The Horde Returns

In the far east, the Genghis Khan grew warily old. Many in the west were fearful that his passing would have disrupted efforts, that they would have been recalled and all would have shattered, that the Khamag Mongol would not have been able to cement their legacy, and erase the pointless pasts of the great nomadic kingdoms, replacing all with their own glory.

Luckily for Sabu Khan, the Russians made the first move. They prepared themselves, and they offended the Khamag Mongol, the Mongol Empire, the Pax Mongolic, the Genghis Khan, the people of the steppes, and all who lived within. The Russians had sealed their own fate in that moment. As Sabu Khan rode to the north, he was accompanied by his own sons, the sons of the Genghis Khan, their grandsons, and many other khans and their kin. The west was the major focus of this campaign, as the Genghis Khan had his very own personal goals in the east. Sabu smiled, as a story was recalled.

"Khitan. Hatan. Oirat. Buryat. Ergetai. Sichuan. Kimek. Xishan. Samarkand. Tibet. Durrani. Hebei. Gtagas. Kingdoms, city-states, empires, emirates. Emperors, Kings, Princes, Queens, Generals, Admirals. Not a single word I have spoken has survived us. We are unbroken. We are without opposition, we are without equal, we are a testament to the might of God and the fury with which he carries us. A testament to the glory of Allah, and the symbol that we are his clubs, his blades, his arrows. A beacon of Tianudi and his ever-prevailing guidance. We are the Khamag Mongol. We are that which none can stop, and though some say we have come before, never have we come as we are now. Never have we been the horror that is feared in the darkest night, never have we harrowed the hearts of lords and rulers as we do now. We are the Mongols. We ride with a fury. We are the change!"

The sound of drums, of horns, of hooves filled the distance, as Sabu Khan's compiled army 80,000 riders moved on and on. The eastern lands of the Russian Principate were taken with force, as Sabu Khan and his endless army moved on further and further, towards to the Don River. When the banks of the river came into view, the horde stopped. They could see the Russians on the other side. Their agents had been true. Sabu Khan ordered a camp be set up, and so it was, with the banners flying high, and the sound of drums and horns going on endlessly, as well as the sound of horses running and racing and galloping. Sabu Khan sat atop a small knoll, legs crossed on a fine carpet. Some of his aides and generals sat with him.

All of his guides within the Zhixulian were by his side.

"You say the Russians were prepared for us. I see you were not lying. I am pleased. Many, including myself, did not trust the Genghis Khan when he approved your type linking itself into our dominant coil. I am pleased to see I may have trust and faith in you. Is there anything else you have found of the Russians?"

"Yes, Khan. The Russian Principate is as their Tsar is, strong and relentless. They have fear in them though, and they waver. Despite their shells of steel and plate, they are little more than horrified infants on the back of tired steeds. They are the grandest you will find in all of the continent, but they are as foolish as those within Qin. They are not prepared for what we bring with us. They have faced archers and nomads, but never us. Not like us. They will break easily."

Sabu Khan had a gleam in his eye. He drank slowly from his cup of old Zairian wine, and spoke to his generals for many more hours while his men were ever ready in the camp. Behind them, down the slopes, riders swept across their available plains, firing off arrows at set up targets, hitting them between the slits that were made for eyes, or in the crooks of their necks, right where only thin chainmail could be available. Some shots landed on the backs of knees, or in armpits. Very few missed their targets. If anyone could have seen it, they'd think it a hoax.

Sabu Khan and his advisors spoke for nearly eight long, tedious hours. The Mongols consistently made sure the Russians knew not to strike, but before long, the only thing left was to do just that. The advisors grew silent, Sabu watched the enemy in his own silence, and rose to his feet. As he did so, they began to sing. The soldiers within the camp heard, and soon they joined. The instruments fell suddenly quiet, and the guttural throat singing filled the Don River, and the gap between the Russians and the Mongols.

And as the singing became too much, and as the dawn began to paint the land, new sounds echoed. Sounds the Russians did not know. The earth shook, and smoke billowed out from the Mongol camp, though they showed no fear. A group of horses rode up to Sabu Khan and his advisors, and they mounted up, and soon just over the knoll 80,000 riders joined them, many bearing swords, bows, crossbows, but some bearing very different weapons. Long, hollow by the look, and metal. Some had small metal orbs in their hands. They all still sung, until they suddenly stopped. The Horde moved.

The Battle of the Don River began.

The two armies collided, suddenly and ferociously, in the middle of a deep ford. 80,000 horsemen, in leather and chainmail, met with the thick and terrible presence of the Greco-Russian cavalry. The Russian army marched to the bank, where they would meet the Mongols as soon as they had the chance. Few expected the Greeks to do anything more than hold off the horde, and with 80,000 focused riders, they surely didn't for too long. The horde was precise, organised. Less of a 'horde' than you might expect, actually.

The horses of the Greeks, and even the Russians on the banks, seemed to buck and fuss, as if aggravated. To any who cared for horses, there was a distinct scent in the air when the Mongols arrived; their horses were female, and they were in heat. It didn't take long before the Mongols were ready to move on, with the Greeks broken and battered and all over the place; many of them had simply been thrown from their horses, their armour made useless after being trampled and drowned in the water. The horses rushed around in chaos, and finally the skirmish was done, as the Mongols were able to advance.

They didn't. Though arrows and bolts rained on them, they were steady, they were waiting. Then, bronze and clay orbs began to rain down in the midst of the Russian army. Seconds passed, before the entire dynamic of the battle shifted; shields flew into the air, armour rained over the field, and gibs scattered in the water. Hand-cannons came out, and the Mongols fired. The Russian shield wall was broken before it was even engaged.

The Mongols advanced hard, their arrows and bolts flying yet again, and just under 80,000 primed cavalrymen hammered down the Russian army in their path. The Cossacks rode in, attempting to undo the damage, but they only furthered it. The horses bucked yet again, throwing their riders away and stampeding through the fight. Sabu Khan looked from his horse, in the midst of the battlefield, and saw four men that stood out in the entire force. He was old to some, but a grizzled veteran to any who knew him. He rode through the foray, slicing down those who would stop him, before engaging Konstantinos Saferas in combat. The two fought for less than fifteen seconds, as the Russian parried a charge, only to fall to a shot to the back by a turned Sabu Khan.

By the time the sun was in the sky, the battle was still raging. The Mongol horde was hitting hard, and the Russian army was in disarray. The 80,000 had been whittled down to 60,000, but the Russians had fared far worse. 120,000, not left at a mere 40,000. Throughout the conflict nearly 20,000 of the Russians had fled, but the Mongols had circled those that remained now, pinning them. Hundreds were surrendering, buckling to the weight of the conquest that was to come. Soon, the battle was done. Georgy Postorova, Vadim Nestov, and Kirill Ulyanov had been captured, and were set to be offered up to the Russians in exchange for a swift conquest.

That was when the youngest of the Khans, Hajin, challenged Vadim Nestov to a one-on-one contest. The two had duelled with their forces during the battle, and Vadim had proved to be a great combatant. Hajin Khan was not pleased with that. The two were given swords, and their duel began. It wasn't long before the victor was seen, and Hajin stood over the corpse of his opponent. The common act was to have the opponent tossed into the river, as so many of the dead had already been, but Hajin wouldn't have it. He asked for five Russians to be untied and escorted with him and a small company to the nearby knoll, that had been the camp of the Mongols before the battle. There, Vadim was given a proper Russian burial.

By the time the sun had set, Sabu Khan sat on the Don River, feasting on Russian food. Nearby villages had been plundered and ransacked, and everything between the river and Donestk was now under the jurisdiction of the Khamag Mongol. The wrath of the universe had arrived in Russia.

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