Ashes of Empires

"Leather, Iron, Blood."

Leather.

Leather trousers came first, pulled over the loose-fitting silk undergarments. An added layer of protection, good for dulling the impacts. of blunt objects. Maces, hammers, and rocks from slings. A matching shirt of boiled leather came next, it was scared from use and tapered at the shoulders. A separate piece of armor would go over each arm so mobility would not be affected. 

Iron.

A shirt of valuable mail came next. Heavy, protective. Rare, expensive. It would stop the worst of the stabs and slashes. Small spots of red dotted across the chains as the metal rusted with age and no repair. Then came the chest plate, carved with horses and runes, it was gold like the rest of its family, the gorget, gloves, and grieves. The helm was last, Rounded, clean, and with no obvious signs of use for over three hundred years. Fully enclosed, with decorative wings shaped like clashing sabers above the forehead, a long plum of white horse hair descended from the center of the head down, finishing the powerful heirloom. 

Blood.

Steel. Proper castle-forged steel, durable and deadly. A six-foot shaft of rare Icarian hardwood with an eighteen-inch long blade attached at the end. Perfectly honed and maintained, balanced for both horseback and on foot. The bringer of blood, the maker of woe. 

"May the gods of horse and earth bring you victory, my Khan." The Shaman burned queer incense and whispered in odd tongues. Tartar was always unnerving.

"I don't need the gods, Shaman." Tartar grimaced at the Khan's reply "Leave me, all of you!"

One by one, attendants filtered out, leaving just one other in the smokey tent. 

"Come, Maa, I wish to talk before I go." Tolon poured a second cup of wine.

"Husband, you should not say so about the gods before a fight. Or drink before a fight."

"Bah." They both chuckled, Tolon emptied his ivory cup in one large gulp. "Perhaps the gods do not exist. Six wives and all my kids dead in the cradle. Four brothers, two sisters, mother, father. All dead."

"Perhaps they wish just one more victory. Win this battle, and you will have the power of half a dozen tribes. Do not doubt my womb will ripen then, my love." Maa drank with all the grace of a queen. Measured, genteel. Seductive. 

"Maybe. With that power in my hands, I could devastate our enemies and make great shrines of skulls." 

Clang, Clang, Clang, 

"It is time then. I shall see you soon, wife." Maa gave one last check to every strap and ensured everything was fit properly. The helm was snug on his head, the weight made him feel. Powerful.

Clang Clang Clang 

The Harmonious sound of instruments filled the air outside the Yurt. Drums, gongs, flutes, recorders, and a dozen other devices. 

A wall of dust washed over Tolon kicked up from the endless hordes of spectators. Animals added to the dirty air; the smell signaled home. It would be easy to confuse the gathering for a festival if not for the underlying tension that simmered amongst the crowd. 

Behind the wagon-turned stands, Tolon could see gatherings of people trading with each other. Stalls strung together from hastily gathered wood displayed anything from Carved trinkets to swords and bows. High-end spoils taken from raids could be seen here or there, and Tolon had no doubt he would have to consent to at least one marriage in the coming days. Tribes almost always married outside the tribe to keep the blood from spoiling. 

"My Khan. I have brought your mount."

"Badai! My blood brother, have you been good, One-eye?" They clasped each other on the forearms with a familiarity foreign to any other in the tribe.

"Yes, brother. My daughter-in-law is having a child. Should it be a boy, they will name it Tolon in your honor." Badai helped him on his horse as he spoke.

The saddle was where his people belonged, it was where they were comfortable. His horse had ridden with him for over a decade, soon it would be time to retire the Stallion and let it breed a new set of foals. 

"One last battle," Tolon spoke half to Badai and Half to Arda, his horse.

Badai rode beside Tolon on his even older horse. Badai was the last in a generation of fighters besides Tolon. The other warriors of his time had died away or otherwise retired to start their families. He felt a pang of jealousy for them, He had tried, gods know he had tried, but no child had come from any of his wives. None that lived very long anyway. 

"Has there been any word on the proposition?" They had stopped right before the opening to the natural arena. They had a few more minutes to talk before it started. 

"Yes. I have found a suitable match with the Chenns'. In exchange, Delbeg will send his eldest daughter to marry Muge. I spoke to Muge, and he is agreeable. All we need to do now is arrange for the ceremony and marriage gifts." Badai replied.

"Finally, some good news: I will inform my dear niece of the pact after this fight." Maral would no doubt take it poorly she valued her independence. She had earned it; women were too important to a tribe to risk in a battle, but he had acquiesced to his sister's pleas. Maral had proven to be a better Rider than most her age, she was sharp with the bow and a good tracker. 

Tolon took pride in her, she was Tolon young again. But, the pact was a necessity. Times were changing Tolon could feel it, this Chagatai was just the start.

Boom, Boom, Boom 

Boom, Boom, Boom

"It is time, my friend. When I win our tribe will be among the strongest in the step. We will raid and reeve the soft people like we did when we were young." 

Tolon took a deep breath, adjusted his saddle, readied his glaive, and went to bloody his glaive.