Khatun Chinua of the Plains of Dain

"Well," you say, "I suppose, if you agree, that it might be best to form the alliance with Dain. Both their ferocity in battle and skill with the bow is legendary. From what has been said they are to mobilize almost the entire culture to war if the need is enough. Also, they seem to be the closest culturally to Creagachtír. An alliance seems only natural."

"But honey," replies your mother, "I don't think you will want to go with them. They are constantly on the move in their tent cities. To never settle down... well, that seems rather unpleasant."

"Mother, I love riding, so I truly don't think it will be too bad. Besides, they have been doing this constant migration for such a long time; I am sure they can do it with a minimum of discomfort, if only for the sake of the children and elderly."

"But John, you must have heard what they say about Chinua," your father whispers. "They say she rides and fights like a man. She is said to be as strong as ten men and able to wrestle an ox to the ground. Do you really want to marry a woman so like the men."

"Father, strength ought not be repulsive. If she does all that you say, then surely she will be a fitting provider and protector for our future children." From the looks on your parents' faces, they are somewhat shocked that you would be with a woman who takes on the role that males have in your country. But you have known for quite a long time that men and women are equal in mind and body. If a woman wants to be a scholar or a warrior, and does well at it, then why would anyone say she shouldn't. However, you know that the King and Queen will not agree and so you drop the issue.

"Father, mother, do you disagree with my assessment of the benefits of the alliance? If you don't, then I am honorbound to protect my people and go through with this marriage." Their faces fall. Both know the demands of duty and thus cannot deny that you must do what is best for your people, no matter whether or not they approve of the choice in spouse.

"Let us get back to dinner. Tomorrow we can write the letter accepting the Khatun's generous marriage proposal and begin preparing for the journey."

That night you slept poorly. Despite knowing that this is best for your people, you are frightened and saddened by the prospect of leaving your home forever. You will never again work on your family's land, getting it ready for planting and reaping. No longer will you be able to picnic in the mountains, collecting wildflowers on the journey back to liven up the castle. And, no matter what you said to the King and Queen, you are nervous about being the Khatun's consort. The ways of her people are not yours and you are not sure that you will be able to survive.

The next morning you try to banish all of the doubts of last night while you check on the livestock and crops and subsequently drew up your bath, a copper tub filled with spring water you had collected, then placed by the hearth to warm.

Bathes had always cleared your head in the past and it worked again today. While you don't know what life as part of this new country will be like, you know that you will be able to endure it, for you will forever work to the good of your people, just as all your ancestors had.

You go down to break your fast where your parents are waiting. They seem anxious and run down, as if they hadn't slept last night. You calmly fill your waiting plates with blackberries, cheese, and dark bread. From the pitcher you pour out rich creamy milk, which you had collected this morning during chores, into the waiting goblet. After eating the entire meal in complete silence you look into your father's eyes and say, slowly and deliberately, "I think we should write that letter and send a messenger bird today telling the Khatun about our decision." Silently, your father nods his head.

All three of you head to the tower where the birds are stored and write out a letter to the Khatun, who is now your bride to be given that you accepted her invitation (actually you write five letters total, but you threw out four of them for, respectively, an improper introduction, a noticeable splatter of ink, running out of room, and a potentially scandalous mistake in your signature). You put the letter in a small case and tie it to the leg of a messenger raven dedicated to communications with Dain and throw the bird out the window. You know that it will probably be two weeks until you get a reply and then two or three months until the traveling party comes to take you to your future wife.

In the meantime you begin to pack up, filling a large trunk with the essentials: a whetstone and oil for your longsword, a razor, a polished copper mirror, a shaving basin, several pairs of boots, and about two weeks worth of clothes. Your next task will be much more difficult; telling your people you will be leaving them.

Two weeks pass and a handsome raptor comes to the castle with a message from Khatun Chinua. "We are glad that you have seen the value of a partnership. I have sent guards to your palace. They will escort you to my tent in the golden Plains of Dain. I look forward to seeing you." Then her seal, a eagle surrounded by two sinuous bows. No longer can you deny the fact that you will be leaving your home, so you take a few days to prepare your speech to the country, a speech you procrastinated on writing in the absurd hope that Chinua might have changed her mind and you will be able to stay with your people.

In a few days you have prepared five copies of the speech for criers to tell all of the villages spread around your kingdom. You look down from the small platform build for your oration and look upon the curious people of the local town. Forcing down tears, you begin your speech.

"My friends and countrymen, for yes, I hope that each of you might think of me as friend, not merely ruler, I must leave this, the country of my birth. In about one full cycle of the moon I will have to do my duty, no matter how difficult it will be to see the mountains grow small in the distance. As you may well know, our country is caught between four strong empires who threaten to tear us apart. Thankfully, I have accepted a proposal from the ruler of the Plains of Dain, Khatun Chinua," At this point many in the crowd gasped, probably thinking about the strange customs they had heard rumors about or the Khatun's reported brutality. The ones who were loudest were those who I interacted with frequently such as the butcher, my instructor in the way of the longsword, the candle-maker and the tailor. "I think this alliance will provide us the protection we need to survive this great conflict. I do not regret anything about this marriage, for the King, Queen, and I all think this is in the best interest of the kingdom. But know this my friends, even if I never again step foot in the moors or peat bogs in our country, if I never again hear the song of wind through our mountains, if I cannot feel the pride of working our rocky soil anymore, even then I will be thinking about you and trying my best to do all that I can for the great land of Creagachtír. Though my body may leave, my heart will remain with you until my dying breath!"

You almost collapse after this, feeling like you had carried a millstone up the mountains by yourself, not like one who had just given a speech. Your father steps onto the platform and holds you discretely, not wanting the crowd to see you falter. "Know this, my subjects," he cries, "you will dishonor my son's actions with your tears. Be proud to know that your greatness as a people have inspired my son to do what is best for you, even if it means he must leave you. Now, we have taken enough of your time- go back to your homes and your fields remembering that this kingdom is the greatest in the world, not because of the royalty, but because of the hard work you do every day."

Taking you off the stage he says, "the people of Dain will be very lucky to have a ruler who can give such a rousing speech. I know I probably don't say it enough, but I really am proud of you, my son."

All that is left is to wait for the journey itself.

Over the few remaining weeks at home you say your goodbyes to the people you know and hike to try to soak in enough of the beautiful country to last you a lifetime away. You are so distracted that you can't even focus on your lessons in the native tongue of the Khatun.

Finally, you receive a message that the guards who will be protecting you have entered the immediate area, so you get into your most regal clothes, ones which you had only had to stitch back together once. Then you take your bronze crown off your shelf and try to polish it, especially the bluestone inlays.