessan forces and cut off their retreat routes, again causing a horrific number of casualties in the process. All in all, over three thousand Edessan soldiers and about five hundred of their own riders had fallen.
Once the last remaining men in the valley were dealt with, the troops were supposed to fall into the backs of the final hostile brigade still holding their ground against Khan Yeçtirek's men. Once that happened, they would as well fall quickly.
Simsam could see Baghatur Ashina personally cutting his way through the enemy ranks, discernible by his custom made armor and the booming voice he was barking orders to his men with. The man had gone on a true killing spree lately, as if to slaughter his way to becoming the Khagan with his own hands. Apart from a lot of simple soldiers Baron Nerseh of Manbij, a young and rising commander, had lost his head in an encounter with him ten days ago. Hopefully he doesn't lose one of these fights sooner than expected, the seasoned warrior couldn't help but think. His own days of lunging head-on into battle were long past, but warfare in the mountains rarely was about large clashes - and his tactical expertise was undoubted. Simsam had proven his worth more than once since the Edessan army had walked into their trap.
On the path leading up to the small camp where the general had taken position, an Ançaryon appeared, accompanied by two soldiers. When the men arrived, he snappishly greeted General Simsam. "General, I have further orders from Marshal Itakh."
"Already? The fighting around here is still subsiding."
"Apparently the Marshal and the Khagan himself are positive you will be successful. But that's mere speculation. Here is the message from Tmutarakan."
General Simsam thanked the messenger, broke the seal on the message and frowned. It said that after the battle of Marash was concluded successfully, he was to return to Tmutarakan at once with two thousand men. While a redeployment after such a momentous occasion wasn't uncommon in itself, pulling out a third of the troops in a war that wasn't yet concluded didn't happen for no reason. In addition, the fastest way back to Khazaria were the Byzantine lands – but they were riddled with bandits and rebels, and it wasn't sure whether they would just let a foreign force pass without further ado.
Simsam let out a sigh. He already missed the period when the horde decided upon its own fielding. What could that mean? The Khagan comes back, and the orders get enigmatic again.
October 14, 904 AD
"Let's see...this looks better than last time...we can now try to further optimize the composition..." mumbled the kneeling Yençepi while taking a professional look at Tarkhan Ashina's groin. The medicus kept on examining Tarkhan and finally stood up. "Sir, the blisters are already subsiding. If we keep up the treatment, they should be gone in two or three weeks. There's little indication for something more serious."
Tarkhan nodded. "Then we shall keep up the treatment."
"Very well. I'll prepare the ointment at once and apply it. As you know, it takes about half an hour afterwards for it to properly pull in." said Yençepi while turning to his mixing table. Shortly thereafter he came back and started to smear a foul-smelling paste on Tarkhan's crotch with much diligence.
Tarkhan tried his best to hide his discomfort. "Anything new about father's state?"
"Not really." replied Yençepi without looking up. "His fatigue is clearly a result of the trouble he is having going to sleep. Which in turn isn't surprising for someone who gives up drinking after decades."
"I do not doubt that. I still can barely believe he's actually pulling through with this. It's sure caused him more than one hard day. But it is going to benefit him ultimately, isn't it?"
"It sure is."
"And you are still positive it's not actually cancer, like he keeps on insisting?"
Yençepi looked up. "The Khagan is really old, and you can never exclude anything with a man of his age. Yet the withdrawal and the lack of sleep are the much more likely explanation. And there's little to do about that but to overcome it eventually. At least he bought that the concoction I've made for him to aid his sleep actually combats the 'cancer'. That already helps a lot." he explained unmoved.
Tarkhan said nothing and thought deeply. He could feel this distinct trepidation creeping up his chest again.
Not long ago, his brother Baghatur, apparently still thirsty for blood after the massacre in Aintab, had returned to the coast to mess up a small reinforcement levy – and come across the new Baron of Manbij there, the younger brother of the man Baghatur had slain earlier. Baron Tachat was eager for revenge, but against the raging steppe warrior he found only his own defeat and the fall of his dynasty. This feat of strength and determination finally gave Baghatur's reputation the decisive edge to be considered the heir to the Khaganate – before the war was concluded.
Tarkhan and Zakkai had exchanged their thoughts about Zachariah's succession frequently at the late. They had not expected this to happen so soon - but as long as the Khagan didn't perish too soon, it would be bearable. But now Yençepi couldn't exclude anything.
The ointment would still take some time to properly apply, and Tarkhan waited in the medical yurt with a towel around his hips while Yençepi carried on with his work, made notes and mixed medicines.
Until Azariah rushed in. "Yençepi, we need to talk. Now." Upon realizing Tarkhan was there, the old physician lowered his head with a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry, I didn't...You...might want to speak to your father."
"What? Why?" Tarkhan was befuddled.
Azariah looked at him with deep sorrow. "I cannot tell you. I am sorry. But he will."
"I don't understand..."
"And I cannot explain it to you, as I have just said. Go and talk to your father, Tarkhan Ashina."
Suddenly Tarkhan sensed something had to be terribly wrong. There it was again, creeping up inside him. The horror. He jumped up from the table and for a split second had an indomitable urge to go at Azariah's throat, punch the truth out of this cynical bastard. It was only a fleeting moment though, and so he only changed back into his pants in a haste and headed off without a further word.
On his way from the medicus' yurt, he could hear Azariah shouting Latin terms at Yençepi. The unfamiliar words, guttural and full of strange sounds, somehow resonated in his mind. And still, there was this oppressive, almost physical feeling of heading into a catastrophe.
And then it dawned on him. Carcinoma. He had heard this term before.
June 8, 904 AD
Zachariah's Hideout
Oh, please not again, thought a slightly overfatigued Tarkhan when his horse trotted along the winding way toward the yurt under the ledge. From the distance, loud and flat singing was to be heard, and there was little doubt it was his father. This had also already happened more than once. This needs to stop. Like this, any goat herder in the area will catch onto something sooner or later. And then...
Tarkhan wasn't sure what would happen when someone would accidentally stumble upon his father's lair, but neither could he imagine it going any way but desastrous. What if it comes to violence? Or if the goat herder doesn't believe father and thinks he's crazy and tells everyone? What if bandits catch him and...
His mind was racing. He was bearing news from the south. The Edessan army finally had made its move into the hinterland and toward Baghathur's small force in Aintab. The area was under Khazarian control though, and the horde was coming for the incoming invaders. Baghathur's troops would have to prevail ten days before the Khazarian horde would arrive and defend the mountainous area with their superior numbers.
This would be a hugely important event for the war. And with each step his younger brother Baghathur was taking toward seizing his own land, the horror inside Tarkhan Ashina grew stronger again.
The most distinct sign were the nightmares and the panic attacks getting worse and more frequent. Ever since Tarkhan's childhood, he had felt this horror, sometimes more, sometimes less. It was different from the fear that made you survive in the Steppes, the fear that kept the hunter from crashing into the gorge behind the dense brush and the soldier from plunging into an ambush. It was also different to the cowards' fear that made them run instead of fight in the face of battle.
Tarkhan had never run from a battle. The horror was a consuming and bemusing veil, one that painted the past, present and future in the darkest colours in Tarkhan's eyes whenever it befit him again.
Zachariah was in outstanding temper and kept on with his Khazarian folk song when his son entered the hiding yurt. Only two days ago, a trustworthy middleman had procured him a shipment of fine wine, which was a welcome alternation from the generic stuff he had in larger supply. The singing Khagan walked toward Tarkhan with open arms.
Tarkhan was not in a friendly mood at all. He dodged the hug attempt and Zachariah stumbled across the yurt. Tarkhan caught him just before crashing into a pelt rack.
"What in the Nine Hells are you doing, father? Are you out of your mind?" he jangled and put the Khagan on his feet.
Zachariah looked at his son in utter incomprehension and uttered a slurred "What 're you talkin' about? Why 're you so upset?"
"You are audible within miles. It's mere luck if nobody has caught notice of you yet. You wanna hide, but like this you're putting yourself in more danger than you could ever be in at home!" it broke out of Tarkhan. "This all....it cannot go on forever. This is not benefitting you, father. I mean it. The wine and the loneliness...it blurs your judgement and makes you careless."
Zachariah stood there crestfallen. How could he have been so oblivious? Of course Tarkhan was right, if anyone caught him here there would be no way out. The wine he had enjoyed so much moments ago now seemed to throb inside his head and made a pathetic, thoughtless sack of meat of the otherwise so proud 'Scourge of God'. Zachariah couldn't find words and only looked at his son in confusion.
Tarkhan returned the stare and after a few seconds of silence continued: "I know your fears, believe me. I know them better than anyone else. But like this, you are handing victory on a plate to the forces opposed to us. The Khaganate is paralysed without you, father. Yet the world keeps turning. Byzantium is in deep trouble, more so than ever. For every revolt Bardas deals with, two new ones pop up. Bulgaria doesn't come to rest either. The Khaganate of Bolghar keeps on growing into the tribal lands in northern Russia now that Kiev is out of the way. And all the council can agree on is to send the horde to Antioch and fight Baghathur's war for him."
Zachariah's head hurt. He struggled to comprehend the meaning behind the names and places Tarkhan was throwing at him and felt pathetic for it. When had he stopped being a true Khagan and in control of things?
Zachariah tried to speak clearly. "You're right, Tarkhan...I was out of my mind and this cannot go on. I need to take back the reins and finally go after the threat to me and the Clan..."
While talking he reached for his wine again, but Tarkhan, still looking at him intensely, would not let him. He slapped the goblet out of his father's hands with a loud and affirmative "No!". Zachariah looked puzzled again.
"This needs to stop too! Do you not recognize how you're killing yourself – and your judgement – with all the wine? You were different once, father...you were a conqueror, the man that brought the Khaganate under his control and eliminated the Bulanid...and now? Now you are sitting under a rock while others make history!
You need to find back to yourself at once, father. For the sake of your Clan...and for the sake of Khazaria."
Tarkhan fell silent. He was surprised of his own courage and wondering where he had taken the audacity to say something like that. Never had he opposed his father so openly, too afraid of what would happen should he fall in disfavor. It was like a strange force from within had infused him, but it was nothing like the horror taking over. It felt like his royal blood finally speaking through him.
To his big surprise, Zachariah sank on his chair, hid his face in his hands and started to silently...cry. Only occasional sobs reached the surface. Tarkhan was struck. Suddenly he felt terribly uncomfortable and didn't know what to do.
Finally, he took seat next to the Khagan and put a hand on his shoulder. Zachariah raised his head all of a sudden. His eyes were red, but his voice steady when he said: "I am so sorry for everything, Tarkhan. I will change...I promise. I vow it not only to you, but to every Khazarian. This is going to end tonight. We're leaving, Tarkhan. Together."
Tarkhan was overwhelmed. He had come only to bear the news of an impending battle in Edessa, and now his father would come back. And he promised to cut the drinking!
This time, he did not avoid his father's embrace.
The next day
Zakkai of Bartenstein was very content. Word about the return of the Khagan had reached him right before breakfast and stimulated his appetite. Now he was well fed and whistled while making his way to the Council Hall. He had been the one to quickly put together the bits when the first note appeared, recognize Wojslawa as Zachariah's link to the outer world and stick this observation through to Tarkhan, together with another quite important piece of information.
Tarkhan succeeding to bring Zachariah back was a good sign in any respect, although everything had gone according to plan in his absence. Not only was Zakkai tired of the endless debates in the council that constantly had to find compromises, a present Khagan also constrained the Khans who had become all too self-confident in the past two years for his taste. I should meet up with Tarkhan later to congratulate him and discuss the next steps, Zakkai thought while strolling past the large Clan Gathering Hall.
August 21, 904 AD
General Simsam gazed majestically into the large valley beneath him. For several days he and his men had been hunting the remnants of the Duke's army through the mountains. Now the last of the Edessan troops under Hethum's command were finally trapped, their way cut off by another large brigade, lead by Baghatur Ashina personally. Bodies littered the fields. Only the Duke himself was nowhere to be seen. That little sneak, thought Simsam. I wonder how his people think about him leaving the sinking ship.
The division that Simsam's own men were originally after had been annihilated to a man weeks ago, outnumbered and already outworn from the fierce defense Baghatur's men had put up before the way more numerous Khazarians arrived. The band held its ground for ten days under heavy losses, but unyielding, and in the end Like this, the horde was able to constantly outmaneuver the Edessan forces and cut off their retreat routes, again causing a horrific number of casualties in the process. All in all, over three thousand Edessan soldiers and about five hundred of their own riders had fallen.
Once the last remaining men in the valley were dealt with, the troops were supposed to fall into the backs of the final hostile brigade still holding their ground against Khan Yeçtirek's men. Once that happened, they would as well fall quickly.
Simsam could see Baghatur Ashina personally cutting his way through the enemy ranks, discernible by his custom made armor and the booming voice he was barking orders to his men with. The man had gone on a true killing spree lately, as if to slaughter his way to becoming the Khagan with his own hands. Apart from a lot of simple soldiers Baron Nerseh of Manbij, a young and rising commander, had lost his head in an encounter with him ten days ago. Hopefully he doesn't lose one of these fights sooner than expected, the seasoned warrior couldn't help but think. His own days of lunging head-on into battle were long past, but warfare in the mountains rarely was about large clashes - and his tactical expertise was undoubted. Simsam had proven his worth more than once since the Edessan army had walked into their trap.
On the path leading up to the small camp where the general had taken position, an Ançaryon appeared, accompanied by two soldiers. When the men arrived, he snappishly greeted General Simsam. "General, I have further orders from Marshal Itakh."
"Already? The fighting around here is still subsiding."
"Apparently the Marshal and the Khagan himself are positive you will be successful. But that's mere speculation. Here is the message from Tmutarakan."
General Simsam thanked the messenger, broke the seal on the message and frowned. It said that after the battle of Marash was concluded successfully, he was to return to Tmutarakan at once with two thousand men. While a redeployment after such a momentous occasion wasn't uncommon in itself, pulling out a third of the troops in a war that wasn't yet concluded didn't happen for no reason. In addition, the fastest way back to Khazaria were the Byzantine lands – but they were riddled with bandits and rebels, and it wasn't sure whether they would just let a foreign force pass without further ado.
Simsam let out a sigh. He already missed the period when the horde decided upon its own fielding. What could that mean? The Khagan comes back, and the orders get enigmatic again.
October 14, 904 AD
"Let's see...this looks better than last time...we can now try to further optimize the composition..." mumbled the kneeling Yençepi while taking a professional look at Tarkhan Ashina's groin. The medicus kept on examining Tarkhan and finally stood up. "Sir, the blisters are already subsiding. If we keep up the treatment, they should be gone in two or three weeks. There's little indication for something more serious."
Tarkhan nodded. "Then we shall keep up the treatment."
"Very well. I'll prepare the ointment at once and apply it. As you know, it takes about half an hour afterwards for it to properly pull in." said Yençepi while turning to his mixing table. Shortly thereafter he came back and started to smear a foul-smelling paste on Tarkhan's crotch with much diligence.
Tarkhan tried his best to hide his discomfort. "Anything new about father's state?"
"Not really." replied Yençepi without looking up. "His fatigue is clearly a result of the trouble he is having going to sleep. Which in turn isn't surprising for someone who gives up drinking after decades."
"I do not doubt that. I still can barely believe he's actually pulling through with this. It's sure caused him more than one hard day. But it is going to benefit him ultimately, isn't it?"
"It sure is."
"And you are still positive it's not actually cancer, like he keeps on insisting?"
Yençepi looked up. "The Khagan is really old, and you can never exclude anything with a man of his age. Yet the withdrawal and the lack of sleep are the much more likely explanation. And there's little to do about that but to overcome it eventually. At least he bought that the concoction I've made for him to aid his sleep actually combats the 'cancer'. That already helps a lot." he explained unmoved.
Tarkhan said nothing and thought deeply. He could feel this distinct trepidation creeping up his chest again.
Not long ago, his brother Baghatur, apparently still thirsty for blood after the massacre in Aintab, had returned to the coast to mess up a small reinforcement levy – and come across the new Baron of Manbij there, the younger brother of the man Baghatur had slain earlier. Baron Tachat was eager for revenge, but against the raging steppe warrior he found only his own defeat and the fall of his dynasty. This feat of strength and determination finally gave Baghatur's reputation the decisive edge to be considered the heir to the Khaganate – before the war was concluded.
Tarkhan and Zakkai had exchanged their thoughts about Zachariah's succession frequently at the late. They had not expected this to happen so soon - but as long as the Khagan didn't perish too soon, it would be bearable. But now Yençepi couldn't exclude anything.
The ointment would still take some time to properly apply, and Tarkhan waited in the medical yurt with a towel around his hips while Yençepi carried on with his work, made notes and mixed medicines.
Until Azariah rushed in. "Yençepi, we need to talk. Now." Upon realizing Tarkhan was there, the old physician lowered his head with a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry, I didn't...You...might want to speak to your father."
"What? Why?" Tarkhan was befuddled.
Azariah looked at him with deep sorrow. "I cannot tell you. I am sorry. But he will."
"I don't understand..."
"And I cannot explain it to you, as I have just said. Go and talk to your father, Tarkhan Ashina."
Suddenly Tarkhan sensed something had to be terribly wrong. There it was again, creeping up inside him. The horror. He jumped up from the table and for a split second had an indomitable urge to go at Azariah's throat, punch the truth out of this cynical bastard. It was only a fleeting moment though, and so he only changed back into his pants in a haste and headed off without a further word.
On his way from the medicus' yurt, he could hear Azariah shouting Latin terms at Yençepi. The unfamiliar words, guttural and full of strange sounds, somehow resonated in his mind. And still, there was this oppressive, almost physical feeling of heading into a catastrophe.
And then it dawned on him. Carcinoma. He had heard this term before.
I always assumed Zacharias fate would be of his own doing, a mad plan gone wrong, but this enemy is out of his control and with his age his time may be winding down.
Zachariah was in outstanding temper
You know, given all one knows about Zachariah this phrase was deliciously ambiguous. I did love the discussion between Zachariah and his son though. That really made me smile.
But it seems that an enemy has finally gotten through Zachariah's guard - the most insidious enemy of all - his own traitorous body.
You know, given all one knows about Zachariah this phrase was deliciously ambiguous. I did love the discussion between Zachariah and his son though. That really made me smile.
But it seems that an enemy has finally gotten through Zachariah's guard - the most insidious enemy of all - his own traitorous body.
All of you probably have the right thought about Zachariah's prospects. I suppose I'm spoiling little when saying he doesn't have a lot of time left. In younger years, he would probably have his physicians try everything, but at his age and with everything he's been through, clinging to life seems pointless.
This incident between Zachariah and Tarkhan will (and already has) become rather important, and it was tricky to properly hit the tone. Good to know it seems to have worked out.