Bolahulag One

“The sun marched like a snail and the men paled. We thought we would have been able to best the enemy horsemen. The aristocracy had left the Saberas back home, hoping that there would be no need to drown the plains up to the knee. As soon as the volley eliminated the sun, we knew it was over. We had been played tricks like our ancestors were stressed by steppe nomad wits. It was the common tactic of the Zhong, and so just before the heads pierced our lightened steel, we uttered a song. Although we lost a substantial amount, we held strong. We thought we would be able to handle their actual charge, but oh how we were wrong.”

Legatus Stratios, third brother of Basileus Martius I.

“A surplus of steel,” a commanding voice shouted on a hill overlooking several thousands of bodies. The owner of the voice had five hundred worn warriors beside and behind him. The sun above glistened the man’s shoulders. He held a man by the neck. “Bolahulag, it’s time for you to become a man.”

A chubby boy, just a fist smaller than the man who called him, walked forwards from the ranks of warriors still living. “Father, I do not wish to kill this man, he has done nothing to defend himself,” the boy stated. “How can I do something so immoral and live with it for the rest of my life.”

The father of Bolahulag grunted. “Gah, did your mother and her religion teach you these things?” he asked. “I knew I shouldn’t have taken in a woman out of my cousins’ tribes.”

“Father, it is not my religion that tells me to spare this man,” Bolahulag said. “It is the natural understanding of morality that does so.”

Bolahulag’s father sighed. “Tului, my first son, tell me how old your younger brother is?”

A young man just a hair shorter than Bolahulag’s father put a hand on his chest and straightened his back. “Father Temu, he is but only a moon’s cycle away from thirteen years of age.”

“Really?” Temu asked, scratching the back of his head. His leather armor’s shoulder pads clanged, they were the only metallic part of the armor. “Bolahulag, is that true?”

“Yes, father,” Bolahulag said, bowing his head. Although by no means a terrible father, Temu often forgot his children due to the way the tribe kept moving from place to place. Bolahulag had thought that the only actual way his father remembered him was because his mother was the only person in the whole tribe that had larger eyes than everyone. Aside from also himself. Bolahulag’s eyes had earned him several scorns from his fellows. They had given him the nickname “Wide Eye” and excluded him from the learning activities most Kongrad participated in. As a result, Bolahulag kept himself confined to his tent at all times, only moving out to defecate in the rivers. His mother had done nothing to push change and she enabled him to consume food without contributing to its gain. She also did not do much aside from drying the clothes or receiving his father’s weekly gifts.

“Huh,” Temu said, cupping his chin and fingering the long strands of black hair that protruded from it. “Okay, master…” Temu had switched to another language that only three people on the hill knew.

“King Mistiyudaloy,” the man gripped by Temu said with great difficulty.

Temu loosened his grip on the man. “King Mistiyudaloy?” he asked as he took his arm off the man’s neck.

The man who had been held captive coughed. “Yes,” he answered. “It is not an Eterian name.”

Bolahulag let out a large breath. How can this man be king if he is not Eterian.

“Well, your Eterian is better than mine,” Temu said with a smile. “But I still do not understand how you are a king of Eterians. A lot people speak Eterian.” Temu paused and looked past Bolahulag’s shoulders. “Well, not here in my tribe. But around this area. How can you still be king. I thought only Eterians were kings, how come you’re a king?”

“May I stand up?” King Mistiyudaloy asked.

Temu nodded. When King Mistiyudaloy had started to rise, Temu’s men had their hands raised or clinching forwards. They did not dare move their axes and spears. “Relax, my warriors,” Temu ordered in a tired tone. “I’ve come to spare this man.”

The other men lowered their weapons and King Mistiyudaloy wiped the sweat on his forehead. “Huh, I thought I’d really die here.”

“Well, you will,” Temu said. “Unless you tell me why you’re a king.”

“And then what?” King Mistiyudaloy asked, his black eyes swirling in fear.

“And then we’ll see,” Temu stated. “Now spit what I want.”

“Okay, okay,” King Mistiyudaloy said. “My people were once like yours, endlessly pillaging the environment. My grandfather had come across a girl when he was taken captive around ten or so at that time. She was a princess of a civilized kingdom while he was just another son of a barbaric warchief.” King Mistiyudaloy glanced at Bolahulag. Bolahulag frowned.

“What is this word “civilized” that you said?” Temu asked, raising his palm in front of King Mistiyudaloy’s face.

King Mistiyudaloy brushed his brown hair. “Uh, it is us,” he said, pointing at his own chest before turning around and swaying his hand over the dead bodies. “We, the ones who wear steel instead of animal skin, are what civilized means.”

“So dirt-eating wolves?” Temu said. Bolahulag snorted.

King Mistiyudaloy forced a chuckle. “Ah yes,” he said. “We are. But, when my grandfather had just been allowed to go back to his tribe, we were not. My grandfather had liked the girl very much and so he sought to win her. This meant usurping his brother’s place as head of the tribe and then invading the lands I now rule over.”

“And what is this land we stand upon?” Temu asked. “This is the land you rule over, right?”

“Yes,” King Mistiyudaloy replied. “It is called Skiparsia. My grandfather had gained it after triumphing over the girl’s father.”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Temu said. “Bolahulag, you’re gonna be King Mistiyudaloy’s grandfather.”

“What?” Bolahulag replied in the language Temu and King Mistiyudaloy were conversing in.

“So you do know how to speak Eterian,” Temu said. Bolahulag was about to speak but Temu waved his hand in front of Bolahulag. “Shush boy, get your spear and waterskin.”

“But father!” Bolahulag protested in his native tongue. “What do you mean I’ll be his grandfather?”

“Boy, are you daft?” Temu said, not switching languages and motioning for people behind Bolahulag to come forward. “Jebe and Berke here are going to assist you and this not-Eterian-but-Eterian king. Get your spear and waterskin.”

“Father, I don’t have a spear!” Bolahulag shouted, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Please father, I don’t want to go anywhere else.”

Temu sighed and spat on the grassed ground. “Your mother is not a princess, my boy,” he said. “But I will give you the kingdom idea these people have. I owe her that much.”

“Father, how will sending me away from home get me a kingdom?” Bolahulag asked in Eterian, his salty tears still flowing.

King Mistiyudaloy’s face had a surprised look at the scene. “You have a daugher, right?” Temu asked King Mistiyudaloy.

King Mistiyudaloy’s face changed. “Yes, she is around his age,” he stated with a smile.

“How old?” Temu asked as the two warriors he called out earlier stood beside Bolahulag.

“Thirteen years by several days,” King Mistiyudaloy replied.

Temu had a bright smile. “Would you look at that Bolahulag, you now have a wife that’s around your age!” Temu exclaimed. “Is she pretty, King Mistiyudaloy?”

“Yes, she’s as radiant as the sun itself,” King Mistiyudaloy stated with a nod.

Temu raised his black eyebrows. “What does that mean?”

“Oh, it’s a saying,” King Mistiyudaloy said. “It means she’s comparable to the sun’s beauty.”

“The sun’s beauty?” Temu asked in a rising tone. “Are you saying our Lord Tengur’s domain, the endless sky, is eclipsed by the one sun?”

King Mistiyudaloy raised his eyebrows. “Most fearsome chief, how do you know the word “eclipsed” and its usage?”

“Answer my question, not-Eterian-but-Eterian king,” Temu said with a grin.

King Mistiyudaloy sighed. “Yes, our culture dictates the sun’s importance over the sky.”

“Eterian or your grandfather’s culture?” Temu asked.

“Both,” King Mistiyudaloy replied. “If you would like me to rephrase it, then my daughter is as beautiful as the sky.”

“Great,” Temu said. “You hear that my boy? These not-Eterian-but-Eterian people have a daughter around your age and she’s now betrothed to you.”

Bolahulag had stopped his crying the moment King Mistiyudaloy revealed his daughter’s existence. He had never been called handsome by the girls like the other boys. I have a girl already promised to me. Am I dreaming?

“Ah yes, chief…” King Mistiyudaloy began.

“I am Tumen Temu,” Temu declared. “Master of ten thousand warriors and husband of seven beautiful women.”

“S-Seven…” King Mistiyudaloy said.

“Yes?” Temu asked.

King Mistiyudaloy shook his head. “Nothing,” he said. “A-About this betrothal of my daugher to your son…”

“Yes?” Temu asked with a nod.

“It will conclude your advance to my kingdom?” King Mistiyudaloy inquired in a hopeful tone.

“Yes,” Temu replied. “My son’s to have your daughter, be under your care for a dozen years, and be enlisted in your army.”

“F-Father,” Bolahulag began, “I said I didn’t want to be a warrior.”

“And yet you came here,” Temu stated. “By my forcing. King Mistiyudaloy will force you too. He’ll be my extension in his kingdom.”

“Tumen Temu,” King Mistiyudaloy started, “Does this mean I’m entering your vassalage?”

“Yes, yes,” Temu said. “You also have to give me ten thousand silver coins per year of my son’s presence under you and thirty thousand after his leave.”

“Y-Yes,” King Mistiyudaloy said with a bow. “I’ll surely give you the required coins in the next month.”

“No, I want it in five days,” Temu stated. “We’ll be here on this hill, looting your fallen men. I’ll be on the biggest tent, tell your men to send the container of coins there.”

“This will surely stop your approach into my kingdom?” King Mistiyudaloy asked, hoping for certainty.

“Yes,” Temu said. “And don’t even think about threatening to slit my fat boy’s throat if we do. He may be my son, but he’s just another among my dozens. He does nothing in my tribe, and so this should hopefully help him understand why I planted my seed inside his mother.”

King Mistiyudaloy nodded. “Okay, Tumen Temu, I pledge my protection over you son,” King Mistiyudaloy said, extending his right hand forwards in front of Temu.

“What is this?” Temu asked.

“A custom for friendship,” King Mistiyudaloy replied.

“Ah,” Temu said as he used his right hand to grip King Mistiyudaloy’s hand. “In my tribe and my cousins’ we throw the heads of our foes at each other as signs of friendship.” King Mistiyudaloy forced a laugh as he moved Temu’s hand up and down. “Okay, that’s enough shaking.” Temu turned towards Bolahulag’s direction. “Jebe and Berke, escort this man and my son to his kingdom.”

“Yes, Tumen!” both men shouted.

“Father, please!” Bolahulag pleaded. “Let me stay.”

“And do nothing but let your belly outweigh the rest of your body?” Temu said. He sighed. He motioned Jebe and Berke.

“What are you two doing?” Bolahulag asked as he was lifted off the grass. “Put me down, you brutes!”

“I trust you’ll keep your word?” Temu asked as he looked back at King Mistiyudaloy.

King Mistiyudaloy bowed. “If you keep yours.”

“Great,” Temu said. “I’ll give you one of my finest stallions as a gift.”

Bolahulag tried yanking out of the grip of the two men who held him a head above the ground. “Let me go, you brutes!”

Temu raised his hands over his head. “My people, now we can loot their dead.”