Seasons can shift rapidly on the steppe. As we continued south the weather turned, the snow melted, and it warmed rapidly during the day. The nights remained very cold, and we huddled around the cookfires and shivered in our tents. The route was a simple one, with the open land allowing for an essential straight march south. We were moving in the wide space between the upper and lower branches of the Mumum River. This area was very flat, but the combination of melting snow and periodic spring rains made it wet and muddy. Lengthening days ameliorated this, eventually, but wet and sticky misery remained the continual backdrop to the march for some time. Stream crossings were the greatest source of difficulty. With the ice gone and the streams here deeper than in western Shdustu we were often forced to wade through frigid waters up to our waists, with the muddy discharge coating boots and socks in brown muck. Even small streams could leave everything below the knee wet for hours. Though we had all learned to march wet, health demanded drying out at the end of the day, and this required considerable time treating our clothes before the fires. Master Nemin, familiar with this need, arranged racks for this purpose, similar to the frames used to erect yurts, though much smaller. Those who did not take such care suffered miserably. I later saw men with the skin of their feet peeling away, unable to walk at all. In this year of hardship those unable to move were often abandoned on the steppe alone, left for the wolves when starvation overtook them.

Even in good years Shdustu is a land of little mercy. In harsh years of late frost, none at all. This impacted our travels in many ways. Though following the blizzard grass began sprouting across the steppe, which provided food for our animals, the Kharal clans we passed were depleted of stock and were deeply hesitant to part with food in trade. As eastern Shdustu is generally wetter than the western half of the region, the grass grows taller and allows for larger herds to be kept, but this does not mitigate the losses induced by the late season cold. The blizzard had also impacted other plants. Many trees and shrubs lost their buds and would not leaf out until very late, producing few flowers or fruits that year.

Some calves did manage to survive, and this kept the Kharal occupied as they sought to secure whatever milk they could. In some cases, they even slaughtered young males early to secure a greater portion of the dairy for themselves, despite the long-term loss this induced. They remained sufficiently busy to forbear any threats, and we journeyed in relative safety. Despite this, in the time we sat in their company sharing the fires and meals, the preparations for the wars to come could be seen easily. Bows were treated, arrowheads stockpiled, spearheads sharpened, and armor repaired. Animals lost to the cold, especially older horses and camels, had their hides tanned and boiled, laid out to be shaped into lamellar coats. Among the eastern tribes, disks were preferred over squares in the construction of their protective coats, though this retained the ability to compress into overlapping folds on a crouching rider and offered formidable protection against all but the strongest blows. Such work, and the hard assessments seen openly in the eyes of aging warriors, spoke of a great outburst of conflict soon to come.

Master Nemin responded to these circumstances by keeping our pace measured and allowing our mercenary archers time to hunt during the twilight of each day. They were able to achieve good success, for animals slain in the cold drew numerous scavengers to the carcasses, and this made for easy pickings. Not being Kharal, the mercenaries were free to hunt wolves and these, alongside vultures and crows, became a common and fortifying, if not especially pleasant tasting, addition to our cookpots. We covered the rather miserable gamey nature of such flesh with copious butter acquired from the Kharal. The resulting meals were oily and lay heavy upon the tongue, but they filled the belly and kept the body warm and mobile. The years in Shdustu hardened my stomach, but I never came to love the diet demanded by the steppe. In this year, in which even mutton became a luxury, the pleasure of good food was one all left behind.

Other caravans, less cautious than our party, slaughtered and consumed their weakened pack animals or dared to raid Kharal encampments to seize their remaining winter stores. This, as the weeks passed, produced a very serious problem across a wide region, for the Kharal responded to this provocation in kind, only with far greater strength. The nobles gathered up their riders into powerful and swift raiding parties and rode down upon one caravan after another, slaughtering any who raised weapons against them and leaving those who surrendered stripped of everything but their clothes to make a desperate march to any settlement that might shelter them. I took to walking at the forefront of our line of march and wore the pass token granted to me by General Simumsanind around my neck at all times as a means to dissuade attack. Had this protection not been granted I strongly believe we would have perished, for in the final stretch of the forty days it took to cross from Bishdunumul to Shtusisnu we encountered war parties every other day. The herders of the steppe are, in their way, highly honorable, and though I was obligated to explain how I had acquired the pass many times at considerable length, its protection was honored.

During the lengthy passage south, we encountered much evidence of widespread violence. In addition to those left to die by the vengeful Kharal, we discovered evidence of battle between merchant caravans, mercenary groups, bandits, and even Sunfire Cultists. Lack of food is measured in spilled blood upon the steppe. Most of the skirmish sites we passed were quite desolate, having been quickly located and scavenged by the swift-riding herders. They are kind enough to take the time to lay the bodies out for a return to the cycle of life, though the effort is not made to conduct formal sky burials. However, this matters little, for wolves and vultures make quick work of their sacred duty in any case. Within days only bits and pieces: broken spears, discarded tack, shredded tent canvas, and other debris are left behind. After the first few encounters with such wreckage, we concluded that we would find nothing of value by stopping and simply continued to walk past. As to the desperate beggars created when the Kharal stripped caravans of all supplies, we could do nothing but turn them away. A hard choice to make, faced with shivering and starving men, but this is a hard land, and we lacked the excess necessary to be charitable. As I held the official post of leader of the Dragon Expedition, it fell to me to address such doomed individuals. I confess that I retreated into protocol, advancing the claim that, as an agent of the Sanid Empire, I could not interfere with the punishments distributed by the warriors of the khagan. Perhaps this was a cowardly answer, but it was not a false one. May the Divines forgive me. Truly, I greatly regretted making this journey without a priest in our company.

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Though Shdustu grew somewhat milder as we continued to move south, this did nothing to reduce the misery brought on by the late spring blizzard, which it became clear had encompassed a truly vast area. More grass means more people but does not increase reserves. With the greater population, the amount of violence also increased to match.

Ten days out from Shtusisnu, according to Master Nemin’s predictions, our party was attacked by bandits as we exited the shadow of Tusisn Hills, a series of low and rolling features noted for holding very little water and therefore poorly inhabited even by steppe standards. These attackers numbered exactly twenty-three and seemed to comprise a group of former caravaneers turned to the predatory path out of desperation. They attempted to launch an ambush at a stream crossing, but the Bronzegrass Explorers spotted this, and we detoured west, forcing them to attack through the cold water while staring into the setting sun. This was a foolishly reckless maneuver, but I suppose the small size of our party induced them to attack even after losing the advantage of surprise.

The stream, which they had hoped to use to great advantage, became their doom once they entered the water, for Lady Indili’s shark-shades roved beneath the dark water in paired assault and pulled half their number under before they could cross. The remainder charged straight into our hard line, spears and blades in hand, only to go down beneath arrows launched from the elevated vantage of camel saddles. They wavered at once, with six splitting away and only a handful charging. We enveloped these men, poorly trained and unarmored, and cut them down, while the archers and the shades took down those who ran. My blade had blood on it when all was done, though I do not recall striking through guard. Our side suffered only minor wounds from thrown stones and some cuts to arms and shoulders. Admittedly, we relied heavily on Lady Indili’s support, without which we would have been hard-pressed and surely suffered losses even in triumph. Sorcerers may be forbidden war, but defense against bandits is perfectly acceptable. I suspect these former animal handlers did not know this or had never seen the full power of one who wields divine essence unleashed or they would not have dared the assault.

From the fallen we recovered weapons, coinage, and a few meager strips of dried jerky. The value of these spoils was limited, and the weapons were old and of limited quality, though the next Kharal clan we encountered was quite willing to take them in exchange, if at rather wretched rates compared to that of the previous year. Nevertheless, any measure of increase in our food stores was welcome. We reaped greater gains in gratitude. The local noble was very happy to learn the bandits had perished, and seemed impressed by a man who keeps company with sorcerers and explorers. He offered to add us to his warband, which is a profound expression of respect from the Kharal as they generally mandate that all foreign allies be considered subordinate forces rather than direct allies. I refused this offer as graciously as I could, declaring that the expedition was long overdue to report to the emperor and that I must perforce avoid additional delays. This was true, in a sense, and satisfied the local nobles, though by this time the court had long since assumed the expedition lost to the last, and when Princess Romou returned, I was officially listed as deceased by the court.

Returning was, at this point, the overriding goal. Though only myself and Lady Indili remained, we could still be said to have accomplished a portion of the imperial mandate given to the expedition. We had encountered the dragon and retained the small bag of fragments obtained from the lair, kept secret. I had compiled many notes since leaving the glacier, including a description of the dragon’s lair and eggs, as best as words could supply. Additionally, the prolonged path taken meant that I had by this point described most of the major portions of Shdustu, with only the khanate of Kudustushgu and the city of Snushgud remaining and these would necessarily be visited during the return. The wonder initially attached to the steppe, and its vast openness, had long since worn away to be replaced by simple weariness with the road. The burden of command, which I very much did not desire, also weighed me down. Those long days in the vastness, as desperation propagated across the grasslands all around made it clear to me that while I may claim some measure of proficiency as a scholar and traveler, to direct others is not my gift. Had Master Nemin not been experienced, wise, and cautious, the Lady Indili less formidable, I strongly suspect I would have led the modest party into disaster.

By the blessing of the Divines, this did not occur, and the expedition reached the outskirts of Shtusisnu without additional incident. Few others were so lucky. The majority of the traders who departed Summugigus following the sack of the city either never reached the southern fork of the river or suffered immense losses along the way. In times of hardship, trade suffers, to the point of nearly shutting down entirely in some areas. This is the dark face of the steppe, one that exchanges coin for blades at the dictates of the weather. Fortunes accumulated in good times may be lost swiftly, and the caravaneers, merchants, and craftsmen may take many years to replace the losses suffered during these brief bouts of desperate need. The Kharal endure, of course, but their survival comes with its own costs as clans are impoverished from loss of stock and lives are expended in brutal raids rather than grand conquests. Such difficulties also induce rebellion, as a khagan unable to reward the tribal chiefs and nobles faces discontent at summer gatherings and potential refusals of his periodic call to arms. Though summer, with its brief burst of abundance, hid these undercurrents for a time, the legacy of the hard spring would make itself known come autumn. Reaching Shtusisnu brought us through only the initial barrage. The steppe always contains additional arrows.