Following departure from Shtusisnu, the Dragon Expedition, now dedicated to the transport of alchemists to the city of Snushgud in the south, quickly crossed the river via a widely used pontoon bridge deployed by the merchant’s consortium and entered in the territory of the Khanate of Kudustushgu. This region, under the control of Dukamun Khagan, is physically the smallest of the khanates, but due to the combination of balmy temperatures, by the standards of Shdustu, and increased moisture it is able to host perhaps twice as many animals per unit of pasture as the other khanates. Though this is a substantial difference, it is a gradual transition, and the land remains vast and wild. The Kharal occupy this area with increased visibility, as the region is mostly very flat and a rider can see a great distance.

Unlike the other two khanates, whose relations had degenerated into open warfare, Kudustushgu was nominally at peace. In this year of hardship, every Kharal appeared ready to engage in opportunistic violence. The height of summer, when we departed, mitigated this slightly, as every clan worked to fatten their animals on every last bit of growth that could be found following the difficult spring, but hard eyes stared at us as we passed, and hands were quick to reach for bows. There was little wild game to be had, for the hunters depleted the land heavily to fill their pots, and what animals as could escape to hills and badlands beyond the easy reach of arrows did so. Those which could not relocate, such as marmots, were lean and stringy, and made for unfulfilling meals around the summer campfires. Those same campfires carried open talk of war sure to come, something that the herders did not hesitate to tell even an outsider such as myself.

Dukamun Khagan was then old, over sixty years, a remarkable achievement for one in his position, and rare. His days of riding heartily to battle were behind him, and it was said he vastly preferred to spend his days hawking as his eyesight had deteriorated to the point that he struggled to aim his own bow. Despite this, whatever failures had afflicted his body left his mind keen, and he was widely considered the shrewdest of Kharal leaders. Keenly aware of the rewards sought by nobles and warriors in hard times, he had begun making plans as soon as the spring blizzards made themselves known. He was sure to lead the balance of his warriors in a great assault, though the target remained unclear. Shutusisnu was the obvious point of attack, but as I had observed the prince there was perfectly aware of this and had made considerable provision to harden the city against attack. Lieutenant Kail, the commander of the Silversheen contingent dispatched to guard us, suggested to me that the khagan might dare to assault Snushgud itself, something not attempted for at least a generation. He did not provide details regarding this speculation, for the lieutenant was not a talkative man and preferred to spend his time among his soldiers rather than the alchemists he was assigned to protect. I came to realize that he considered me of a similar breed to those mystics, which rankled somewhat.

I was grateful for the significant protection provided by these soldiers, as the more concentrated Kharal presence made for larger clans and larger raiding parties. These were observed with some regularity. Thankfully, during this time they were mostly willing to make exchanges. Riders would bring harvested herbs, of which the tall grass of this portion of the steppe produced many and offer meat and milk products in return for their conversion into proper medicines. Though the herb lore of the shamans of the Kharal is considerable, the tools available to a steppe-dwelling people are limited, especially in regard to stoneware and glass. Alchemists in possession of proper tools can produce compounds they could never manufacture, though such creation was difficult on the march, and they priced their services highly as a result. The greatest value was attached by the alchemists to the extracted vitals of mystic creatures, especially giant serpents, spiders, and foxes. These creatures remained comparatively common residents of this khanate despite extensive hunting. Natural versions of these animals, especially serpents, are likewise numerous. With small game populations reduced by the harsh spring, these snakes acted with unexpected aggression. Four men and two horses suffered snakebites on the march. Thanks to the presence of the alchemists, who brewed curatives quickly, no lives were lost, but one of the caravaneers suffered a severe malformation of his right arm.

There are some differences in the steppe landscape here. The greater height of the local grass changes the composition of the herbs that grow amid their stems. Dandelion, common in western Shdustu, is rare here, being shaded out by taller grasses save in areas recently grazed. Instead, taller flowers including lilies, a fine yellow tulip, and relatives of the onion are common. These plants all have edible bulbs that the Kharal harvest and their growth is deliberately encouraged. Though they are not, on their own, especially tasty, they can be mashed and boiled with butter or added to mutton stew to become decently palatable and serve as a major addition to the local diet. Increased grass height also facilitates the growth of certain animals. Grasshoppers abound here, feasting on the vegetation, and can grow large and very numerous in some places. The Kharal do not consume these insects directly, considering them illness-inducing, but they will catch them using cloth nets, mashed them, and feed the result to their dogs or ill livestock in the hopes of restoring strength. I observed this, and it seems at least moderately effective, though I do not understand why such a thing should be so. The Kharal consume ground-nesting birds and their eggs when they find them hidden in the grass, though this year made for poor prospects in that area. Ducks, similarly, were reduced in number, though this portion of the steppe has numerous tiny ponds found in low spots where these birds usually breed. Eggs, always rare in a region that does not prominently cultivate fowls, were not to be found at any price by late summer.

While the poor year impacted many animals, from livestock to foxes, to grouse, it seems that wolves prospered in response. Why this should be I do not know, but several Kharal hunters said this is a common occurrence. They claim that wolves, like vultures, regularly scavenge the dead, and they are sufficiently cunning to dig through heavy snow to find frozen bodies. This seems a reasonable enough explanation. Under these circumstances, wolf attacks on animals intensified, straining the Kharal prohibition against hunting these animals. Several passed messages that should the Silversheen mercenaries or any caravaneer capable with a bow claim a wolf pelt, it would be looked upon kindly. Such subversion of the intent of a religious prohibition is surely dubious, though few share the Kharal view that the slaying of wolves should be prohibited. While some restriction on wholesale slaughter is doubtless wise, as the revelation cautions that predators are key to the prosperity of the wilderness, a complete ban seems unnecessary. Nuance is not a noted trade of wandering herders, however, so perhaps a clear and simple rule such as this is needed to fulfill the purpose.

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Such simplicity also governs Kharal politics. The various nobles who hosted us as we passed, for Master Kinarnash’s name was known quite widely and most were eager to acknowledge his presence though the feasts were kept quite modest, were quite direct in expressing their opinions. Every one of them fully expected that their khagan would call them to a great battle come autumn, and this would either lead to a great victory that secured survival through the year for them all and the likely ascension of the Khagan’s eldest son to his position in due course or they would face defeat, in which case those who survived would be those who successfully plundered the necessary stock they needed from the Khagan’s herds after someone rebelled and sent him to the Lord of Death. It was rather shocking to hear such thoughts voiced openly. In the Sanid Empire, or amid the courts of the Nikkad, such pronouncements would surely bring about a swift death. Steppe affairs lack such subtleties.

The journey from Shutusisnu to Snushgud takes a minimum of sixty days, even taking advantage of the long summer evenings. Between the aged master and the generally sluggish travel pace of the alchemists it took the Dragon Expedition seventy-five. Our arrival therefore did not occur until the beginning of autumn. I regretted this but lacked any real leverage to press Master Banshandu to seek greater speed. Lieutenant Kail also favored the relaxed progress, as it allowed his soldiers to patrol with greater vigilance. He believed this served to ward off potential attacks. Perhaps this was true. We encountered the wreckage of several caravans on the route, destroyed either by Kharal raiders or bandits. The only apparent difference between such strikes is that the Kharal take the time to strip the dead and bring them to nearby hills for dismemberment and sky burial as it proper. Bandits generally leave the bodies to rot in place, often in whatever clothes they wore when slain, though wolves and vultures were generally able to perform the necessary tasks regardless. In this way nature seeks to return all things to their proper place in the cycle. Both groups plundered relentlessly, taking everything that possessed even the least value. Livestock, clothing, tents, tools, and any other gear all disappeared, usually leaving nothing but broken fragments and bones to mark a shattered caravan. If not for the likely death of horses and camels in any such struggle, and the skeletons they leave behind, it would be almost impossible to locate the sites of these raids. The circling of vultures, regrettably, drew us to uncover those more recently ravaged.

In this fashion, hard times have a strangely purging impact upon Shdustu. The Nikkad hunker down in their towns like scorpions defending a burrow and survive, though their numbers fall. Others, not so well protected, are laid waste by the reaping of desperate Kharal, who enforce their mastery of the steppe in extremis. Bandits, cultists, foreign merchants and mercenaries, and even wizards are not immune to the deluge of arrows loosed by hunger. A storm of spears and hooves carries all away, until only the riders remain. As this pattern grew ever more apparent, I grew worried. Sheltering in Snushgud, as had become the most likely option given our sluggish travel progress in this year, seemed a poorly designed way to endure the winter. If it was to come under siege by the Khagan’s horde, it would be a poor place to be a guest. The alchemists were unworried. They claimed it had been two centuries since the city had been taken. Having watched Summugigus burn, if only partially, I lacked their confidence. Lieutenant Kail, in a rare moment of discussion, agreed with me on this matter. He proposed, given that the Dragon Expedition lay under the Khagan’s protection, to wait until the Shdulus River froze and then journey west atop its icy course in a winter caravan. The river, being carved deep along the steppe, offers protection against blizzards and so the risk was manageable. I agreed to this plan, thinking it reasonable and hoping to speed the return to Crisremon, but it would not come to pass.

Such a long stretch of time on the road, surrounded by a broadly similar grassy expanse day after day is wearying in many ways. Physically, it wears down the body through exhaustive marching and riding, especially given that in order to conduct meetings and exploration I covered perhaps twice the distance that the alchemists did. There is also the gradual decay of equipment over such a substantial journey due to the lack of proper maintenance and repair. Work by the campfire has limitations, Shdustu, even at its most pleasant, is a land full of thorns, holes, biting insects, and tough grass that destroys boots and frays robes. My clothes, which I purchased in Shutusisnu, were new when the trip began but had begun to slowly fall to pieces by its end. The danger to boots was greatest, as we had limited ability to replace these, and the injury incurred through improper footwear on the steppe is most serious. I acquired a pair of felted Kharal boots on the sixteenth day in return for a map made of the local floodplain surrounding a tiny stream. This was one of the rare trades I made for myself in Shdustu, and one of the most valuable. The boots were sturdy and very warm, though somewhat tiring to walk in for long hours.

There is, on a journey of this kind, also a burden that accumulates in the mind. Home is a critical trait to maintain, and the journey had by this point lasted almost four full years. While Erun Nassah lived it was possible to consider the expedition itself a home of sorts, but after his death this was no longer possible. Lady Indili’s presence remained a great comfort, but she was the only familiar face remaining. During this lengthy passage between cities, I attempted to forge bonds with some of those who had come with us, but this largely failed. Those traveling with the alchemists largely considered me a figurehead bought to appease the Kharal and nothing more. Lieutenant Kail was the only notable exception, but his command duties kept him busy, and our conversations were brief and rare. Day after day spent walking, meeting with Kharal nobles, and attempting to keep up the record-keeping and map-making duties I believed remained my charge, left all thoughts slowly scattering. The simplicity of my role in earlier endeavors was much missed.

I was neither alone nor unique in facing these challenges. As the march lengthened and pervasive exhaustion settled over everyone in the group, tempers grew ever more heated. The relative sameness of each day did little to help. Broad and flat, the land offered little variation to entire the eye. Plants and animals changed but little, and with little exposure rock there were few chances to hunt to fossils or gemstones. Conversation around the cookfires grew increasingly strained. Rivalries among the alchemists, a common problem in any collection of mystics, blossomed into pronounced feuds, with threats of violence growing common. Master Kinarnash ought to have handled such disputes, as the senior member of their association, but the elderly man spent almost all of the time on the trip not riding his docile horse asleep and I was often called to mediate in his stead. This satisfied no one, especially as I understood neither the complex principles of alchemical formulation nor the obscure terms of art in Nikkad these mystics constantly used in conversation. Lacking any good method to address the core problems, I took to generally siding against the instigator, in the hopes of forestalling retribution and additional disputes until our arrival. This was at least modestly successful in that there were no eruptions of violence, though I suspect if we had been delayed any longer prior to arriving at Snushgud something drastic would have occurred.