Traveler of the Blue Road
Part 4 - Confrontation
Chapter 1 - The Talsh Rider
It was early spring. Sparse trees straggled across the grassy landscape. Eight mounted cavalry riders crested a ridge and rode in the direction of a huge stable. The closest rider to the stable increased his pace and pulled suddenly in front of the others. His stallion was spirited and half-wild; the horse chomped at the bit as it tore across the plain. The stallion's coat was the same color as ash. To be honest, the stallion was somewhat cruel and ugly-looking; he was obviously very powerful, but also very mean-spirited. Unlike most stallions used for riding, he hadn’t been castrated.
Controlling this horse was likely quite difficult, but its rider was a man of slight build, not very tall or obviously strong. He was a man in his late thirties with copper-brown skin and golden hair. He wore a steel circlet with a single hawk feather stemming from a red gem in the center. The crown glinted in the strong light of the southern sun. This rider was Prince Raul, the Second Prince of the Talsh empire.
As Prince Raul approached a stable, stablehands and horse tenders dropped to one knee. A horse trainer named Orum approached and accepted the reins of the gray stallion. He brought his tanned face close to the horse’s and whispered something, then dropped the reins and moved to the horse’s side. He got to his knees and extended both hands upward so that Prince Raul could step on them to dismount.
Orum kept his face down even after Prince Raul was on the ground. When he stood up and took the horse’s bridle, his hands were trembling violently. The metal fittings on the horse’s saddle and tack jangled.
“He’s better,” Prince Raul said. “He runs faster than he did three days ago.” He removed a small gold pouch from his breast pocket and tossed it at Orum’s feet. Then he faced the stable and walked toward the kneeling men.
Orum bent to retrieve the pouch with his knees shaking. He still didn’t look up.
When Orum touched the coins in the pouch, he felt immediate relief. His predecessor had missed a small tumor on one of the horse's rear legs. The horse couldn't run as fast because of it, so Prince Raul had cut out one of his eyes.
If you can’t see the important details, there’s no point in having two eyes.
None of the horse handlers or stablehands looked up as Prince Raul passed them by. They kept their heads down low.
There was an older man standing near the entrance to the stable. Prince Raul fiddled with something in one of his leather saddlebags, then approached the man.
The man bowed low from the waist. “May the gods favor you, Your Majesty,” he said. He looked at Prince Raul as he spoke and didn’t seem to be afraid of him. His collar was lined with cloth-of-gold; there was a gold collar around his neck attached to a thin ribbon. He was one of the Tal Yutar, which meant “man at the end of the road” in the Talsh language. The gold around their necks represented success in life: these men were so rich and influential that they controlled most of the policies and future plans of the Talsh empire.
Prince Raul adjusted a pouch on his belt, shook hands with the Tal Yutar, then nodded at him. “Why have you come? Are there orders from the palace?”
“I bring news. Your Majesty’s precious cargo has arrived safely at the port of Hoshiro.”
Prince Raul nodded, faced the palace and started walking toward it. “Finally, the prey is in the hawk’s talons. That’s all that kid is to Hugo Arayutan.” There was a cold gleam in Prince Raul’s eyes.
“I know the cargo is tempting, Your Majesty, but I must ask...what do you think of the detour to Yogo?”
Prince Raul spun on his heel to face the Tal Yutar again. His face expressed clear irritation at the delay. Then he smirked. “How amusing. Have you taken an interest in the matter yourself, Kurz?”
Kurz’s face went blank. He looked into Prince Raul’s ice-cold eyes and said, “Of course I have. You wouldn’t rush back in such a hurry if you didn’t have a good reason.”
Prince Raul unwound a horsewhip from his belt and lashed it through the air. “I’m eager to hear Hugo’s excuse. It’s probably a good one.” His lips twitched upward in a slight smile. He cracked his whip once more, then changed the subject.
“It seems that Ara Jiru raiders are attacking the Arumusul border again.” Soldiers under Prince Raul’s command had been dispatched to Arumusul’s western edge. The nation over the border belonged to the Ara Jiru people; they had attacked Arumusul’s cities mercilessly, mounted on horseback. News of the attacks had only come in that morning.
Kurz shrugged. “It’s always the same news. The raiders are nothing to worry about. We already know how they fight and where they’ll attack next. We have no casualties on our side; it seems that our conscripts from Orm bore the brunt of the attacks. I doubt we’ll suffer much in terms of losses.”
Prince Raul fixed his calculating gaze on Kurz. “Is that true? Are the only casualties our conscripts from Orm?”
Kurz’s spine went rigid. “Yes, but...”
“Unacceptable. Having our conquered nations suffer on the empire’s behalf is not fair,” Prince Raul snapped. “We’re about to attack the north. We can’t have dissension in our ranks.”
Kurz broke into a cold sweat. There was no excuse or reply that he could give that Prince Raul would accept. Prince Raul hated excuses; Kurz understood that well.
“I take full responsibility and apologize deeply, Your Majesty,” Kurz said.
Prince Raul nodded sharply, turned his back to Kurz and walked toward the palace.
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