A Meeting with the Ashina
The dry grass crunches under your feet as you pull the woolen cloak tighter around your body. Out here on the steppes, the winds are merciless. A group of five soldiers ride past you, jeering at each other as they race onwards, towards your common destination. Your legs are aching from the long walk, but the journey is almost over.
“I did offer to let you ride in the carriage, Jing,” says the young Crown Prince lazily as he brings his steed to a slow trot besides you. You stare at him, and then glance over at said carriage, a rather ornate affair that bears both the flags of the great Tang dynasty and that of the Duke of Xiliang. The duke himself is ensconced comfortably inside the carriage; you can see his bearded, imperious profile. He notices you and gives you a foul glare in return. “He’d as soon kill me then let me anywhere near his carriage, after what I did to his horses,” you laugh. The prince chuckles. Over the period of two weeks, one horse had fallen awkwardly over a well-hidden stone, another had been spooked by a rat and fled into the wilderness, and the last had simply laid down and died. After that, the Duke insisted that he had no more spare horses for you to use. “Perhaps you should be steering your horse away from me, Shun.”
Crown Prince Li Shun, future Emperor of the Tang, gives you a rude, juvenile gesture, smiling elegantly as he does so. “You’re just bad with horses, nothing more. Cats like you well enough. Besides, you spent all summer riding with me without even hurting a single horse.”
“It was the other way around back then,” you mutter. You had been thrown from the saddle so many times that sometimes you are still surprised that you survived. “Anyway, are you ready for the meeting?”
Shun sighs as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “It’s a pain in my arse, that’s what it is. Still, we have no choice. Do you know of the Ashina?” You nod – they are one of the most influential nomadic tribes in the northwest. “The Ashina tribe have a strong voice amongst the Tujue people,” you say, “so if we manage to nurture a proper alliance, we can secure the border more easily in the years to come.”
“That’s right. The Ashina are regarded as a sacred tribe. The Great Khagan of the Tujue has been stockpiling resources in the past few months – we were sent out here because the Emperor hopes that my presence will be enough to flatter them. The Duke of Xiliang will be in charge of the negotiations, so we are just along for display.” He peers closely at you, leaning down from his horse.
“Speaking of that, my friend, you will need to clean up before we can display you anywhere.”
You snort. “Don’t bother. I don’t want to steal the eyes of all the girls away from your royal face.”
***
You find yourself nursing your aching legs in the main yurt later that night, having cleaned up and changed into a fresh set of robes. The yurt can be described in one word: grandiose. The ground was covered with a lush carpet and strips of silken cloth were draped over the poles. Beautiful tapestries lined the walls of the yurt. The leader of the Ashina, Bulun Khan, sat cross-legged at a table painted in gold, presiding over the festivities – he is a well-built, powerful man who has found that middle age is treating him well. A beautiful young girl who looks to be about the same age with the prince and you – she can’t be more than thirteen or fourteen years old – knelt demurely by his side. Judging from her elaborately embroidered dress and the decorative beads, she is probably the khan’s daughter. A pretty servant girl stands by her side, a wide yawn showing that she's not pretending to hide her boredom.
“Have you tried the fermented mare’s milk? It’s rather wonderful,” says Shun as he holds up a dirty-looking gourd. You obligingly hold out your dish as he fills it up, the both of you looking at the duke and the Ashina khan conversing raucously.
“It seems like it is going well, isn’t it?” you say quietly.
“No, not at all. Observe the khan closely,” whispers Shun. You do so, and after a while, understand what he means. Although the khan seemed friendly enough, from his body language and the tone of his accented Han, you know that this is the type of friendliness you offer a guest you dislike, but are too polite to turn down.
“I doubt he is truly listening to Xiliang,” you mutter. “It looks like the Ashina don’t care about you at all, Your Highness. Do you feel hurt?” Shun nods in agreement at first, and then punches your shoulder for the latter remark.
“-so, perhaps we could even take your esteemed daughter in as an honoured concubine,” states Xiliang casually. Bulun leans back, his features carefully impassive. “A concubine to who?”
The duke laughs. “Not His Majesty, of course, but his son. The Crown Prince is young but mature,” – you hold back a laugh at that, with tremendous effort – “and is a remarkable, good-looking boy who will lead the Tang to greater glory. In the future, even his concubines will enjoy power and status beyond that of the empresses of old.”
Before Bulun can respond, a dagger sprouts on the khan’s golden table with a loud thud. “I will not sit here and listen to talk about trading me away like a common goat,” the Ashina princess says calmly as she rises to her feet. “Yunzi, sit down,” warns the khan half-heartedly, but the girl continues. “Dear father, these Han talk too easily of marriage. I would like to show them what a woman of the Ashina is capable of. A worthy man should be able to best me in combat.” The Duke of Xiliang looks at the Crown Prince – Xiliang doesn’t seem too worried, though his brow is slightly furrowed in concern, feigned or otherwise.
“Oh boy, are you in for it, brother,” you whisper mockingly to Shun. The Crown Prince is rather good at the rudimentary martial arts that the both of you have been taught for self defense, though not as good as you are. You don’t doubt that he can beat the slender waif in a fight.
“If I were to pick,” proclaims Yunzi, “I wouldn’t even challenge the prince. He would not be a match for me. You there. The arrogant servant whispering in his master’s ear.” Her angry gaze falls upon you – her eyes are as blue as the clear steppe sky. “I challenge you to show what you are capable of.”
“Oh?” The corners of your lips twitch upwards. “You want to fight me?”
“Xu Jing!” Xiliang shouts at you. “Do not act rashly!”
He knows, however, that he does not have the authority to order you around. The Duke of Xiliang may be the cousin of the Chancellor, and command a hundred thousand men, and you might just be a fourteen year old cocky kid who happens to be the Crown Prince’s confidante, but you are not his servant. You glance sideways at Shun’s hand. Two fingers are extended, circling twice in a clockwise manner. That’s the gesture for ‘Do as you please’, which also means, in your experience gained from the decade you have spent as his companion, ‘I’m going to sit back and enjoy the show’.
Your leash is off.
***
A. You accept the challenge. Both Shun and you suspect that negotiations are not going to go well – Bulun Khan will just send the Duke off without committing to anything. When the situation is stagnant, act to change the flow in your favour. You aren’t standing up just because you can’t back down from a challenge. Obviously.
B. You keep quiet, back down, and yield the floor to Xiliang and Bulun so that they can continue their negotiations. You don’t want to cross the Duke of Xiliang if you can help it; he already disilkes you enough, and even if he cannot order you around, he can certainly pull some strings to make your life harder.
This will be fucking awesome. What did we do to that last horse?
