For the last several days Toporov palace was in a state of despair ever since Yaroslav had been brought back in a half-dead state by hunters and counselors. He woke up three days later in his cozy bedroom, trying to remember how he got here.
-“A yeti… clouds of dust… Aleksandr…?
Everything was still vague in his mind and was still very tired. He tried to turn on side, the pain in his back and abdomen kept him from changing his position. Just as he was about to fall asleep again, the maid entered the room and noticed him moving in the bed, first pausing in shock and then approaching the bed to check on her master.
-“Your Highness, you’re awake! Oh, thank gods! We really thought you weren’t gonna make it! Oh, I gotta inform everyone, please wait here I’ll be right back.”
-“N-No…”
Yaroslav tried to call her back, but the maiden already left. He let out a long sigh. He was eager to get more peace and quiet. He really couldn’t find any good place to rest his mind. while he was feeling sorry for himself, several dozen people were waiting outside the room to visit their lord, held back by two guardsmen. in the center of this group, a short bald man was pushing others aside with his ivory cane, cursing and yelling at them. Many of them protested, but had no choice to move aside as they knew his rank- that of a baron - was much higher than theirs. After reaching the gate of bedroom, the bald man turned to face the agitated crowd.
“Gentlemen, please calm down. Our lord is still recovering and we mustn’t disturb his peace. For now only I and several others will enter the chamber. The rest of you will sadly have to wait a while longer.”
The crowd started slowly dispersing, leaving only two men in the hall opposite the baron. One had with brown hair and bushy beard in polished armor, holding the sword hilt with his left and holding the helmet in his right hand. The other was a young man in his twenties, slim and shady, with dark hair and pair of glasses, wearing shirt and pants with gilded buttons. The one in armor approached the baron.
-“Why wasn’t anyone informed of this order? Or maybe you fabricated it, you egghead?” The baron chuckled, hiding his contempt for the main commander of Malensk military force.
-“Ah, Kiril, glad to see you too. I’ve heard that arrow in your buttock really left toll on you. I was worried we might lose the most valiant defender of our city.” Kiril’s head turned red instantly and he gripped his sword more tightly and slowly approached the baron, towering over him and pierced his soul with his red eyes full of rage. The baron started sweating, but still had a cool demeanor overall.
-“Listen me now, Dmitri. If I hear that rumor about my buttock ever again, I’ll break that egg head of yours and make a fine bloody omelet for my war hounds.”
-“Sir Kiril, Sir Dmitri, please calm down.” A young, slim noble intervened in their argument. “This is not the proper time or place-”
-“And who are you to tell me what to do, boy?”
Kiril gave the young man the wrathful look, moved away from Dmitri and started to circle around the young noble.
“ You think you are better than us because you attend rituals and follow every single command of the High priest, eh? You’re all just sheeps who don’t have balls to take control of your life so you instead controlled others through guilt and shame. You and your lot make me sick. And why are you even here?”
-“W-Well, to give my blessings to our lord, of course. And it is my duty as a head of Batutin family.”
Kiril scoffed at this answer.
Yeah, right. Try fooling someone else with that excuse. You’re no better than us Nikolai so don’t act so high and mighty in front of me.”
Their arguing stopped when the doors of chamber opened and maiden informed them that Yaroslav is ready for their meeting. Three of them entered the chamber with stoic faces, bowing their heads before their lord. Yaroslav was already grumpy due to fatigue and pain in almost every part of his body, and now these three had to make this morning even more painful.
-“Good morning, m’Lord!”, said all three of visitors in unison.
Yaroslav didn’t pay any attention to them.
-“We were really worried you wouldn’t live to see another day, but again you proved us all wrong and showed us just how unbreakable your body and spirit are, m’Lord.” said Dmitri with a light smile on his face.
-“It is really a miracle.” said Nikolai in soft, angelic voice. “It is a sign that gods favor you and protect you at all time m’Lord.
-“Our lord is still full of vigor and strength. It would take at least five yetis to take you out amirite m’lord?”,said Kiril, laughing at his joke while the everyone else remained silent.
Yaroslav didn’t respond at all, making all three of his subjects nervous because of this awkward silence. His entire body was motionless, except for his eyes which were constantly moving in all directions as if they were looking for something.
-“Are you alright Your Highness?” The maiden finally broke the silence.
-“Where… is my… savior?”
All three subjects looked at each other in confusion. Kiril stepped forward.
-“Um… you are talking about Sir Aleksandr Bogdanovich, I presume, m’lord?
-“Yes. Where is he?”
-“I’ve sent him on a border patrol m’lord. Those Skitarians are giving us trouble again-”
-“Bring him…back, Kiril. Immediately. Let somebody else take his place.”
Kiril was stunned by this. He wanted to inform him about his recent victories and improvements in the logistics to show how capable he was to Yaroslav and perhaps increase his chance of being named the heir of Malensk Grand prince, but Yaroslav shut him down before he could even utter a single word of his accomplishments.
-“…As you wish m’lord.” Kiril bowed his head as to not show his anger for the complete ignorance of his presence. The other two were equally offended by Yaroslav’s behavior.
-“Nikolai, where is the High priest?”
-“He’s still recovering from his illness m’lord, but doctors believe he will be back in shape very soon.”
-“Good. Inform me when he’s recovered. You may leave now.”
All three of them now stood in shock. This wasn’t Yaroslav they knew. Even in a more serious conditions Yaroslav was always delegating orders as soon as he opened his eyes. Now he was just rolling in his bed and grumbled about the state of his body. Did his injuries and age finally caught up to him? After leaving his chamber, Kiril threw his helmet in an fit of anger, ranting about his accomplishment in his military career out loud while Nikolai and Dmitri walked down the hall together. Nikolai was feeling insulted with his lord’s behavior as well but was still cool in his demeanor, while Dmitri’s face showed content and excitement which Nikolai noticed right away.
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-“You seem rather happy after this weird meeting, Sir Dmitri.”
-“And you should be happy too, Sir Nikolai because…” He turned around to see if there was anyone near them, then turned to Nikolai again to whisper in his ear: “We’ll rule the principality together soon.”
-“W-what are you talking about?”
-“You see, my young friend, I have a lot of ears and eyes in this palace, following our lord, watching all of his moves and listening his words. And according to my reliable source there wont be one, not two but three rulers of Malensk after our lord passes away.
-“Three rulers at the same time?! A triumvirate?”
-“Indeed. It will you, me and Sir Kiril, together.” Nikolai wasn’t fully convinced and he felt he had no reason to trust Dmitri about this information from a supposed “reliable source”. In fact, it could be one of the many political traps that Dmitri so far has laid out in his career and that had destroyed many of his rivals in past.
-“I see that you’re not really convinced. Think about it for a little: our Lord was always in the center of all action, but now he’s completely distanced himself from leadership in the last few weeks. His personal doctor told me about his deteriorating health and this recent attack from yeti shortened his lifespan significantly. As for the information about triumvirate, it’s not still confirmed but my intuition tells me that it is true. You know he doesn’t see any of us fit to rule alone so it will probably be a co jointed rule. But it doesn’t matter if you believe me or not as you will soon see that I was right. Have a nice rest of the day.”
Dmitri went into his own chamber while Nikolai left the palace completely befuddled. He never actually saw himself as a potential heir to Yaroslav, but now was his chance to prove that he was more than a wishy-washy intellectual and theologian whose head was always in the clouds. In the treasurer’s chamber Dmitri laid on his bed, contemplating his moves after Yaroslav dies. Should he get rid of Kiril, or Nikolai instead? What about the High priest Seraphim - can he be trusted or should he replace him with one of his cousins? So many questions were occupying his mind but here still plenty of time before his ascendance so it would be better to prepare a plan to make a path to the throne of Malensk a sure thing. He got up and took his ink and paper and started writing letters to all prominent member of principality.
***
A clouds of dust gathered near a village Pokrupskaya on the border of Malensk principality. A great clouds that wasn’t caused by wind but by great number of men and horses. The Malensk border patrol and Skitarian tribal horsemen fought each other in a brutal melee fight. Although better equipped and more numerous than their lightly armored steppe opponents, the border guard had a difficult time chasing them as the clouds of dust lowered their visibility and many were separated from the main group, fighting their own individual battles across the fields. In the village itself, which was abandoned before the raiders arrived was a small group of soldiers , with two officers on the top of the holy temple, watching the chaotic battle and discussing their next move. A scout arrived in the village, entering the temple and climbing the stairs to the top to deliver his message to the officers. He reached the top panting and limping because of his wounded leg.
-“Sir, it’s a total chaos down there! Many of our have split up and are getting surrounded. And those who ran out of dust are met with arrows from their horsemen constantly retreat and advance again and again. At this rate will lose the battle.
The officers all turned back to the battlefield, weighing their options.
-“Time’s running out Aleks, you gotta make choice.”
-“For you it’s Sir Aleksandr, Nikita. And I do have a plan.”
-“I’m all ear ‘Sir Aleksandr’.
-“ That huge storm clouds over there are man-made.”
Nikita gave him a puzzled look.
-“Um… yeah that usually happens when you have such a large concentration of men on one place-”
-“No, I didn’t mean that. This is a work of magic from one man.
Nikita was even more confused with this answer.
-“And you came by that conclusion because…?”
-“Look down there.We’re fighting on green plains with thick grass. The soil is moist for most of the year. And yet there is so much dust as if we’re fighting in a desert. Even with so much men and horse it would be impossible to make clouds of that size on these green moist fields.”
-“Hmmm, that makes some sense…”
-“It is probably a young, inexperienced warlock because so far we haven’t seen any other unusual phenomena.”
-“OK, but how do we find this shaman?”
-“I have a tool. Gather all the remaining men. We’ll join the fight.”
-“Finally. Took you long enough.”
Both of them came down from the temple and mounted on their horses and went into the fray followed by a dozen horsemen. As they moved closer, dust clouds were getting more thicker, making distinction between friend and foe almost impossible.
-“Aleks! We gotta get out or we’ll get surrounded!”
-“Nikita, gather all the remaining men you can find and get out! I’m going for the shaman!”
-“What do you mean? Aleks!!”
But Aleksandr already rode off towards the center of dusty clouds. With every meter he got closer, the dust was thicker and the wind blew stronger. It was impossible for him to keep his eyes open and his horse refused to go any further, throwing him onto grass.
-“Damn beast! Just now when I’m so close.”
He started slowly walking towards what he felt was a central point of this sandstorm. His eyes were red and teary from the sand that was blown into his eyes so he navigated himself by the wind that blew stronger the more he walked. He could feel he was extremely close to the man behind this sandstorm, but the wind was now so strong he had to crawl. A few minutes after he entered the sandstorm he was on his knees, exhausted, his eyes were barely open and he crawled very slowly because of the sand that got into his armor.
And then - a flash of light just a several meters in front of him. As if his strength had suddenly returned, Aleksandr stood up and rushed forward towards the source of the flash. He closed his eyes completely and just ran towards it against the loud and raging wind. It was becoming ever more stronger and louder, feeling that he will be blown away but then - it stopped. Aleksandr fell out of exhaustion but he couldn’t feel the wind or the sand in his face. He opened his eyes - he was inside of some kind of vortex and before him stood an old man dressed in a brown skirt with a staff that was emanating light. The shaman was visibly shocked and stood frozen in his place.
-“I hope I’m not interrupting anything, old man.”
The shaman shouted in his own language and swung his staff at Aleksandr, but he quickly reached for his sword and cut shaman’s staff in two with one swing. Vortex stopped spinning for a brief moment and then all the dust in the air fell on the ground, exposing now vulnerable Skitarian horsemen, who began to retreat and were followed by regrouped border guard led by Nikita. The old shaman fell on his knees, awaiting his death by his opponent, but Aleksandr returned the sword to his sheath, much to shaman’s surprise.
“Go home, old man. Your death won’t bring me any good.”
Aleksandr shook the sand out of the armor and started walking towards his headquarters, while the shaman, still visibly shaken, picked up his broken staff and gave one good look at his opponent before leaving the battlefield.
***
Aleksandr laid in his makeshift bed while his men celebrated their recent victory. He wasn’t in a mood celebration after burying his dead comrades who got killed in the sandstorm. He couldn’t understand how his men could celebrate after seeing so much blood and death. Was he more sensitive than them? Or they actually feel like him but decided cover their grief and depression with alcohol and war songs? His brooding was interrupted by Nikita, whom he could see that he was drunk by his movement. Nikita bowed in respect somewhat clumsily. He opened his mouth as he wanted to say something but instead let out a loud burp.
“Sorry Sir, couldn’t keep it any longer.”
-“You know you easily get drunk and you drink more than everyone in this camp.”
-“And you still never tasted one drop of Frostbite vodka. At least share one drink for the dead comrades. Others think you don’t drink with us because you see us as a lowlifes without futures.”
-“What?! I’ve never thought anything like that about any of you!”
-“I know. But there is only one way to prove it.” Aleksandr let out a deep sigh and begrudgingly got up from the bed.
-“Fine. One drink won’t kill me, I guess.”
-“YAAAAAAAYYY!!” Nikita shouted and took Aleksandr by the hand before being stopped by a messenger.
-“Sir Aleksandr Bogdanovich, a message from Sir Kiril Ustashov”
He handed the message in scroll to him and left the tent. Nikita watched with great interest while Aleksandr unpacked the scroll and then started reading.
-“What does it say, Aleks?”
-“Ready your gear and horse, Nikita. I’m needed in the capital. You’re going with me.”
-“FINAAAAAALLLYYYY!”, shouted Nikita before Aleksandr slapped his head.
-“Enough. We are leaving early in the morning.”
-“Ay, ay, captain.” said Nikita before falling on his bed beside that of Aleksandr falling asleep almost instantly. Aleksandr let out a sigh of dissapointment and started packing his and Nikita’s equipment for the trip.