The winds of Tepr howl across the vast plateau, caressing the steppe grasses in a gentle sway. Herds of wild horses gallop in the distance, their hooves pounding the ground in a rhythmic dance of freedom. Each tribe of Tepr has its own rhythm, its own dance; and in the Jabliu tribe, today’s rhythm pulsates with excitement.
The plateau stretches as far as the eye can see, an endless tapestry of gold, green, and russet hues. Here, the land seems to kiss the sky, creating a horizon that blurs the lines between earth and heaven. During the day, the sun bathes the steppes in a warm glow, making the tall grass shimmer like liquid gold, while at night, the vast expanse transforms into a celestial canvas, adorned with millions of stars that glitter and dance.
Scattered across the plateau are clusters of wildflowers, painting the landscape with splashes of color. Bluebells, marigolds, and crimson poppies sway in the wind, their petals whispering ancient tales of the nomadic tribes that have called this land home for generations.
Occasionally, the tranquil scenery is broken by meandering rivers and streams, their waters gleaming under the sun’s rays. These lifelines provide sustenance to both flora and fauna, ensuring the cycle of life continues uninterrupted. Along their banks, willow trees stand tall, their branches drooping gracefully, offering shade to the wandering animals and weary travelers.
The steppes are also home to diverse wildlife. Apart from the majestic horses, herds of antelope sprint with unmatched speed, their agile forms weaving through the grasslands. Predators like the steppe fox and golden eagle patrol the skies and grounds, always on the lookout for their next meal.
In some parts, the ground rises to form gentle mounds or hillocks, which offer panoramic views of the surroundings. It’s atop these natural vantage points that tribes often set up their camps, yurts dotting the landscape, their smoke spirals ascending towards the heavens.
The songs of the steppes are varied. From the melodic calls of larks and cranes to the haunting howls of wolves in the distance, each sound narrates a story of survival, of life, and of the eternal dance between man and nature.
Despite its serene beauty, the steppes of Tepr are a land of extremes. Blazing hot days give way to freezing nights. Ferocious storms can roll in without warning, their thunderous roars echoing across the plains. But to the people of Tepr, these challenges are a testament to their resilience and their deep-rooted bond with this wild, untamed land. They respect its rhythms, understand its moods, and in return, the steppes cradle them in its vast, open embrace.
Naci stands before a mirror made of polished bronze, inspecting her reflection. The fiery sunset casts a golden glow on her tanned face, reflecting her shimmering brown eyes. She’s clad in her best tunic, adorned with intricate beadwork and colorful threads, representing her tribe’s crest. Her raven-black hair flows freely, cascading like a waterfall down her back.
With a grin, she playfully twirls, watching the layers of her dress flutter. Tomorrow, she would be wed. But unlike most brides, who’d be consumed with nervous excitement, Naci feels a different kind of thrill. The idea of leaving her family, leaving the mundane and stepping into a new life away from the everyday drudgery, sends her heart racing.
Her stature is athletic, a testament to the countless hours spent training with the warriors of the Jabliu tribe and racing across the expansive steppes on her favorite horse, Liara. Though not exceptionally tall, she carries herself with a regal bearing, her every step radiating confidence and poise. Many in the tribe whisper about her uncanny resemblance to the legendary warrior queen of old, whose tales of valor are often sung around campfires.
Her nose is straight and proud, inherited from her mother, with a smattering of freckles across her cheekbones, reminiscent of the starry Tepr nights. When she smiles, which she often does, it’s with a contagious exuberance that lights up her entire face, revealing a set of perfectly aligned white teeth. A playful dimple graces her left cheek, making her look younger than her years, and is often the subject of teasing by her siblings.
Yet, for all her vibrancy and zest for life, it’s her eyes that captivate most. They hold depths of wisdom and a hint of mischief, portraying a spectrum of emotions from the fiery spirit of defiance to the gentle compassion she extends to those in need. They are the windows to her soul, revealing the dreams and aspirations of a young woman determined to carve her own path in a world bound by tradition.
Around her wrists, she wears leather bands adorned with small charms, each representing a significant event in her life—her first hunt, her rite of passage into womanhood, and her initiation into the tribe’s council of decision-makers. They jingle softly with her movements, a constant reminder of her journey and the milestones she’s achieved.
As she continues to gaze at her reflection, Naci gently traces a tattoo on her collarbone, an emblem of the Jabliu tribe, inked on her skin the day she turned sixteen. It’s a mark of pride, identity, and belonging, yet also a symbol of the responsibilities she shoulders as the chieftain’s daughter.
“Why do you look so eager, little sister?” a voice teases from behind. Turning around, she finds her older brother, Dukar, leaning against the entrance of their yurt. His smirk reveals the jest in his tone.
“I am merely looking forward to a change,” Naci replies with a sly smile, her tone dripping with mischief.
Dukar chuckles, “A change? Or an escape?”
“Can’t it be both?” she counters, raising an eyebrow.
He joins her inside and takes a seat, inviting her to sit next to him. “You know, it’s not too late to back out. The Alinkar tribe is powerful, but if you’re not certain—”
Naci cuts him off, “It’s not about the Alinkar or any other tribe. It’s about me, Dukar. It’s about not being trapped in a destiny written by others.”
He sighs, his expression softening. “You always were the wild one, like a wolf pup refusing to be tamed. Just remember, Naci, that with freedom comes responsibility.” Dukar studies her for a moment, the firelight dancing in his eyes. “You know, I always admired your spirit. Even when we were children, you never let anyone dictate your path.”
Naci smirks, leaning back on her palms. “Well, someone had to be the rebel in the family. You were always the responsible one, following traditions and making peace.”
He laughs softly. “Someone had to ensure we weren’t kicked out of the tribe because of your antics.”
She nudges him playfully. “Come on, they weren’t that bad. Remember when I swapped Chief Tarun’s ceremonial headdress with a goat’s skull? The look on his face during the ritual!”
Dukar groans, rubbing his temples. “I thought Father would banish you for that one. But you somehow charmed your way out of it.”
Naci winks, “It’s all in the charm, big brother.”
He shakes his head with a smile. “You have a unique gift, Naci. Your spirit, your drive—it’s infectious. People follow you because they believe in you. But leading isn’t just about rebellion; it’s about understanding the weight of choices.”
She sobers up, meeting his gaze. “Are you saying I’m not ready for what’s to come?”
“No,” he replies softly. “I’m saying that you have the potential to be great, to change things for our tribe and maybe even for Tepr. But every choice, every alliance, every step you take will have consequences. And sometimes, the weight of those choices can be crushing.”
Naci takes the time to process those words, but their conversation is interrupted by the arrival of their mother, Gani, before she has the time to answer. Her face is weathered from years under the Tepr sun, but her eyes are bright and knowing. “The Moukopl messengers have arrived,” she informs them, her voice urgent.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Naci’s heart skips a beat. The Moukopl, the mightiest empire beyond the Tenkr mountains, governs all of Tepr, including the Jabliu tribe. Their messengers seldom visit, and when they do, it’s rarely good news.
She follows her family outside where the messengers stand, atop their magnificent horses, their armor shining even in the dimming light. As they begin to relay the message from the Moukopl rulers, Naci can’t help but think of the legends. The tribes believe that beyond the Tenkr mountains lie the realms of the Gods. She’s never been sure if she believes in such tales, but as the messengers speak of demands, tributes, and the power of Moukopl, she wonders if perhaps, in their own way, the Moukopl are the gods of this land.
Shaking off her thoughts, she focuses on the message. Tomorrow might be her wedding day, but in the world of Tepr, politics and power always intertwine with personal lives.
The head messenger, a tall man with a stern face and a beard that reaches his chest, clears his throat, drawing the attention of the gathering crowd. “The Moukopl Empire,” he begins in a voice that resonates through the crisp air, “demands an increase in tribute from the tribes of Tepr. Failure to meet these demands will result in consequences.”
Murmurs ripple through the onlookers, a mix of anger and fear. The Jabliu, though proud, are not the wealthiest of tribes, and any increase in tribute might plunge them into poverty.
Naci’s gaze shifts to her father, the chieftain of the Jabliu, standing tall yet visibly weighed down by the news. His silence speaks volumes, and she knows that this message from the Moukopl will lead to many sleepless nights and difficult decisions.
…
The atmosphere inside the yurt is thick with the scent of burning sage and rosemary, creating a dreamy haze. Silken drapes and ornate tapestries line the walls, their vibrant colors glowing under the soft light of the lanterns. Naci sits in the center, surrounded by her mother, Gani, and her aunts, each busy with a different part of the wedding preparations.
Her Aunt Lura, with her nimble fingers, weaves intricate braids into Naci’s raven hair, while Aunt Tali carefully applies kohl to Naci’s eyes, enhancing their natural allure. Gani is focused on arranging the layers of Naci’s wedding attire, ensuring every detail is perfect.
The mood is light, the air filled with laughter and playful banter. “Remember when you were a child, Naci?” Aunt Lura teases, securing a bead into a braid. “You said you’d marry the swiftest horse in Tepr rather than a man!”
Naci chuckles, “Liara is still the love of my life! But I suppose I can make room for one more.”
Aunt Tali smirks, “Just one? Knowing your rebellious spirit, I thought you’d declare war on the concept of marriage altogether!”
Naci rolls her eyes, “Don’t tempt me. I still might!”
Gani, always the voice of reason, interjects, “Now, now, girls. This union is important. The Alinkar are powerful, and this alliance will bring peace and prosperity to both our tribes.”
Aunt Lura sighs dramatically, “From archenemies to in-laws. Times sure have changed.”
“Speaking of changes,” Aunt Tali begins with a mischievous glint in her eyes, “did you hear about the Alinkar groom’s cousin? The one with the azure eyes?”
Naci snorts, “Aunt Tali, are you gossiping about potential flings on my wedding day?”
Tali feigns innocence, “Who, me? I’m just saying, it’s a big celebration. Many guests, much merriment… Who knows what could happen?”
Gani chuckles, “Leave it to Tali to turn a wedding into a matchmaking festival.”
The women burst into laughter, the tension from earlier forgotten. But as the night wears on and the preparations continue, the conversation takes a more serious turn.
“It’s hard to believe,” Gani murmurs, her hands caressing the hem of Naci’s dress, “that the Jabliu and
Alinkar, who once crossed swords at the mere sight of each other, are now joining forces.”
Naci nods, “It’s a new dawn for both our tribes. Hopefully, this union will be the beginning of a long-lasting peace.”
Aunt Lura adds, “Wars and rivalries have cost us too much. It’s high time we put aside our differences for the greater good.”
Aunt Tali, with a smirk, comments, “Besides, think of the feasts! Alinkar’s chefs are legendary. I’ve heard they make a lamb stew that’s to die for.”
Gani shakes her head with a chuckle, “Trust you to think with your stomach, Tali.”
The yurt fills with laughter once more. As the night deepens and the preparations reach their final stages, there’s a palpable sense of anticipation in the air. A new chapter is about to begin for Naci, for the Jabliu, and for the land of Tepr.
…
The first light of dawn paints the horizon in soft hues of pink and gold. While the steppes outside seem serene and still, inside Naci’s yurt, the atmosphere is thick with tension and anticipation. She sits cross-legged on a plush rug, surrounded by a myriad of embroidered fabrics and ornaments. These embroideries are the testament of a bride’s diligence and patience, a traditional gift to the groom’s family.
Her fingers tremble as she picks up a particular piece she has worked on for days—a depiction of a wild horse galloping across the steppe, its mane flowing freely in the wind. The intention is there, but the execution is far from the meticulous work her peers manage. The stitches are uneven, and some parts of the fabric bear the telltale signs of having been torn and resewn multiple times.
Naci bites her lower lip, the weight of her inadequacy pressing heavily on her shoulders. She has been so preoccupied with her warrior training and the affairs of her tribe that she has neglected this essential part of her cultural identity.
Her mother, Gani, steps into the yurt, her gaze immediately falling on the messy array of embroideries. Her eyes narrow, and she lets out a deep sigh of disappointment. “Naci, why didn’t you come to me earlier?” she chides, picking up a piece that depicts a skewed rendition of the Jabliu tribal emblem. “You know how important these offerings are to the Alinkar. They signify dedication, skill, and most importantly, respect.”
Naci lowers her head, guilt gnawing at her insides. “I thought… I thought I can manage. Every time I tried, something else comes up. A hunting expedition, a tribal meeting, Liara’s training. And before I knew it, time just … slipped away.”
Gani sits down next to her daughter, her expression softening a bit. “It’s not just about the time, Naci. You always had a headstrong nature, thinking you can conquer any challenge on your own. But sometimes, asking for help is not a sign of weakness. It’s wisdom.”
Naci’s voice is barely above a whisper, “I don’t want anyone to know. I feel ashamed. Everyone always talks about my strengths, my courage, but in this … in this, I feel like a failure.”
Her mother places a gentle hand on her cheek, lifting her face to meet her gaze. “You are so much more than your abilities on a horse or with a needle. But you must also remember that in life, especially in a marriage, it’s the little things, the nuances that matter. This wedding isn’t just about you or your groom; it’s about two tribes, two histories merging.”
Naci takes a deep breath, absorbing her mother’s words. “What do I do now? The Alinkar expect these offerings. And mine … mine are just … poor.”
Gani smiles, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Well, luckily for you, you have a family that has got your back. We might not be able to redo all of these, but together, we can make a few pieces that will truly stand out.”
Naci’s eyes brighten, hope rekindling in her heart. “Thank you, Mother.”
Time seems to fly as Naci and her mother immerse themselves in their task. Their hands move deftly, stitching and sewing, trying to craft the best possible embroideries for the impending ceremony. The tribe around them buzzes with activity, preparing for the journey and the important guests they are soon to receive. Just when they start to lose track of time, nature itself signals a significant turn of events.
The eagles’ resonant cries pierce the stillness of the day, their calls reverberating across the vast expanse of the steppes. Outside, anticipatory murmurs ripple through the tribe members as they direct their gazes towards the horizon, where three riders on horseback approach with steadfast determination. Majestically perched on the right arm of each rider, the eagles display an impressive wingspan, casting elongated shadows upon the earth.
Legends of the Alinkar’s unparalleled bond with their eagles have long been whispered amongst the tribes, but to witness them in such proximity is a sight of profound awe. The riders are clad in intricately embroidered garments that glisten in the sunlight, their patterns emblematic of the Alinkar tribe’s esteemed legacy and formidable reputation. Their very presence emanates an aura of might and majesty, solidifying their stature as one of the most revered tribes in the region.
From the entrance of her yurt, Naci discreetly observes the distinguished trio. Her heart flutters with anticipation as she meticulously studies their visages, contemplating which of them might be her betrothed. The man on the left possesses a rugged allure, his deep-set eyes shadowed with stories and a prominent scar defining his jawline. The one on the right appears more youthful, perhaps on the cusp of his twenties, exuding an innocent charm.
However, it is the central figure that commands Naci’s undivided attention. Towering and majestic, this rider radiates an undeniable authority and elegance. Her hair, an opulent flow of poli shed black strands intricately woven with braids embellished by minute silver bells, captures and refracts the sunlight in a celestial dance. Her discerning eyes, a profound shade of brown, survey their surroundings with unparalleled intensity. Her high cheekbones, accentuated by gracefully arched brows, and her defined jawline lend her visage an aristocratic beauty. Her sun-dappled skin, marked subtly with the vestiges of battles past, narrates tales of valiance and perseverance. She is garbed in sumptuous silks of deep purples and rich maroons, which contrast harmoniously with her rugged leather armor. Slender silver chains, which catch the sunlight with every nuanced movement, gracefully encircle her waist, while her robust leather boots disturb the dust beneath with every rhythmic hoofbeat. To Naci’s astonishment, this formidable figure, the groom, is an impeccable woman, whose presence significantly eclipses the two men accompanying her.
From her elevated vantage point atop the hill, she surveys the encampment with eyes that exude confidence. Her eagle releases a second, poignant cry, seemingly in homage to the all-encompassing sun.