They had passed through spire-like mountains and through forests of bamboo that swayed in the wind, creating a beautiful whistling song. They had even seen Giant Pandas ambling in between the tall stalks, much to Danika's delight. Hvitserk had to admit it looked like someone had splattered ink onto a white bear. Danika remarked to the skill this person must have had to splatter it the same way every single time. When they rode past a mother panda with her baby, Danika almost accidentally held up the entire caravan by stopping to stare at it. Hvitserk took the reins and led her horse for her so she could keep looking at the little black and white fluffball until it was out of view.

They were camping on a river in the final leg of the journey towards the winter capital of Khanbaliq, or Dadu, and in the night Hvitserk had snuck out to go exploring. He pressed between leafy trees until he reached the river, and he walked along its banks, his way lit by the light of the full moon. In the moonlight something massive appeared around the riverbend. It sent him scurrying back to camp to wake up Danika. She did not take kindly to being suddenly woken but Hvitserk was fast enough to dodge the knife swipe which preceded her sitting up.

"Look." his voice was full of wonder as he pointed across the river. Rubbing and blinking her eyes, her mouth opened at that which had gotten Hvitserk so excited. Across the river, as tall as the cliff face itself, was the Buddha. Carved out of red stone, he sat peaceably with his hands on his knees and a tranquil look on his massive face. Even from the other side of the river his size imposed over them like a mountain. It seemed like if he were to choose to stand and reach out with his arm, he could swipe them from the face of the earth, along with all the trees around them. Although, the Buddha would never do such a thing.

"Whoa," she breathed.

"Yes."

"He's a lot bigger than the little statue you used to have."

Hvitserk laughed. Some of the Buddha's chest and the top of his hands were covered in moss, betraying his age.

"Do you know how long he has been here?" Hvitserk asked.

"Not exactly," she replied, "but I'd say he's at least as old as we are, probably older."

"My people never built something so large."

"They didn't know how. The Chinese are much older. Jesus was born 1272 years ago. The Chinese have knowledge from another 1500 years even before that. We are currently in the later half of Chinese history."

"And you said my people were old."

"Compared to the Chinese, you are infants."

"Are you calling me a child?" he teased.

"The truth hurts."

He tackled her for that remark.

Danika and Hvitserk were forced to split up as they reached the gates of the capital. Soldiers opened the gates and with bated breath, they finally entered the final destination of their journey. The buildings had curved roofs that rippled and wood was mixed with stone to create a majority of the architecture. The language was unlike any Hvitserk had ever heard. It was fast and seemed to move up and down like Danika's songs. But there also seemed to be so many languages talking at once. They passed through a massive marketplace on their way to the palace and Hvitserk found what he had been looking forward to most, the new foods. There were so many deep green vegetables that he had never seen before. This time it was Danika who had to lead his horse as he gaped at this new world around him.

Sooner than Hvitserk would have liked, they arrived at the palace, a great structure that managed to surpass even the largest buildings they had seen in the Near East. He concluded that everything in China was big. The mountains were big, the rivers were big, the statues were big, the markets were big, the history was big. Well, he supposed the people were small. But most people were small compared to Hvitserk.

Their horses and carts were escorted to elsewhere, while Marco and by extension Danika, and also Hvitserk as extra protection, were brought into the throne room. Seated upon the throne was Kublai Khan the founder of the Mongolian Yuan Dynasty in China. His hands were knit in his lap until he stood in greeting as the visitors knelt in deference. He was bald, but he had moustache and beard which were long and trailed like a thin rope. He was short but he had the imposing look of a leader. Kinda like how Ivar could scare people despite sitting on the ground.

Kublai Khan gestured for them to rise and he opened his arms and spoke words of greeting. A thinner man came forward and translated those words into Italian.

"The Emperor bids you welcome to his palace and looks forward to viewing the many foreign goods you have brought. He asks that you introduce yourselves."

They went around the room, with each saying their name. When it was Hvitserk's turn, the Emperor interrupted with a laugh.

"He wonders who this large-eyed giant must be. The Emperor is amused how he can be standing on stairs and still feel like this man is taller than him."

The assembled all quietly chucked, unsure how to respond, but then the role call continued. His eyes rested on Danika, perhaps for a few moments too long before continuing his survey of the foreign traders. Ultimately, he ended with a few words of greeting and sent them to explore the city. Under guard of course. Naturally, Danika trailed Marco Polo wherever he had to go, which was to explore the palace. Hvitserk, on the other hand, wandered to the market, which surprised no one at all.

"What do you think of the palace?" Marco asked of Danika as she meandered a step behind him around the large stone pillars which supported the massive structure.

"It is impressive." Danika was more preoccupied with watching the men whose eyes followed them wherever they went.

"Just impressive?" Marco repeated. She turned her attention to him as he looked at her, expecting a better answer. She thought for a moment.

"It is very different, unlike anything back in Italy for sure. I think it is...beautiful."

"And yet you are unimpressed, despite what you say. It is in your eyes. Like you have seen everything before." Danika smiled at his perceptiveness. Marco was observant, but he'd have to be to become one of the most famous explorers ever.

Out on the streets Hvitserk was discovering that not only was the spoken language a difficult conundrum, the written one was enough to tie his mind into knots. Compared to runes and Roman letters, and even to the swirls of Arabic languages, Chinese was mind-bogglingly detailed and complicated. But he set himself to the task. Food could motivate him to do almost anything, even learn Chinese. But the greatest challenge between Hvitserk and his food was yet to come.

He looked down at the table in sore confusion. The food smelled delicious, but he was at an absolute loss at how to proceed. He wasn't the only one, many others were hesitating at digging in, while equally terrified that their confusion showed a rejection of hospitality. It was becoming clear that hospitality was everything here. Marco and his father were invited to dine with the emperor, but as for Danika, Hvitserk, and the others, they were in a separate room with no one as an example of what to do. Before him was a bowl of soup mixed with many green, white, and brown vegetables and long yellow strings. There were also plates of meat scattered around.

"I have been dying to eat something other than bread for decades!" Danika whispered in his ear as the food was set out. Hvitserk's problem was that despite all this wonderful food, he couldn't find anything to eat it with and time, as well as Danika, had taught him that just grabbing things with the hands is best not done in polite company in Europe. There were spoons, but they were deep and with a short handle. He was unsure how to eat anything other than the broth with it. Hvitserk felt himself blush as he tried to work out what he was supposed to do!

It was Danika who broke the collective confusion as she picked up the two thin sticks which were set beside her bowl. With some skill unknown to the rest of them, she notched them into her fingers and like the pincers of a crab used them to begin picking up food.

Leaning over, Hvitserk asked, "How do you do that?"

Khanbaliq, Cathay 1276 AD

"Why do the men keep calling you Mulan?" Hvitserk asked one morning over a bowl of congee. He had since mastered the use of chopsticks and was no longer hindered in his endless quest for food. Danika started laughing, which forced her to put her bowl down and cover her mouth. Marco Polo, whose beard had grown into a proper shadow on his face, put down his book and answered for her.

"Mulan is the name of a legendary female warrior who pretended to be a man to join the army."

"What is it with all you people and not letting women be in armies?" Hvitserk rolled his eyes.

"Well it isn't exactly right for a woman to fight. They aren't as strong or as fast as men, nor is their mind suited for it. No offense," he looked at Danika who didn't even stop chewing, "but women have other talents."

Hvitserk didn't want to punch Marco Polo, but he also kinda did. Danika put down her bowl and calmly said, "I'll remember that next time someone attacks you."

"I mean-" Marco tried again, "Daniella, you are an excellent warrior, but if you were a man you would be better, your potential-"

"When you're in a grave-" Danika began.

"Stop digging," Hvitserk finished, patting Marco on the shoulder, albeit somewhat harder than usual. Both he and Danika had been training with some of the men from the Mongolian and Chinese armies. Though Danika had already given him a preview of martial arts, Hvitserk still found the difference in philosophy entertaining. It wasn't scrappy and messy like fighting in Europe. There was a certain grace to it. His sparring sessions with Danika only ever got more interesting as he learned new techniques. For them both, however, it was the horsemanship which they found novel and exciting. They had taken to riding together when they could, and enjoyed racing over the wide planes and rice fields.

It was after one such ride that Danika had to head into the palace to report for "Guarding-Marco-Polo-before-his-curiosity-leads-him-off-a-cliff" duty. The kid seriously loved to stick his nose anywhere that was new, even if said nose really did not belong there. With a brief kiss goodbye, they parted. She found him in a library poring over scrolls and books, with a translator on hand to assist. Although the translator surreptitiously vanished into the darkness between the shelves.

"Ah Daniella, look what I was just reading in the laws. The emperor has concubines! As many as he likes! Such a thing would never happen in Euro-"

Men appeared from between the shelves, with swords and knives. Danika drew her own and Marco got to his feet, pulling out the blade he carried about the castle, a small knife really. The men were in the uniforms of the official palace guard. Marco tried to explain that they were guests, but the men rushed in despite his explanations. Danika tried to place herself between Marco and the men but they were surrounded and outnumbered by four. It was a much tougher fight now that Danika wasn't the only one trained in martial arts anymore. The men were fast, but thankfully they kept their attention on her and not on Marco. When she saw an opening, she commanded him to run. He obeyed. Her first clue that not all was as it seemed came when not one of the men followed Marco out the door. It apparently wasn't Marco that they had come for. They call me Mulan and somehow I didn't see this coming.

She ended up in a lavish room with a group of maids who despite their petite and demure appearance managed to wrestle her out of her simple but tough traveling clothes and into a large loose dress of silk. Despite her increasing ire at whatever was going on, she didn't want to hurt the poor girls who were only doing what they were told. They layered on fabric after fabric until Danika was thoroughly mummified in a Da-Xiu-Shan of red. The maids piled what hair they could onto the top of her head, lamenting what they called its unfortunate lack of length. A fair amount of her fair was simply left down over her shoulders. In contrast they crowed over her feet, complimenting her on their naturally small size. "You won't need too much ribbon," they had said. She shuddered at the thought of what they implied. Thankfully they did not fetch any ribbon at this time. After she had been primped, polished and assisted in somehow standing up in the balloon of a dress, she was pushed through another set of doors.

She was in a room with many other women, all sitting on couches or reclining on love seats. Not one of them stood to greet her. But they looked up and in kind voices welcomed her to their group.

"Group? Who are you?" Danika asked.

"You don't know why you're here?" One young woman with long silken black hair and a green Da-Xiu-Shan set down her calligraphy brush when Danika shook her head no.

"Oh poor thing!" Another woman cooed, gesturing that Danika come sit beside her. She introduced herself as Chabi. This woman was older than the others, and was based on where she was sitting, commanded some respect from the others as well. "My husband can get an idea in his head and without too much thought put it to action," she pursed her lips but grinned slightly.

"Who is your husband?" Danika asked, thinking of Hvitserk who hopefully would notice her missing soon.

"Why the Khan of course! Silly girl, I am the Empress, well one of four at least."

"But everyone knows she's the favorite," a girl in pink said, earning laughter from the others. "Shut up Jiayi!" Another girl yelled, giggling.

Danika gulped. There were a lot more than four women in this room. She thought back to what Marco had been telling her about how the Emperor could have any number of concubines.

"There must be some mistake-" she began. Chabi put a hand on her shoulder in comfort.

"I know you didn't choose this role, but it is yours now. Make the best of it."

"I'm already married!"

Chabi waved a hand as if the statement were but a small fly buzzing in front of her face. "What does it matter? He is emperor. He gets what he wants." All the other girls nodded. Danika just kept shaking her head. This was so not happening.

The wives and concubines seemed to understand that Danika did not want to be a concubine. They did their best to help her, but none of them entertained the idea that she could actually change her situation. Marco was well acquainted with Chabi and would send Danika messages through her, explaining that there was nothing he could do and that Hvitserk was just as unhappy as she was about the whole thing. Danika was frustrated that the lack of useful information contained in any of these messages. But it wasn't like Hvitserk or Danika could do any real planning without exposing their immortal secret and playing telephone across two people and two languages was not ideal. She didn't dare write anything lest it be intercepted. She'd considered writing the letter in something like Frankish which surely no one would understand, but the existence of a coded message put the messengers in danger. She could go and get Marco Polo killed over something like that.

Without any way to contact Hvitserk, she was left on her own to figure a way out, before the Khan decided to officially make her his newest concubine. The doors were heavily guarded, just as much to keep any jealous lovers out as to keep the women in. That wasn't an option. The women offered no alternative. So who would she have to kill to get out of this one?

Hvitserk spent day and night pacing. He had not been stupid enough to charge into the palace to rescue her. He knew that she would be working her own plan to escape. But that night when he did finally fall asleep, he saw himself breaking down the door with his axe to find her waiting on the other side. Marco was sympathetic but in the end he was an explorer, not a warrior and could offer no stratagem to get her back. But Hvitserk could still use him to his advantage. Hvitserk had already been barred from entering the palace, a preemptive move on the Emperor's part. Marco was likewise no politician and a terrible spy, so Hvitserk realized that the only way to make a spy of him, was if he didn't know he was spying. Marco went to visit the empress to discuss art and trade, culture and language. Once he returned it was just a matter of getting him to open up. Rice wine and a willingness to listen through four hours of other detailed irrelevant information were key. Sifting through Marco's dense description of everything he had seen and learned in the palace that day, Hvitserk managed to discern exactly where in the palace Danika was likely to be. So he planted himself outside the window, three stories up and waited. And waited. Age had increased Hvitserk's patience. But only a little.

He had to have faith that Danika would give him a clue. Hopefully it would be something obvious, like a rock to the head.

As it turned out it was a rock to the head. When he came to a minute or so later, he got to look at the paper tied to the rock. It was written in old Frankish which hadn't been used in over a century. The paper was small and the message was short. Wait for the mortician.

He heard screams from above, but he could not focus on that now. Where was he supposed to find a mortician?!

Once again, listening to the curious ramblings of Marco Polo turned out to be useful. The mortician worked with the doctor, and Hvitserk knew where to find the doctor. Doing his best to sneak to the office of the palace doctor, what with being a giant and all, he hid behind a cart piled with hay and waited. He saw a man in a black cloak grab a cart and make for the palace. Now the directions seemed a bit fuzzy. The paper had not said follow the mortician, it had said wait for the mortician. Was it wait for him to arrive, to return, to do an impromptu dance? Hvitserk wanted to follow him, but he was never going to get into the palace unnoticed. His giant-ness was the amusement of the locals. His giant-ness and his European-ness would stop him from getting anywhere near the palace. So Hvitserk concluded that he would have to wait here. Great, more waiting. He hated waiting.

It took at least an hour, but then he heard the creaking wheel of the mortician's cart, louder now that something was in the cart. The cart pulled in front of the doctor's office, and before he could unload the cargo, Hvitserk rushed him and with his giant arms got the mortician by the neck and lifted him off the ground for good measure.

"What's in the cart?"

The mortician struggled in Hvitserk's grip, and Hvitserk had to loosen the hold to let the man speak.

"Nothing valuable, it is just a body! I'm a mortician."

"So who died?"

"A concubine from the palace. Killed herself."

Hvitserk squeezed tighter until he felt the man go limp. Releasing he let the man fall to the ground, not much caring if he was unconscious or dead. Pulling back the cloth which lay on top of the body, he saw Danika swathed in some complicated dress, though the pretty fabric was covered in blood. Multiple stab wounds pock-marked her torso and the blood soaked sleeves indicated that she had slashed her arms open as well. Many of the wounds were still open, but none of them were bleeding all that much. Not stopping to dwell on the image, he picked her up, put her down, cut off some of the excess fabric, picked her up again and with her over his shoulder began to move towards the small apartments where the mercenaries were housed. It was a good thing it was the middle of the night, or this would certainly have been a strange scene: a giant carrying a dead body through town.

She started sparkling before they made it so he cut down an alley and covered her in his cloak. It didn't block all the small glittering lights but it covered most of them. His hand on her neck he waited for her heart to start again and then made sure to cover her mouth in case she woke up gasping. Her eyes flew open and grabbed the hand over her mouth. In the darkness he waited for her to nod before moving his hand.

"I take it you got my message."

"No, I enjoy stealing corpses in my spare time."

She pulled him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed back. Letting go, he gestured to her blood soaked dress.

"You certainly picked the hard way to kill yourself. Did you have to butcher some of my favorite parts?"

"I'm going to ignore the fact that those parts are exactly as you left them now. I couldn't risk coming back too quickly. It would hardly do for anyone to see that. I needed to cause enough damage so that I'd be down long enough for people to find me, call the mortician, and remove my body."

"In any case, now may be the time for us to leave Cathay."

"Not enjoying the noodles?"

"Örlög mín, if only you were uglier, then we wouldn't have to worry about emperors and things."

"Shall I go butcher my face then?"

"I'd kill you first."

"At least wait until tomorrow then, dying twice in one day is just embarrassing."

So, the Sui Tang Romance version of the Hua Mulan legend did in fact involve Mulan killing herself to avoid being a concubine. That version was written in 1675, about 300 years after this chapter is set, so maybe Danika inspired some legend of her own. I doubt it will be the last time this happens to them. Per the usual, names and places are as close to accurate as I can get them.

If you are so inclined, go the Deviantart page under MIMitationBalance, you'll find the page from Danika's journal where she did her very first sketch of Hvitserk. I'm toying with other excerpts from her journal if people find it interesting. What would you guys want to see or know, let me know in the reviews.

This chapter was hard to write. I've got some big stuff planned in the Renaissance for you all, so this felt this a random moment in time that needed to be done, but I still had to make it interesting. There's also a larger plot that I am trying to work into this era of Hvitserk and Danika's life. I did so with the first era too. Any guesses as to what that larger plot was in Era 1? any guesses at the one I'm doing now?