Listen to the Guards

The party approaches. While your attention would normally be on the riders, the horses demand to be noticed. For one thing, there are about thirty of them, but they all seem to be moving just as the riders intend. More than two full hands larger than your own steed, Boulder (dumb as a rock and just as durable), the horses seem more like the twisted monsters or divine progenitors then any horse you had ever seen. Their hooves press deeply into this rocky soil of yours. When focusing on the hooves you realize that none of the beasts are shod.

Realizing that you have only looked at the horses and not the riders so far, you purposefully focus your attention on the guards themselves. Initially, you notice nothing strange about them. The wool of their clothes appears to have been made on looks different than your own, but the clothes are basically the same in function and design, providing warmth and protection. Then you look to their weapons.

Each guard has a bow, oddly curved, and two quivers but no sort of sword, spear, poleax, or any sort of melee weapons. This strikes you as odd for a team of guards traveling across extremely dangerous territory.

"Hail," you cry. "Hail," the man at the front of the party replies. "I presume you are the escort which the Khatun spoke of?" The man who spoke before nodded and gruffly replied, "Yes." "Excellent," you cry, "is there anything you require after such a long journey? A bath, supplies, a feast?"

The man looks somewhat confused. "No," he replies, "we just want to take you back to Dain. A feast or bath would only waste time. Now, where are your things? We need to head out."

"Oh," you say. Turning to your mother and father, you give them both a hug in turn. Focusing back on the escorts, you say, "I am bringing this chest. I brought it whenever I heard you were coming."

"Is that all you have?" the man who you now assume to be leader asks. When you nod he says, "Good. Packing light will help you in your new life on the plains." He clicks his tongue, pointing to the chest and then to a small cart which was trailing behind them. Two of the escort, a man and a woman gracefully slide down their horses, pick up the chest, and quickly lash it to the cart.

"Come, Prince," he commands, "we would all like to return to our families and flocks as soon as possible. Pick one of the unmounted horses and we will be off."

You look at each of the horses and are intimidated. You have no experience with beasts such as these. "Actually, I think I will just ride my horse Boulder here." He actually sighs, but, after a moment, the leader of the escort motions for you to mount. "Fine," he said, "for now you can ride your pony. Eventually you will grow tired and ride one of ours." He turns, not looking back at you. With one last hug for each of your parents you mount Boulder.

Once the man senses that you have mounted his horse begins to trot away. You direct Boulder to hurry and ride to where the leader rides at the front. "Pardon me," you say, "I don't believe I have caught your name." He looks at you, somewhat incredulous. "Ganzorig," he says before turning away from you and again looking forward.

You travel around the group and get similar terse replies from the other seven riders, just telling you their names before turning back to the journey ahead. Realizing that you won't be getting anything else from them right now, you stop trying to make small talk and just try to soak in the beautiful land of your former home.

Later in the day you make camp. Several of the individuals in the group set up the tent, one makes a fire, and several others head out to hunt or find water. Feeling like you have nothing to do, you ask Ganzorig what you can do to help. "You are a prince. I don't think their is anything you can do to help." Frustrated, you ask "Can I at least look for some edible plants for dinner? I am a local to this land and I know the flora." "Fine," he replies, "We will go now. You look for plants, I make sure you don't die."

Knowing that the trip will take several months, you ask Ganzorig questions about himself, hoping to strike up a conversation and maybe a friendship. "So... do you have any family in Dain?" He turns to you and looks at you like an idiot. "Unless the people of Creagachtír magically rise up out of the soil, you already know that I must have family." Internally, you cringe. Obviously he has family and he probably won't want to talk about them because he was separated from them to pick you, a stranger he thinks is weak and useless, up and take you back to his country.

"You have a very interesting bow. I haven't seen any like that before." You kneel down and pull out a wild tuber with a mealy texture and an earthy taste, a staple at the tables of your people. Ganzorig waits until you are finished collecting the tuber to say, "I suppose it would be somewhat different from your own. Our bows have three curves instead of merely one to give them greater power." He pauses for a moment before resuming his speech. "Your blade is foreign to me as well. How do you wield it?" In one smooth motion you pull the long sword off your back and enter your fighting stance. Ganzorig examines you for a moment before saying with a confused tone, "That doesn't seem very useful. Looks too heavy to be of any use against the blades of the other nations. You examine the sword in your hands thoughtfully. "Well," you say, "while you might be less likely to hit the other person, each blow is more deadly than the other swords would be. Also," you continue sheepishly, "Creagachtír hasn't seen war in several hundred winters. I only learned how to use the sword in case someone challenged me to a duel." "How odd, to learn to uses weapons just so you don't get killed in a meaningless challenge. For us, learning how to use weapons is just as important as learning to ride horses, how to become a functioning person."

You go on in silence for a bit, you searching for herbs or vegetables, he looking for external threats. Eventually you ask "Could you teach me how to ride and how to shoot?" Ganzorig glances over at you for a second before resuming his search for enemies. "You have heard we are uncivilized and savage, have you not?" Not knowing what to say, you nod. "Why then would you ask to learn our ways?" You think for a moment. "Firstly, I do not think you uncivilized and you are only savage when in battle. Secondly, to be a good husband to the Khatun and a good leader of my people, I need to live as they live. A prince who doesn't live as his people do is no prince at all, but a parasite." Ganzorig considers this. His silence began to worry you before he broke it and said, "Those seem like good reasons to me. We will train every day after we make camp over this journey. In exchange, you have to teach me how to use that unwieldy metal club of yours." You smile. "Deal."

The trip is uneventful. Each day flowed into the next, the only eventful occurrence being the very rare warning of bandits sighted or a distant battle being noticed. Fortunately, the men and women of your guard are extremely competent and you were able to avoid all potential conflict. The only thing that made the days interesting was learning from Ganzorig. At about two months into the journey he took out a skin with some odd milky substance. "What," you begin. "Just drink it," Ganzorig said. "This is fermented mare's milk from my own horse, big left ear. I am giving this to you to celebrate. Your riding and archery now match that of a child of about ten winters." You feel somewhat let down by this until he continues, "Which means you are about as good as a soldier of any of the other kingdoms." He smiles. "So drink up!"

The last moon of the journey was not shocking or dramatic, but it was important because it was on that portion of the journey that you learned what your new home was. The plains were seemingly endless, no mountains and rarely any hills to break the monotony. However, you could see the beauty in a place like this. To a rider, it offered ultimate freedom, allowing one to go anywhere, so long as their steeds remained strong. You pull Ganzorig aside and say, "I understand now how much of a burden it must have been to retrieve me. You had to leave this place, perfect for man and his beasts." "I am glad you now understand what you will be ruling, prince. Not a moment to soon either. See those bumps on the horizon?" You squint and nod, "That is the Khatun's moving city, where you will be living. Now, let's get moving, right? I cannot wait for the festivities to begin!" He urges his horse into a gallop and all of the others in the group follow. As Boulder is struggling to keep up, you must shout to be heard when you cry, "What festivities?"