It was total blackout. The wind howled across the steppes, as if the land itself mourned or braced for something terrible—or divine.
A very old female voice—hoarse, ancient, and filled with the weight of centuries—broke the silence. It echoed through the winds in the sacred tongue of the shamans, foretelling a prophecy:
> "In the middle of time, when the Gazelle and her descendants possess the grasslands, mountains, and iron,
The First Sword shall be forged at the expense of their tears.
And when the loyal one holds the soul of the lion,
He shall become the White Tiger, rising to the highest title in the Steppes by the sword, forming the Golden Dynasty.
Prosperity never seen before shall follow, till the birth of the Noble Bloodline shall bring the Book followed by the Foxes.
At the death of the Comfort, the Wise One shall be born, and the Sword will begin to rust.
Then will the Noble Bloodline reach her mightiest.
By the departure of the Wise One, the empire shall fall and the White Tiger shall die by the sword, freeing the soul of the lion to walk beside the Noble Bloodline—and both shall disappear.
The land shall fall into ruins, and so will his descendants.
Till the death of the lion and the alliance of the Lady with the Quill.
The Great War shall be fought at the aid of the Noble Bloodline that will restore the descendants of the White Tiger back to glory in exchange for the fall of the Wise Man, whose blood shall write as the last ink to their suffering.
And then shall the Mongolian arrive at the throne of Tang."
Silence then overtook the darkness—for she no longer spoke...
---
It is midday. The sun shines brightest over the Mongolian grasslands and steppes, known locally as the Tal (Тал). A vast and boundless sea of green extends as far as the eye can see. This is a realm of freedom and resilience, shaped by the harmony of wind, sky, and earth. The horizon is endless, where the deep blue of the Tenger (sky) kisses the rolling plains.
In the midst of this breathtaking scenery, you would hear the sound of Mongolian horses as teenage boys raced gracefully, showcasing their skills. They wore Del (Дэл)—a traditional Mongolian garment made of wool, silk, or felt. This long tunic, fastened with a belt at the waist, was accompanied by tall, durable leather boots ideal for riding and enduring the harsh conditions of the steppes. Their hats, Gorkh, were worn by nobility and completed their majestic looks.
At the finishing line stood a beautiful teenage girl. She wore traditional Mongolian attire adorned with a lot of Arab jewelry, indicating her noble status, and a veil covering her hair. She cheered for the boys, shouting, "Chulun! Chulun! Chulun!"
The eldest was riding slowest, and his younger siblings were taking the lead. But when he heard the girl cheering for him, he increased his speed—for he knew that at the end of the line, his girl was waiting. In the process of speeding up, he startled his younger brother's horse. The young one fell and burst into tears. This alerted their mother's elder son, who stopped and came back for him. With the intention of carrying his younger brother on his horse, he said, "Gan, hold my hands."
But the spoiled brat refused and threw a loud tantrum, shouting, "Brother Suk, elder brother pushed me!" He cried like a baby.
Suk climbed down from his horse and tried to comfort him, saying, "Little brother, I saw it. Elder brother did push you." He thought he was being kind, but he was only adding fuel to the fire.
Suk took out his handkerchief and wiped Gan's face. "Good boy. Now stand up. Remember, men don't cry—according to grandfather."
Gan stood up and got back on his horse. They rode slowly to the finish line. The other brothers had already arrived, with Chulun in first place. He quickly dismounted and hugged his girl.
His second brother, Tomor, started shouting jokingly, "Shameless! This is shameless in broad daylight, hmm!"
Chulun smiled at him. Tomor asked, "Do you know what you're doing, brother?"
Chulun replied, "Yes. I'm going to marry her one day."
Tomor exclaimed, "Eeeeh! For real? If Uncle Amir finds out you're going after his daughter, you may lose a testicle!"
Disgusted, Chulun told Tomor, "With that mindset, you'll never get married."
Tomor replied, "I got married to my sword a long time ago." Chulun went quiet.
Their third brother arrived and said, "Brothers, Gan fell off the horse."
Their bodies went numb.
Chulun whispered, "We're dead today."
Tomor cut him off, "Thank the vast sky it was all Chulun's fault."
Chulun gave him a disappointed look.
Then the girl started cheering, "Gan! Gan! Gan!"
All his brothers joined in, cheering for him. Suk slowed down so Gan could win.
When Gan reached the finish line, his brothers pretended to lift him in joy. But he said, "I'm going to report you."
Chulun's energy faded—he stopped trying to impress him.
In disappointment, Tomor asked, "Are you a psychopath?"
Just then, a younger boy came running toward them, shouting, "Brothers!"
The third brother said, "Elder brother Chulun, did you hear that?"
Chulun replied, "Of course, Naran. I heard it. It's Gerel the Walker."
Tomor muttered, "My younger brother is blessed. I'm sure Mother blessed him with that ability to travel fast on foot."
Chulun sighed, "Tomor, I'm tired of hearing the same thing over and over. Mother Kalt denied it many times. She says it's just a talent."
Tomor responded, "Seriously, Brother Chu—!"
Chulun cut him off, "My name is Chulun, not Chu."
They were interrupted by Gan, "Argue in peace, but remember, I'm going to report you to Father."
Tomor laughed his anger away. Gan, feeling overshadowed, changed his threat: "I'm going to report you to Mother. Then let's see if you have the energy to laugh."
Tomor shut his mouth and tightened his belt.
When Gerel reached them, he shouted, "The Queen has given birth!"
All the brothers were filled with joy.
Chulun quickly mounted his horse with his girl and began riding toward the capital, shouting, "My mother has given birth!" He reached Gerel and helped the little boy up.
From behind, Tomor yelled, "Leave my brother alone! You're already overloading the horse!"
Suk sighed, "Seriously, Tomor?"
Gan added, "Don't worry—I'll report them."
Tomor shouted, "Just go report already! I'm tired of hearing it!"
He rode over and helped Gerel climb his own horse, and they followed Chulun. The rest of the brothers did the same.
From afar, the vast land revealed its heart: a city that looked like a gathering of white swans. Its exquisite white color was deceiving—it was actually made up of gers (Yurts), the portable circular felt tents that formed the foundation of Mongolian architecture. Lightweight but warm, these structures were made from wooden frames covered with felt to insulate against the harsh steppe climate. Their doors always faced south, to honor the sun and keep out the cold northern winds.
When the teenagers reached the gate, they dismounted and entered the city of Ordu-Baliq. As they walked, people bowed respectfully.
At the heart of the city lay the Great Yurt, also called the Administration Tent—where all political decisions were made concerning the Eastern Göktürk Khaganate.
An imperial guard at the door bowed. "Congratulations, my little princes."
Tomor snapped, "Say it again, Kheshig, and I'll have your tongue for dinner."
Chulun touched his shoulder. "It's fine—Tomor is just running his mouth as usual."
They entered the yurt. Tomor remained behind and asked the guard, "So, did Mother give birth to a boy?"
The guard answered, "No, Your Highness."
Tomor said, "Thank the vast sky it's not a boy. Simple Chu is a pain in the ass. Just imagine a little Chu being born—I'll migrate to the barracks. Anyway, thanks, Kheshig."
The guard replied, "My name is not Kheshig."
Tomor said, "Aren't you an imperial guard?" Then he entered the yurt, leaving the guard puzzled.
Inside the yurt, a long carpet stretched from the grand throne to the door. The space was divided into two halves: three large banners hung high, rows of Chinese wooden seats and small tables were filled with delicacies.
To the left of the throne stood a grand sword, and nearby were various men of honor gathered around a man with a humble posture. He wore the most majestic outfit, embroidered heroically, with a Gorkh hat made of the finest fur. By his waist was a unique blade—resembling those of Yemen. He was the Khagan (Supreme Khan, or Great Khan).
As the men discussed affairs, the women (wives of the Great Khan) sat on the right-hand side. The high-ranking consorts were seated at the front, while concubines stayed in the back. The most high-ranking consort shared the throne with the Great Khan. She was poised like a wealthy noblewoman with an air of superiority. A single glance from her was enough to silence the concubines' chatter.
The boys stood in line and congratulated their father loudly. This caught everyone's attention. The Great Khan turned with a smile and said, "Welcome back, sons."
They replied, "Thank you, Father."
He returned to his seat beside the high-ranking consort. One of the attending princes commented lightly, "The princes have grown so fast. I hope we will soon be discussing their marriages."
The yurt erupted in laughter.
---
Then Tomor caught the attention of the officials, and they quickly congratulated the Great Khan for having such a brave boy who participated in the Silk Trade War. This made the Great Khan happier, and he said, "Thank the vast sky, at least one of my sons has a warrior's ethos. That's why I appoint you as the assistant of your elder sister, Dulgun Beki, the Guardian of the Silk Road." All the officials were happy and congratulated Tomor, while an elderly man complimented him: "You should learn more from your sister, for you have the potential of becoming a great warrior."
The Great Khan told Tomor, "Son, kneel and thank Orlok, for he was a great general."
The old man said, "Great Khan, you flatter me," while he smiled.
At that time, the girl bowed, saying, "Congratulations, uncle," and in return, all the people in the yurt bowed for her.
The Great Khan quickly stood up and said, "Rajah, dear, come sit near uncle." She went and sat at the first seat on the left near the throne. Her uncle then asked her, "Tell me, dear, did your cousins give you a hard time?"
She smiled and said, "No, uncle."
At that time, Gan ran in, bursting into tears. "Mother!"
Chulun knew he was dead and quickly knelt down, saying, "Enkhmaa (Mother of Peace, the title of the most high-ranking consort), it's my fault that brother Gan fell off the horse."
The lady stood up in fury. "What! He fell?"
The Great Khan held her hands to calm her. "Dear, be like your name."
In rage, she pulled her hands away from the Great Khan and went to Chulun.
Chulun, fearing, said, "Maa (mother), I didn't mean it."
When she heard him say "maa," she calmed down and became emotional, lowering her voice.
"Son, you finally remembered that it's me—your mother. Dear, it's maa."
Chulun raised his head again and said, "Maa."
Enkhmaa was now shedding tears and hugged Chulun.
The Great Khan stood up and called her by her name.
"Togtuun (Serene), it's enough. Take your seat—and so should Chulunbatar."
(Chulun meaning stone, while batar is a title the Great Khan gives his sons at birth, believing labor is a battle and only a hero is born alive.)
As she went and sat down, the Great Khan saw Gan escaping with his brother Sukh to go and sit.
He said, "Ganbatar (Steel Hero)?"
The little boy was now scared and refused to respond.
The Great Khan said, "Sukhbatar (Axe Hero), leave Ganbatar's hand."
Gan quickly responded in a very soft voice, "Father, I'm sorry."
The Great Khan said, "You better be—but today, you made your mother cry. So come sit with me, my boy, for finally melting the heart of this woman."
Ganbatar quickly went to his father and mother and sat down.
His Majesty then looked at his younger son, who had gone to sit at his mother's empty seat to the right of His Majesty. He asked,
"Dear Gerelbatar (Light Hero), how are the boots?"
Gerel replied, "Yes, father. They are fine. Thank you for asking."
Tomor couldn't hold his mouth and asked,
"Father, I wonder where you always get Gerel's boots from? The leather seems fine."
The Great Khan said,
"Tomorbatar (Strong Hero), it's Bahadur—a known warrior, a middle-aged man who's been making the boots for my boy."
Tomor immediately said to Bahadur,
"Make me one, ooh finest warrior!"
Bahadur replied,
"Yes, your Highness, but only on one condition—if you are willing to marry my daughter, ooh talented young warrior."
Chulun and his other brothers were already laughing.
The Great Khan asked Bahadur,
"Since when did marriage become the decision of the young? Son, just tell me if you want the boots."
Tomor, outraged, said,
"So, father, you sold your son Gerel just because of boots?"
The Great Khan smiled and said,
"Yes."
Tomor, disgusted, told Bahadur confidently,
"No thanks, I'm already married to my sword."
All the officials raised a toast to Tomor.
"That's the ethic of a warrior."
When the yurt was quiet, the shamaness came in and said,
"Blessed is she who is in the prophecy and born under a rare celestial event, for she has a sacred destiny."
The Great Khan stood up and clapped his hands in joy.
"Wonderful! Congratulations to me."
This act placed a smile on the lady next to him (Enkhmaa).
When he noticed her smile, he adjusted his behavior and sat down quietly.
"Please continue, Khaltma (Shamaness)."
She said,
"Your Majesty, in a few days it will be the Blood Pearl Moon, and according to the men's observations, the naming ceremony will be that night."
The men whispered,
"It's a rare occasion that the naming ceremony will fall at night."
Another replied,
"She's the definition of unique."
The Great Khan responded,
"Then so shall it be."
As all the elders left the tent, the Great Khan remained with a man who stood a few feet beside him (more like a close ally by his posture; he seemed a wise man). That man asked the Great Khan,
"Majesty Batu, how are we going to deal with the Ten Tribes?"
This question made the Great Khan rise from his throne in thought. He went towards a displayed sword, grasping it while replying to the man humbly,
"Counsellor Tonyukuk, that day you stood as my witness when I promised not to use this sword or engage in war. But look at these Ten Tribes, starting war over absurd reasons."
Then Orlok, the old general, came in and interrupted the conversation. He bowed.
"Your Majesty, do not burden yourself by the absurdity of the Ten Tribes."
The Great Khan turned his back, looked at the old man in displeasure, and scolded him like a father scolding a son.
"Orlok, how dare you kneel? How many times have I told you not to kneel—do you want to break your back? I'm tired of your wife scolding me daily!"
Orlok, pleased, said,
"Thank the sky that the Great Khan worries about me. I want to ease his worries."
The Great Khan urged,
"First stand up, Orlok."
He insisted.
"Great Khan is too kind. People have forgotten the beast that lies beneath that face."
Immediately the Great Khan stood, a bit confused.
"Are you saying you have forgotten the real me?"
Orlok prostrated in fear.
"No, your Majesty!"
The Great Khan came and held him to stand.
"Tell me the truth, old man."
Orlok, trembling, said,
"Great Khan, Orlok has lied to you."
He prostrated again.
"Your Majesty, you are sometimes too good to me. I feel like I am your father and I forget you are the Great Khan."
He was puzzled.
"Was I too good to that extent?"
Orlok trembled, sensing a change in the Khan's voice.
"Khagan, Orlok has crossed the line. Please punish me."
The Great Khan returned to his throne.
"I hope this is the last time I have to tell you to stand up."
Orlok quickly stood, sweat dripping down his neck.
Then the Great Khan continued,
"Have a seat."
Orlok again insisted,
"I dare not, Your Majesty."
His Majesty smiled and changed his tone to a teasing one.
"Seriously, Orlok! It's been over ten years since you sat after me."
Orlok, very scared, said,
"Majesty, I deserve death."
Khagan said,
"Fine, fine—Orlok, wipe the sweat."
Khagan even came from his throne and poured wine into Orlok's cup.
Orlok still hesitated.
Khagan said playfully,
"Orlok, if I remember correctly, you always loved when I poured you a drink. So be a good old man and drink—for you are starting to annoy me."
The Great Khan sat beside him and smiled.
"Orlok, I know I can be so good that even the devil might mistake me for an angel—but not the people of the steppes."
He kept quiet and joked,
"For as far as I can remember, even I'm terrified of my past."
Tonyukuk chuckled at this joke. Orlok smiled in relief, believing this to be the nice version of the Great Khan.
"Khagan, command me with the finest men to go and crush the Ten Tribes."
The Great Khan changed his expression in disbelief and teasingly asked,
"Are you sure, at your age, you can lead the military?"
Orlok tried to defend himself,
"Your Majesty, I'm still strong and—"
The Great Khan cut him off.
"Old man, leave the opportunity for the young generation. Besides, you're approaching your 80th birthday soon."
Orlok, still unsatisfied, insisted,
"Your Majesty—you don't trust me?"
Khagan held his shoulders.
"If there's anyone I trust in this court second to my mother, then it is you, Orlok. But I am afraid."
Orlok curiously asked,
"What is it—the biggest fear of the grasslands is afraid of?"
Surprisingly, he said,
"Aunt."
Orlok burst into laughter and said comfortingly,
"Son, if she's quarrelling, just turn your face away from her words."
Khagan said,
"That woman—her words pierce deeper than a blade. A mouth of thunder."
Teasingly, he told the old man,
"I heard she barked on your head recently until you cried, oh Great General?"
Orlok, embarrassed, said,
"No, I wasn't crying—the trick is that I have to act pitifully so she can spare me."
Khagan, unconvinced, said,
"Is that so? It's known by everyone that you always cry whenever she scolds you."
Orlok insisted,
"That's my strategy."
Now the Great Khan seemed a little more convinced that it was indeed the best strategy the Great General could come up with. They continued conversing, and the Khagan kept filling the old man's cup like a filial son serving his father.
At that instant, another man, a few years younger than the Khagan, entered the yurt in a hurry. When he saw the Khagan, he didn't mind and went straight to hide behind the throne.
The Khagan was surprised—and so was everyone in the yurt.
The old man froze and walked in a terrified manner toward the throne.
He asked the man behind it,
"Son, what's wrong?"
The man answered nervously,
"Father, go and keep drinking—for mother is coming."
Hearing this, the old man bowed to His Majesty and headed out of the yurt to take refuge before the storm. The Khagan went to sit on his throne nervously, while Tonyukuk went to sit in the old man's place, pretending to be drunk and asleep at the table as the Great Khan reviewed some documents...
---
At that moment, a short, plump woman draped in excessive jewelry and carrying the sharpest eyes in the Steppe stormed into the yurt.
"Batu! Where are they?" she shouted.
The Great Khan rose quickly, his voice tight. "Aunt… have you come to lecture me again? I—"
She cut him off mid-sentence. "Where is Kul Tigin? Tell him to come out before I lose it."
"Aunt," Batu said nervously, "there's no need. Besides… a new grand-niece of yours was just born by the Katun."
The woman paused, clearly processing the news. Her expression shifted.
"So, a legitimate daughter is born," she muttered. Then, with sudden concern, she asked, "Did you place a metal blade or a knife beside her? To protect her until the naming ceremony?"
Silence.
The Great Khan stood still. He had forgotten the tradition.
But he recovered quickly. "Aunt—here. This will do."
He removed the blade from his waist and held it out.
She squinted, recognizing the weapon. "Batu… this is the Wulan blade. You can't give away such a precious thing—"
He cut her short, firmly. "Aunt, this is for your precious legitimate grand-niece."
She was visibly moved. "I know what this blade means to you, son."
Batu smiled slightly. "Don't get emotional. Just take it."
For the first time since her arrival, the fierce woman softened. She stepped forward humbly, received the blade, bowed deeply, and exited the yurt without another word.
The moment she was gone, Batu raised his hands to the sky and muttered, "Oh Creator of the skies… don't let any of my children inherit a mouth like Aunt's."
Kul Tigin emerged from his hiding place, muttering, "That lady scares the hell out of men. No child should take after her."
Tonyukuk nodded solemnly. "Ameen."
With the storm gone, the men got down to business.
Kul Tigin turned to Batu. "Brother, you've kept a blind eye on the ten tribes for too long. They've forgotten your wrath."
The Great Khan's face was expressionless. "I'm not blind. I'm silent. I let them play their stupid games… so I can sacrifice them at the right time."
The words hung in the air like thunder. Kul Tigin went quiet—the monster had spoken.
A tense silence gripped the yurt. No one moved.
Then Batu's voice cut through the stillness. "Tonyukuk," he commanded, "write a letter to the ten tribes."
Tonyukuk grabbed parchment and ink, ready to record every word.
> In the Name of the One who Creates without permission, Destroys without warning. Most Merciful to His Chosen, and Most Wrathful to His Enemies.
> From Batu, son of the Unyielding Amala Yara, Descendant of Wolves, Blood of Khans, the White Tiger, Terror of the Steppes, Voice of the Iron Sky, Hand of Finality,
> To the feeble Khans of the Nine Tribes,
> This is not a request. It is your final warning.
> This letter is not a parley. It is a shadow cast over your graves.
> By God Almighty, you have three paths:
Submit to peace and live beneath my shadow.
Pay tribute and be spared the fire.
Or choose war—and vanish from history.
> If you choose conflict, I will send warriors who crave death as fiercely as you cling to life.
My men have buried kings and called it sport. They have no mothers to mourn them and no fear of the sword.
They kiss death before battle and laugh as they ride into it.
> They will come.
> And when they do, they will unmake your cities, salt your rivers, and fill your temples with the screams of those who once sang in them.
Your sons—what few remain—will carry the name of your tribe only as slaves.
I do not send warnings twice and I don't conquer but I consume.
—Bilge Qaghan, the Ethnic Cleanser of Tribes, Scourge of the East, Son of Amala Yara
By the time Tonyukuk finished reading aloud, silence returned.
Kul Tigin could only stare, overwhelmed by the weight of Batu's fury.
Then the Great Khan barked another order.
"Call for Dulgun Beki."
---