Saddle and Silk

Prolog

The year 1238 was strange, to say the least. Various omens in the heavens and on earth indicated all manner of calamities and catastrophes of apocalyptic proportions, and the village elders prophesied years of war and famine. The people looked with fear to the wild fields, from which danger might come at any time to strike them.
Having defeated his elder brother and firmly established himself on his throne, the new Khan needed to show his strength and began gathering his mighty army. He invaded the west and the north, and sacked it. However, he was already defeated in May and many Khergits scattered all over the continent, and because of this, the Khan had to demonstrate his power throughout his empire for the next two years, so that it would not rebel against him. His brother left the Khergit Empire and became a guest of the Kingdom of Rhodoc where he served as a mercenary under whose banner a few thousand Khergits always served. When in December of that year the free city of Veluka decided to finally accept King Gravet, the young king of Rhodochus, as its ruler, the other countries took it as a danger and immediately attacked their southern neighbor. After more than a year of fighting, the Rhodoks really managed to defend themselves, but they had to be content with ceding some territories to their neighbors. And in the winter it really looked like peace might be coming. That it was impossible was understood more or less by all the anointed heads of Kalradia, and with this the Kalradisjký Continent slowly stepped into the new year, twelve hundred and forty.
*
The rain fell slowly on the roofs of the burnt village houses. The smoke from the extinguished fire slowly drifted, as if lazily clinging to the ground. The smell of rain, fire, and smoke wafted through the air, gnawing at the memory. In the morning mist, the rider's outline slowly appeared. The closer he was to the place, the better the details of his appearance could be seen. He was handsome, about twenty years old. His black horse treaded carefully, like the Khergit horses of the Eastern Chambuls. He had a shaven head in the Khergit manner except for a single strand of hair, slightly slanted almond-shaped eyes. He took a deep breath. He smelled that combination of the smell of the crematorium and the rain with the straw. He walked around the collapsed house, sniffed at his saber belt, readjusted the shield on his back, and mounted his horse. He still had a very long way to go and he hoped to make it within a week. He had been riding the steppe for two weeks, and he was already feeling tired. He urged his horse and rode towards Senuzgda Castle. From there he planned to ride the pass towards the town of Yalen. There he decided to start his career as a mercenary. I'll join the seeds, he told himself, or the retars, especially if I'm riding. So the young man from the steppe made his plans. The trip ended up taking him a day longer than originally planned due to the rainy weather. He arrived at the town of Jalen, and stayed a while on the hill, admiring the view of the town. It was huge. He estimated that fifty thousand people could fit inside its walls alone. He slowly entered the city, which attracted all the surrounding nations with its wealth, especially the Nords, with whom it bordered. He put on his helmet, which was especially popular with the Khergit mounted lancers, or hulans, and his expensive armor, straightened his expensive saber belt and straightened his shield across his back in the boyar fashion. As he passed through the street, he saw a buyer with expensive skins. He stopped the horse and the merchant called out to him: "What can I do for you, Effendi?" news in the world?" "Then you must go this way and then down, past the fountain, and there's a good inn, you'll see they'll receive you kindly if you say you're from me." The merchant then frowned, and said, "It's true what happened says the Khan will want to close the paths to the south?" The young Khergita looked at him quite seriously and answered him, "If not this year, next year for sure, I would see it that way for this winter, but it is possible that he will close them only in the spring, it depends when the shahs in the south give him the opportunity." "He took a good look at the goods. "Don't you have some prepared bear's stomach here? It's handy if you don't have a kettle." The buyer laughed. "I know the cooking method, is it really that good?" "Yes, but it has to be the stomach of a cave bear, otherwise you will burn." "Thanks for the advice, here you have it, it's not cheap, but I'll give it to you for less, as a thank you for the information and advice."

The horseman left him two hundred denarii there and went the way the buyer advised him. He reached the inn. He was very well received, and as soon as he said he was from the buyer, the innkeeper was very happy to take him in. Before the stranger knew it, he had stew, bread and a mug of beer. He ate and then listened to the two mercenary gunmen from Swadia, I tell you, the old king will die and there will be war. It doesn't matter who we are with, our peaceful life will end and we will be roaming around the Kingdom of Rhodoch like a few years ago. We have to prepare. We don't have a master right now, but I believe one will be found, am I right guys?" The inn answered him with a resounding yes, and then the individual calls continued. The elder of the gunmen looked around the inn and noticed a young rider. "Come to us my friend and drink with us! Innkeeper, give him some more beer!" The newcomer sat down. "Then what shall we call you?" Khergit appreciated their willingness not to trace his past and replied, "Tiberius Sanjar Ukban bey." The brew fell silent. The gunman reverently touched his fingers to his hands and lips and said. "Efendi." To which Tiberius replied, "Al eillah al muddin". Then he took the jug, and together they tapped and said. "I'm looking for a man, is anyone interested?" Suddenly a pregnant woman came out of the corridor, and next to her was a young Khergit rider. "Me sir!" "You're quite young my friend, but congratulations on the baby." Tiberius croaked with a tankard in hand. "What will it be called?" "Baheshtur."