12-09-2025, 09:43 AM
December 10th
Khongkhortai
The home city of the Qoriqacha clan was, in a word, buzzing.
Khongkhortai was a relatively small city in the hinterlands of western Taragai. The people there weren't used to being the center of anyone's attention. But today, their city was grabbing that attention in a big way. The stalemate between the Khatun's forces and those of the democratic government in the east was finally showing signs of cracking. Faced with repeated defeats at the hands of Ebegei's forces, the government had paused its attacks and offered to open negotiations again. Ebegei had no intention of settling for anything less than all of Taragai, of course. But the government's pause was giving her time to raise new mingghan to replace her losses. It was also giving the Xiomerans time to trickle much-needed replenishments of supplies and troops into the country. So, Ebegei was happy to pretend to negotiate.
Representatives from the government, along with a swarm of media, were in Khongkhortai as part of the negotiations. To kick things off, a grand reception was being held at the Nogoon Ordon, the ancient winter palace of the Qoriqacha. In the main hall of the palace, various dignitaries and officials were mingling and talking. Servants clad in deels bearing the Qoriqacha seal quietly maneuvered around the guests, offering drinks. It was a pleasant enough scene, if one ignored the Khatun's guards and the Xiomeran soldiers in Imperial dress uniforms standing every few feet around the perimeter.
One of the men walking around offering drinks was even more nervous than most of them. Bodii Kherlen carefully balanced his tray of drinks as he walked towards the front of the hall. He had never been a servant or handled drinks before, and he could only hope that his attempt to seem practiced and unremarkable at the job would work. Kherlen moved closer to the group of people that was his target, handing off drinks on occasion as if he was just serving anyone who wanted one.
There was one person who he really needed to be thirsty, though. Kherlen spotted her as he finally grew closer to the front of the hall. Ebegei Qoriqacha. Or rather, Ebegei Not-Qoriqacha as he kept reminding himself. The Khatun was clad in a magnificently jeweled and embroidered deel, undoubtedly a gift from the Xiomerans to boost her credibility. She was laughing and talking to two government representatives, the head negotiators. The two men were smiling politely, if a bit strained. The presence of the Xiomeran general Mācālo and his aide in the group was undoubtedly part of the reason for the strain.
"As I was saying, it would benefit everyone for negotiations to be concluded quickly and with a result acceptable to all involved," Osbeg Zayaat murmured in his distinctively unctuous voice as Kherlen walked up. Spirits above, if the Xiomerans ever run out of oil for their damned war machines, they can just wring Zayaat out into a bucket, Kherlen thought bitterly. He carefully kept any sign of his internal thoughts off his face as he approached, head held low as a proper servant should. "May I refresh your drinks, honored ones?" he asked.
The Xiomerans barely glanced at Kherlen as they plunked their empty glasses onto his tray and took new ones. Zayaat shook his head dismissively. Arrogant fuckwits, Kherlen thought to himself. Then he caught his breath, as he saw a pair of sharp hazel eyes fixed on him. Ebegei dabbed at her mouth delicately with a napkin from his tray and then placed it back down. She then placed her empty glass on the napkin, taking a fresh drink from the tray. "Thank you," she said politely, before turning away from Kherlen and dropping him from her line of sight and contemplation.
Kherlen nodded humbly, his adopted servant's mien hiding the thoughts racing in his head. I have it, I have it, I have it! Kherlen prepared to walk away. Ebegei was no longer looking at him. Neither were the others. Is it going to be this easy?
Then Kherlen looked up, to see Zayaat staring flatly at him. He nodded once more politely, before turning away and walking towards the doors leading to the kitchen area. Slowly. Walk slowly, damn it! Don't rush, don't run, don't look up don't look up. Kherlen imagined he felt Zayaat's eyes boring into his back as he crossed the forty feet or so to the exit. Forty feet, might as well be forty miles, shit! Kherlen felt a bead of sweat roll down his back as he finally made it to the swinging doors.
Just as he was about to walk inside, the doors swung open and another servant came bustling out with a tray of delicacies. Kherlen had to dodge the man, and cursed to himself silently again as the tray shifted in his hands. The glasses on it quivered and wobbled as he dodged the doors. No no no don't fall! He managed to catch himself just in time, and the glasses wobbled back into place after seconds that were the longest seconds in Bodii Kherlen's life. The other servant snapped at Kherlen to watch where he was going as he ran off. Kherlen muttered something polite and noncommital as he escaped through the doors.
He walked to the back of the kitchen, as if taking the glasses to the dishwashers. Instead of going left to the sinks, though, he took a sharp right down another hallway when no one was looking. He set the tray down on an abandoned counter, and gingerly grasped the cup Ebegei had used. His white gloves would ensure nothing marred the glass as he set it inside a plastic bag. The napkin Ebegei had used followed into another bag. Both bags, and their precious cargo, then found their way into a black duffel bag that had been sitting discreetly under a counter. Kherlen tossed aside his gloves and deel, revealing a white shirt and black pants. He put on a cap from inside the bag that bore the logo of the catering company serving the food. Kherlen found the exit to the loading dock area outside the kitchen. Tugging the cap low, he walked towards the vans of the caterers. The pair of guards outside the dock barely glanced at him as he walked to the vans. Kherlen dodged into the flow of catering workers rushing back and forth, using them to edge closer to the fence around the palace. As the two guards turned away, he rounded the fence and lost himself as quickly as possible in the streets of Khongkhortai.
Khongkhortai
The home city of the Qoriqacha clan was, in a word, buzzing.
Khongkhortai was a relatively small city in the hinterlands of western Taragai. The people there weren't used to being the center of anyone's attention. But today, their city was grabbing that attention in a big way. The stalemate between the Khatun's forces and those of the democratic government in the east was finally showing signs of cracking. Faced with repeated defeats at the hands of Ebegei's forces, the government had paused its attacks and offered to open negotiations again. Ebegei had no intention of settling for anything less than all of Taragai, of course. But the government's pause was giving her time to raise new mingghan to replace her losses. It was also giving the Xiomerans time to trickle much-needed replenishments of supplies and troops into the country. So, Ebegei was happy to pretend to negotiate.
Representatives from the government, along with a swarm of media, were in Khongkhortai as part of the negotiations. To kick things off, a grand reception was being held at the Nogoon Ordon, the ancient winter palace of the Qoriqacha. In the main hall of the palace, various dignitaries and officials were mingling and talking. Servants clad in deels bearing the Qoriqacha seal quietly maneuvered around the guests, offering drinks. It was a pleasant enough scene, if one ignored the Khatun's guards and the Xiomeran soldiers in Imperial dress uniforms standing every few feet around the perimeter.
One of the men walking around offering drinks was even more nervous than most of them. Bodii Kherlen carefully balanced his tray of drinks as he walked towards the front of the hall. He had never been a servant or handled drinks before, and he could only hope that his attempt to seem practiced and unremarkable at the job would work. Kherlen moved closer to the group of people that was his target, handing off drinks on occasion as if he was just serving anyone who wanted one.
There was one person who he really needed to be thirsty, though. Kherlen spotted her as he finally grew closer to the front of the hall. Ebegei Qoriqacha. Or rather, Ebegei Not-Qoriqacha as he kept reminding himself. The Khatun was clad in a magnificently jeweled and embroidered deel, undoubtedly a gift from the Xiomerans to boost her credibility. She was laughing and talking to two government representatives, the head negotiators. The two men were smiling politely, if a bit strained. The presence of the Xiomeran general Mācālo and his aide in the group was undoubtedly part of the reason for the strain.
"As I was saying, it would benefit everyone for negotiations to be concluded quickly and with a result acceptable to all involved," Osbeg Zayaat murmured in his distinctively unctuous voice as Kherlen walked up. Spirits above, if the Xiomerans ever run out of oil for their damned war machines, they can just wring Zayaat out into a bucket, Kherlen thought bitterly. He carefully kept any sign of his internal thoughts off his face as he approached, head held low as a proper servant should. "May I refresh your drinks, honored ones?" he asked.
The Xiomerans barely glanced at Kherlen as they plunked their empty glasses onto his tray and took new ones. Zayaat shook his head dismissively. Arrogant fuckwits, Kherlen thought to himself. Then he caught his breath, as he saw a pair of sharp hazel eyes fixed on him. Ebegei dabbed at her mouth delicately with a napkin from his tray and then placed it back down. She then placed her empty glass on the napkin, taking a fresh drink from the tray. "Thank you," she said politely, before turning away from Kherlen and dropping him from her line of sight and contemplation.
Kherlen nodded humbly, his adopted servant's mien hiding the thoughts racing in his head. I have it, I have it, I have it! Kherlen prepared to walk away. Ebegei was no longer looking at him. Neither were the others. Is it going to be this easy?
Then Kherlen looked up, to see Zayaat staring flatly at him. He nodded once more politely, before turning away and walking towards the doors leading to the kitchen area. Slowly. Walk slowly, damn it! Don't rush, don't run, don't look up don't look up. Kherlen imagined he felt Zayaat's eyes boring into his back as he crossed the forty feet or so to the exit. Forty feet, might as well be forty miles, shit! Kherlen felt a bead of sweat roll down his back as he finally made it to the swinging doors.
Just as he was about to walk inside, the doors swung open and another servant came bustling out with a tray of delicacies. Kherlen had to dodge the man, and cursed to himself silently again as the tray shifted in his hands. The glasses on it quivered and wobbled as he dodged the doors. No no no don't fall! He managed to catch himself just in time, and the glasses wobbled back into place after seconds that were the longest seconds in Bodii Kherlen's life. The other servant snapped at Kherlen to watch where he was going as he ran off. Kherlen muttered something polite and noncommital as he escaped through the doors.
He walked to the back of the kitchen, as if taking the glasses to the dishwashers. Instead of going left to the sinks, though, he took a sharp right down another hallway when no one was looking. He set the tray down on an abandoned counter, and gingerly grasped the cup Ebegei had used. His white gloves would ensure nothing marred the glass as he set it inside a plastic bag. The napkin Ebegei had used followed into another bag. Both bags, and their precious cargo, then found their way into a black duffel bag that had been sitting discreetly under a counter. Kherlen tossed aside his gloves and deel, revealing a white shirt and black pants. He put on a cap from inside the bag that bore the logo of the catering company serving the food. Kherlen found the exit to the loading dock area outside the kitchen. Tugging the cap low, he walked towards the vans of the caterers. The pair of guards outside the dock barely glanced at him as he walked to the vans. Kherlen dodged into the flow of catering workers rushing back and forth, using them to edge closer to the fence around the palace. As the two guards turned away, he rounded the fence and lost himself as quickly as possible in the streets of Khongkhortai.
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