This is wonderful. It is whatever that the reader wishes to interpret it as. Is it retelling ancient myths? Is it the result of eating magic mushrooms? Is it history? Is it fiction pretending to be history to sell books? Thank you for the update
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Hell yeah, this is crazy!
And abiding the laws of the metal.
(If viking or göteborg metal, then it has to have at least one piece about thor or surtur or odin
If mongolian metal, then it has to have at least one piece about chinggis
)Not sure about this one, though own grammar is not the strongest, so cannot say anything else
(хоолой дуулал улам байна эрчимжиж?)- 1
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Actually, that is a dark well of subject and afraid to go into it further (otherwise will ramble about it for deliriously long pages with no fruitful conclusion).
Certainly before the scientific revolution, and until well into the twentieth, or may be twenty first century, it becomes hectic in terms of writing the history (looking at you, herodotos). Though there are interesting examples, such as the accounts of hittite emperors; since they dedicated their accounts to their gods, it is generally accepted that they had to be honest about them, instead of introducing mythical creatures giving birth to unearthly beings.
Can neither deny nor confirm the allegation.
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Book II, Vol.I - The Great Khan (p.10) - The Khagan
[The parts between IX and X are missing according to the sources I could salvage. The tales of Ariq Khan of the Bargas, along with his wars against the Song dynasty of the Han, and the Liao dynasty of the Khitan are lost in these accounts. – The Author]
Publisher's Note: The note, added by The Author, is the only one found for the volumes of Book II. It indicates historical account of the sources, but they are not disclosed in any part of the tome. The tome does not include any illustrations regarding the Song and the Liao, but they are mentioned only within the text as Ariq Khan conquered these dynasties between the two kurultais.
Book II - Volume I - The Great Khan - X
The Khagan
But Friend, you spoke of the storm as if it was the fire raining on the lands, yet you say it now, for I know it from before, for their tales remained. This was the promise of Ariq Khan, so you told. I see the greatness in this story, and –
No, Rhomaios. The demise of the Khitan, and the fall of Nanjing marked their ends.
But… how, Friend? How could this be possible?
Because, Rhomaios, you follow the words, they were created in the minds of the rulers, and these are from one of them. The end of the realms in the blue of the steppes is in the words I have told you, despite the life the tales are breathing in them. Ariq Khan rode the storm, all the while sending his words through the örtöös he established from the bluest rich sea to the sea in the deepest blue. His riders were feared, his rule was asserted, his words travelled from one sea to another, thus the tales from the Han and the Khitan realms were heard in the ordo of the Borchigin lands. Kublai Darqan ruled the khanate, all the while struggling to keep the Mongol realm in the name of his khan, for his rule was fair, but it did not satisfy anyone, nor could he bring the justice he promised. This was the exact mind of Ariq Khan, to ride away from his ordo, to leave the khanate to his brother, to show what he could and not do when he would reign, to once again ascertain his own mind to be yearned, to be wished, to be longed. The mind of Ariq Khan was in the farthest and in the highest and in the widest, whereas Kublai Darqan failed all his promises under the rule he wanted, but the turmoil it was he inherited.
What did the other Bargas do, Friend? Did they abide and support the rule of Kublai Darqan, else did they follow their khan, for his brother failed?
They supported Kublai, in the eyes of others. They did not, however, in their own minds, for they had already bent their knees, for they had heard and agreed to the mind of Ariq Khan, once in the kurultai of the wind, they thought they were the masters of their own fates, but it was far late they realised. The storm gathered, and it was ridden until the land ended, reaching the sky, taming the sea. They would not accept it, they would not say a word on it, they would not show any discontent for it, for they chose the reign of Kublai Darqan, else remained back, but they rode as their khan ordered them, for it was far late when they realised.
Friend, I cannot accept such a conclusion from the kurultai you spoke of. It was the decision Ariq Khan declined, for he ordered his siblings what to do before leaving, yet he chose Kublai Darqan, for his brother wanted the justice for their sisters. If Ariq Khan had another mind, how could his siblings not realise it?
You follow the words, Rhomaios, without looking at the consequences, seeing the obvious as the only end, not understanding the true mind. It must be the hope you desperately have. Even the sharper minds than the most do this, now I have to admit, for I am in the end days of my life, I cannot escape it any more. I am tired of questioning it. Yes, he declined to rule even though it was his right, yet he chose Kublai, not the mourning Temyulen, not the distant Tsymzidma, and certainly not the restless Aldar. This was the mind of Ariq Khan, for he foresaw it. The need for justice would turn into revenge without any mercy, however he would rule against it. The need for healing would turn into uprising without any compromise, however he would want it. Besides the possibilities of the sides in the kurultai, there was the inevitable failure of the both to reach. He left the ordo to Kublai Darqan, for he would do as he deemed. He ordered The Seeker to ride away, for she would do as she deemed. Kublai would fail, for not the screams of Temyulen, nor the plans of Tsymzidma, not even the boldness of Aldar could change it. Ariq Khan knew it, for one cannot fight against the unknown, without exhausting self. The Seeker would never yield, for not the anger of Kublai for her, nor the disdain of Aldar for her, not even the loss of trust for her could change it. Thus caught them the words with every rider Ariq Khan sent from the Han realms. Every battle he fought, every victory he had, he was able to tell them from the faraway lands. It was… conquest, for he appointed noyans and darqans to all those lands as he rode the storm, for it was his promise to keep their tales, but only to become ours.
The promise of Ariq Khan was held true, it soared as the storms of victory, whereas the promise of Kublai Darqan failed, it sailed as the empty clouds of summers in the sky. However, Rhomaios, your words are still carrying the wisdom of a sharp mind. It is true, not all the siblings were in the mist of the unknown when facing against the broken promises, against the unstoppable ambition, for one of them was in the true loyalty for Ariq Khan. The most unexpected, and changing the nature of the storm.
Who was it, Friend?
Among the Barga siblings, Altana brought the words of the wind to the mountains of Barga, thus obeyed they the rule of the kurultai, instead of rebelling. Aldar and Sambuu rode their horses from one pass to another in the Altais of the white, thus bowed the steppes before the Bargas, yet they were trying the Altais of the red, to pass for another raid, the greatest no one had ever seen, but failing to gather even one mingghan of riders to follow them. Tsymzidma would protect the sacred mountain, yet she made her decision to be away from the steppes, to devise the revenge who deserved, but failing to find even one name to punish. Temyulen would rule the Borchigin lands, but her ezens would leave her by the day after the loss. Saran would care for her sister, but Phongma would rule the ordo, for she would care for her children be it during the soothing peace, else while the unforgiving wars, and the stars of those nights were the brightest, one could not notice the wolves when they gathered.
But for your question, Rhomaios… Of the siblings with the Barga name, the most confusing loyalty came from Tuyana, for she was The Moon Sable, for she was the rebellious, for she was the outcast. Yet she provided the most inspiring loyalty, for her mind was in the doom of ezens, for her furore was never-ending towards her sister Temyulen, for she was in the grudge for her brother Kublai, thus hers was the uttermost surprising.
This is beyond my perception, Friend, for Tuyana to behave as such so you say, and I am questioning her act. Why would she be ungrateful for Kublai Darqan, for his was the only ordo among the Barga siblings to accept her after the uprising attempt?
Your curiosity is just, Rhomaios, for it is the sudden change amazes the most, yet it was the growing sentiment in the mind of Tuyana, for I was able to learn. I remember, I remember all words she spoke, for she was the honest when asked for the true questions. Her mind was filled with ezens of the sour, for she took her chance against the odds, yet she was beaten before even have time to think. Her hatred for Temyulen exhausted her mind, her mind against the rule of Ariq Khan was weak, her weakness caused her exile in the lands of Kublai Darqan. She was in the anger, but more for Kublai than Ariq. The Khan of Mongolia had bested her in the never-fought war for the reign, but the Darqan of Dauria showed her the pity, for she was the banished, despite forgiven by Ariq Khan, thus fled she to the ancestral lands, but only to be accepted as an exile by Kublai Darqan. Her thundering mind was not against Ariq Khan, but against those despising her, reviling her, deploring her, but for the most vile crime against her in her mind, by not supporting her against Temyulen. This was the choice of Tuyana, thus was she the most loyal to Ariq Khan after the kurultai, and she served for his mind, to unprecedented consequences no one could foresee, not even The Seeker.
Friend, how did she serve Ariq Khan, when he was away in the Han realms?
Tuyana rode to the lands of her brothers, where Aldar and Sambuu were roaming with their riders, to punish those trying to pass the Altais, to gather more riders for their never-be justice, only to find the way to ease their pain. She requested their help to enter the Kirghiz lands, for her mind was the most dedicated, for her deduction was the most truthful, for her vision was the most useful. They rejected her with the harsh words of the indifference, for their mind Tuyana was only a miserable Barga sister. The Moon Sable was cold in her eyes, brief in her words, swift in her mind. She rode in the dark to the red, reaching the sacred mountains of Tavan Bogd, arriving at the ordo of Tsymzidma. She asked for her help to ride into the Kirghiz lands, to find the people to hear the words, to stalk in the dark to find the whispers, to deliver the tales to reach the truth.
Did Tsymzidma help Tuyana in her quest, Friend?
What was Tuyana looking for, Friend? I do not understand as she persuaded Tsymzidma to help her, but she was already in the bright of the mind what she wanted, so your words tell.
Yes, Rhomaios. Sharp minds, able hearts, brilliant thoughts, all may distinguish once one is defined as such, but this is the view of others for the one, and the opposite of them is also true when it comes to the maddening skill we call perception. This is the futile attempt we pathetic beings have, to brand the others as we do for the cattle, for it is our mind to think what they are, for it is our audacity to see the others before their truth. Tuyana was in the right, for her brilliance was driven by her unpredictable mind, by her hateful heart, by her never-yielding thoughts, despite not being the sharpest. She was in the right, for she realised before everyone. The passes to the red were held, for they were attacking whoever wanted to cross the Altais, else it was the unforgiving Gobi, preventing them to reach Tibet. Kuchuguden Darqan of the Güchügüd would see the demise of any rider trying, for his warriors ambushed them without hesitating. Tuyana was in the right, for she knew Darqan of the Naimans was only a fool, an unable being to devise such a vision, a pitiful darqan to attempt such a villainy, a fearful mind to show such a courage. She knew it, and she had to find the reason behind, thus found out she the Erlik-wise vision of High King Deryab agreed upon in the days before his ascension. The help Tuyana received from Tsymzidma allowed her to lurk, to hear, to see, the rumours and the shadows and the whispers in the Kirghiz realm, thus was she able to deliver them to the true khan.
What did Tuyana learn by lurking, hearing, seeing in the lands of High King Deryab, Friend? What was the evil vision of him?
The truth was in the words she learnt. The words of the old, before the reign of Deryab began, when your Lord was at the age of nine hundred and eighty one. It was Buyana Khanum daughter of Aydin to gather them in the Tuvan lands, to cast the words of Erlik, to curse the lands of Barga, to bring the fire into the Borchigin lands.
The question of the Naiman brought the nervous thoughts to the gathering, in the heat of the beginning, for the coming days of the hoping. Yet it was the Hokhot prince to master his fate, for he was the able of the Hokhots to bring friends, knowing the many allies can bring the victory.
Who were the allies of Deryab in this gathering to conquer the Barga lands, Friend?
Conquer? You are still desperate for the tale of Ariq Khan to be the hopeful dreams of greatness and kindness, the peaceful thoughts of love and bravery from the words, thus you are failing to distinguish, for you are still the ill-knowing, Rhomaios.
I do not understand, Friend. The villain of your story is known as evil to my lands, so you accuse me of the dread I have, of the duty I do, of the faith I carry. Why would you show such hostility, if I am looking for the inspiring brotherhood from the tales of your people, for the hope of my people?
I am sorry, Rhomaios.
Friend? I must beg for your mercy, as I do not understand why you are apologising. I do not deserve such a regard from a mighty ruler as yours, I am only a humble servant for you and your words, thus I –
I am sorry, for you, Rhomaios. I pity your pathetic hopes, I am almost in remorse for the pain I cause to you. I told you I am neither that. I told you not to call me that. I told you the tales of my blood, now riding in the sky of the old days, they are not the ones you are looking for. Deryab was in such a pitiful mistake, as you are, yet more than you assuming the weak for his enemies, for they were us for them, and his vision of Erlik-wise did succeed, for he had many allies, yet he had the terrible fortune. Deryab called for his irgen, Gzi of the Yenisei Kirgiz, for he was the descendant of the old khagans, for he was in the fury for the Bargas, thus he listened to Deryab.
Those words sealed the end of the gathering, thus realised the vision of Deryab. Not many suns passed, High King Kuaz deceased, but not before his eldest son Mosheg was no more breathing, thus was proclaimed Deryab the High King of the Hokhots, Khagan of the Kirghiz. Not many suns passed, Belek Darqan the Flayer unleashed his madness over the Mongolian steppes, thus started the Ten Suns of War. Not many suns passed, Kuchuguden Darqan succeeded to ambush every rider to cross the Altais, thus remained Bargas in the steppes alone, far from their brethren and friends. None of them could foresee what the Ngawas of the Tibet realm could do, none of them could know how Byorte and Bilduu would be killed, no one could expect what the collapse of the bond between the Bargas would bring. It was unfortunate for them, for High King Deryab, and for you, for your people, for everyone.
How, Friend? I am deeply saddened to hear the reasons of the demise of the Bargas, but I want to know. Tell me, Friend. What was the misfortune you spoke of?
So be it. You should listen to my words, but carefully, Rhomaios. It was the return of the storm, for its nature was changed with the misty whispers, the silent words, the grey tales Tuyana the Moon Sable learnt, and she was able to deliver them to the Borchigin lands. Phongma the Bear would listen to them, yet she ordered riders to deliver them to the storming Ariq Khan. His return was in his words for Kublai Darqan, for the struggling darqan truly hoped for his brother to fail even more than him. Ariq Khan received the words, thus he declared his return, abruptly ending his victories in the Han and the Khitan realms. This was the moment of false happiness for Kublai Darqan, for he could not foresee what was happening beyond his fair rule. He truly thought his brother failed to bring any hope for the demise of their sisters, thus thought he Ariq was returning in shame. It was, unfortunate for him, too. For it was the blind wishes without ambitions his demise came from, for it was The Seeker to return at the same days of her khan, just as he ordered. Yet she was far from failure, for she was determined to bring the tales of all to every mother and father, to every children, to all to hear and to tell for the coming days. All Mongols, Keraits, Naimans, Oirats, and Buryats; all Turks, Uriankhais, Laktans, Kimeks, Kipchaks, Uyghurs, Yughurs; and even all Kirghiz, all Han, all Khitan, they heard the calling, to bind their tales, to protect their words, to hear from the pedestals, to speak to them to deliver for the eternal sky. All of them. Unfortunate for them, for you, for everyone, it was Ariq Khan waiting for them, and fortunate for them, for us, and now you, he showed them the laws to gather in happiness, to herd in joy, to ride in safe, for he showed what their foes were. The enemies to bring the flame, to unleash the fire upon their tales, to ashen their words for their children. All people gathered by the passion of The Seeker, the enemies revealed by the shadows of The Moon Sable, the unsatisfied bonded by the failure of Kublai Darqan, the mourning caused by the villainy of High King Deryab, only to follow the words of Ariq Khan. He assembled the Kurultai of the Storm on his return, to a consequence no one could foresee, but to ease the eternal pain all of them have, the need for the happiness in the coming days. They rode with him to the white, they crossed the Altais to reach the Yenisei lands, to look at the realm of the Kirghiz, the lands of High King Deryab, it was the nine hundred and ninety fourth age of your Lord. He demanded they should kneel before him for a crown, and Ariq Khan replied brief, “I am the khan of the Bargas. We do not wear crowns.” All of them cheered his name, yet it was a different one, thus you never heard of him, you never learnt for whom you were looking, you never expected for what you would achieve, when you succeeded to come before my presence, Rhomaios.
Friend… Friend, what are you saying? Friend!
They were cheering for the khagan, for a name that you heard, you dreaded, your masters sent you to find anyone to oppose that name, to learn who could fight against that name stormed in the old days, yet you only reached the lands conquered by that khagan many suns in the old. You never heard the tales of Ariq Khan, for he was the greatest khan, for he was proclaimed the Khagan of Mongols.
Friend!
In the land of the Pars, they called him Padsah-i Jahan, Xan-i ‘Alam. Rhomaios, I told you following the words blindly is hopeless of you.
He – this tale – it cannot be possible!
In the land of the Oghuz, they called him Kür Ulugh Ulusnun Taluinun Qan. Rhomaios, there is no escape for you.
This cannot be! This is impossible!
In the land of the Han, they called him Hai-nei huang-ti. Rhomaios, I told you it is unfortunate for you.
NO!
...
Please Friend, tell me this is not true!
...and we called him, Chinggis Khan.
Note on the link Chinggis Khan: The HU - The Great Chinggis Khaan - from the album The Gereg - 2019
Publishers'-Edit 13.02.2023: Corrected publication mistakes. Correction on format.
Last edited:
Excellent setup for the next instalment!
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Book II, Vol.I - The Great Khan (p.11) - The Storm
Book II - Volume I - The Great Khan - XI
The Storm
What is this place? Why are we here?
Rhomaios, it is encouraging to hear your words again. I was afraid, for you might have lost your voice, for the words were scarce since the day you opened your eyes again. Silence of a mind can conceal the truth, yet it may hinder the ones to realise the possibility of a disease. It is pleasing to know, for you are not in the foul ezens I was afraid of.
I do not remember.
It is a pity if you lost the words we had over the course of months, Rhomaios.
I remember them. All those words you told as a tale, and it was everything I dreaded, however I blindly listened to you in the darkest clouds of evil crushing the hope I had. You were right. I was a fool. I am a pathetic fool. Yet, I do not remember how we have arrived at these hills, for I cannot name the plains we are looking at from these highlands. We were at the yurt, as the last moment I can surmise.
I must say now the regret I have, but it is not a sudden curse I receive, for the ezens have been defiling my mind for such a long time now. I should have been more careful with you, Rhomaios.
What happened?
You heard the tales I told, you heard the words you suffered, and you heard the name for it resounded, thus started your screams to deny the truth surrounding you. You screamed for the denial, you screamed for the help, you screamed until the darkness covered your eyes, for your screams ended in a crushing sound for a heart to hear. We moved my yurt, so could I bring you to the steppes, for seeing the vast ocean of grass can cure every mind in the eternal struggle of pain, the pain of consciousness. You opened your eyes on the third day, unable to speak, hesitating to eat, never moving unless forced to. The fourth day on these highlands cured the mind, now I can see. Rhomaios, do you see the cattle and the sheep, do you see the hunters and the herders, far over the steppes to the white?
Yes. I see the oxen, I see the sheep, I see the horses, I see the people. It is not clear, for the wind is mild, but floating enough to hide their voices, for they are afar.
It is encouraging to see the recovery of a mind, Rhomaios. Your sight is just as good as before, and the words are understandable.
Why am I here? Why did you bring me here? It would be easier to execute me where I passed out.
The sharp mind may need more time to adjust, I understand now. What you are saying is utterly nonsensical, Rhomaios.
Why would it be inconceivable, since the horror I heard is real, I am in the yurt of the dread, I am in the presence of the wrath, I am in the possession of the fear, for I am before you? I was fooled by the futility of my hopes, however I did not deserve the victory for achieving them, yet I ended up in the failure of my life.
The dread is the mind I can comprehend, the wrath is in the tales I can remember, but the fear is unnecessary, Rhomaios. I told you, for I told you many times before, the words I remember you will listen to, for you are the one to carry them for the coming days.
The yurt I remember we were in, it was the modest of the steppes, for it had only a mattress of the poor, chairs of the ordinary, a hearth of the miserable. I recall; a strange helm of the ancient times, unknown and unprecedented; a wooden horse of the smallest kind, but darkened through the ages it survived; a mirror of the murky shades, unable to reflect any more; a blade of the curved shape, showing the bloodstain baring the brutality it inflicted, but now broken and rusted; and a pole with the dark long hairs attached, yet worn out, unable to brandish its majesty. I have never heard of the name Barga, thus I was in the unknown for Ariq Khan, but the dread lies in the name of Chinggis Khan. How could I believe the mercy I am given now, for my hopes were absolutely in the false dreams I had, for I have been cursed by them since months without any grace?
If you are telling me the words you heard were embroiled in lies only to fool you, Rhomaios, I may lose my patience, and I do not behave the benevolent way you experienced.
I am in the fear for my life, for I know it is the end for me. After the fear crushed my soul by the tales I fell for, these words mean nothing.
Rhomaios, it is true when one faces the eternal fear, the clash can shatter the mind. You cannot be unaware of yourself, for you just have told yourself, as the roaring horror tormented you, yet you survived, looking at it as it passes through, asking to challenge the one you are speaking to. This is good for your mind, Rhomaios.
I… I will live?
Yes.
I… Your words… I do not… How could it be possible to conceal the name of a khan from the tales, storming from the seas at the end of the world to the seas in the known world?
Rhomaios, it is true the yurt I live in is not the lavish home one may expect, for that is the least important matter in my mind. I banished the thoughts of the grandeur one may lose self in when the reign of thousands depends on that mind. I banished the name of Barga, for they were in the wrong. Ariq Khan, however, was aware of every mind, for he was foreseeing what he wanted, thus he rode to the day he wished for, the mightiest ruler ever to be, forever to rule, ever to remember, yet he could not change what would happen once his mind reached The Eternal Blue. No one can. Thus the name shall be Baigaljin, for we are the children of the daughters from Baikal, for they were the names we wish to remember. Yet it is the tale of the sons we suffer, since the days of The Wolf. Ariq Khan rode his horse with thousands following him, for he was able to show them what they wanted to achieve. This is the closest explanation I can summon, Rhomaios.
When one wishes all to follow, some may, others may not, thus definitely not all will. So shows the one the snow of the blade, the fire of the arrow, thus all will. However, Rhomaios, this may not end as the wish of the one, for ordering all to a different mind will bring the resentment. It is inevitable, thus thousands can, and will, rebel. It is at that moment we judge according to what the one does, if it is the great saviour, else the terrible monster. Ariq Khan was different, for I told you, for he was more than the mighty hopes, just as you had, yet he was more than the monstrous wrath, just as you feared. Chinggis Khan Ariq, for he showed all what they could achieve, when they would ride with him, but more than his wishes. He was riding to bring what all wished for, Rhomaios. This is the reason I could find out after so many suns I thought about it, yet I know it is not sufficient.
What was it?
Ariq Khan knew what all wished, to live the day for their coming days, to carry their tales for their children, to bind them together against those wishing to bring fire upon their words. He showed them to protect their ancestors in the words of their own stories, to make them the tales of all, to fight for them, to pass them on their children. For that, Rhomaios, one needs a villain each and every other can accept, thus was Ariq Khan able, for he told them who the monster was for their tales. The Erlik-wise evils of High King Deryab. Not for Ariq, but the doom came upon Deryab, for it was inevitable. You must know what happens after a monster is defeated in a tale, Rhomaios.
It is the serenity of the salvation.
No, Rhomaios. After a monster, another one emerges. That is the reason how one can lead thousands, thousands will follow one, for the monsters do not end, for yet another becomes the villain.
But this is damnation for eternity. Darkest mind for a cursed life one would have, if you lose the hope for the love of God.
Do not fall for the bliss again, Rhomaios. Your greatest fortune is the age you live in, for Ariq Khan is in The Eternal Blue, for his age stormed many suns in the past. I… I am different, but soon I also will join the sky to ride for eternity. Daritai, however, is the truth you absolutely need to run away.
I… I know him.
Yes, Rhomaios.
Why would you torment my mind in the ways of the monsters you speak of? I was sincere when I said your words concealed the truth, for I am in the awe of a khan surrounding himself in such poverty, even with the bed to sleep in, yet even more by the tales of all before him. A shadow-veil, successful in achieving the secrecy over the greatest khan you had, for the name of Ariq Khan escaped the tales I heard. It was only a great storm I was told, an unnamed mist of the past, if spoken in whispers at all, yet the mighty in the old, thus I was lured by them. Unfortunate for me, when I was captured by your Khishigs, I was still in the hope of meeting the benevolence of that line I was dreaming. Now I see how foolish it was, to hear my words from your mind, for I am the simpleton of your torturing amusements. How could you achieve such a sovereign power?
Rhomaios, it is the answer you know very well, yet your mind is blurred by the mud of it. I told the wrong in the tales, for the people to understand, yet this would be inadequate, thus I ordered to engrave them on the pedestals. The words on them can speak, all can hear the tales they tell, so will even the children see the days of the dark, the ways of the deviants. It was the stone to keep the tales, but even this would be inadequate, thus I ordered to shape them on the heavy scrolls, just as your people do, Rhomaios. It was inevitable, for Ariq Khan was mighty, but no one can resume such a reign while riding in The Eternal Blue, thus the words of the sky shall fall on the ones, for they always despair once the storm leaves them, but they will follow once again they hear them, for the words on the pedestals, on the heavy scrolls, they can speak, for they bind the tales of all.
However, Rhomaios, I do not need to cast shadow-veils as you insult me, for it is your fault to suffer by the tales.
How could you be such merciless? For I am in pain, but it is my soul in flames as you accuse me for it. I do not insult you, for I remember your words when I asked for the greatness and the kindness, the generosity and the passion, the mighty and the brave in the tales. I was grateful when I listened as you told, for every tale of Ariq Khan was of such, for he loved his kin, for he suffered for his people, for he fought against his enemies, yet the tales were surrounded with the wrathful clouds of the evil, as it ended in the name of Chinggis Khan.
It is not my intention to cause you such pain, Rhomaios, yet it is to believe you do you are suffering from. You desperately wish to save your mind from the pain, you and your people, and my people as well, for everyone to follow one is the fallen curse shared by all, but only by the hopes in a storm to sweep all the horror, yet without any struggle.
It was the madness of foolishness to try excusing the monsters, for those were your words, I remember.
And I never did, Rhomaios. You are the one looking for the serenity, just as you accept your rulers as the sacred saviours of the tales, thus we are the villains in your words. It was this hope I warned you about.
The abominable evils of the tales I heard are true, but they are not in the ones you told me. I cannot even speak of the nightmares about such villainy I dread from the tales I heard, yet the ones you told have none, and certainly never in the ones I heard for the lands I came from.
This is showing the blindness of you, Rhomaios, for I can trust the sincerity of your words. It is encouraging, for it is another shape of monstrosity, to see the darkest moments of life, and be able to ignore. At the least you are truly unaware what you had seen, from the travels you made, from the tales you heard, from the people you met.
You… Did you…?
Yes, Rhomaios, I told you, for I know you. I had seen the words all shaped by your skills, sent to inform your masters about the lands you saw. I do have scouts, just as you. You are not the most skilful one in shaping the words, it is true, but you are seeing the world you travel only to justify your own fears, while casting blind-eyes on the tales of your people, for your mind is the ill-knowing.
What do you mean?
I am talking about the victories of your beloved and just, kind and mighty Basileus, over the lands to the black of your lands. However, Rhomaios, victories are not won against lands, but people. Those were living in the steppes of the sea in the black of your lands. They do not any more, for they are no more, are they? Well, speak true!
They… they were…
So be it. Words fall from the mind when the truth in the tales is asked. Yes, they were, once, but after the great victories of your mighty rulers, they are no more. It is the hope you have, for you are desperate to have, but your mind is lost in the pit of following. I tell you this, Rhomaios, for there is none such to hope for in any tale one may ever hear.
I…
You searched for a storm, and you hoped it to be the answer, to rise above the fearful, to inspire the brave, to bring the serenity of kindness, to live the passion of love, for you hope a storm would soar in the generous might.
But it has to be –
No, Rhomaios, a storm roars with thunders, a storm blasts with lightnings, a storm sweeps all on its path with its unforgiving wrath. It was the nine hundred and ninety fourth age of your Lord when all were cheering for the name of Chinggis Khan, for he was looking at the white horizon, thus rode he into the lands of High King Deryab. The villages of the Kirghiz Khanate in Kolta lands were widespread around Erchis river, hidden in the forests, surrounded by wooden walls, and defended by fierce warriors of their people. Yet, it took mere months for the villages to fall, for High King Deryab was still struggling to return from his marauding vision, to shatter the Mongolian steppes by his invasion, to hunt for Belek Darqan the Flayer but failed in confusion, once Ariq Khan returned from the deepest blue to his lands, but thousands were following him, thousands were riding with him, thousands were fighting for him. It was the storm of tümens, for it was the greatest gathering the steppes had ever seen, for all of them were riding against High King Deryab, for he was the one to cast fire upon their tales.
The tümens of Chinggis Khan had the riders fought in all the corners of Mongolia, of Buryatia, of Angara, for he was Ariq, Khan of the Bargas, Khagan of Yekhe Mongol Uls, and they were fighting since the days of The Wolf. The tümens of Chinggis Khan had the warriors conquered the Khitan, for he was the storm from Baikal, and they knew how to bring even the stone walls down. The tümens of riders stormed the villages, for the forests were unable to stop them, for the wooden walls were unable to stand against them, for the defenders were unable to fight them.
Gzi of the Yenisei Kirgiz called upon the allies and the friends of the realm, for they were the only ones to defend them. It would not be wise to wait for the warriors of High King Deryab, thus began the desperate fight of the remaining ones. Tuhan of the Ubaganors led his warriors before the orders of his High King, to reach the Khanate before them, to meet the Mongols before them, to stop the conquests before them. High King of the Kirghiz was not satisfied, thus ordered he the shamans to denounce the name of the Bargas, so cast the curses Togli Shaman, screaming from his throat to the highest end of the sky. It was the dire moment understood by High King Deryab, but still in the hope of reaching the victory, for he was too eager to wait for his fortune, yet he was too quick to alter his mind. The words reached him, for the fall of his people’s villages alarmed him, and the words reached him, for the words of his friends abandoned him. Virdyan urged him to return, so he gathered his forces for a march of incredible anger, calling upon bands of Uriankhai and Kipchak riders to fight with him, to meet the khan of the Bargas, the puny rider of the steppes, the usurper spawn from the cursed mountains, the petty pretender of the khaganate, for it was the ambition of High King Deryab, to reach the might of the ancients, to proclaim himself as the mightiest khagan. Unfortunate for him, the age of the ancient khagans was the dust of the old days, and it was the age of Ariq Khan, for his riders, his people, his kin declared him Chinggis Khan.
Every yurt captured by the tümens of riders, Ariq Khan sent the words to High King Deryab to meet him in the battle. Every village conquered by the tümens of riders, Ariq Khan bestowed the mercy of the benevolent to bring the peace of the uls. Every victory won by the tümens of riders, Deryab hastened in his anger, while Ariq was storming in his mind. The day of the arrival occurred only in the second sun of the storm, for it was the day High King Deryab was able to reach his lands in his full might. Unfortunate for him, for he would never to wait, he rushed towards the mingghan of Ariq Khan, yet it was Ariq Khan, for he knew whom he would need for the unknown vision of his mind, looking at the unknown place, living in the unknown day, yet it was obvious only to him. He needed the thousands to ride, thus he trusted The Seeker, for her mind was filled with ezens of passion, she was able to bring the words of Ariq Khan to bind the tales of all, however she hoped in false. He needed the walls to shatter, thus he trusted Temyulen the Black Tiger, for even when her mind was filled with the ezens of suffering, she was able to raise the warriors to bring them down since the earliest sun she saw. He needed the hearth to be safe, thus he trusted Phongma the Bear and Saran the Restless Heron, for their minds were filled with the ezens of fierce, they were able to roam the Borchigin lands with only four mingghans to protect. However, Rhomaios, Hing King Deryab was able only to crave for the might, for his ambition was far superior than his fortune, thus he was in the blind to desire the victory, whereas he could bring only six mingghans of warriors. The mighty khanate of the Kirghiz, the pride of the titles, the lust for the supreme reign, but ambitions are challenged with the truth, and the truth of battles is revealed by the numbers.
Who was it Ariq Khan trusted when they met High King Deryab on the battlefield?
Even if the mind is silent against the wild fortune, to overcome the challenge one needs to be more. Thus needed Ariq Khan the storm of the hate, the tempest of the kin, for it was Aldar Noyan to be called upon. High King Deryab was able to ambush Ariq Khan, for it was the weak he could see judging by the numbers. Only one minnghan to protect Ariq, Deryab dashed over the foothills of Altais. Yet it was the blunder he failed to see, for Aldar Noyan the Tempest reached before the battle could end, but with the two tümens he was entrusted.
Two tümens… When you speak of them, I understand the might of numbers.
The tale of Ariq Khan you speak of, now it has the benevolence of the merciful victor, the fair judgement of the mighty ruler, the bounteous justice of the gracious khan, yet you said he was the dread of all, Chinggis Khan of the Mongols. This is incomprehensible, for I see my hopes growing ever greater, yet I do know it must be false. How could you be such cruel, never hurting by the swords, but with the immense misery I am tortured by the words?
I do not have any desire for your suffering, Rhomaios, and it is now hurting my mind, for I look at your own demise in the mind of yours. You still dream of the saviours prevailing against the monsters in the tales. What I told you is the doom for people, for I have been speaking of conquests after conquests, yet only now you are questioning, but you should do it for all the tales I spoke of, for all the tales you heard of. You expect a storm can cure the misery, yet when it soars, it is the doom of people. For High King Deryab, it was the ultimate defeat, humiliated by his adversary, failed to achieve his ambitions, and to further his loss, he was not to be considered even as a challenge any more. It is merciful as opposed to ending the life of one, I can agree with that, for the crime of High King Deryab, with his Erlik-wise vision, was to cast the fire upon the tales of the people of Mongolia, but this is nothing to what happens to the ordinary, when the victory is proclaimed. When the battle was over, the Kirghiz Khanate was nothing more than a couple of yurts banished from the lands, and there was only Yekhe Mongol Uls.
You must understand it, Rhomaios, for a storm cannot soar with the greatness and the kindness, the generosity and the passion, the might and the bravery, but it roars with thunders, blasts with lightnings, sweeps all on its path with its unforgiving wrath, but more for the people. You see the hunters and the herders, far over the steppes to the white, just as those I am speaking of. The tales are heard by the names we dream and dread, but the nameless thousands just as them are still there, unaware of the tales told upon them. When a storm approaches, you hear the ominous sound of the might, yet to the tales they give the mystery, but the screams of thousands rise, yet in the tales they become almost a silent elegy from the skies beyond, calling for mercy, for it becomes clear they are only games in the great hunt. Unfortunate for them, for us, for you, for everyone, when the enormous blows of the storm fall on everyone, it deafens the tales, for it is the end of the many, yet inescapable, inevitable, unavoidable.
I…
…
Friend?
What happened to the ones captured, after the battle of the two khagans, Friend? What was the judgement of Ariq Khan for them?
He burned them.
Note on the link a storm: A.R. Rahman, Craig Armstrong - Storm - from the soundtrack of Elizabeth: The Golden Age - 2007
Note on the link games: Jóhann Gunnar Jóhannsson - Soccer Game - from the soundtrack of Sicario - 2015
Publishers'-Edit 13.02.2023: Corrected publication mistakes.
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Have we have found historical evidence, academic fraud, magic mushroom journey, something else, or all of the above? I am sure that some greeted the Mongols as being better than their current lords much like the Spanish and the Aztecs. Those from harsh environments are usually the best warriors because they have less to lose and more to gain. Thank you for updating
Apart from the fun answers for that one again, clear (and repetitive, and safe) answer was provided in the Epilogue for Book I, as well as Prologue of the tome:
Apologies if the question has been perceived wrong; and the above answer is still floating in the perspective of the fiction, even though it is closer to Doylist view. To clarify, as a pure Watsonian perspective, it is the account of the past, and specifically for Book II, Vol.I, the account of a khan for his people's past.
Was not going to comment on this, because it is redundant, and an obvious mistake to dive into argument on a (semi)public forum, and had the fair share of those back in 90s; yet still, have failed to stop, could not save self to point it out. sighHere it goes:
No. That is the self-advocating hysterical fantasy view of pure imperialism.
It is utterly redundant, but still have replied, therefore apologies. Only to declare the view, but will not comment on this again.
This one is simpler to comment, although again should not have; yet still could not stop self.
No. The lifespan of a human being or that of cultures in the known history is not long enough to allow evolution of species to adapt to the surrounding environment; a homo sapiens from karakorum has the same capabilities as a homo sapiens from kampala, as well as one from ulm, or as one from tsézhin deezʼáhí.
It requires hundreds of thousands to thousands of thousands years of evolution to observe such an effect, if that (hardy warrior-ship?) would be classified as a valid taxonomy. A homo erectus from ~2000 ka ago of africa-asia-europe, or a homo longi from ~400 ka ago of north china had different anatomical features than a homo sapiens (modern human, originating from africa, ~300 ka) based on their evolution intervals.
Edit: Corrected grammatical mistake.
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Book II, Vol.I - The Great Khan (p.12) - The Turmoil
Book II - Volume I - The Great Khan - XII
The Turmoil
Bu-bu don’t go, you promised me we would ride together to Bargujin, you promised to teach me to count the stars quickly, you promised we would herd the sheep, don’t go Bu-bu.
You are speaking of the words I do not understand. Your eyes are looking at the space no one can reach, your body is shaking no one can grasp, your mind is in the place no one can help. Should I call for others to your aid?
No, Rhomaios. I feel the end, but for now my mind is in my grasp. I must admit, it is harder as the days pass, for they are shortening, yet hopefully sooner than I fear, I will be riding in the eternal sky.
I cannot agree to hope for the end of anyone, and your words are mortifying to hear.
Are you speaking true, Rhomaios, for it is not definite to see the support of your eyes for the words you have? You speak generous, but your eyes, I see them Rhomaios, they are burning in anger.
I was able to hide my feelings for a long time, but since you told me the tales of the great khan of yours belong to the evil, I am no more. But your demise; that I do not seek. I cannot, not even for you.
So be it. All I wish is you listen to my words, yet it would be my ambitious hope to fulfil, for you to understand what you suffer is what you believe, Rhomaios. You see the undying righteousness in your tales, thus you will find the evil everywhere. The reason is not lying behind your tales, but it is the fact that you do believe. I do not oppose the existence of the monsters, I told you, for they live among us, for they ride, for they rule, and one has to be strong as the castle of stones in the mind against such to fight them, yet the trust you have for the benevolent to challenge them, it is this desperation you will always suffer from.
I cannot agree with you. Certainly not after the cursed words I had heard from you, and more did follow as you spoke, for you said days before, Ariq Khan burned them all.
I am not going to repeat what others would do, else what they already do, Rhomaios. Yet your words are true. He released High King Deryab to live in his own misery, and he burned the remaining alive.
Alive…
Yes, Rhomaios. When the storm reaches the skies of the might as Chinggis Khan, it cannot be stopped, for it will roar with the wrath of ages, unrestricted, unquestioned, unprecedented.
But that is impossible. It should have been improbable. It must have been intolerable for anyone to allow this.
You are still longing for a saviour, Rhomaios…
You told Ariq Khan was never alone! You told he was surrounded by the kin, supported by the followers, and regardless of his great might, The Seeker was there to gaze upon the madness! How could The Seeker allow this?
You are amazing, Rhomaios.
Ridicule my mind as you wish, but I may comprehend the blindness of others when they face the evil, and yet, I cannot accept as they rode with it.
So be it. Let the evil stand as you deem in the tales, but I am amazed in the truth, for your questions are showing the brilliance I have been looking for so long a time, and it is only gladness behind the amazement I have, Rhomaios, far from ridiculing. Your words are true, The Seeker was paralysed in her mind, when the tales of all she rigorously gathered only ended in the incredible horrors, despite her intentions. It was unacceptable, it was inadmissible, it was inconceivable. She was determined, the horrors of the old would never return, yet she was looking at the ones, screaming in the flames, however guilty, else innocent, devoured by the storm of Chinggis Khan. She was determined, the mindless violence of the ancient would be stopped, yet she was only one, and then she was against all, riding with Chinggis Khan. She was determined, the unruly brutality of the past would be eradicated, yet she was the bringer of the tales, only to allow the might of Ariq, for him to storm as Chinggis Khan.
And you… How could you tolerate such, when you whip my mind with the words of cold but you claim them only to be true, condemning my hopes, yet you lived all the insanity through?
I told you, Rhomaios, when Ariq claimed there was only Tengri The Eternal Blue riding over his head, everyone heard what he said, but not every mind understood what it brought. Even more, they were the men and the women, and it was beyond the mind of a child. The love of a mother is necessary for a child to survive, the love of a father is necessary for a child to thrive, but they cannot grasp the strings of the destiny despite their rigour, for a child will always be ambitious for more, and always different than the expected it will be. Then for a child seeing not many suns, there were only siblings, either playfully sharing else selfishly spoiling, there were only uncles and aunts, either stern and trustworthy, otherwise harsh and intimidating. Yet there was The Seeker, and her words were always soothing, her tales were always encouraging, her mind was always celebrating. I never told you I approved what Chinggis Khan Ariq did, and I never claimed it, but as my mind came to the age, I despised it, for it was showing the insanity of the might you said, but the might itself overshadows it many times, thus I was too late. The vision of Ariq when he heard the words of the demise of his sisters, it was the unknown mind for an unknown place in an unknown day, and he rode for it, bringing everyone with him, whether in the knowing, else unaware.
I am unable to follow the reason you provide. Was she the one you followed, so to despise Chinggis Khan? Is this the truth?
You are still looking for the simplest answer, Rhomaios, even though you know very well it will not lead you to reach the end of the darkness you are desperately struggling in.
But the tales I heard before coming to your presence, however they were nameless, be them for the past, else from our age, they were not – they could not – they should not –
The tales of my age, the ones you heard, to explain them to you would be to repeat how the boulder falls, how the barley is shaken, how the leaves get wet. But the ones from the age of Ariq Khan, I will tell them all, Rhomaios. Yet, before those tales, you need to be reminded, for a child asking a simple question, just as how to ride the horse when it does not behave as the rider wishes, the answer is important but one has to have the mind to reply, Rhomaios.
I… I do not understand.
I would speak for your mind to see, but I do not wish to hurt you Rhomaios, for I do know you never had any children of yours.
You cannot hurt any more with the words, yet I am in the anger to learn what the tales are. Even if you did not approve, you still rode with him.
Yes. Yes I did. However, Rhomaios, when a child would ask to master the ride, Altana the Silent Seal would see you never to touch a horse, for she would decide it would be too dangerous for one asking such a question. Aldar Noyan the Tempest would reply in plain words, “Ride as you would run, but do not ever cry when you fall,” as his raging eyes would crush the innocence of the question. Tsymzidma the Wise Karsak would look at you, she would detest your plea, she would pity your existence through only her eyes, for she was the coldest mountain to ask for help, however she would aid you. Saran the Restless Heron would embrace you with all her being, she would try to help you however she could, even though she could never fulfil the thirst the question brought. Kublai Darqan would laugh at you, as if you are the weakest creature of Tengri, however he would bring you the best horse of Buryat, however he would support you mounting the horse, however he would watch you tremor as you try to ride, and it was the amusement in his eyes seeing one in the struggle, to overcome the failures of his own. Temyulen… Temyulen the Black Tiger would answer, but with the eyes of sorrow, and one could do nothing but sulk, for she was lost in the agony. A child can feel all immediately, yet unable to tell, for the words require the life of many suns. Then by the undying fierceness in the love of Phongma the Bear, one would feel the safety, but a child can conceive the youthful jealousy for sharing that love with the siblings.
That is why the answers of the others were always more valuable to listen to, for it was the unmatched truth of the real, when Tuyana the Moon Sable would reply. Her words were the least to expect the empathy for the weak, yet it was hers to surprise, for her mind was able to live for one ambition only, and every other being was just the rest to be either defeated, else to be tolerated. If the challenger was out of her path, she would only tell you the truth, the unique serenity one can ever strive for. A child can see this, before anyone can notice, yet it is still unsatisfactory, for the words to cast the mystery one desires. Thus was The Seeker able in feeding the mind asking for more, for her tales would lead them to the places no one had ever seen before. They nevertheless lacked the sincere eyes, for hers were also taken by the words to those places she would speak of.
Then who?
It was Sambuu, Rhomaios. Sambuu Noyan would look at you, and you would feel the ice in the words he spoke to you, but you would know they were the truth. They would freeze you, yet you would see the meaning behind, for he would answer you in the loving intimacy, for he would grant you the eternal blessing, of allowing you to elevate to his mind. You would see the benevolent generosity, yet his was the respectful looks in the eyes, as if you were by his side, instead of looking from below. I remember, I remember for they told me all, for he was in this mind even when he was young. The life was only a breeze to cherish for him, only to ride with the greatest joy, only to change when it required at any moment, but always giving the utmost support others would need, the unbreakable, the unyielding, the unmatched faith he would create in the minds, for he had it in his mind when he knew. It was this reason also, for Aldar would be always by his side, for it was by Sambuu he could find the comfort of the kin, of being in the everlasting bond with a sibling. It was this reason, had you had the chance, you would ask to learn, none other than Sambuu.
Did you trust him?
Yes. Until the sun of Kün Ana dawns never more, I would trust him, Rhomaios, but this is irrelevant for the tales of that age. In the days of old, Sambuu was the one to reach any answer, for he would tell all asked for, in the mind a child could find the love, the safety, the confidence, the mystery, the truth. Aldar was raging in his tempest, not even Ariq Khan could tame his anger for long, but it was always Sambuu. Ariq Khan would amass the greatest might under the sky, even The Seeker would struggle to challenge him, but it was always Sambuu. When the Kirghiz Khanate fell from the eyes, there was nothing to stop the riders of Yekhe Mongol Uls. Yet it was still the age of the two kurultais, for the pain of the loss still seemed never to die, thus was Kublai Darqan in the hate, for The Seeker was questioning the aftermath. She would dare to face the khan, only to say “You, son of The Warrior of the Red! You, descendant of The Wolf! You promised to bring together all the tales! You promised never to live the horrors of the old again! Yet we are hearing the screams, the burning of lives, the flames on the flesh! You are cursing this land! You are cursing your kin, your family! You are cursing your people!”
Did Ariq Khan listen to her?
Yes.
How could this happen? You told me he was Chinggis Khan, the butcher, the evil, the greatest villain I ever know!
So be it. I will not try more to question your mind, but I will continue to tell the tales of old, Rhomaios. Chinggis Khan Ariq listened to her, for his was the greatest mind with the vision unknown to all, but Kublai Darqan would not.
What was it, you speak of the vision, for it is hidden in the tales?
To rule, Rhomaios, to rule. Yet one cannot rule all, when all are not following. Ariq Khan knew what he did was the intolerable, but it was the need for his mind, as well for the kin’s, to satisfy the justice, yet it could never bring their loss back. He knew it, he told it, his was the greatest mind to see it, but the others fell in the dark of the vengeance. Kublai Darqan was in the deepest desire for justice, in all his righteous mind, for he wished nothing else, not even he wanted any spoils from the fallen Kirghiz. He despised his kin, for Tsymzidma and Temyulen would be granted the lands beyond the white of Altais, and he was in the anger. Yet more than him, Aldar was furious, for he was screaming to resume to ride, for the justice in his mind, however it was impossible. But, Rhomaios, Ariq had the love of Phongma, the wisdom from The Seeker, and the support of the thousands. More than those, he had the support of his kin, not all, but fortunate for him, of Sambuu, even though not in the way one would assume. Kublai was himself, and he had no one else. Aldar was himself, but he had Sambuu by his side. Yet, Sambuu spoke to Ariq, “It is not the day to seek the justice over Kirghiz any more, my brother Ariq. You were the one to tell us, to ride with you to bind the tales of all, and we did, my brother Ariq. You were the one to lead us, to fight the Kirghiz to punish for their crimes, and we did, my brother Ariq. There is nothing left of them, and we need to celebrate now, for ours is the victory, people’s is the peace, and yours is the glory.”
What happened to the bonding, the victory, the justice?
Simple questions will bring simple answers, Rhomaios, and they may satisfy the mind, yet they will oversee every reason in the truth. By achieving the victory over Kirghiz, Chinggis Khan Ariq was proclaimed to be the one true khagan, but only for the steppes, for the forests, for the mountains. By granting the spoils of the fallen khanate, he was supported by Temyulen and by Tsymzidma, securing his bond with the kin, assuring the Khishigs to follow him. By listening to the words of The Seeker, he was celebrated by Phongma, by Altana, by Saran, yet it was Kublai in the hateful denial, for his was the unsatiable justice, and more, he could not accept the respect The Seeker would get. Thus were the words of Sambuu the greatest help, for he was the sibling every other would accept, for Kublai could not contest. Those words of Sambuu Noyan persuaded all of them, and only many suns later I realised, how brilliant was the mind of Ariq Khan, for he was able in the listening, for those words concurred with what his vision was. Yet Aldar was not compromising, desiring for more, for there were many in the blame, but he was already lost in the vengeance rather than justice, thus was he dismissed. When he could not stop himself, he would start his tempest, one erupting within the greater one they lived in, but only causing disaster, ending in more tragedy. But it was the age of Ariq Khan, for he was Chinggis Khan, Khan of the Bargas, Khagan of Yekhe Mongol Uls, for his was the greatest storm. What happened to bonding, victory, justice, was more of them, Rhomaios. By the thousand and fifteenth age of your Lord, it was ascertained forever, Chinggis Khan Ariq was bestowed with the kut of Tengri The Eternal Blue to rule the world known to him, to his kin, to his people.
You said The Seeker… and you said Sambuu his brother… and you said not all of his kin, his family…
…and I told you Rhomaios, the storm is never to cease. Yes, there was The Seeker, and following her were The Bear, The Restless Heron, The Silent Seal, but after those victories, The Black Tiger and The Wise Karsak were to follow him fiercely, as well as the Khishigs. The Moon Sable was already by his side since the kurultai of the wind. Yet there were always Kublai Darqan and The Tempest to oppose, not just Ariq Khan, but to all, and more The Seeker. And thus, Rhomaios, you should be able, you should be in the knowing, you should realise, how could the storm remain unstoppable.
I dread to ask, yet I wish – no, I have to know.
The sharp mind always asks for more to learn, Rhomaios. So be it. When The Seeker was no more.
What could be… How?! Friend! What did happen to them when she was… when she was…?
She was the light in the darkened minds they were in, thus when she was no more, there remained no one to challenge, but the boulder does not fall just by a kick, for the barley is not shaken by only a wind, for the leaves do not get wet by only rains. To answer how, I need to rest for the day. But to what happened, I can readily answer, Rhomaios, for it is the simplest. Turmoil, Rhomaios. When the only light faints, when the pillars of the earth are shaken, when the serenity of words leaves, the storm prevails inevitable, and the life is left out of harmony.
Note on the link the life is left out of harmony: Philip Glass - Koyaanisqatsi - from the soundtrack for the (documentary) film with the same name (1983).
Publishers'-Edit 13.02.2023: Corrected major publication mistakes. Correction on format.
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That is true, it is relatively large; however, the mechanics of the game are not satisfactory enough to prevent the rise of the human-player by any rate, and with certain decisions -e.g. mongol empire- it is inevitable due to the power provided by those decisions (it was also as such for ck2 with horse lords). The current situation of the game design requires much more work on such aspects (as well as extensive debugging), especially for those that do not want to blob for any reason (personal preference, never do world-conquest, never paint-the-map, never multiplay). Hopefully it will change, but that is out of the hands of the players, and solely depends on the preferences of the designers/developers.
Then the chosen tag comes in; fortunately, one does not have to worry about betraying role-play reasons when playing with the mongols (or with any steppe tribes), because such a run requires one to go large, to fulfil the plausible realism.
It is certainly by at least two hundred years early for mongol empire to form in comparison to history (and with barga buryats, instead of khiyad -kiyat- of khamag mongols, which borjigins, tümeds, barlas, etc. belong to).
Since the game map does not contain inner mongolia, china, manchuria, but ends at the borders of outer mongolia (so that if it had, then there would be the Ten Kingdoms in early starts, Liao dynsty of Khitan, and even Song dynasty in late starts to struggle against), and even if certain restraints had been employed during the run (to delay the empire decision), this size is, and this power is, inevitable in the game.
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It is endlessly fascinating, to read these exchanges between two men of such disparate cultures, with such antinomies of value and religious conviction and political commitment between them. When we think there is at last a connexion between them, the understanding which one of them carries leads to a misunderstanding with the other. This is superb writing, and it comes from a deep familiarity with the difficulties of real cultural exchange. I am once again in awe. My apologies for the fact that my replies come slowly. It is simply difficult to find the words for this.
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Book II, Vol.I - The Great Khan (p.13) - The Lightning in the Eyes
Book II - Volume I - The Great Khan - XIII
The Lightning in the Eyes
It is nevertheless encouraging to be the friend for you again, Rhomaios, for whenever you wanted to call me as such, I crushed your hopes yet again. Your knowledge on my people is immense, yet the meaning of nökör escaped you, and you would be surprised by the truth behind it. But I must return from this gracious feeling, and wonder, if this is again the pity for a miserable, from one otherwise filled with the anger of the many. However your answer is, I will ignore it for now, for I do not deserve such mercy, not from you, and certainly not from Tengri All-Sky. How long has it been, since I was lost in the slumber?
Days, Friend. You closed your eyes to rest only for one, yet at least five days have passed, in the dawn we are speaking, if it is counted.
Did they…?
No, Friend, I was treated well, you do not need to fear. I was genuinely surprised, but I should have known it better, for your baghaturs, your Khishigs, your servants, and more your family, they showed me the highest respect, just as you do, even when you were trembling in your sleeps since days. They provided all the healing herbs in my knowing for you, and all that I never heard of, while I was waiting beside you. However…
However?
Daritai. He was there, too. He did not say a word, but watched you silently. I could not see, and I still cannot tell, whether his eyes were showing the worry of a concerned son, else the enmity of an outraged one. His eyes, his face, his look, he appeared just as the horrors in the tales I heard since the thirty suns I roamed in your realms before I was brought to your presence. He was… terrifying.
Terrifying, yes, and it is my fault. It is the consequence of many tales, some from before, but ensured by one from my age. The tales in the age of Chinggis Khan Ariq, as they shaped my mind who I became to be, their winds stormed the minds of others in my age too.
But Friend, you do not deserve such furore. If the words of your gods damn you, that is not the only end for you, for it is unfair to you. The words of My Lord would help you, for I know they are shining the light of my salvation.
I pitied you, Rhomaios, but now I realise, I should envy you, for being sharp in the mind, yet forsaken from the truth by the absolution you got, so much to drown in the bliss. In that, I am unable. It is suffice to say, I do not seek taking it away from you, but the tales I must resume to tell, they will break you, for they will shatter the core of your being, the mercy of your mind, the grace of your generosity.
Friend, I listened to you, I got furious with you, I cursed on you, for I failed in my anger when I heard the name Chinggis Khan. This was a mistake, almost a sin, and for this I am ashamed of myself. I should not have blamed you for the sins, not belonging to you, but left in the past, for the villainy of the ages before you, for the evil now resides in the old. However you sinned you think, it is understandable, for the tales of your age I do know well, however you made them free of your name, however you banished the Barga fame, but I do know Baigaljin to be benevolent.
This is the misery of your mind, that you suffer for you are believing, Rhomaios. I tell you there are no such saviours in the ones you look for, for you seek it in the hands of the mighty rulers, be it ours else yours. It has many weaknesses, the belief you have, for it is the doom shared by all people, as long as they remain to be followers. One weakness is the lie it is, the untrue, the shadow-veil for the thousands of minds. The other is more sinister, for it persuades the many with the acts of one, and they fall in the hope of happiness, and yet nothing lives forever, Rhomaios. However you would say the death of flesh and the eternity of your soul, else we say the ride of the mind in The Eternal Blue, it does not matter. This is, not true, Rhomaios. You and I both know it, we are not immortals, when the one passes away, the others still breathing, their lives continue in their tales. It may seem the words can make the lost ones immortal, but no, Rhomaios. However I brought the words of Tengri from the mysteries of the tales to speak the sounds on the scrolls and the pedestals, nothing lasts forever. The other weakness, the sinister doom is this, Rhomaios: The gracious rule in my age you see, you hear, you trust, it will end. Just as the name of the Barga I removed from the tales for all, the name of Baigaljin will see the same fate, for it is the ambition of Borchigin all follow now, in that name Daritai is now gathering, opposing whoever I am, whatever I am. It is my grave mistake, it is my cursing damnation, it is my unforgivable sin.
It cannot be, for I do know what I heard, Friend. Your age is resounding with your tales of kindness more than the ones of wrath, even if you forsake your name from them, from all. It is absolutely not comparable to the tales of Chinggis Khan, however they might contain the greatness, they are truly of the evil, but yours are the forbearance.
I told you thousands perished before my eyes, Rhomaios, and you are still in the pursuit of the lie, the enemy of the truth. Never it was the greatness, for thousands died in front of my eyes, be it in the age of Chinggis Khan Ariq, else more in my age, when I was the one leading the Kara Tuğ, when all were following where I rode, and I did nothing for the innocent, I did not stop it, even though I could, for it was in my hands thousands died. Killed, murdered, massacred.
But you are suffering the pain, yet in the knowing you are, for they were the mistakes you did, Friend, you are paying the penance for the crimes you had, you are aware of your sins. You might have read the books of schismatics, Friend, for they dare to say we were born in sins, but they are in the wrong. Our Lord tells us we are the creation of Him, and He created us to live in peace, yet Devil is out, and we are tempted by Its foul acts, thus we sin. Yes, you could have saved thousands, you should have saved them, yet you fell for the lure of the rule, but you did many good deeds. Chinggis Khan might have decreed laws, but you brought the laws of your gods into the books of yours, you banished the slaying of the kin, you forbade the wrath on the ones following gods other than yours, you even freed the tales from the name Barga. You are just lost by the false gods. You only need to ask for forgiveness now. If we return ourselves to the love of the All-Mighty, we can redeem ourselves in His eyes. I know this, for I found the path of salvation. I committed a grave sin, and I was burning in remorse just as you, but Father told me I should confess, to be reborn, to live as Our Lord demands. I did, and I was delivered from evil.
It is amazing, Rhomaios, but now it is for I am losing my patience again, for you are falling from the edge of the truth, into the depths of the bliss. The bliss of your world, and it is opposed by those calling you also schismatics. I do know the words of the both, but I was born with the words of my world, under The Eternal Blue, upon me bestowed the kut of Tengri All-Sky. When the truths of many fight each other, the clash fails the words, for it is solved by arrows and swords. You fail to see the truth, but now we shall disregard this, for it belongs to tales of skies above, they are above the ones I have to tell. The words I spoke are not confessions to redeem my mind, that was not, it is not, this will never be, Rhomaios. Fortunate for you, I am out of the might I dared to claim, however I desire to fight yet more, be it by the words. I gave up struggling in the search for the truth of minds for why we follow others, but your words fire my anger, exhausting my patience yet again. Truly amazing you are, Rhomaios, in the end, trying to save my mind, daring to absolve for who I am. I am beyond that mercy, for I have told you the tales will break you.
I know what I heard before entering your presence, and I heard all the tales told by you. I am not a priest, nor can I absolve you of your sins, but only God All-Mighty can, if you ask for it. Yet I will never give up on my hope for the ones suffering as you, and you are the one suffering the most I have ever seen. Friend, I reject to yield. It is now your round, for you must have realised it by now.
So be it. I told you the words of the tales, but only the ones when The Seeker was yet there with the Bargas.
What happened to her, Friend? How could Chinggis Khan allow whatever happened to her?
When the war over the steppes ended, it was yet to be known, all realms from the white horizon to the blue horizon of Altais to be ruled by Chinggis Khan Ariq, the Bargas would wear no crown. It was the fall of the vision of High King Deryab, and from the ashes of what remained, the vision of Ariq Khan rose. He would bring the doom on the ones following the Kirghiz, but the followers of the Kara Tuğ, the riders behind the Sulde of the Khagan, the peoples of Yekhe Mongol Uls were bestowed with the riches. He was the one to decree, the spoils to be shared fairly. He would continue riding, for they would follow him, but the screams of The Seeker rose against. “You promised, Ariq of the Bargas! You promised! The mistakes of the past shall remain in the dust! You promised!” Only by the words of Sambuu Noyan he was persuaded, for the peace of the Uls to reign, instead of riding to the ends of the world to bring the blue sun and the white doom to all. The Khishigs were loyal to the khan since Ten Suns of War, yet they were the true followers of the words by The Seeker even before his time. Then Rhomaios, the unexpected happened, and Achigh of the Borogchin was the first one to remain silent. It was the first time one of the Four would openly side with Chinggis Khan Ariq, by saying no words, by seeing the unknown in the eyes of him, by riding with him, by remaining ambivalent to the teachings of The Seeker.
Was it because he was granted lands after the war, Friend?
One would see the lure to contemplate such reasons as you ask, Rhomaios, but by the tales I tell, you should be able in finding the truth. Temyulen was the lost mind among the Bargas, contrary to everyone would expect. The Black Tiger had trained many warriors, she had ruled the Borchigin lands during the Ten Suns of War, she was the fire of the hearth for the Bargas, together with Achigh of the Borogchins. Yet, the deaths of Byorte and Bilduu took her from us too, for she could not recover from the pain. She lived, she rode, she spoke, but as a shadow of a mind, not as the fierce woman she was. She needed the sight of soothing forests under snow, the smell of calming springs, the cold of the black, and this was the truth seen by her man, Achigh. He would take care of her, he would carry her duties out in her name, and after the war he would bring his beloved away from the plains of misery to the ends of the Baraba. The granted lands he gladly accepted not as a spoil, but a desperate need for his beloved. In his eyes, Temyulen should be away from the pain for her to be reborn, but more than such, she needed her sisters taken from her.
No one can provide happiness when the need is such impossible, Friend.
Yes, Rhomaios, your words are of the truth. He could never achieve to fulfil that need, no one can, there is no return when the life of one ends in our world, but he could only serve as the sword and the arrow for their khan, to bring the justice, whatever that might be, thus to follow the orders. So rode Achigh of the Borogchins, by the side of Ariq Khan.
It is heart-breaking, Friend, to lose the support of the closest ones in life. More to it, it must have been troubling for The Seeker, did it not?
Yes, Rhomaios, but it also caused the remaining Khishigs to be more protective for The Seeker, for Saran the Restless Heron would urge her man to be on his greatest attention, thus closed Dergun of the Hokhots the circle around The Seeker for every other else. Kubasar of the Sartlans would be following her steps wherever she went, even when she was addressing her khan. Her words would be heard thanks to the riders sent by Inancha of the Old tengris. Yet, Achigh of the Borogchins made his decision to remain silent when The Seeker said her words opposing the khan. However, Rhomaios, Kün Ana chases Ay Ata, a new day the world sees when a night fades, the tales do not emerge from a couple of minds, but they are born from the many.
What do you mean, Friend? Do you mean others… No. Kublai Darqan, and Aldar Noyan, it must be what you mean.
Yes, Rhomaios, it seems the days I had to rest for also worked for your mind, to hear the sounds of the words of the tales beyond the bliss and the anger one would have. Aldar Noyan the Tempest could not accept the peace in his thundering mind, but the ferocity can be extinguished when it meets a mightier fury. However, Kublai Darqan was not as such, for he was satisfied with he had, the lands of the sacred, the mountains of the ancestors, and his riders of the loyal, thus his need for justice was the righteous. His mind was the ever-changing towards his khan, for his brother would say the words to promise the justice he desired, but the vision of Ariq Khan was far greater than that, the vision to rule would best the needs of others. That is the nature of ruling, Rhomaios, for it is Kün Ana chases Ay Ata, after every night of the world, there comes a new day. However it was Sambuu Noyan to persuade all, in the eyes of Kublai Darqan, Ariq Khan would listen to The Seeker to live in the peace of the Uls, and for him that was unacceptable.
But Friend, Chinggis Khan had already dismissed his brother Aldar, had he not?
Yes, Rhomaios, he did, and I told you, The Tempest could not be tamed, and I told you yet again, not every other could see the vision of Chinggis Khan Ariq. To rule, one should listen, and only then one could know when to ride, else to rest; and Rhomaios, he had the gracious mind, the strong trust, the benevolent hope. Yet agreeing the words of Sambuu Noyan could not save them from the greater conflict, but only delay it, for it was The Seeker trying to prevent them from riding, that was in the eyes of every other seen, in the ears heard, in the minds known. The vision to rule all, Rhomaios, that requires the brilliance of the mind, to know for all when to ride, else for all to rest, and his was the greatest. Chinggis Khan Ariq knew what he had to say.
What did he say to The Tempest, Friend?
When the words ended, the silence reigned in the ordo, but the eyes of the one true khan were of the lightning. Through those, no one could see it, but few. Aldar Noyan would only catch a glimpse of it. However Rhomaios, I saw those eyes, never to forget, ever to remember, lightning with the enormous blasts of the determined mind.
What was it, what did you see in his eyes, Friend?
The vision, Rhomaios, the vision of the unknown place, in the unknown day, for the unknown mind, to rule all. Yet, it was not only I, but the lightning in those eyes was truly seen but by one other.
Who was it, Friend?
Phongma.
Note on the link Phongma: Chelsea Wolfe - Feral Love - from the album Pain is Love - 2013
Publishers'-Edit 13.02.2023: Corrected publication mistakes.
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Cheers mate for the extremely generous words!
Was about to conclude with "have no worry to rush, as still hunting down the mistakes in writing", then you hit with another extraordinarily kind line:
One of these days, will shatter under the weight of such enormous praises. Will try best to match the expectations.
Cheers mate for still reading! It is incredibly honouring to be read, especially knowing that the AAR is in this messed up situation; it has become an infestation ground of grammatical, semantic, lexical, etc errors; still hunting them down. Just corrected a now that had to be know. Holy Dorothy Vaughan.
Oh wait. Now have seen a typographical error. Have to go, editing does not wait. Cheers!
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Book II, Vol.I - The Great Khan (p.14) - The Last of the Tuvans
Book II - Volume I - The Great Khan - XIV
The Last of the Tuvans
Phongma was the follower of the words by The Seeker, by the tales you told, I do understand Friend, thus what she saw in those eyes must have frightened her.
Frightened? The Bear? You are lost in the mistaken-mind, the words eluded their meanings for you, the tales are escaping from you, Rhomaios. No, she was not afraid, but what she saw made her to decide. She could never follow the storm.
But Friend, I do remember your words, and what I know of them, I can say Phongma would never abandon the side of Chinggis Khan, for their love was eternal.
Yes, Rhomaios, her love for her man was eternal, and her mind was feral in the love, yet not only for him, but more for others. You should know it, for I already told you in the tales.
But… No. The children.
Yes, Rhomaios. They are what we all beings live for, to bring our tales to them. The eyes of Chinggis Khan Ariq were of lightning, but those of Phongma the Bear were ever vigilant, never to miss, forever to ready, and it was more since that day when the Bargas heard the crying screams of Temyulen for the demise of their sisters. If even the Bargas could not reach their kin to protect them, then it would mean she had to be more on her guard than before. This never affected her mind, for she would always share all her love with her children, she would never falter in loving them, she would never yield to protect them. Yet, Rhomaios, she would use any opportunity to provide the children the freedom of the days, the joy of the sun, the fragrance of the nights, the tranquillity of the moon, while guarding and protecting, watching and nurturing, riding and living. I remember, I remember all the days and the nights, for she would provide those for the children to enjoy, even after the darkest days of the Bargas. Yet, she would even see through her slumber, to wake up and to run, to reach her child to protect against the wolves in the dark of the night. Phongma the Bear was as such, and she saw the lightning in those eyes, of the one true khan her immortal beloved was, and it was shuddering, summoning all her foresight, bringing all her vigilance, for she saw what would happen in that vision. Thus was ordered, for she decided, to bring the children away to the white of the Altais, whereas the ordo would finish its resting, to ride to invade, to conquer the mountains of Tannu, to end the villainy of Belek Darqan the Flayer.
But Friend, this would mean, she did not ride with Chinggis Khan for the war to come, would it not?
Yes, Rhomaios. So did Phongma the Bear ride, along with Saran the Restless Heron, bringing all children of the Bargas to the lands of Tsymzidma the Wise Karsak, in the white of the Altais, to keep them away from the wars to come. And Rhomaios, she was in the right, for her mind was ever vigilant, and the fortune was on her side.
Friend, what did The Seeker do, when it was decided to invade the lands of Tannu?
The Seeker did what she could do, Rhomaios, to prevent the horrors of the old, to heal the wounds of the past, thus rode she with her khan and his ordo, for hers was the determined mind too. She could not stop the ride of the storm, for it was true, the crimes of Belek Darqan the Flayer were in the steps of Erlik, for it was not only to bring the justice for the Barga sisters, for The Flayer had killed and tortured, ravaged and devastated, caused immeasurable, intolerable, unbearable pains not only for the Bargas, but for the lives of the many. She could say nothing to challenge the decision, but she would use every skill of her mind, all strength of her mind, any word of her mind, to save all from falling off the grace of justice into the doom of revenge.
Friend, I can only see the wrathful lying in the words of Chinggis Khan, even though I understand the need for justice against The flayer, for you told they were his evil crimes in causing such suffering upon the many, not only the Bargas. Friend, it is obvious of the tale you are speaking, Chinggis Khan did use the trust of The Seeker only to betray her words, but avoiding any challenge.
Yes, Rhomaios, now you are closer to understand the truth, whereas your sentiment for believing in the existence of saviours clouds your mind yet again. You do not want to accept it, for your rulers else others’, you claim there is the greatness if benevolence, but this is the fall of your judgement, for you are the blind-minded. This was the brilliance of the mind, for Chinggis Khan Ariq tamed The Tempest, while silencing any words of The Seeker, for she could not ignore the villainous crimes of The Flayer. This was his way, Rhomaios, for his was the greatest mind, but yes Rhomaios, I did not approve just as you do not, however different our reasons are.
But… But Friend, I am tired of trying, yet I want to once again say it, I do not have the inherent enmity towards your kind, as my people have for you so you claim, and –
Spare me your struggle, Rhomaios. Even if you accept us as beings just as your kind, there is the difference between you and I in the minds, for you are the one in the bliss of the beliefs. You still trust in your desperate hope, there could be, there can be, there will be saviours, among the ones ruling others. No, Rhomaios, there is not. It does not matter any more, for I have to tell all tales I remember, before it is too late, and I will cease to be.
Then I should not tire your mind any more, Friend, but I can only ask: What happened in the war for Tannu lands?
Chinggis Khan Ariq rode with his tümen to the hills of Tannu, as if a thunder from Ülgen, surrounding and forcing all tribes following The Flayer to yield, for his was the greatest mind. Aldar Noyan led another tümen, as if a tempest from Ülgen, eradicating any riders showing even a bit of resistance, for his was the glorious valour. Any herder to surrender, any rider to yield, their lives would be spared, for The Seeker was always there, her tales were in the minds of the riders, the Four Khishigs would ride from one tümen to another, they would deliver the serenity of words to all. The words of fights, the words of battles, the words of the war flew as if Burkut itself, for they reached the lands of Tsymzidma the Wise Karsak, through the örtöös in the steppes, how the riders would clash, how Chinggis Khan Ariq would share the most spoils with every one of them, for all remaining Bargas would hear the fairness in them.
It was the warming shine of the spring, the war of the Kirghiz was already in the old, but the war of The Flayer was ongoing, and we were the children of the Bargas, Rhomaios, enjoying the freedom of the days, the joy of the sun, the fragrance of the nights, the tranquillity of the moon. One would hear the laughter of Sambuu on that day, for he would embrace his beloved woman, while watching over the children trying their strength against horses of the wild. Saran would guide them how to use the stirrups, Phongma would ride her horse from afar, but her eyes were always on them, and others would herd the cattle. I remember, I remember all of them, for it was the last day I know I was the happiest of the bliss, racing against my siblings, fighting them, laughing with them. Then I saw the horses, riding from afar, bearing the sulde of Kublai Darqan, reaching the steppes. You may know those plains now by the name Kaytargan lands.
I have been there, Friend, but I feel it has been ages now.
Yes, Rhomaios, I know you have been there.
What was it, Friend, for Kublai Darqan reached with his riders, what did he want, what words did he bring?
He ordered his riders to rest and to supply for the coming days, but without saying for what end. Phongma arrived no later than he reached, and Kublai Darqan greeted Khatun of the Mongols. His words were lost in the winds, but I understood he wanted to meet Sambuu.
Why was Sambuu there, Friend, but not with his brother Aldar, riding with Chinggis Khan?
It was the love in the life, Rhomaios, what he was seeking, for Sambuu would prefer the peace of the mind, not the clash of the swords, not the shrieks of arrows, not the agonising screams of dying people. Yet, he would never shy away from wars, for he was always there when his brother Chinggis Khan Ariq asked him, and the world had to end for Sambuu not to ride with Aldar, unthinkable it was. Aldar and Sambuu shared their joy and suffering together, since they were born from the same womb, they survived the age of their father together, so much as twins, yet never could be, but unlike Temyulen and Byorte, they were blessed with the fortune, for they rode together, by different reasons yet with the same love for each other. I could never understand it, for I was forsaken from such bonding with my own siblings, despite we had our love in our minds for each other. It was not, none could be, as the bond between Sambuu and Aldar. Yet, Rhomaios, by the demise of their sisters, and by the war against the Kirghiz, Sambuu was shaken, despite never showing, thus did he remain back in the Kaytargan steppes, while Aldar was roaring in his tempest. Sambuu would still ride, I can only assume, but Aldar did not ask, for he could not wait to punish the foe, whoever, whatever, however it was. Thus did Aldar Noyan the Tempest ride with Chinggis Khan Ariq, without even waiting any words from Sambuu Noyan. Thus was he there, and Kublai Darqan rode from Buryatia to speak with him. They spoke very brief, but I never heard the words of them, yet I did understand, what Kublai Darqan said, did end the joyous laughter of Sambuu Noyan. The sun began her descend, and the day succumbed to yellowish red, we started to gather, there were yurts to bring closer, firing the hearth to feel warmer, preparing the food to enjoy. They continued to talk, however, and they retired to a different fire, far from the yurts, pursuing the veil of intimate secrecy, away from the crowd of people. Yet, Rhomaios, for a curious one, such precaution is insufficient.
Did you have a chance to know what they talked about, Friend?
Yes… Yes, Friend, you do not need to mention my petty skills. Were you able, Friend, did you approach them without being seen, did you hear what they spoke of?
Yes, Rhomaios, I was able to catch the heated argument between the two brothers, away from their families and kin. Kublai Darqan was trying to persuade his brother, with the words of snakes: “Then you have no desire for retribution, is that what you say, Sambuu?” The brash sound of the voice still resounds in my ears, when I close my eyes, as if it was yesterday.
But what happened, Friend, did Sambuu agree with Kublai in the end? Did they ride together, in their mind to bring the justice, but for the mind daring to question, they would be only seeking the revenge for their pain?
How could it be? Why would Sambuu agree to this, without ever asking their khan, Friend?
I can only give the words of my mind, for I never had the chance to ask, Rhomaios. I can only assume, the demise of their sisters was devastating, but Sambuu Noyan also remembered Bukha of the Bargas, yet better than anyone. It was told they were closer than any other sibling, despite being the sons of different mothers. Those words of his brother reminding the age before them, the age of destruction and doom, the loss of the sibling seen not more than ten suns, those might have shaken him once again, for Kublai Darqan succeeded to gain his support. May be he saw the sight of Bukha in the eyes of Kublai, so did he have the fortune to ride with the lost brother of theirs, reviving his younger days with him, just as they were, and then again together they could be, the son of The Warrior of the Red, and the son of The Shaman of the White.
But the other Bargas were there, what did they do, Friend? Did they not warn them, prevent them riding, stop them fighting?
Friend, I have to ask. Did they… Were they… Did they not return?
Not before the ordo of Chinggis Khan Ariq, Rhomaios. Phongma the Bear sent her riders, carrying the words of the anger, ordering her khan to meet them in the Kaytargan steppes. I demand your return Ariq. End your ride chasing down the filth, for your family needs your lead. Those were the words she sent with riders of örtöös. When a khan orders, baghaturs do it, Rhomaios. When a khanum orders, a khan does it. Chinggis Khan Ariq received the words, halted his riders, for Belek Darqan the Flayer was ever elusive in Tannu mountains. They declared victory, but in the mind of worry, the tümens rode to the white of the Altais in the hurry. When the Bargas met in the Kaytargan steppes, fierce words were hurled at each other, while The Seeker was drowning in the ominous mind of the failure. She was able in watching over the conquests of the one true khan, but she could not reach everyone. Ariq sent his riders to scout, to learn where their brothers were, to call them back, to demand their answers for riding by their own minds without asking their brother, Khan of the Bargas, Khagan of Yekhe Mongol Uls.
Thus did they return, Rhomaios. Kublai Darqan was leading the riders, yet not all, but what remained of them. Buyana Khanum was ever the fierce mind, and her riders were masters of the plains, of the hills, of the mountains in Tuva, they shattered the riders of the Bargas. When they heard the words, families of harans and of irgens rode to Kaytargan steppes as well, reaching the plains, looking for their loved ones in the remaining band, running towards the survived yet wounded ones when they could, alas, many of them started their mourning for the fallen ones. The screams of sorrow rose to the skies.
I understand now, Friend. At least he could return, however wounded.
…
Chinggis Khan must have been furious, Friend, seeing the failure of his brothers, and after defying his rule.
Your words may hold the truth, Rhomaios, but what I saw was the lightning of all ages in his eyes. Regardless, it was the moment of deafness, it was the fading of words, it was the end of peace.
But The Seeker was there, was she not Friend? She must have –
The first to speak was Kublai Darqan, Rhomaios, but his words were lingering, buried under the guilt, mixed in the mist, yet the arrogance of his righteous mind made his head revel in the sky. His eyes would not yield, yet his was the blind-minded, even if he had the fortune to have a vision, he could never see it completely, the lightning in the eyes of Chinggis Khan Ariq. When the one true khan cut the words of his brother in, the silent were the others. “You did ride without asking my rule, you did ride without listening to my words, you did ride without seeking my mind, Kublai my brother. Now I am looking at one brother, trying to conjure words to explain, and another brother, covered in blood.” Kublai was able in gaining his courage, thus could he respond louder and ever audacious: “Are you going to blame me, under this sun of Kün Ana, under the sky of Tengri the Eternal Blue, instead of our foes, for they took our sisters from us, for they mauled our brother now? Is this true, My Khan?”
How did Chinggis Khan respond, Friend? What did he say to Kublai Darqan?
A storm roars with thunders, blasts with lightnings, sweeps all on its path with its unforgiving wrath, whether you hear it, else it is silent, but that is for it deafens all ears, it blinds all eyes to see, it shuts all minds to think, Rhomaios. The moment was imminent, and he, Chinggis Khan Ariq, looked at the tümens of riders, he looked at the Four Khishigs, he looked at the baghaturs, he looked at the kin, he looked at his family. Then, Rhomaios, he turned his back, he started to walk towards his horse.
He did agree with Kublai Darqan?? But this would mean, Friend –
Yes, Rhomaios, The Seeker was there, and she was first to see what was happening, for hers was the determined mind, to prevent the doom before it was coming. “No! No! NO! You said in your words, Ariq of the Bargas! Your words hold your promise, for everyone heard them! Your brothers fought, however they were in the wrong, but they were defeated! The fair of the sword, the just of the arrow, Buyana Khanum have bested their efforts! The law of the steppes, the rule of the one true khan, the peace of the words must prevail! You had agreed with my mind! You cannot ride now for more, Ariq of the Bargas, for it would bring only eternal worry, never-ending misery, ever-happening agony!” But it was too late, Rhomaios, and when Kublai Darqan did see what his brother ruled, what he chose, what Chinggis Khan Ariq decided, he lashed out his anger against The Seeker: “You do not speak now witch! Enough of your words! Your words hold no wisdom, when our kin bleeds, our people are mourning, our minds are in the sorrow!” After his enraged words, Kublai Darqan pushed The Seeker, thus did she fall on the ground. It was a moment of distraction for the Four Khishigs, but they were quick enough to cover The Seeker, their hands ready on the swords, helping The Seeker to rise again, guarding her against the darqan.
What did happen then, Friend? Hearing this, what did Chinggis Khan do, Friend?!
He stopped, and he looked back at them. Aldar Noyan, silent for the day, furious in his mind, then fired up by the words and the fight, he was about to act, for The Seeker was still his woman regardless of the words, regardless of the tales, regardless of the kurultais and the war and the sorrows they endured, but he was held by the hand of Chinggis Khan Ariq on his breast armour. He did not even look at Aldar, for his eyes were fixed at The Seeker, yet with the storms of lightning, seeing the unknown place, on the unknown day, for the unknown mind. At that moment, Rhomaios, The Seeker was frozen. At that moment, Rhomaios, all Bargas there saw the meaning. At that moment, Rhomaios, baghaturs started to walk towards their horses, silent and determined. The riders had already prepared their mounts, swords, and bows. The arrows had been already counted. The horses had been already saddled.
The Seeker was looking back at Chinggis Khan Ariq, with eyes of demanding, ordering, angering, begging, asking for wisdom, looking for mercy, and then Rhomaios, out of the Four Khishigs, Achigh of the Borogchins stepped back, he walked towards his horse. Saran the Restless Heron held the arm of her man, and Dergun of the Hokhots stood still, before even trying to stop Achigh. Kubasar of the Sartlans and Inancha of the Old tengris remained with The Seeker. So did it happen Rhomaios, thus were the Khishigs separated.
Chinggis Khan Ariq released the breast armour of Aldar Noyan, Kublai Darqan joined them, and the brothers walked towards their horses together. When Chinggis Khan Ariq mounted, he looked back at the remaining, seeing the crying eyes of The Seeker, seeing the tears of not pain, but anger, seeing the worried looks of others. He looked at Phongma the Bear, and said, but I knew the words were roaring in his mind: “Send the riders of örtöös. Call them to ride for the Kara Tuğ. Call them. All of them.”
All of them…? All of them??
All of them, Rhomaios. All six tümens of Yekhe Mongol Uls. Chinggis Khan Ariq rode with all riders of six tümens, to fight Buyana Khanum daughter of Aydin, to hunt for the last of the Tuvans.
Note on the link the last of the Tuvans: Trevor Jones & Randy Edelman - Sachem's Decision/Alice & Uncas/Magua's Death - from the soundtrack of The Last of the Mohicans - 1992
(Track#39 of Complete Score, otherwise Track#40 (Final Confrontation) of Expanded Original Motion Picture Score, 2006)
Publishers'-Edit 13.02.2023: Corrected publication mistakes.
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