Chapter Twenty-Eight: Loose Ends
"If you stop squirming so much, this will hurt less."
"Just get it over with already!"
Shrugging her shoulders slightly and taking a solid grip on the crossbow bolt that had managed to find its way through the gap of Khasar's shoulder armor, Nadya yanked it out at once, and the Khan screamed in pain.
"Tengri above! You didn't have to do it that fast!" he complained, his wife already beginning to dress the wound as she cast the bloody shaft of the bolt aside.
"You shouldn't have allowed this wound to go unattended for so long."
Khasar shook his head in disagreement, "It wouldn't be right to let the troops see their Khan in such a state, it makes me look weak."
"Perhaps then, you shouldn't have wandered so close to the Qi-Dan marksmen."
"Enough! You've made your point." he said, waving his free arm in a conceding gesture.
The private quarters of the Mongolian royal family were now filled with opulent treasures, rich tributes from the diaspora of clans that had arrived with the great army. Khanbaliq, very recently under siege and in flames, was once again a place of tremendous power and prestige. Even in their seclusion, the Khan and his queen could hear the vibrant hum of the thousands of soldiers that now paraded the streets of the capital city, their encampments outstretching for many leagues beyond the city walls. The wound dressing now complete, Khasar stood and turned towards the Khatun.
"Thank you. And sorry if I got blood on your… everything."
Nadya gave an amused exhale, "It's nothing. Victory is ours, after all."
His battle armor having been removed for the impromptu surgery from the queen, the Khatun assisted her husband in donning more ceremonial attire before he would address the Mongolian clan chiefs, who had assembled in the throne room of their palace. Before it was time for him to make his entrance, however, there was something else Khasar wished to attend to. Ganbataar had just come to join them.
"You summoned me, my lord?"
Khasar nodded, "Indeed. It seems that daughter of yours has absconded with something most dear to me."
"So it would seem." Gan admitted, a nervous twitch in his bearing. "I'll have you know I had nothing to do with it."
"Do not worry, I am most certain of your loyalty." the Khan assured, motioning him forward. "Come, walk with me."
"I do not know what has taken her mind." Gan continued, trying his best to explain. "I swear it's the doing of those kung fu masters, I always knew I should have killed the lot of them – that bird in particular."
As they walked, Khasar listened to the other leopard's words but did not seem to be affected by them for better or worse.
"My oldest friend," the ruler started, pausing in his stride after they had exited down a hallway, "I will overlook this failure of yours under two conditions."
"Name them, my Khan."
"Firstly, you shall lead an advance party to chase down these masters and recover the artifact. Yuelen shall accompany you, for she has her own sins to atone for."
Gan nodded obediently. "It shall be done."
They began walking down the promenade once again, before coming to the doors to the throne room where the clan chiefs awaited them.
"Secondly," he paused, putting a paw to the door, "you will do exactly as I command, and speak nothing of what is about to happen in here."
Unease could not fully describe what had overtaken Gan's features upon hearing this, the leopard becoming very concerned by what the Khan could possibly be implying. Nonetheless, he felt compelled to nod once more in agreement. For most of his life, he had bound his fate to that of Khasar's, and he wasn't about to stop now - no matter what. The two elder leopards, veterans of so many wars together, entered the great hall in equal stride. Seeing them arrive at last, the clan chiefs rose in unison to salute them. Among them were a fair mix of canines and felines, as well as more outlandish species from every corner of the Mongolian realms.
As Khasar paced up to his throne and placed himself upon it, an elegantly-dressed dhole stepped forth, clearly the duly-appointed representative of the other chiefs.
"Hail to you, Khan of Khans." the canine greeted. "I, Tseren, chief of the Uriankhat, shall speak on behalf of the collective hordes of Mongolia."
The Khan said nothing, waiting in his throne with a smug composure. He gestured for Tseren to continue speaking, and the dhole obeyed.
"The host assembled here at Khanbaliq represents our united strength - and our united interests. Standing before you are the most powerful scions of the Qara Khitai, Torgut, Tumed, Bayad, Oirat, and Khalkh - and many others from our allies in the Golden Horde and Chagatai."
"Yes, yes - dispense with the formalities, if you will." Khasar said, unimpressed.
The dhole seemed taken aback somewhat by the ruler's bluntness, but finished his address nonetheless.
"We have answered your summons, my lord, and are ready to commence our invasion of the southern lands. We have all come here in goodwill, so that we may negotiate the equitable and proper hierarchy of command over the great horde."
The Khan just tapped his claws away at the worn wooden grooves of his throne. When there had been an uncomfortably long silence for enough time, another of the clan chiefs, a silver-grey wolf in a gilded purple tunic stepped up beside the dhole and spoke his mind.
"Have you nothing to say to your loyal vassals? You disrespect us with your silence, my Khan."
"It would seem that your loyalty is a matter for dispute, actually."
Hearing this accusation and taken aback, the assemblage of chiefs were at once in upheaval. The Khan stood from his throne.
"I find it altogether far too convenient that you arrive here just as I've narrowly vanquished enemies at my own gates. The fact that you allowed some lowly mercenaries to penetrate our territory and besiege the capital city is an affront to the trust I have placed in all of you. I know some - if not all of you - had a role in this."
"We don't have to take this from you!" an ibex chief yelled, stepping forth as well.
"Ah but you will!" Khasar countered. "For too long you have vexed me again and again, making attempts on my life, denying me the centralized control required to expand this great empire! Now I say: no longer!"
The chiefs were completely enraged now, edging forward towards the throne, on the edge of rioting as they grasped at their weapons. In their anger, none of them had noticed the Kheshig guards, loyal only to the Khan, gathering around them and blocking all exits to the throne room.
"Fortunately, in your haste to see me undone, you have all brought yourselves together in one place at last." Khasar said, motioning Ganbataar to come to his side. "I find that I cannot deny myself the opportunity to do what my father never could, and wrest control of the hordes from the lot of you - once and for all!"
In another instant, the Khan looked to Gan at his side, giving the order, "Kill them."
In shock, the leopard commander of the Kheshig hesitated. To comply with the order went against many of the honorable tenants of the Mongolian realms, and was an entirely unprecedented rebuke of the authority of the clans.
"I said kill them! Do it now!" Khasar yelled.
At last, before the chiefs themselves could move to kill the ruler instead, Gan signaled to the Kheshig guards, and the tigers descended upon the nobles with impunity. Watching as they were being ruthlessly assassinated, Khasar stepped down from the throne platform into their midst to take pleasure in doing some of the morbid work himself. Gan could not quite stomach what was happening, and backed away.
As the Khan drew his weapon and crossed blades with the dhole chief, he roared with intimidating rage at the smaller canine leader.
"Why not speak to me of loyalty now, Tseren? Where was yours when my family was in danger, my city in flames?!"
The dhole did not even have time to respond, being simultaneously stabbed by the Khan's saber and the spearhead of one of the Kheshig from behind. The appointed leader of the clan chiefs collapsed to the floor of the throne room, a surface that was now pooling with noble blood.
"I had always foreseen this coming from you, Khasar." the dhole choked out. "For years I tried to warn the others - in death, they see now... that I was right all along."
Khasar studied the surrounding carnage, smugly replying, "A lot of good it's doing them, I see."
Kneeling down towards the dying Tseren, the Khan lowered himself to be face-to-face with his longtime rival for influence in the Khanate.
"The clan armies are mine - I win."
"For now, yes." the dhole replied, fading quickly. "But there is another who shall avenge us in due time. He is ten times the leader that you never were."
Angered by his defiant words, Khasar grasped the chief by the throat and lifted him up.
"Speak his name, then! Who wants my throne?!"
Tseren smiled weakly with what energy he had remaining.
"They... call him... Boragal."
The dhole then expired amidst the grasp of the Khan. Annoyed, the leopard ruler let go, allowing the body to fall limp amidst the other dead nobles.
"The Grey Fire... so this insurrectionist has a name at last." he announced to Ganbataar, who still had not moved from where he had been standing all along. "What's wrong, Gan? Don't tell me you feel for these fools - they've had it coming since before we were born!"
"Your order is my command." he said, straightening himself.
Fine then, be that way about it. It matters not.
The Kheshig finished with the last of the clan chiefs and the Khan swept some of the splattered blood from his tunic. Honor had been lost, but in its place had come unspeakable power; this was a trade that Khasar was always willing to make.
The ornate tent of the royal shaman Subutai had remained unscathed throughout the violence of the past days, and the argali himself had continued to spend most of his time as he always had - dwelling within its dark confines in mellow contemplation. Throughout his centuries-long storied life of overseeing the rise and fall of several steppe empires, there was little the master strategist had yet to experience at one point or another - sieges notwithstanding, of course. The massive burst of devastation that had been unleashed by the Dragon Warrior, however, was undeniably of a much more rare variety.
Subutai had poured over his great personal library of scrolls, those that contained every exiguous detail of each of his many campaigns and adventures. After hours of diligent searching, he had at last discovered his own accounts of the Crisis of the Deng-Wa Warlords. The missive spoke of the wrath of the weapon itself, in eerily similar descriptions to what he had seen with his own eyes the day before; his age-old memory could only vaguely recall times so far removed from the present, but with the assistance of his records, he could now vividly recall how he had once fought alongside the warlord Oogway to vanquish their Deng-Wa counterparts in a series of climactic power struggles. He had thought all those years ago that he would have seen the last of such supernatural forces, but fate had clearly decreed otherwise. It was amidst these discoveries that the shaman had made a much greater revelation.
The dagger, the lotus, the arrival of the Dragon Warrior, the dreams - all of it was connected.
And now, Subutai - and Subutai alone - knew how.
The shaman sat in his abode, reclining behind a pristine marble chessboard adorned with resplendent pieces, each fashioned beautifully from solid gold and silver. He was waiting, and had been doing so for quite some time. This had not bothered him in the slightest, however, because the old argali was certain of his conclusions. It was only a matter of time.
Looking up at last after so many hours, the shaman saw that between the opening folds of his tent stood a visitor, hooded and cloaked. Subutai could have sworn that they had not been there just a moment before, but it was no matter. His waiting was now at an end. The visitor was impossible to discern under the weight of the darkened cloak they wore, but protruding up from the edge of their hood were long spindle horns characteristic of a Tibetan antelope or the like. Only the long maw of the bovid was visible as well, catching the light of the oil lamps within the tent; the visitor had come bearing a sinister grin.
As if announcing the stranger's arrival with emphasis, there was a single momentary burst of wind; it spread wide the folds of the shaman's tent, but the visitor's cloak was entirely undisturbed.
"Are you just going to stand there? The pieces are already on the board." Subutai challenged towards his visitor.
The stranger just tilted his head to the side, still smiling devilishly under the hood.
"I should have known you would have a flair for the dramatic." the shaman continued. "It was you, after all, who has conducted so much of this violence as if it were mere theater."
"That's quite the accusation." came a disembodied voice, whispering over the wind.
The stranger's mouth had not opened in the slightest, but their mannerisms had matched the speaking as if it had been so. The cloak fluttered now as the visitor moved towards Subutai at last in slow, agile strides.
"If it were a false accusation, you would not have come." the argali observed.
"Also true." the voice responded, amused. "I suppose I couldn't resist your challenge."
The stranger in the hood now lowered, sitting across from the shaman. They did not hesitate to make the first move, a silver pawn sliding forth without ever having been touched. The wind fluttered over the opened scroll that was still unraveled upon the table to their side, the explosive red illustration of the Dagger of Deng-Wa clear to see. Subutai made his counter-move.
"So what is the point of all this, then? Your own sick amusement?" the argali asked.
There was no response at first, only the ongoing moves of the chess game.
"Come now, Subutai... if you've been paying close enough attention thus far, you already have your answer." came the disembodied response.
The game was moving at an incredible pace, but Subutai had no qualms about this; being a centuries-old strategic mastermind certainly had its benefits when it came to chess. The argali was welcoming the challenge of a chess master clearly at his level, and the contest had already entered the midgame.
"Then I must ask: why now? What has changed?"
"The winds, of course." the stranger replied in perfect time, now using his mouth to speak. "It's like you don't know me at all."
That nefarious grin across from Subutai was somehow growing even wider.
"That's just the thing, I don't - not really." the argali admitted. "Nobody does."
The game picked up pace once more, and both players shifted their strategies accordingly. The stranger was aggressively trying to box in Subutai, but the shaman countered them perfectly.
"Who taught you to play like this, goat? I must admit I'm impressed."
"I taught myself. I've played all my life."
The mysterious figure gave an approving nod, "Then sate my curiosity for a change, and tell me - which of the Khans was the best player?"
The argali gave a slight chuckle as they continued to move pieces back and forth, flawlessly putting each other in check again and again.
"Ögedei, without a doubt." Subutai answered, not hesitating at all. "Genghis was admirable for his pure aggression, Kaidu was unassailable with his defensive strategy, but only Ögedei understood the value of balancing both strengths in their proper time."
"Fascinating."
"So I must know," the argali resumed his line of questioning, "what the next move in the real game is."
The horned figure tilted its head once again, "As we speak, the Khan has executed the clan chiefs and is giving a great speech to the horde - convincing them of their supposed treachery rather than his own."
"I could have guessed." the argali said.
"Unlike last time we contended, the divergent powers of Mongolia will not be leveraged against my interests."
Subutai looked up from the game to face down the stranger, "That certainly wouldn't change the balance of things, not against Oogway."
The mentioning of the tortoise's name clearly disturbed the figure, and its tone at once became more hostile.
"Oogway is dead!" it bellowed, putting the argali in check once more.
"But his successor - the panda - he still lives." Subutai countered, moving one of his final pieces decisively. "Checkmate."
The stranger looked down, as if in disbelief.
"Indeed. You truly are the master strategist."
Subutai just stared his opponent down, refusing to gloat after winning. The hooded figure rose from the concluded game.
"It is for this reason that I can no longer allow you to be a liability in the greater contest; please, take this as a sign of respect."
The ancient argali just smiled up at his visitor, already knowing what had been coming this entire time.
"Your reward for victory - a painless death. I salute you, Subutai." the figure announced, speaking through the wind once again.
In another moment, a gust of air blew through the tent, and the stranger dissipated into nothingness - gone just as quickly as they had arrived. Subutai felt something overtake him, grasping to his chest and wheezing, the air having left his lungs entirely. The old argali slumped over the chessboard, scattering the pieces asunder.
Not ten minutes later, the Khan arrived at the residence of the royal shaman, finding him dead. Walking into the dimly-lit space just as the sun was setting outside, Khasar embraced the body of the argali, feeling genuine remorse for one of the few people he truly respected.
"You told me you'd warned me for the last time..." he said to the corpse of the departed prophet, "Looks like you were right. It is a shame, that you did not live to see me prove you wrong at last. Tengri guards you now, old friend."
There being no one there to shame him for it, Khasar wept.
Author's Notes:
- Hey hey! Hope everyone is doing well :)
- I had a lot of fun with this one; intrigue, betrayal, and big reveals (more like important hints but still)! I also feel like this chapter shows the various "sides" to Khasar as well
- While I know people are most likely super eager to see how the masters are doing, I felt it was necessary to show what was going on back in Khanbaliq after the arrival of the clan armies; I promise I'll get back to them next chapter!
- As another side note, you may have noticed that unlike Chapter 21 - where Shifu and Viper are playing Xiangqi (Chinese chess) - the characters here are playing something more like our usual understanding of chess; this is because the early origins of modern "western" chess actually have their start in Mongolia
- All feedback and reviews are always appreciated! Until next time!