> The Great Khan Burzin Radpour was blessed with four sons and twelve daughters, from the oldest girls Sidah and Mirin to the youngest Rashida. Of his sons, Prince Sahand served as Heir the longest and is mentioned still for subjugating the Forya-Rochir north of Torbal for the most part. He was followed by Prince Nout who stayed as Heir for a few years. The Gold Leopard is fondly remembered today mainly by his cadre of supporters, for his towering intellect without doubt and through some of the various works he left behind. Also, not only for the many campaigns he participated but even more so for the campaign he came close to winning.
>
> Prince Radin, the Bloodfang, was not considered a great general although he always fared decently on campaign and excelled in personal combat much more than any of his brothers. While not as famous as Sahand or as accepted collectively by friends and foes as Nout, for the younger Horselords Radin is their favorite Prince and a true Horselord of old. Having known the man, I most certainly disagree with that silly notion. Radin wasn’t a monolithic brute or a tower of bravery. The Prince was a well-travelled restless soul, as much a Horselord as he was a Lorian or an Issir.
>
> And then there is Prince Atpa, or ‘the Desert Asp’, a figure best left for others to discuss.
>
>
>
> Chief Advisor, Lord Sam Phanti
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> Wind of the Steppe
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> Khan Burzin Radpour’s biography
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> Circa 208 NC
>
>
>
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Prince Radin Radpour
The Insidious Bloodfang | Part one
-Incentives-
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> ‘South Leg’ Forest
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> (The pine grove between the towering Marble Peak & the Sleeping Drake mountain range named after Dread Beck River’s south branch)
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> Rin An-Pur Plains
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> Eplas, the Great Khanate
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> Summer of 176 NC
>
> During
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> ‘The Princes Hunt’
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>
>
> Nar Masud-Rum had a constipated look on his face when he returned, his horse lame. Hajot and Havor, Jorah Dhin-Awal’s sons were quick to shame the young Horselord with loud calls.
>
> “Found a hole in the plains didn’t you?” Havor grinned, young face tanned to a golden-brown and jumped from his horse to approach the sour-looking teenager. They were all about the same age, with Hajot being a year older than them and the Prince.
>
> Radin was born in 165 NC, the third in a series of sons delivered in quick succession by the Khan’s second and third wives. Atpa in 164 NC and of course Nout in 163. Sahand the oldest of the bunch had come four years earlier in 159, followed by a couple of sisters. Sidah and Mirin, who Radin had met once as they lived in the Rin An-Pur’s East Tower, at the Wives Palace, a massive building adjoined to the Khan’s Harem and the gardens. Burzin didn’t want to walk too far on foot to visit his three wives and about forty consorts. Using a horse on the limestone-tiled yards of the complex left a mess behind and Chief Advisor Sam Phanti was always in the Khan’s ear to present a more polished look for the visiting Cofol Lords of the Peninsula.
>
> “Atpa has booby-trapped the leopard’s trails. A guide is dead,” Nar Masud-Rum griped and jumped from his horse as well, to check on its leg with Havor.
>
> “We should warn the others,” Havor said.
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> “No,” Radin intervened.
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> “He’s scared to face the beast?” Hajot queried curling his lip alike his austere father. They were from Dia Castle. Petty nobles from the provinces, but stayed close to Radin since, unless he croaked from a fever, blade or during the hunt, the prince was to rule as Lord of Jade Lake in a year’s time.
>
> A prospect Radin didn’t find too enticing, despite liking their company well-enough otherwise. The Prince wanted more.
>
>
> He yearned to travel beyond the plains without doubt, but further than the desolate southeastern shores of Eplas. Nothing much to do there but stare at the Pale Mountains that barred the way to Ancient Wetull and its legends of otherworldly violent beings. The line of Burzin had served under their savage yoke for centuries until Radpour decided he had enough and broke free to carve an empire of his own.
>
> “The traps were meant for us,” Radin elucidated. “Sahand’s party mostly.” The older prince, Sahand was near eighteen years old already, had brought several Cataphracts with him. It would have made cornering and defeating a leopard easier for him against his younger brothers. The prince who succeeded to catch one first and then bring it to the Khan’s camp at the edge of the woods, would be declared the winner and earn the prestigious moniker ‘prince leopard’. The Heir was the favorite of course.
>
> “The trails led to the depression, the mud-hollows.” Nar Masud-Rum said and pointed east over the tall grass. “It cuts narrow paths in concentric circles but they all converge there. We could smoke it out, along with the cunning ‘masked’ prince. With all the respect we should burn his arse my Lord.”
>
> A guide or two you can excuse away. A dead Prince would need more than coin or threats to pull off.
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> “And perish ourselves in the firestorm,” Radin retorted mockingly and returned to his own mount. He patted its long black snout with a hand, felt the hot air coming out of the moist nostrils and murmured peacefully to ease the horse’s heart. “The grass is too dry to risk it.”
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> “Has anyone seen Nout since last night? I lost sight of him during the slaves dance,” Hajot asked and signed for his brother to hurry up with bandaging the horse’s leg or leave it for Nar.
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> “It’s one of father’s horses,” Havor Dhin-Awal protested, both of Lord Jorah’s sons mindful of their animals and property.
>
> “Masud-Rum can walk it back to the camp,” Radin decided and climbed on the decorated saddle lithely. “We’ll find the trails, skirt around Atpa’s traps and reach the leopard’s lair.” He could hear a lot of horses approaching and a dust cloud raising over the tall grass in the distance. “Sahand has decided to move.”
>
> This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.
>
> And Nout is probably already ahead of all of us, Radin thought pursing his mouth.
>
> ‘Even the prepared hunter sometimes fails spectacularly,’ his bright brother had philosophized last night. ‘But much less than the unprepared or the lazy predator, and it’s usually due to circumstances beyond his control.’
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> ‘Usually, because sometimes the shrewd hunter, even if he’s experienced, can fuck things up due to a momentary lack of judgement,’ Nout had continued with a glance at Radin who was busy gawking at the naked bejeweled navels of the exotic dancers leaping at the wild sound of the kettle drums. ‘Brought upon him by the wrong kind of greed, or too big a dose of vanity.’
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image [https://i.postimg.cc/vZNnjB8s/Boar-s-Horn.jpg]
29th of Secundus 195 NC
East Greenforest
Two kilometers from Boar’s Horn River stone bridge
Jelin, Kingdom of Kaltha
Prince Radin’s field tent
Nar Masud-Rum’s horse carried as much mud as its fit, now much older rider. The Cataphract leader climbed down tossing the reins to Tobro that had rushed out of the open flaps of the tent to assist him. The old Horselord Jorah Dhin-Awal raised his head from the maps to eye the approaching knight censoriously and Nar almost lost his footing, not expecting the reserved welcome.
Something always happens, Radin thought and he sensed Masud-Rum didn’t know.
“My Prince,” Nar started but Radin stopped him with a wave of his hand, using his legs to turn on the stool to face his old companion.
“Havor was killed,” Radin told him, the missive from Issir’s Eagle and Rumen-Kot still open under a map of the local terrain, Dhin-Awal’s father was reading earlier.
“That’s impossible,” Masud-Rum croaked and stopped dead in his tracks, losing some of the color on his bearded cheeks. He’d left his helm with the horse. “I was just with him not five days ago. We had all but opened the north flank with Bedas.”
“The Legion’s flank held but Havor’s center didn’t,” Radin replied and paused seeing Jorah’s expression. “The Khan blames him but I think the Lorians sold him out,” Radin continued and Lord Jorah grunted angrily, his wrinkled eyes hollowed and black. The skin sickly looking. “Those pagans are god-fearing in name only. Duke Victor is not to be trusted.”
“Those darn machines.” Masud-Rum croaked. “Havor feared them.”
“He was supposed to have machines aplenty as well,” Jorah grunted.
“Went against plenty of crossbow units I’m told. The likes that stopped Putra,” Radin pointed out.
“This is shocking to me,” Masud-Rum grimaced deeply saddened and made an attempt to speak with Jorah Dhin-Awal but the old Horselord stopped him with a mean glare. “My lord I offered to stay but orders arrived to join the Prince…”
“Ugh,” Jorah grunted and reached for his whip to thrash him in the face. Radin got up and stepped between them.
“Lord Jorah, I won’t let this pass without answer. Trust me.”
“You allowed Kalac to escape. Hajot fought for you. Died so you won’t be dishonored,” the Horselord reminded him. Ah, you’ll blame me for that? Radin thought and pursed his mouth.
“I’ll take Dia back.” He told Jorah. “For you and Midah.”
He was Jorah’s youngest boy, with Sabila being the sole girl amongst them.
“You’ll take nothing Bloodfang,” Jorah retorted hoarsely. “As long as you’re not the Prince Heir or even then. Burzin’s mind is set on destroying Kaltha. A Khan’s legacy can’t be bothered with a small castle when there are whole cities of infidels within his grasp. And how are you going to do it when against these same men you’ve failed at Tyeusfort? A bunch of low-life mercenaries!”
Radin took a step back and stared outside the tent to their camp. Around a thousand Medium Horse, a thousand Horse Archers and the same number for the Jang-Lu detachment under Amir-Zeket, the infantry first general’s uncle. Plus a hundred and eighty Cataphracts with those that Nar Masud-Rum had brought with him.
“We need to fight when it’s favorable to us and inconvenient for our opponent,” Radin finally said. “Nout always preached that and would create elaborate plans that sometimes worked in his favor.”
“You can’t ride on your brother’s saddle,” Jorah snapped. “Without him there would be no campaign!”
“I wasn’t going to,” Radin replied returning his stare warningly. “I’ve a saddle of my own. I carve the names of fallen enemies on its polished wood. You praise Nout but my brother played his hand and lost. Left a daughter behind and his name will soon be forgotten. He’s out of the picture.”
“You can’t erase those that fell for a noble cause. Trying to stop the rebels from reaching the capital. Protect his lands!” Jorah grunted grinding his teeth. “I rather perish on the burning sands than lose face!”
Sure. How did that work for your sons?
“Lands can be retaken,” Radin retorted crooking his mouth. “You take your enemy out and then the war is over.”
“Eah,” Jorah made a gesture with his hand. “See to save that miserable Lord Putra first. Else Burzin’s favor would be short-lived and that snake Atpa might outlive us all!”
Atpa was never going to truly cooperate with anyone else on the throne but himself. Radin knew it for years. Their father knew it as well and it wasn’t going to change. To trust a snake is to open yourself up to be bitten.
“Nout should have burned Fu De-Gar Jorah, after he finished Ani Ta-Ne,” Radin noted, trying to be patient because he needed the old Horselord on his side. Never cared much about him even though the Prince had a long friendship with his now perished older sons. Jorah was an ally assigned at birth. “Mista Savar was the tool, the Cofol Lords those wielding it. Without them there’s no rebellion. Even with Mista Savar gone, most of the Peninsula has still moved away from the Khanate.”
“Mmm. Or maybe you’re wrong and without him there would have been no rebellion. And where did the wayward Three Sisters go? Right into the embrace of those that control Dia,” Jorah noted sourly. “Your own whoring wife included. Wouldn’t open her legs for you but did it plenty for everyone else is the word.”
Radin didn’t take the bait. Jorah was mourning in his own way. Moreover, revealing his hand too early was not in his intentions. Strike suddenly and go for the jugular afore your opponent realizes what is happening. The Great Leveler cared little about skill or station.
“I have the son I want and a faithful wife,” Radin finally said thinking of Nidar. “Your stables had bad horses in the past. It’s not always the stable master’s fault, but it is on him to bring it to heel. Prince Radin hasn’t spoken his final word on the matter or in this campaign.”
Masud-Rum nodded and Jorah smacked his lips before using the hard butt knot of the whip to scratch at his grey beard thoughtfully.
“Those that stood against Bloodfang have perished or failed,” his old friend said in a solemn boast. Everyone believed that Nar wouldn’t make it past thirty given his low intelligence. Yet here he was, the last member of their little gang still standing. Dirty as a sick coyote but very much alive. He was tenacious though and a decent fighter. Somehow he’d managed to make it work where Dhin-Awal’s more skilled sons had failed. “With no exceptions. The Prince is a man of his word.”
But for that hunt, Radin thought, but Nar who had been there didn’t bring it up finding diplomacy in his later years or just plainly just forgotten all about it.
‘I just wanted to get one of those stupid pompous fuckers out of the way. Not you young brother. You’re not in my way yet ha-hah,’ the now wearing a silver mask instead of a wooden one Atpa had revealed to Radin many years later making a tasteless jest, well-received by his murderous entourage. ‘It was supposed to thin out the ranks and blame it on evil Luthos afterwards. A foolish plan of a young prince that now knows better and stands mature in his ambitions. The patient man can see the future Radin. We’re much alike. Eh, not in all I suppose. You’re too prideful at times. What’s in the past, is in the past anyways. Of course I shall assist you. Have your revenge, gorge yourself in their blood and stay healthy. We do share a mother after all.’
Radin stared at the silent Issir female that had entered the tent with a carafe. She was visibly pregnant.
“Leave it on the table Loes. I shall come for you later,” he told her and signed for Nar to follow him to the table where Lord Jorah had the maps open. They showed Boarsnout Peninsula and the prominent Boar’s Horn River. From its bridge all the way to its sources kilometers away, where it narrowed down considerably under the shade of Boar Mountain.
Every man has an incentive. Something to urge him forward. A Princess’ thoughts of him in his mind or a sense of duty to his people that forces him to stay back, he thought while Jorah briefed Nar Masud-Rum and showed him Putra’s missives. Putra would rather wait for the campaign to be over afore moving, but Mirpur’s son has a young kid of his own to care about and a new wife. He’ll want to get them out and save them from the wrath of the locals.
And he’ll drag Lord Putra’s carcass, if push comes to shove, along with him.