|
|
| (11 intermediate revisions by the same user not shown) |
| Line 1: |
Line 1: |
| ===Chapter 3 - Same Life, New World===
| |
|
| |
|
| ''"The greatest happiness is to vanquish your enemies, to chase them before you, to rob them of their wealth, to see those dear to them bathed in tears, to clasp to your bosom their wives and daughters."
| |
| - Temujin, the Genghis Khan''
| |
|
| |
| Subutai watched his fist close and reopen, feeling the strength of a grip he had not achieved in decades.
| |
|
| |
| "It doesn't quite ''feel'' like I've reincarnated," he tried to articulate the strange emotion simmering inside him. "I remember so much of my past life, in such vivid detail. One moment, an old man dying in my yurt, surrounded by family and children as we sadly parted ways. I remember hearing the melancholy of my wife. I felt the strong yet gentle grip of my grandson Aju, whom I had personally groomed into a fine warrior. Then next, my consciousness awoke in another realm, but with a greater clarity of mind and strength of body than I had felt for many years."
| |
|
| |
| Subutai chuckled to himself. There was a moment when he thought the Abrahamic faiths correct, when his senses returned before a woman of such divine elegance that she could only be described as an angel or saint. But Tara was beyond all of that. She was the Bodhisattva of Mercy -- a transcendent mortal who journeyed the worlds to teach the message of compassion and liberation. Her deific powers were on display even now, as she and Subutai sat cross-legged within a translucent bubble that flew at tremendous speeds. Frozen rivers and frosted pines blurred beneath them, yet neither the discomfort of bone-chilling winds nor the sensation of rapid acceleration emerged as they shot through the air faster than any arrow could achieve.
| |
|
| |
| It was a good thing that he had been a worshipper of the great sky-father Tengri. His faith believed that mankind had yet to reach the wisdom necessary to understand the truth between the universe and its creator. Thus, there was no need to reject or deny the existence of any heavenly being... especially not when they existed in the flesh before his very eyes.
| |
|
| |
| "It's not the usual," Tara's smile remained serene. "A Samaran is supposed to be reborn into a Samaran mother's womb. Normally, you would grow up the same as any other child, except in addition to their present experiences, Samaran children slowly reclaim fragments of their past lives. The comprehensiveness of their memories is determined their spiritual karma -- their depth of enlightenment as they journey along the Great Wheel.
| |
|
| |
| "However, I cannot spare twenty years for you to grow up, nor risk losing countless episodes from your lifetime of battle experience. I had to intervene today. I needed you to ensure the survival of these people, this realm."
| |
|
| |
| Subutai's lips pursed as he returned a nod in understanding.
| |
|
| |
| Tara had explained her limited window of intervention before she showed him her goal in the most succinct manner possible. Hardly an hour had passed since they stood by the river bend that sheltered her homeland -- the Protectorate of Samara. However, the harsh, continental winter had transformed the natural moat into an icy highway. Subutai had watched as a ''Tumen'' of twenty-thousand eastern cavalry charged onto its frozen surface, knowing that the defenders' militia and their low, earthen-palisade walls on the embankment held no chance of stopping the onslaught.
| |
|
| |
| Then, as the marauding horsemen crossed the midpoint and prepared their first salvo of arrows, an icy mist quickly shrouded the entire river like an otherworldly fog.
| |
|
| |
| Subutai had seen the power coalesced through Tara's outstretched palms. His eyes had swollen into saucers as he felt genuine surprise for the first time in decades. Her ''magic'' -- as there was no other way to describe it -- poured into the air like the weaving lights of an aurora borealis. Within a minute, the sound of iron hooves striking ice had vanished from their portion of the world, soon replaced by the clattering thumps of armored bodies crashing into hard ground.
| |
|
| |
| The mist lasted only minutes before its passing. Its retreat unveiled a highway of dazed horses, abandoned by the masters whom now lay fallen and deceased. The warriors had all died peacefully, as if in their sleep. They left behind their arms, armor, and even steeds in pristine condition, which the defenders soon sallied to retrieve.
| |
|
| |
| When Subutai asked Tara just exactly what she did, all the white-haired, white-garbed Bodhisattva would answer was: "I freed them from a life of violence and murder."
| |
|
| |
| "I understand that the last few hours have shown a great deluge of information, too much to be absorbed at once," Tara's gentle voice recalled him back to the present. "However, it is also important that we keep conversing, as you only have a few days to grasp as much of the local languages as you can."
| |
|
| |
| "I've been curious about that, actually," Subutai replied as his brows furrowed. "I can tell that the words coming out of my mouth sounds familiar. It reminds me of what the Kievan Rus princes used when they surrendered and plead for mercy. The language ''should be'' one that I have no business understanding, yet... I do. It's as if the words automatically transform into meaning within my mind, in the seamless manner that only my mother tongue could achieve. But when I speak, it is Mongolian lines that my mind constructs. Except by the time they leave my lips, everything -- the prounciation, the structure, the grammar -- everything had changed.
| |
|
| |
| "How is this even ''possible?''" He puzzled with bewilderment in his gaze.
| |
|
| |
| "Ever since you awoke, we have been conversing in Polisian, the lingua franca of the people you will be aiding," Tara expounded. "Your understanding of the language exists through a telepathic linguistics spell that I have bridged our minds with. This means that whenever you listen or reply to a language that ''I'' know, your mind will reach across the link and tap into my linguistics knowledge to translate the words. However, unlike conventional secondary language use, the speech is not translated into your mother tongue as it would normally require, but straight into mental comprehension. This means that the language-learning part of your brain can directly copy down the information transformation that you have just processed, which astronomically increases the speed that you can absorb and grasp new languages in."
| |
|
| |
| Not being a linguist, Subutai was still trying the grasp the magnitude of this unique opportunity and ''gift'' when the Goddess grinned:
| |
|
| |
| "We call this ''Truespeak'', as it allows any two sentient beings to converse so long as one of them understands a language. Unfortunately, this magic is extremely taxing to maintain for most spellcasters, unless they already have a sacred magical bond to link the two individuals. Therefore, this important learning tool is only available while I am free to intervene in these few crucial days. If you cannot grasp the languages that you need to understand during this short time period, then you will have to learn it the hard way."
| |
|
| |
| "I take it you cannot just create this 'sacred magical bond' between me and another individual for simplicity?" Subutai asked.
| |
|
| |
| With her smile never faltering, Tara closed her eyes and shook her head.
| |
|
| |
| "'Magic' is just another word for the radiance of the soul made manifest. That is what spellcasters truly are: channelers and crafters of the spiritual energies that flow freely throughout the realm. Thus, 'magical bonds' are connections forged between two individuals that -- over time -- could link two souls together in a union that transcends life itself. They are ''sacred'' because of this, and certainly not meant to be created at a whim for the mere purpose of convenience."
| |
|
| |
| It made Subutai wonder just what exactly constituted a 'sacred magical bond' in this world. Suddenly, even most marriages and children sounded too commonplace and limited to the boundaries of a single lifetime.
| |
|
| |
| "However, I do have a person in mind to help you accomodate to this world," Tara then offered, with a playful sparkle in her spring-green gaze that made Subutai's eyebrows vanish into his hairline.
| |
|
| |
| In his past life, he had been offered many ''individuals'' as gifts, from slaves and concubines to artisans and pupils. But to reject advances from a friend or even a khan was magnitudes easier compared to... ''How do I say 'no' to a Goddess?''
| |
|
| |
| "She is the highest-ranking Samaran in the Federated Principalities of Polisia's military hierarchy," the Goddess in question added. "And therefore the perfect candidate to acquaint you to your new role and support you in the task ahead."
| |
|
| |
|
| |
| ...
| |
|
| |
|
| |
| Subutai was staring at the girl named Lydia from twenty-paces away as his mind returned from its reverie.
| |
|
| |
| Widow or not, he had no doubt that Lydia was still a ''girl''. It had nothing to do with her age, and unlike many others he did not believe the experience of a maiden night to somehow magically imbue females with sagacity. She was a pretty flower, sure. But compared to a woman of the steppes, Lydia lacked not only wisdom and independence, but even the strong physique expected of a capable warrior.
| |
|
| |
| Lydia Ilyinichna Lisitsyna -- or 'Lilya' as a few close female colleagues addressed her -- was modest in height and slender of build. She was supposedly twenty-one years of age, but could easily be mistaken for a delicate flower of sixteen. Her long, snowy-white hair identified her Samaran nature: the silken tresses flowing gently down her back in excess, reaching her slim waist and almost touching her narrow hips. Her large, cyan eyes shone beneath thin lashes in brilliant contrast, displaying a dutiful zeal that once more veiled her prior moment of weakness. A pair of soft cheeks presented the flawless, fair skin that shone like the finest porcelain. Meanwhile between them, her dainty nose and small, peachy lips added to her air of feminine youth.
| |
|
| |
| She was a daughter most fathers would be proud to have, just not one ready to brave the open world.
| |
|
| |
| Nonetheless, Lydia wore a Polisian uniform that left no doubt of her role in the callous arena of warfare. Her wardrobe reminded him of a light, open-front coat sewn into the sides of a black shirt. It hugged her torso like a glove, emphasizing the shallow rise of her small chest that would have otherwise hidden beneath looser clothing. Her skirt was barely long enough to grace the knee, though her long legs were fully covered by warm leggings of a tighter fabric than he had ever seen.
| |
|
| |
| Only one article set her uniform apart from the other girls, and that was the outer jacket -- a standard, broad-chested version of the ''men's'' uniform -- draped over both shoulders and held in place by a silver chain beneath her collar.
| |
|
| |
| "Major Lisitsyna," the elderly Grand Magistrate Kazimir addressed the young girl face-to-face as they stood on the other side of the marble-floored war room. "I am reassigning you, Colonel Raskova, and Major Samusenko here--" he noted the youthful blonde standing beside him "--to our newcomer's command. I want the three of you to assist him in rebuilding our field army."
| |
|
| |
| "Yes Sir!" Lydia saluted, her right arm bent and fist clenched before her chest. Her briefest glance spoke of discontent towards the new commander, but she made no mention of it and upheld the discipline expected of an military officer.
| |
|
| |
| "I want timely reports, no later than a day at most, on every decision and progress made," Kazimir continued issuing his list of directives. "The fate of the Federation is at stake, and we must each uphold our duties..."
| |
|
| |
| "<u>What do you think of her?</u>"
| |
|
| |
| Standing adjacent to Subutai, Tara inquired through a private, one-to-one telepathic bond that allowed the two of them to converse without speaking aloud.
| |
|
| |
| "<u>She's no Jebei, that's for certain.</u>"
| |
|
| |
| Subutai thought back to his former life, to his greatest partner whom he shared countless victories with. Jebei the 'Arrow' was the finest archer of the Mongol Empire. He had once been a foe, who landed a poisoned arrow across the entire battlefield in Temujin's neck. It was only thanks to Subutai's brother Jelme, whose own lips drained the poisoned blood, that the future Genghis Khan survived. However, Temujin not only pardoned Jebei for his bravery, but even accepted him as a top general who later became one of the Four Hounds. Loyal, courageous, unerring, and creative, Jebei was one of Subutai's role models before the younger general rose to equal rank in partnership. Together, they hunted the Shah of the Khwarezmid Persian Empire to the end of the world and launched the Great Cavalry Raid that shattered a dozen nations in its wake.
| |
|
| |
| "<u>She's actually more like your brother Jelme -- faithful, reliable, and truthworthy,</u>" the Goddess kindly added.
| |
|
| |
| Subutai almost snorted, as he watched Lydia nod and bow to Kazimir's demands on the map table's other side.
| |
|
| |
| "<u>My brother chooses whom to dedicate his life to. The Great Khan was a hero of the ages, one worthy of his loyalty. But that girl is just...</u>"
| |
|
| |
| "<u>She devotes to whomever is kind to her.</u>" Tara tried to finish his thoughts. But Subutai had none of it as he voiced his disdain:
| |
|
| |
| "<u>In other words, she is manipulated all the time. Just like how she is being ordered to report on my every action right now.</u>"
| |
|
| |
| Smiling as serenely as ever, the Bodhisattva briefly closed her eyes and gently shook her head in mild disagreement.
| |
|
| |
| "<u>A conscientious nature does indeed leave her ill suited for politics. But unlike either of the other female commanders, I can guarantee that any ''trust'' in her will not be misplaced. Kazimir may believe in her honesty, but he is a career politician who believes only in ''interests''. He will never see her as anything more than a game piece; use that to your advantage,</u> She kindly advised. "<u>Remember that not every leader is as farsighted as your Genghis Khan. You will need time and space to reestablish the conditions necessary for victory. Until then, her reports will boost the confidence of those in power above you -- enough to purchase the autonomy and influence necessary to achieve your goals.</u>"
| |
|
| |
| Subutai's brows furrowed as he gawked back at Tara. ''Are you really the 'Bodhisattva of Compassionate?<nowiki>'</nowiki>'' He almost rebutted.
| |
|
| |
| "<u>I take it that you despise politics.</u>" The Goddess' smile grew, leaving him with the distinct feeling that she could read not just his mind, but his very heart.
| |
|
| |
| ...Though perhaps it wasn't that hard, as Subutai suddenly noticed that his jaw was clenched tight and his hand had squeezed into a fist as well.
| |
|
| |
| "<u>I had devoted a lifetime to the Great Khan's visionary leadership: all of my prime years spent expanding his realm. Yet in my old age, I return from my triumphs in Europe to find his descendants behaving no better than a pack of ''wild mongrels'',</u>" he almost spat the words out. "<u>Temujin's dreams had yet to be fulfilled, and they were already tearing apart our legacy in a ceaseless political struggle that would divide the realm.</u>
| |
|
| |
| "<u>How do you ''think'' that made me feel?</u>" His voice resounded with an iron bitterness as though he bit blood from his own tongue.
| |
|
| |
| "<u>That's the problem with great leaders,</u>" Tara spoke serenely. "<u>They eventually die.</u>"
| |
|
| |
| "<u>But you haven't, have you...</u>" Subutai reflected, before memories of meeting another so-called 'immortal' stirred his thoughts:
| |
|
| |
| "<u>Your Holiness, have you ever met a man named Qiu Chuji? He is known as the 'Everspring' -- one of the True Taoists from my world who was said to have lived hundreds of years.</u>"
| |
|
| |
| "<u>And in his old age he advised the Genghis Khan on matters of life and religious affairs,</u>" Tara nodded. "<u>Yes, I have met him. He was a rare individual of boundless wisdom -- a mortal who rose to Worldwalker status despite not originating from a magic-cultured world.</u>"
| |
|
| |
| Subutai's lips tightened once more upon hearing this:
| |
|
| |
| "<u>He once told the Genghis Khan that there was no such thing as immortality. It appears that he lied.</u>"
| |
|
| |
| "<u>He didn't.</u>" Tara firmly refuted. "<u>Temujin's hard life left him too bitter, too spiteful to walk the path of enlightenment. Qiu chose to reply in a limited context, because he did not wish to give the Genghis Khan false hope. He could only try to heal the wounds in those final years,</u>" her voice softened to a tender condolence, "<u>to give the lonely man behind the facade of ruler and conqueror some semblance of peace.</u>"
| |
|
| |
| The Goddess' hopeful, spring-green gaze then turned towards the man standing besides her.
| |
|
| |
| "<u>But you're different.</u>"
| |
|
| |
| Subutai scoffed.
| |
|
| |
| "<u>You think I can enlighten myself? To journey the worlds for eternity as you do?</u>"
| |
|
| |
| Tara simply shook her head:
| |
|
| |
| "<u>Immortality does not suit you. But you may yet find peace and purpose in a different form of perpetuity.</u>"
| |
|
| |
| The comment left Subutai confused. "<u>There's a difference?</u>" He puzzled.
| |
|
| |
| "<u>That, I cannot teach you.</u>" Tara responded with a mysterious smile. "<u>For it to have any meaning, you must find the answer for yourself.</u>"
| |
|
| |
| Her words made Subutai contemplate: ''just what exactly do I want from life?''
| |
|
| |
| He had once followed his brother, swearing his oath of allegiance before the Great Khan when he was barely an adult. He ceaselessly pursued glory, adventure, and fame, spending an entire lifetime campaigning, winning countless battles that forever etched his legend into the annuls of the world. Yet in his old age, he departed the Mongol Court and tore every badge of honor from his yurt. When the end came calling, he departed the world as a simple man, surrounded by only the family and children that he truly loved and cared for.
| |
|
| |
| But did that mean he had no regrets? Did that mean he left his old life content and satisfied?
| |
|
| |
| No.
| |
|
| |
| The final decade had left him cynical and jaded, bitter at the infighting that tore the empire back into splintering factions. Though why exactly did that bother him so much? Had he not done all he could to fulfill the Genghis Khan's will? Had he not already established his own legacy and lasting fame? Had he not already experienced the 'greatest happiness' of life in Temujin's own words?
| |
|
| |
| It was a question that even he himself could not answer.
| |
|
| |
| Subutai forced his pensive thoughts aside as he watched the elderly Kazimir stride over with the two female Majors in tow. The Grand Magistrate soon stood before him, stern in expression but with the friendly gesture of an offered hand.
| |
|
| |
| "I pray that my faith in you will not be misplaced," the leader of the Polisian Federation voiced his last hope.
| |
|
| |
| With a firm nod and an even firmer grip, Subutai vowed as though swearing an oath to the heavens:
| |
|
| |
| "Your Excellency: I have never betrayed nor failed my liege before, and I will not begin so now. But I must warn -- this is not a war that may be won without monumental changes to the society that you know."
| |
|
| |
| "Our society already lay changed, by the endless lives lost and the dread specter of fear," Kazimir's somber expression revealed the fatigue in his deeply wrinkled face. "But the laws of nature must be obeyed. Change -- however reluctant -- is necessary for survival.
| |
|
| |
| "''Do what must be done'', commander," Kazimir declared. "We have no other choices remaining."
| |
|
| |
|
| |
| ...
| |
|
| |
|
| |
| Outside the limestone building of the Coalition Central Command, Subutai watched as the Grand Magistrate's carriage traversed down the cobblestone main road and disappeared into the distance. Night had already fallen upon the capital city of Ilmen, and the overcast weather and its flurry of snow kept any lunar radiance out of sight. Only tall posts with elevated glass orbs illuminated the streets with magical light.
| |
|
| |
| Tara had called them 'street lamps', though they were curiously only available in large, fortified cities. Nevertheless, minor devices like these did show Subutai that the technology of this world vastly surpassed that of his.
| |
|
| |
| Spinning around on his boot heels, he turned to face the two Majors whom would act as his lieutenants from this moment forth. Both of them saluted dutifully, though there was undoubtedly a shadow of frustrated discontent in Lydia's blue gaze. Her counterpart, however, was more than capable of burying such unnecessary emotions.
| |
|
| |
| "I haven't heard your introduction yet," he faced the Major whom he only knew from overhearing her family name.
| |
|
| |
| "Major Anastasia Anatolyevna Samusenko, Sir." She saluted. "I currently serve as the battalion commander of the newest Gulyay-Gorod formation."
| |
|
| |
| Anastasia was -- without a doubt -- one of the most attractive women that Subutai had ever met. She was young, blooming in her mid-twenties, with a modest height that seemed taller than she was thanks to her proud and dignified bearing. Like Lydia, she had slender shoulders and a slim waist, though her chest was held in great prominence by her confident pose. Her clear, peridot gaze shone with both strength and clarity, while her wavy, light-blond tresses were just long enough to graze past her shoulders. Her every movement displayed the natural grace of a majestic eagle spreading her wings, leaving no doubts of her meticulous, aristocratic upbringing.
| |
|
| |
| Even her expression wore a pleasant, engaging smile, though Subutai had a faint feeling that it was more calculated than natural.
| |
|
| |
| Judging from the disliking glances passed from Lydia to Anastasia, there was also more to her circumstance than meets the eye. Subutai certainly did not miss how Anastasia spent the entire meeting standing besides the Grand Magistrate and often whispered into Kazimir's ears. He might harbor strong reservations towards Lydia, but at least the girl's authority was born from battlefield valor. Anastasia, however, showed all the danger signs of a political appointee.
| |
|
| |
| "What's your combat experience?" He asked pointedly.
| |
|
| |
| "None, Sir." She honestly voiced in her charming soprano, without a shadow of insecurity that he could discern. "Most of the Polisian officer corps perished on the battlefield with their experience. Major Samusenko and her staff represents some of the few who survived in one piece..."
| |
|
| |
| Subutai noticed Lydia's temple twitching faintly as she pursed her lips. Anastasia's tone towards the end might have been a little unusual, but the younger girl was simply far too touchy.
| |
|
| |
| "Nonetheless," the lady continued. "I am well accustomed to leadership and organizational roles. I ''swear'' to you on my family's honor that I will not fail."
| |
|
| |
| He nodded with mild approval in return. There was no doubt that that Anastasia held the presence and confidence of a natural leader, though it would take time to see if she held the other necessary qualities of a military commander. However, he was already concerned about the personal differences between her and Lydia. The desired unity of command was impossible if the captains would rather see their rivals murdered by the enemy.
| |
|
| |
| ''That leaves just one other -- my second-in-command,'' Subutai thought. Hopefully, it was neither someone lacking life experience like Lydia, nor deficient in practical expertise like Anastasia.
| |
|
| |
| "Who is this Colonel Raskova?" He turned to Major Lisitsyna.
| |
|
| |
| "She is my direct superior, the Deputy Chief of Coalition Central Command," Lydia answered in her soft voice, and Subutai was glad to hear of a warm admiration in her tone. "She's a ''Chosen of Zirnitra'' who has fought in the Siege of Perym. The soldiers respect her greatly and call her the 'One-Winged Shturmovik'."
| |
|
| |
| Subutai's left eyebrow vanished into his hairline. ''I hope that name isn't literal.'' It didn't help that his translation link with Tara left the last word as a proper noun, leaving him pondering ''just what exactly is a 'Shturmovik'?''
| |
|
| |
| He was about to ask when the young girl's gaze spun right. A glimmer of hope entered her cool, melancholic gaze, and even the corner of her lips twitched as though trying to conjure a faint smile.
| |
|
| |
| "Perfect timing. She's back."
| |
|
| |
| Following her nod, Subutai pivoted towards the east, in the opposite direction of the main road that the Grand Magistrate left by. The first sign he noticed was that the street's cobblestones seemed to tremble faintly. But before he even had time to wonder why, he saw a spectacle more bewildering than any sight he had ever met in the old world.
| |
|
| |
| For the first time in his life, the alien sight of the creature almost floored his jaw.
| |
|
| |
| No, it wasn't the Colonel. Raskova was in fact a rather normal-looking woman. It was what she ''rode on'' that astounished him.
| |
|
| |
| The beast was black and reptilian in appearance, with thick scales that looked like they could shrug off ballista bolts. It was also huge -- towering at two stories of height even with all four of its arms and legs on the ground. Each of the four limbs ended in sharp claws that could rend a horse in one swipe, while its powerful tail swished behind the main body, ready to smash the bones of any foolhardy assailant. Only one full wing protruded from its back; the other ended abruptly as though the appendage had been amputated. But if knowledge that this monster was once able to fly wasn't enough, the truly amazing sight came from atop its neck... or more precisely, ''necks''.
| |
|
| |
| The predator had three large, snake-like heads of almost identical appearance, each of them looking equally ferocious with their wide jaws full of carnivorous teeth.
| |
|
| |
| "Has the 'Destroyer of Thirty-Two Nations' never seen a Zmey Gorynych before?" Lydia asked.
| |
|
| |
| "I don't believe my world has ''any'' beast that massive," Subutai ignored her mocking sarcasm, still enrapsured in awe as though a young boy first seeing the endless waters of Lake Baikal. "Just what kind of animal ''is it''?"
| |
|
| |
| "Th--"
| |
|
| |
| "The Zmey are drakes," Anastasia cut ahead of Lydia and began to explain as Subutai stepped off the headquarters' limestone courtyard and onto cobblestoned wagon parking area for a closer look. "The Dragonlord Zirnitra created them to serve as shock troops during the Dragon-Demon Wars. But like most other drakes, they were left behind when the noble Dragonlords departed from this world. They're just one species among dozens in the drake family, though none of the others have quite the ferocity of our breed."
| |
|
| |
| "Ilyusha has also been gaining weight since his injury, so I've started taking him on my inspection tours," the woman who rode the saddle behind the Zmey's three necks half-climbed, half-leaped off.
| |
|
| |
| "Colonel Valentina Denisovna Raskova. I received message that Grand Magistrate Kazimir has placed a new commander in charge. That must be you, Sir."
| |
|
| |
| Unlike the two Majors, Colonel Raskova's appearance could be described as plain if not downright homely. A middle-aged woman in her thirties, she was wide of face and burly of build. Her dark-brown hair was coarse and thin, wrapped into a small bun behind her without even a single hair reaching down her neck. Her nose and mouth were large and manly, while her lips were thin and her plumpness enough to display a double-chin. Though despite all of this, what struck Subutai the most was her warm brown eyes and the welcoming contralto that emerged from her friendly smile.
| |
|
| |
| "Subutai, of the Uriankhai," he brought one palm to his chest and bowed back in the ettiquette of the eastern nomadic tribes. He couldn't quite explain why, but there was something about this woman which brought out the modesty in him.
| |
|
| |
| "I'm afraid the names of my culture are not so intricate."
| |
|
| |
| "Even within the Polisian Federation, not everyone use the personal name - patronymic - family name combination," Valentina replied kindly. "It's only common in the western and southern principalities. In fact," she turned towards the youngest girl with an affectionate gaze, "Lydia is one of the only four Samarans I've known who uses it."
| |
|
| |
| Her smile swiftly vanished, however, as concern began to grow in her eyes. "Sir," she added respectfully. "It would be best if we continued our conversation inside."
| |
|
| |
| Subutai curiously followed her sight, and noticed that young Lydia's cheeks were glowing red from the icy breeze outside. This girl who had been following right behind him was shivering in the cold, despite her best attempts to hide it in her stiff, upright stance.
| |
|
| |
| Valentina was about to take off her overcoat when he stopped her with a gesture. He untied his thick, fur cape instead, and closed it around Lydia's thin shoulders; his broad garment almost seemed to double her width in appearance.
| |
|
| |
| The young girl stared back with her bright pupils filled with surprise.
| |
|
| |
| "T-thank you Sir," she muttered sheepishly. Subutai simply nodded and led the four of them back inside.
| |
|
| |
| In his mind, to be a father to his soldiers was as natural as learning to ride.
| |
|
| |
| The freezing late autumn weather was still 'mild' compared to the Mongolian steppe winter in his memories. Though he could certainly see how his juniors -- who escorted Kazimir out without grabbing a coat of their own -- were underdressed for the temperature outside. However, the circumstances soon proved even more complicated as Colonel Raskova went on to explain:
| |
|
| |
| "Lydia is a rare officer of her rank in that she's not a mage. Her body doesn't generate a constant supply of mana to fuel magical equipment -- such as garments with temperature-regulating enchantments which most nobles take for granted."
| |
|
| |
| ''...And judging by the past hour, she doesn't like to complain either.'' Subutai pursed his lips, before his appraising eyes met Valentina once more:
| |
|
| |
| ''An awe-inspiring veteran who is also the mother of her troops. No wonder they hold her in high regard.''
| |
|
| |
|
| |
| ...
| |
|
| |
|
| |
| It wasn't until much later that night when Subutai finally had the time to ask Tara:
| |
|
| |
| "Why didn't you recommend Valentina as my partner? She's far more mature and able than Lydia is."
| |
|
| |
| "Because," the Goddess answered matter-of-factly. "I do not believe she will stay on your side; not once your ''political'' struggles arise."
| |
|
| |
| "Of course," she added with another smile. "That will ultimately depend upon your actions."
| |
|
| |
|
| |
|
| |
| <noinclude>
| |
| {| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;"
| |
| |-
| |
| | Back to [[The_Flowers_in_Boreal_Twilight:Volume_1_Chapter_2|Chapter 2]]
| |
| | Return to [[The_Flowers_in_Boreal_Twilight|Main Page]]
| |
| | Forward to [[The_Flowers_in_Boreal_Twilight:Volume_1_Chapter_4|Chapter 4]]
| |
| |-
| |
| |}
| |
| </noinclude>
| |