Choice A was chosen.
No mood music this time. Fuck I'm tired. Get your own dammit.
Four men sat quietly in the Mingghan's war room, Spartan in decorations save for the maps tracking allied and enemy troop movements all over the border, red marks on charts trying to discern a pattern to enemy attacks. The smell of smoke from Mingghan Naranbataar's old wood pipe filled the room, a not unpleasant, suffocating aroma. The Mingghan quietly puffed on his pipe as the three other men, Sukhbataar Zuut, his lieutenant Ganzorig, and the rocket commander, a former Zuut himself, Nergui, worked out the details to the invasion and attack.
"Intelligence indicates that the airships are being stored at this base, here," Nergui said, pointing to a location only twenty miles behind the border. Sukhbataar and Ganzorig glanced at one another with a quick look of the eyes.
"Something on your mind, Zuut?" Naranbataar asked as he puffed on his pipe. The sideways glance had apparently not gone on unnoticed.
"It seems a bit foolish of the KMT to place such valuable and expensive assets in such a poorly defended location, one so close to the border. If these vehicles can travel hundreds of miles, why place them so close?"
"It won't be poorly defended for long. Troop movements indicate that three full companies will be arriving there within the next week," the Mingghan stated confidently. "We cannot lose this chance to take out these airships. There is a strong possibility that these companies will use these two airships to strike at us over the border."
"I am skeptical," Sukhbataar replied, "Where did this intelligence come from?"
"Do not test me, Zuut," Naranbataar snapped. "I have been lenient with your thus far, but your constant questioning is becoming an irritant. There is no longer anything to be open for discussion on the issue."
"I understand, Mingghan," Sukhbataar said, bowing his head.
"Zuut, as long as you and your men follow my plan accordingly, we will be able to get there and return with minimal loss of life, our mission accomplished," Nergui, the short, stoutly build man of Tangut ancestry, spoke with a degree of arrogance.
"Nergui, your confidence is well deserved, is it?" Sukhbataar replied dismissively with a motion of his head.
"I have been on six such missions across the border in the past four years. While you and your half-breed Cossack ilk were quelling the Afghans, I was conducting operations of sabotage. I'm confident because I've relied on the intelligence reports before. They've yet to fail me."
"Woe to your family when they do, for they will be a man less," Sukhbataar snapped angrily. "I have been misled by intelligence before, in Afghanistan and Manchuria. I would sooner trust a blind wretch claiming divine sight than I would the intelligence."
"Your lack of faith in Mongol superiority is disturbing to me," Nergui chuckled. "Our spies that guide us in this are the same ones that have guided me in other missions."
"Your complacency is equally disturbing," Sukhbataar said calmly, his gravelly voice simmering with tension. "Are your spies Mongol or Han?"
"They are well paid," Naranbataar replied, "And they know that they will not get paid if they are not leading us correctly."
"We Mongols allow ourselves to get led around by the nose now by the yellow Han?"
Naranbataar's face flushed with anger as the Zuut insulted him. Nergui said nothing, but stared smugly at Sukhbataar and Ganzorig as the two were dressed down angrily by the Mingghan. The Zuut wisely kept his mouth shut as the Mingghan screamed at him and his lieutenant. It was decided by him that because of Sukhbataar's insolence, Nergui would take command of the operation.
*****
Sukhbataar awoke with a start, gasping as if great hands had been choking him. The words still echoed in his mind, that voice not his own. A searing warmth seemed to travel through him as he stood, jumping to his feet. His knees buckled, his mind still heavy from sleep, dreaming but awake, as he fell to the ground again.
Fuck, what was that. His thoughts raced with fear and anxiety. Soon, his racing heart slowed and he breathed the fire out of his gasping lungs. Try as he might, he could not remember a thing. The voice faded from memory, as did the words. He couldn't even remember whether it was a dream or a nightmare, though he felt it was more of a nightmare. Standing in his tent, he breathed deeply. He glanced at the ground where he'd left his armor and his uniform and seemed to realize his own nudeness. He dressed quickly and exited his tent. The cold air was a welcome refresher.
Nearby, he heard the shouts of Ganzorig as his men slowly awoke from their own tents. The sun was now only coming up.
Ganzorig walked up to the Zuut, giving a nod of his head. Sukhbataar returned it with one of his own. Their men would be assembled and ready shortly. However, he reported that Nergui and his men, thirty of them, were already assembled, armed, and ready.
"Wonderful," Sukhbataar said sarcastically, "now I will have three days worth of having to listen to that arrogant horse fucker give orders to my men."
"Three days?"
"It is quite possible his arrogance may get the better of him and he will not survive the three days it will take us to return. Even if he does, I will only tolerate three days worth of him. My orders are quite clear on that. Once our mission is completed, I am in command."
The two men laughed with a certain lighthearted viciousness that comes only from having killed so many men that the life of others becomes seemingly less valuable.
*****
The Zuut was fully assembled. One hundred men atop one hundred horses, all silent with a sternness to their set jaws and a deadness of the eyes, a stare that could pierce a man with cold inhumanity. As they moved out, the Zuut moved as one, never breaking formation. Woe to the villages of the Sichuan border, that they would miss such a sight as that Zuut led by Sukhbataar. It was an intimidating spectacle, and one that even Nergui seemed impressed by, though he never spoke a word of it. His own unit of thirty men, well trained and experienced in this type of warfare, were all assembled as well. They had only thirty men, but needed one hundred horses to cart around the heavy rocket barrages, as well as the spare rockets. Normally such weapons would be moved by trucks, but the Mingghan and Nergui had both decided against that idea in the planning of the assault. It was something Sukhbataar remained silent on.
Sukhbataar held his battle rifle, a weapon of German design. Semi-automatic, loaded with a 20 round box magazine from a size gate, the weapon had wood only on the forearm and the heavy stock. The rest of the rifle was all metal. The pistol grip felt comfortable in his hand as he braced the butt stock against his thigh. The oddly designed iron sights, both front and rear, were fully capable of flipping up further and being adjusted. It was a weapon used by most in his Zuut, and all the better armed forces of Mongolia. Originally produced in Germany, the Khagan had gotten Imperial German engineers to build such factories in Mongolia. The Mongols themselves were considered excellent shots with the rifles, even when riding. They would train to time their shots at the moment when their horses, in full gallop, had all four hooves on the ground.
Sukhbataar glanced at Ganzorig as Nergui ordered the Zuut to move ahead of his own unit. Ganzorig rolled his eyes and thumbed the trigger of his storming rifle, another German innovation. Sukhbataar gave a smirk as he grunted out loudly. His men moved ahead, and thus began their trek into Kuomintang controlled China, the province Guizhou.
*****
They reached the border of Guizhou without problem. Sukhbataar's Zuut scouted ahead, divided up into groups of twenty, looking for enemies in all directions. This part of the country appeared sparsely populated, as they found nothing, not even villages, though the land was good for grazing. As Sukhbataar returned, he and Ganzorig once again voiced concerns privately of being led on a wild goose chase. Nergui offered them only a sharp rebuke, and so they kept their mouths shut, though Sukhbataar warned his men individually of his beliefs that they were walking into a trap of some kind. Keeping them paranoid, on edge that they were being led by fools, he knew meant they would support him when the time came for real military decisions to be made.
When night came, Sukhbataar slept again, though this time it was a poor sleep. He was disturbed constantly by his dreams, the nightmares keeping him awake almost constantly. Everytime he closed his eyes, he gasped aloud in fright, breathing as if he were being choked. It was the first time in many, many years that he had felt fear. He could feel cold, icy hands tracing long nails along his spine as he lay on his back, glancing up at the open skies with trepidation. The stars shone brightly, but this time it brought Sukhbataar no comfort. He felt that every star was an accusing eye, glaring back at him, burning a hole into his soul, and that icy hand he felt again and again on his skin forced terrors he had never thought possible except in the darkest recesses of his mind to the surface. Terrors not of death, but of torture, suffering, and all other horrible things, enemies that would seek him that he could not fight, enemies that would take him body and mind, obliterate his soul, possess his body, harm him in unspeakable ways.
As he gasped out again and again, his heart racing at this newfound fear, he could feel the cold icy hands begin to drag him down, into his sleeping bag, into the earth. He closed his eyes and felt enveloped, a weight unlike anything ever before on his shoulders, on his chest, making him barely able to catch his breath, breathe deeply and fully. Hands on his neck, not his own now. He could feel them, hot and strong. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe. It took all his strength to simply open his eyes, which danced around wildly. A figure on top of him shrouded in darkness that whipped about with screaming shadowy tendrils, holding him down. Pain all over his body, burning as he tried in vain to gasp for air.
He shut his eyes in fear, terror as a hot breath brushed against his face. Whispers filled his ear, soft at first, but soon growing stronger, louder, more forceful with each breath. The words were nonsensical, mutterings of madness, a language he could not comprehend but each uttering filled him with absolute fear. If he had the strength, he would have soiled himself. Still, he could almost understand the glibbing of the tongue, the hashing of the cheeks and lips, the clacking churming of the teeth. All of it was becoming clear in his mind, slowly, painfully, as if each incomprehensible utterance was sending a signal to his brain, lighting his nerves on fire.
Sense eluded him. Direction eluded him. Breathe eluded him, and as he opened his eyes he could see the burning stars, their eyes glaring at him through the darkness, burning a hole into his soul, stealing his senses and his mind. As his body convulsed suddenly, he stood up, shooting up like a bullet from a gun, his mouth agape in a silent scream, breathe gone. He gasped loudly, coughing and hacking, his body twisting and contorting as he slowly regained control of his limbs.
Then it was gone. All of it. Except the fear. That was still there, and it was stronger than ever. As his senses returned, he could vaguely remember eyes, and the strangest of words spoken to him. Above all, he could feel the fear. He calmed down, slowed his breathing and tried to still his heart. He could not, however, bring his body back onto the sleeping bag, try as he might. The fear was still there. He would not sleep.
*****
For most of the day they rode, and Sukhbataar carried something with him that set his men on edge. If Ganzorig noticed it, he said nothing, but Sukhbataar had a nervousness now, an edge about him, that his men had not seen before. Nergui noticed it, and made offhand comments to the Zuut, who's attitude had only worsened since the night before. The twitches in his fingers made Nergui's few men watch him carefully, and while Nergui kept a pomposity about his person that was utterly insufferable, he kept a hand near his Walther whenever he rode within striking distance of Sukhbataar.
As night began to come again, a sense of dread filled Sukhbataar, and he could almost hear the whisperings of horror again in his ears. He forced those to the back of his mind, but as darkness came, the fear came howling to the forefront. He laid out the sleeping bag but did not get inside as his men did with their own. He glanced around nervously, the twitch in his hands growing stronger as he sat down roughly on what would be his bed for the night. The twitch became a tremor, and then a full blown shaking, rough and uncontrollable. Fear gripped him as he sat quietly, his breathing quickened. His men sat around campfires, talking quietly. Instead of joining in as he had in the past, Sukhbataar jumped to his feet and walked the length of the camp. Fires died down, and Sukhbataar walked, making his own patrol. He would not sleep.
*****
By dusk of the third day, they had reached the site they were to attack. The small base was merely an airstrip, a set of barracks with more under construction, a command bunker, and two large hangars. The base was bustling with activity, soldiers moving everywhere, construction fully commenced, even as the sun set. Sukhbataar glanced at his own numbers and from the position in the hills, wondered at the possible armament of the barracks. No matter Nergui's orders, the Zuut was not interest in a suicide mission.
Nergui glanced from binoculars into the base below the hills and glanced at the map spread out before him. It was highly detailed of the surrounding region, though it did not encompass the base below. Eight marks were made on the map, each a strategic position on a hill.
"My men work well in the dark," Nergui began, turning to Sukhbataar. They stood amongst many soldiers from both groups. Sukhbataar said nothing at first, watching the soldiers below scurry around like grey ants through his looking glass. "I asked you a question, Zuut."
"My men will make do with what they have and do what is needed, as they have always done," Sukhbataar said, not looking at Nergui's arrogant face. His twitching disappeared as he spoke, the anticipation of conflict seeming to calm his nerves.
"I am sure they will," Nergui replied dismissively, waving his hand. He did not notice the sneers of the Mongols of Sukhbataar's Zuut. "We will divide my men up into seven groups, each with a rocket battery. They will be guarded by fourteen of your men."
"That is unacceptable," Sukhbataar said unemotionally as he continued to watch the happenings in the base. "The divisions of ten will remain. Those that are not with the rocket batteries will be here."
"I am in command here," Nergui began angrily, "My word is law. My word could have you shot for insubordination."
"The company you keep says otherwise," Sukhbataar said loudly enough for the surrounding men to here. The sound of rifles cocking seemed to echo all around the Zuut and Nergui. The Tangut's face changed from arrogance to uncertainty, his eyes displaying some realized fear. Sukhbataar did not see it, but from the words Nergui spoke next that he understood his tenuous position. Out here, Sukhbataar was lord.
"I have thought your position over and have decided that it is an acceptable solution," Nergui replied.
"I am glad. It would be a shame to break the discipline of my Zuut simply because your rocket brigades cannot shoot rifles as well as they can rockets. In the meantime, I wish to see which hangar those airships are in."
"What? Why?" Nergui asked suddenly with some urgency in his voice. "There is no reason to risk yourself, to risk our operation in any way. The intelligence has said this base was here, and it is. The intelligence has told us that men were here, and they are."
"We can see the base and the men with our eyes. I would rather with my own eyes see these airships that have dragged us so deep into enemy territory. I will take ten of my men and, under cover of darkness, we will descend into the base. Upon our return, we will have the evidence we need to prove the veracity of your intelligence."
As night fell, a hush descended over the group. The rocket teams, each guarded by ten of Sukhbataar's men, deployed without incident to the hills surrounding the airfield. To Sukhbataar, an airfield, a runway, none of it made sense, especially among hills. He knew that traditional airships would rarely dock in the ground when at rest. Rather, they would be tethered. There was no need for an airstrip. And planes would have great difficulty taking off and landing thanks to the surrounding hills. No, he decided, this was a poor base, and an unlikely target. He was regretting taking this mission. And why did he? To please the Mingghan? To anger the Noyan? So he could enjoy the insufferable Nergui's company further?
Still, he was Mongol, and would do his duty. Sukhbataar warned Ganzorig to watch his back around Nergui and with ten men, slowly descended on foot then belly down the steep grass hill and into the base. They kept their pistols and rifles holstered, and rather used their knives and swords.
The ground was cold and hard but Sukhbataar paid it no mind as he crawled along it quickly. The base was simple enough in how it was set built. Still in the early stages of construction, ready for expansion, the KMT had built no fences to protect. But despite this, there were lights everywhere, along the airfield, among the hangars, around the barracks. And there were guards patrolling. Not many, but all it would take was one man to alert six hundred.
Sukhbataar watched as a guard passed by, he and his men still in the darkness. The guard was patrolling the perimeter of the barracks. Past the barracks was the bunker, and it was a long walk with many lights showing the way. Sukhbataar came to his feet slowly and kept up with the guard's slow but steady pace. The man appeared to have been walking for some time, but Sukhbataar did not know when he was to be relieved. He slowly drew his knife, the leather sheath causing the steel to ring gently in the still darkness.
Quickly, he made light steps towards the guard, slowly coming up behind him. A hand over his mouth and a knife in the back, the blade horizontal so it could slip between the ribs, turned up, punching a hole into the lung and the heart both. He knew from experience that the wound would stop the man from screaming, and quickly grabbed the rifle from his hands. The body fell down, dead. He dragged it from the lights behind the barracks and into the darkness. Quickly, he pulled his knife from the soldier's back and wiped it clean on his sleeve.
He and his men continued on, coming across two more guards on patrol. Each met his fate in a similar manner, all to Sukhbataar's knife, the bodies dragged into the darkness. Now, at the end of the rows of barracks, the men only had to spring and they would be at the hangars. Sukhbataar did not like this, and ordered five of his men to stay back, rifles at the ready. He waited in the darkness, ahead of the rest of his men, just out of range of the light, and waited. He counted the minutes out, and as five minutes turned to ten which in turn became fifteen, he saw no patrols. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on their ends as he thought of the strangeness of it all.
He stepped into the light slowly and waved for five of his men to follow him. Quickly, they moved as a single unit, steps in tandem, from behind the first hangar. They trotted around it slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible. Sukhbataar knew instinctively that his boots were quiet upon the grass, but still, in his mind, each footstep fell with all the grace and agility of an elephant wearing iron shoes. He glanced into a window of the first hangar, the smaller of the two, and saw planes. He counted in the first four rows a total of twenty. There were more rows that he couldn't see behind those, and he cursed under his breath.
Slowly, he and his men moved behind the small hangar to the back of the large hangar. Once more, he moved to the nearest window and glanced in.
Nothing.
He blinked his eyes, rubbed them, and spat. They did not deceive him. There was nothing in the fucking hangar. He turned back to his men and rang his hands angrily. Thoughts, none of them good, ran rampant through his mind. He thought of the fool he'd been made into, that he'd risked the lives of his men for nothing. NOTHING. His men saw the rage on his face in the light, and said nothing.
With a hand, he motioned for them to follow him quickly. He moved back to window of the smaller of the two hangars, still large enough to hold dozens of planes. Breaking the glass, he climbed through noisily. His anger got the better of him, and he no longer cared if he was heard. At this point, he almost wished for death, such was his rage. As he walked through the rows of planes and counted forty two in total, he took note of the various features. They had no traditional flag markings, on their wings or under the nose cone. They appeared only partially assembled, with no propellers, and the tails were only partially built. Still, they were knew and impressive enough, with sharp angular features he'd never seen before.
"Not even completed building their fucking planes," he muttered angrily. He'd seen enough. His anger was all that there was now. Gone was the sensible, cautious Zuut. In his place was a butcher that would only be sated with violence. His men who followed behind him knew enough of his mood swings to stay out of his reach when he turned this way.
He regrouped with his men quickly, not bothering to keep out of the light. He didn't care anymore. All he wanted now was to burn everything. Making his way back to Nergui, he calmed his anger, breathing deeply. Part of him wanted to savor the triumph he would hold over Nergui.
As he made his way back, a light was shined in his face, blinding him momentarily. He halted and covered his eyes with his one hand, the other instinctively on his pistol.
"You've returned, Zuut," a voice said slowly. Sukhbataar didn't recognize it, and realized it was one of Nergui's men.
"Get that fucking light out of my goddamn face. Do you want the entire base below to know where we are?" He hissed angrily, pulling his 1911 pistol instinctively. The light shut off quickly, but Sukhbataar vision had been disrupted, and now he only saw spots as he slowly followed the shadowy figure back to camp. Nergui was waiting, as was Ganzorig. Both men, along with many of Sukhbataar's soldiers, stood quietly, waiting for his return.
"You are lucky your man is more patient than I," Nergui began, motioning with his head towards Ganzorig.
"You are lucky Ganzorig is more patient than you," Sukhbataar said angrily. "The entire mission was a waste of time. There is nothing there but some unfinished planes."
"You are mistaken," Nergui said quickly. "The airships are down below, and we will destroy them."
"I am mistaken? I am fucking mistaken? I saw everything there was to fucking see down there, and it was as empty as your mother's crotch. There are NO fucking airships."
"No," Nergui said loudly, "the reports were right. You are wrong."
"What the fuck are you going on about now, you fucking blind deaf goddamn fool," Sukhbataar glanced at Ganzorig in the darkness. Ganzorig nodded and placed a hand on his storming rifle. Sukhbataar could feel the tension growing stronger, the lack of sleep making his growing twitches worse. He began to shake again, this time with rage.
"You and your ten men are to be arrested for treason against the Khagan. You will be shot upon the completion of the mission." As Nergui's nearby men drew their rifles and leveled them, Ganzorig drew his own. With incredible quickness, Nergui drew his Walther pistol and fired a round into Ganzorig's head, killing him instantly. As his lieutenant's body collapsed into the ground, Sukhbataar drew both of his pistols and fired quickly at Nergui. The large caliber bullets tore through his crotch. His knees buckled and he screamed in agony. His few men were taken by surprise and quickly, Sukhbataar's men had their rifles drawn and readied.
The Zuut ignored the corpse of his friend and instead grabbed the small handheld radio transmitter from Nergui's belt, as Nergui's men were disarmed swiftly by Sukhbataar's own. All the while, Nergui rolled around screaming unintelligibly. In anger, Sukhbataar shot him in the knee with one of his pistols, then in the shin and foot. Soon, Nergui was begging to be killed, screaming in agony. One of the Zuut's men stuffed a piece of cloth into Nergui's mouth as Sukhbataar began issuing orders over the radio.
"This is Sukhbataar Zuut," he began sternly. "Your orders have changed. You are to target the small hangar immediately, as well as the barracks and the command bunker. You are to ignore the large bunker. If my orders are disobeyed, if one rocket strikes the larger of the two hangars, I will have every single man that manned a rocket burned alive for failure. When rocket supplies are exhausted, the launchers are to be destroyed. Immediately, all men are to mount their horses. We shall ride in and wipe them out! You may fire when ready!" Sukhbataar threw the radio down onto the ground, breaking it. He turned to the few men in Nergui's command that were not commanding rockets.
"You men should arm yourselves and mount your horses."
The men did as they were ordered, and Sukhbataar mounted his own horse. The animal sensed Sukhbataar's aggression, his rage, and it seemed to influence the animal. It appeared uncontrollable, eager to charge down the hill. His rifle locked and loaded, his men around him as well ready for the inevitable charge, they had left Nergui to bleed to death, unarmed and without clothes, kept in company with Ganzorig's corpse.
Soon, the rockets erupted in the surrounding hills, a crescent of fire and smoke lighting up all around them. Dozens of rocket struck the smaller hangar, which quickly erupted in a great ball of white fire, burning and exploding with a speed that surprised Sukhbataar. The building quickly collapsed on itself. The next barrage of rockets struck the barracks, blinding fire consuming the small, squat buildings quickly. Each building was struck perfectly, and Sukhbataar turned back to Nergui and complimented the screaming man on the accuracy of his unit. The final few rockets, four in total, struck the command bunker. Almost as quickly, the places where the rockets were stationed at lit up with fire.
Sukhbataar watched with binoculars down below. Survivors attempted to assemble, but many of those that came out of the buildings were not in any fighting shape. They scurried about like angry, smoking ants, and for a split second, Sukhbataar's mouth watered at the order he was about to give.
"NO PRISONERS!" The zuut screamed loudly. "NO PRISONERS!"
He and those with him charged from the hills, down into the burning base. The fires below moved like rivers, sticking to everything they touched. Alarms rang throughout the base, and as they closed in, he could hear the screams of the dying. Still, his cries echoed throughout his Zuut, now assembled in small units behind him. Over and over again, the cries came with fury, No Prisoners.
Sukhbataar took aim with his rifle at the nearest group of men, some of whom instinctively put u[ their hands in surrender. He pulled the trigger again and again, firing with wild, mad precision, his face that of a frenzied berserker made lustful with blood. Men fell, wounds gaping in their chests and stomachs. Body parts exploded outwards as the heavy 8mm Mauser rifle rounds ripped through their skulls and bore great holes through their chest cavities. Those who lay on the ground, wounded and crying, were trampled. Behind him, Sukhbataar could hear the ratattatt of Thompsons along with the thundering roar of storming rifles and laughed maniacally at the screams of his victims. He emptied clip after clip into his enemies, and still they came.
Finally, he had no more rifle rounds to fire, and quickly slung it over his shoulder, grabbing his Remington from the loop in his saddle. Taking aim with the first shot, he separated a soldier's leg from his body at the knee. Other men tried to run, grab rifles, charge the horse and dismount the Mongols. They fought valiantly. They died. Another shot, and Sukhbataar took off another man's head at the neck. The men who stayed were killed. The men who ran were killed. Two more dead at Sukhbataar's hand, their guts opened for the world to see.
The slaughter raged on for another hour, mostly executing stragglers. Overall, Sukhbataar counted just over three hundred dead at their hands. The rest burned up with the fires of the rockets, the superheated payloads turning to ash and liquid all they touched. He ordered his men to take trophies, and he found himself laden with a half dozen skulls of his own.
*****
There were no further incidents as they returned, having destroyed the command bunker with what explosives they could find. They took no intelligence and simply executed the commander, throwing him into one of the still burning barracks after binding his hands behind him and his ankles. Sukhbataar left Nergui to bleed to death, not bothering to give him the noble death he begged for, but took his old friend Ganzorig back. They would give him a proper Mongol funeral once they arrived back at the base. Still, it wasn't until they crossed back into Mongol territories of the Sichuan that Sukhbataar allowed himself to sleep. He no longer had that terror that possessed him earlier, having forgotten it in the heat of slaughter. Still, he had lost twelve men thanks to his anger, not counting Ganzorig. A part of him knew that the group would have easily been defeated had they only used the rockets and simply retreated afterwards.
*****
Sukhbataar returned triumphantly, his forces weary but chanting loudly behind him as they entered into the massive campground. None of the others appeared happy or victorious, but Sukhbataar paid them no mind, letting his men have their glory for now. He left them behind as he dismounted his horse, and headed for the Mingghan's offices.
Inside the Mingghan's office was an image that would be burned into his memory. Naranbataar Mingghan's severed head sat in the middle of his desk, rotting already. He saw no corpse, but a tremendous amount of blood in the Mingghan's office. Sitting behind the desk was short but broad figure. As he looked up at Sukhbataar from behind the Mingghan's maggot covered head, Sukhbataar recognized him. The one eyed man, his face covered in a spiderweb of horrific scars and pockmarks was the Tumen, HIS Tumen.
"Naranbataar has been executed by my hand for dereliction of duty," the old battle worn man rasped out as he stood slowly. His powerful build creaked and groaned, joints cracking. It was then that Sukhbataar saw the bloody sword in the corner of the office behind the Tumen. The lifefluid was already turning black and had dried long ago. "He flagrantly disobeyed orders of the Noyan, and by extension the will of the Sichuan Ordu, and in ignoring the growing threats within the province has put the region at risk." The Tumen knocked the severed head of the Mingghan to the ground, the maggots feasting on the rotting flesh scattering everywhere. The head rolled to Sukhbataar's feet.
"Tell me now, with no hesitation, why you have been ignoring the orders of the Noyan?" The Tumen smiled, but there was not a hint of kindness behind that face. Instead, Sukhbataar was reminded of a ravenous shark moving in for the kill. What should he do?
A.) Address the Tumen appropriately then prostrate ourselves before the Tumen and beg for mercy, putting everything on the Mingghan with regards to orders. If your men learn of this, you may lose their respect, but it is guaranteed to save your life and the lives of your men.
B.) Address the Tumen appropriately and tell the truth that the Mingghan had given us the choice of orders to obey, but made it clear that he felt the most militarily important one was the attacking of the airships across the border. It was our choice, based on our experiences in the region, to perform the Noyan's duties after we had completed the Mingghan's mission. This choice will allow you to keep the respect of your men, but it certainly puts your neck on the chopping block by stating that you made a conscious decision to put the Mingghan's orders above that of the Noyan, and apparently the will of the Ordu, though you did not know they were one in the same.
C.) Curse the Tumen, kill him, and flee south with your Zuut to live as raiders in the KMT. Your experiences in the regions just across the border tell you that their lands are ripe for the taking. Perhaps in time you could become a warlord yourself. This will drastically change the adventure, and for a time we will barely survive, if we survive at all. There is also no guarantee that our men will not turn on us the second they realize what has happened.
