The Winds of Tepr

Chapter 26

The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the sprawling encampment that has become the uneasy amalgamation of Jabliu, Alinkar, Orogol, Nipih, and Haikam tribes. A month has passed since Naci's bold declaration as Khan of Tepr, and yet, the simmering rivalries still pulse beneath the surface, dividing the tribes into separate clans that only occasionally interact.

A lithe and enigmatic figure returns from its clandestine journey to the border with the Moukopl Empire. As it steps into the heart of the encampment, it is greeted by Konir, the elusive shaman whose sharp wit and smug demeanor hide a profound knowledge of the arcane.

Konir, his dark eyes dancing with a mischievous gleam, approaches the newcomer with a sly smile playing on his lips. "Well, Meicong," he drawls, his voice dripping with fox-like charm. "What news have you brought from the other side?"

Meicong's response is as cold as the winter wind that sweeps across the steppes. "The Moukopl court is in shambles," she replies, her voice laced with an undertone of bitterness. "The Crown Prince has gone missing during their ill-fated expedition into the Yohazatz desert."

Konir's laughter rings out like a mocking melody. "Ah, Yile," he says, his eyes narrowing in amusement. "I wonder if he had a hand in this misfortune."

Meicong shrugs nonchalantly, but the knowing look in her eyes speaks volumes. Yile, the influential eunuch who had been a supposed friend and confidant to the Crown Prince, had always operated behind a facade of loyalty. Only those who truly knew him understood his cunning nature.

Konir, still chuckling, begins to juggle a handful of bones that he uses for divination. "Perhaps," he muses, his voice a low purr, "Yile convinced the prince to embark on that doomed expedition, all to cast him aside."

Meicong's lips curl into a wry smile, and she nods in agreement. The political games in the Moukopl court are intricate and treacherous, and Yile is a master of manipulation.

As they converse, Meicong's keen eyes notice that the encampment seems unusually empty. She furrows her brow and gestures toward the deserted area. "Why is the encampment so quiet?" she asks, her curiosity piqued.

Konir grins and motions for her to follow him. "There's a little game afoot," he says, his voice laced with anticipation. "Care to join me and see what mischief awaits?"

As Meicong and Konir make their way to the outskirts of the encampment, the raucous sounds of laughter and cheers become increasingly deafening. At last, they ascend a small hill, and before them unfolds a spectacle that draws Meicong's attention like a magnet.

A colossal game of tag is in full swing, played on the backs of galloping horses. Konir, with a glint of playful amusement in his eyes, explains the game's rules to Meicong. It's a lively display of skill and agility, where the riders vie to tag one another with strips of colored cloth.

Meicong's gaze is irresistibly drawn to the two most exceptional competitors in the fray. Leading the competition with a breathtaking display of raw speed and agility is Horohan. Meicong has heard whispers about her upbringing as a man and her warrior training in horsemanship, but witnessing her prowess is something else entirely. She outshines almost every other participant.

Hot on Horohan's heels is a young man from the Nipih tribe, identified by the colors on his banner. Meicong has never crossed paths with him before, but he's clearly a formidable rider. He's inches away from dethroning the reigning queen of the race.

The Nipih boy is a striking figure, his ebony hair flowing behind him as he guides his horse with deft precision. His determined eyes, a shade of deep brown, are locked onto Horohan. The wind tugs at the loose strands of his hair, and the muscles in his arms ripple with every calculated move.