[Xiomera]

January 4th
Tebengri Square, Bor-Öndör

Khadagan Daldurkhan was worried.

He didn't show it, of course. Any outward sign of concern or fear would spread like wildfire among the people he was leading. Daldurkhan kept his strong, almost stoic expression up as he mingled among the crowd gathered in Tebengri Square. But the leader of the Taragaian Democratic Front was worried nonetheless.

The deadline issued by Chaghagan Khoga, the Director of State Security, had come and gone. Morning had passed into afternoon, and was sliding into evening. And yet, there had been no sign of the Army. Even better, there had been no sign of police from ᠤᠯᠤᠰ ᠤᠨ ᠳᠣᠲᠣᠭᠠᠳᠤ ᠶᠢᠨ ᠠᠮᠤᠷ ᠲᠦᠪᠰᠢᠨ ᠦ ᠲᠣᠪᠴᠢᠶ᠎ᠠ ᠃, the Internal Security Directorate. At the front of the protest, a rotating group of people with banners and signs was chanting protest slogans and occasionally interacting with the Internal Troops responsible for guarding the People's Great Khural. In the rear, others were resting and keeping each other company. The smell of cooking food and the shouts of the crowd, along with singing and laughter, wafted through the air. It was an almost idyllic scene, and that made it all the more surreal to Daldurkhan. Many in the crowd were cautiously optimistic that perhaps the government would not crack down on their protest after all. Daldurkhan was not so optimistic. He had dealt with the government too long, and too often.

---

At the Internal Security Directorate headquarters, Chaghagan Khoga was highly displeased. He had wanted to disperse the protesters immediately, but had been forced to wait two days while the presidium of the Central Committee debated on whether or not to use force against the protesters.

What is there to debate? These malcontents are breaking the law and insulting the revolution. They should have been arrested or run off days ago. Khoga was so annoyed, in fact, that he was beginning to wonder if certain members of the presidium should be sharing jail cells with the protesters. His thoughts were finally broken by the almost pleasant jingle of his desk phone. He picked it up. "Khoga," he said flatly.

"The debate is over." Khoga smiled faintly at the sound of the gravelly voice on the other end of the line.

At that end was Jirghogadai Tömörbataar, the Chairman of the Central Committee and leader of Taragai. Tömörbataar took a long drag off his cigarette, allowing the silence to stretch a bit. He knew Khoga would be eager for his next words, like an attack dog waiting for the signal to pounce. The Chairman finally stubbed out his cigarette, sighing slightly. "The presidium has agreed. Remove the protesters from the square at once."

Khoga acknowledged the command and hung up. He had already planned for what to do. It was just a matter of giving the order.

---

On the outskirts of Bor-Öndör, a sizeable force of Internal Security police and soldiers had been gathering quietly for several hours. They had not gone unnoticed, however. Opposition members had been carefully positioned in the area nearby, using their cell phones to advise Daldurkhan and his fellow leaders of the troops' movements. When the troops and police suddenly mounted their vehicles and began moving towards the center of the capital, the opposition members tried to text and call Daldurkhan with warning. Their phones had stopped working; Internal Security had shut down cell service in the area.

One of the protesters was quickly dispatched on a motorcycle to rush to Tebengri Square, while the others in the area tried to stop the advance of the police and soldiers. They were seriously outnumbered, and were either arrested or forced to flee very quickly. But they did manage to buy enough time for their colleague on the motorcycle. Deftly dodging the ranks of soldiers and police, she sped off down the road.

---

Fifteen minutes later, Narmandakh, the motorcycle rider, arrived at Tebengri Square. She quickly rushed to Daldurkhan. "The Internals and the army are on their way. I was only a few minutes ahead of them," she warned. Daldurkhan had a choice at that point. He could call on the protesters to disperse, and try to avoid a clash with the security forces. He could prepare them to fight. Or....he could do something unexpected by the government.

He chose the unexpected.

---

As the Internal Security police and soldiers arrived at the square, they were confronted by the sight of thousands of people sitting on the ground waiting for them. They were mixing protest chants with ancient Taragaian songs. They were still holding their banners and signs, but showed no hostile intent. An Internal Security commander marched to the head of the line of security forces with a megaphone. "This is an illegal assembly. By order of the Chairman and Presidium of the Central Committee, you are to leave the area at once. If you do not do so, you will be arrested."

The singing and chants only grew louder in response. The commander tried again. "This is your final warning. You are ordered to disperse at once - " The volume from the protesters grew even louder, drowning him out. He made a sharp, angry gesture with his other hand. The police and soldiers moved forward, releasing a volley of tear gas before surging into the crowd. No one resisted, even despite the aggressive and very physical use of force by the security personnel. One by one, anyone who didn't leave the area was roughly thrown to the ground and tied up with plastic handcuffs. Khadagan Daldurkhan was among them.

As this was happening, several of the Internal Troops who had been guarding the People's Great Khural building looked at each other. One by one, they laid down their weapons and went to sit with the protesters. They received the roughest treatment of all from the Internal Security police, receiving sound beatings before being arrested.

In all, 753 people were arrested that day, including the leader of Taragai's democratic opposition. Leaders like Tömörbataar and Khoga thought that would be an end to the aspirations of the opposition. They would be wrong.

[Xiomera]

January 22nd
Presidium of the Central Committee of the Taragaian People's Revolutionary Party (TPRP)

"We must smash their skulls! We must lay them flat!"

The angry shout brought cheers echoing through the Presidium chamber. Jirghogadai Tömörbataar, the Chairman, slammed his fist down on the podium to demonstrate his intent even further. "These so-called protesters are nothing more than malcontents spurred on by foreign interests, who seek to engage in a counter-revolutionary coup in our country. We must not allow it. I am calling on the Presidium to agree to the immediate mobilization of the People's Army and Internal Security to disperse these treasonous displays on our streets once and for all! Let us show our people and the world that Taragai is united behind the revolution!"

More cheers echoed around the room. One person, however, was not cheering, but observing silently. Tua Rehipeti, special advisor from the Milintican Communist Party, smiled quietly as, one by one, the members of the Presidium stood up after Tömörbataar to reiterate their determination to maintain the People's Republic. I wish we had this determination among more people back home. But this will be a beginning. Taragai will shine as a beacon of red power, and it will inspire Milinticans to rediscover their own.

While Rehipeti watched the debate in the Presidium, he mentally made notes. So far, one hundred fellow Milinticans had arrived in Taragai to help bolster the Taragaian security response. If the MCP had their way, many more would follow.

---

Not everyone, however, was as enthusiastic as Tömörbataar about the idea of smashing the skulls of fellow Taragaians.

"What would Tömörbataar have me do? Shoot everyone in the square?" An exasperated sigh followed that statement, as Otgonbayar Khoriubechi slammed his whiskey glass down onto the table. Khoriubechi was the General in command of the People's Army, and the one who would be expected to carry out whatever orders the Chairman and the Presidium gave.

His aide, Col. Chanai Ganzorig, sighed as he refilled the glass before pouring his own. "Orders are orders. What are we to do?"

Khoriubechi took another swig of whiskey. "We are supposed to fight the enemies of the state, not our own people."

"Careful, you don't want a political officer to hear that," Ganzorig cautioned. "Besides, aren't these protesters enemies of the state?"

"They are Taragaians, the same as you or me." Khoriubechi bitterly stubbed out his cigarette with a bit more force than needed. "They may disagree with the government, but they are not invaders. I don't know, Chanai. Whacking the heads of unarmed people just sitting there doesn't seem right. I am also displeased that Internal Security has begun arresting soldiers and policemen who refuse to arrest protesters. Who are they to put us in the cells?" At Ganzorig's now thoroughly alarmed expression, Khoriubechi smiled. "Don't worry, Chanai. I won't get myself arrested with my big mouth. I know when to keep quiet. But still....I am displeased."

Ganzorig shook his head in agreement, while pondering just what the top General in the Army could do if he grew too displeased with the situation.

---

Khongkhortai, Gerelma Province

"I am...intrigued by your offer." The young woman sitting on the golden chair leaned towards the man sitting across from her. "But your track record so far has been mixed, to be frank. You failed to keep your foothold in Auria, and your efforts in Huenya have been partially successful at best. Why should I stick my neck out to stand with you as my backers?" Ebegei Qoriqacha kept her face bland as she waited for a response. She was the last of the Qoriqacha line, the khatun-in-hiding of the ancient rulers of Taragai. Like all of her ancestors, she had kept the hope of returning that line to power burning in hiding, avoiding the persecution of the TPRP regime. She was not about to put everything at risk unless the man in front of her could make a very convincing offer.

"That is a fair question, my lady," the man replied. Mecaqui, special agent with Xiomeran Imperial Intelligence, grinned. "But let me be equally frank. Who else, if not the Empire I represent, will help you? You have a chance, with the winds of change blowing in Taragai, to finally restore the birthright that the Communists stole from you. But do you think any of your neighbors will help you? Or any of the so-called democracies? No, my lady, only one person understands the unique position you are in. And that is a fellow woman of power, my Empress. She wishes to ensure that Taragai throws off the Reds' yoke, but that it doesn't just fall victim to the mob rule that democracy brings. It is good that you mentioned Huenya - just look to them as an example. Chaotic, unstable and violent. That is Taragai's future without a strong hand to rule it after the Communists inevitably fall. You can, and should, be that hand."

"Oh, I quite agree." Qoriqacha took a sip from her wine glass before looking at Mecaqui again. "But you still have to convince me that Xiomera is the ally to get me there. You are right, most of our neighbors will have no love for me. They will want some simpleminded fool like Daldurkhan in power. But if I agree to work with you, will Xiomera do whatever it takes to ensure I come out on top? Or will you abandon me like you did the Aurians? Or, worse, attempt to manipulate me and use me as a puppet? None of those things appeal to me, sir."

Mecaqui found himself impressed with the Taragaian noble. She has strength and doesn't just take things at face value. She could indeed be a worthy ally to our Empress, if we can convince her and actually make it happen.  "I will not make promises that we may not be able to keep," he said finally. "We have learned that lesson, at least, from Auria. But I can promise this - we will give you access to money and resources that you can only dream of having now, should you ally with us. What you do with those resources, is up to you and your own skill and resourcefulness. But isn't that a great place to start?"

Qoriqacha finally smiled more broadly, putting her glass down. "Perhaps you are right. Very well. Let's see if I can restore a Khanate with the backing of an Empire."

[Xiomera]

February 19th
Bor-Öndör

It had been almost a month since the Taragaian government had begun to crack down on pro-democracy protesters in the country. The whole exercise had begun to resemble a time warp to those responsible for executing the demands of the Chairman and the Presidium.

No matter how many skulls were smashed, people laid flat, or arrests made, the results were the same. The authorities would succeed in quashing the protests occurring on a particular day, clear the public squares and the streets, and restore a semblance of control. The very next morning, a new set of protesters would take their place. Usually more than had been there the previous day, in fact. The crackdown by the government had not only spectacularly failed to scare off the protesters, it was inspiring more and more people to join the protests. More ominously for the government, the protesters were showing less and less inclination to simply sit down and let themselves be beaten up or arrested.  Khadagan Daldurkhan had launched the protests as a bid for nonviolent civil disobedience. But with Daldurkhan sitting incommunicado in an Internal Security prison, new voices were rising within the protest movement. Just as the government had lost patience with the protesters, these voices were losing their own patience with the government. Increasingly, they were fighting back. While the jail cells were filling up, so were the beds in the military hospitals.

Otgonbayar Khoriubechi, leader of the People's Army, found himself trying to fend off what could easily become a civil war, thanks to the heavy-handed response of his own leaders. He sighed as he downed another glass of whiskey and looked at the latest reports. Things were getting out of hand, and he was increasingly taking the blame from the Chairman and the Presidium. If it wasn't for their stupidity, we wouldn't be in this mess, Khoriubechi thought bitterly as he tried to figure out a plan.

A sudden shout from the other room made Khoriubechi look up. "The General is busy, you can't go in there - " Chanai Ganzorig shouted, only to be shoved through the door to the General's office. Behind the General's aide, three Internal Security agents marched in. "What is this?" the General bellowed.

"General Khoriubechi, stand up slowly and do not make any sudden moves. You are under arrest," the lead agent snapped. Khoriubechi stood up slowly as ordered, but his expression was anything but submissive. "Arrest? By whose orders?"

"By the orders of the Chairman and the Presidium. Your incompetence and inability to end the anti-revolutionary protests are being dealt with. Put your hands behind your back," the agent replied as his two comrades moved towards the General. Khoriubechi sighed. Unseen, his hand pressed a button under his desk. As he was handcuffed, Khoriubechi smiled slightly. The three agents dragged the General out of his office, and outside the command center towards a van parked in the middle of the parade ground. Even as they moved towards the van, however, soldiers began pouring out of the barracks surrounding the parade ground. They began shouting demands to release their General, in a tone of voice that was clearly not a request. The number of rifles they were carrying only served to underscore their demands.

"Order your men to stand down and get out of our way, or you will die here," the lead Internal Security agent shouted as he raised his pistol to the General's head. Khoriubechi laughed wholeheartedly in response. "And I won't die if you take me to your headquarters? Better to die here with my men instead, especially if it means I get to take you motherless bastards with me." Khoriubechi laughed again at the expression of surprise on the agent's face. "No, here is what will happen instead. Either you will surrender and take these damned handcuffs off of me, or we will all die together. Choose."

The agent snarled, but before he could decide to do something stupid or not, Ganzorig made the decision easier by coming from behind and shooting the agent in the back of the head. The Internal Security man dropped like a felled tree. The other two Security men raised their own pistols, pointing them in panic at the soldiers surrounding them. "Come on, do you think those peashooters are going to save you?" the General asked with another laugh. "Put them down already and let's not have more unnecessary death."

The two Security agents finally lowered their guns. Several soldiers roughly disarmed and restrained them. "So...um...what do we do now?" Ganzorig asked. "What we should have done a month ago," Khoriubechi replied.

Central Command of the People's Revolutionary Army of Taragai
Bor-Öndör, February 19th 2024

The current state of affairs in Taragai is unsustainable. As has become rapidly apparent over the past month, the desire of the people for change and to have their voices heard cannot be restrained by force. The People's Army can no longer be complicit in the perpetration of violence and bloodshed against our own people. It is our role to protect the people of Taragai, not to harm them.

To that end, the People's Army hereby demands that Chairman Tömörbataar and the Presidium agree to talks with those seeking change in Taragai, to find a way forward from this current crisis. Khadagan Daldurkhan must be released, and negotiations immediately begun to find a civil and peaceful way to resolve the political issues currently afflicting our nation.

We further demand that the organs of the Presidium, such as Internal Security, immediately cease and desist their efforts to harm and suppress fellow Taragaian citizens. We are prepared to force them to do so, if necessary.

The People's Army will stand where it must - with the people.

February 20th
Khongkhortai, Gerelma Province

While Khoriubechi was gathering his forces and issuing his statement in Bor-Öndör, another was preparing to do so in her own stronghold.

Over the past month, the porous borders between Gerelma Province and the rest of the world had proven to be a boon for Ebegei Qoriqacha. Under the noses of the Border Guards, the Qoriqacha clan had quietly been accepting gifts and visitors. Gifts, in the form of fine Xiomeran weapons of war. Visitors, in the form of CSSC mercenaries to supplement her own clan supporters. For some of the CSSC men and women, this was their third deployment within the past two years. Veterans of the Aurian and Huenyan campaigns, they had both the experience and the ruthlessness needed to prepare those seeking to bring a new Khanate to rise.

With the Taragaian government distracted and stretched to its limits by the nationwide protests, it would prove to be an easy task to seize control of the province. The People's Army and Internal Security forces in Gerelma Province would wake up on the morning of February 20th to find themselves under siege. Warriors loyal to Qoriqacha, backed by Xiomerans loyal to their precious quetzals and to bloodshed, had risen up to bring a new era to Taragai. A new era that looked so, so much like a very old one.

To the people of Taragai, and the world: I am Ebegei Qoriqacha, last survivor of the line of Khans that once ruled Taragai before the coming of the evil and filthy Communists who seized control of our country by force and lies. Once, my family led Taragai to unprecedented greatness. I am here to do so once again.

The Communist regime of the TPRP has brutalized, repressed and misled our people and our great land for decades. They have brought us to the brink of ruin. And now, they murder our people for merely letting their voices be heard and squabble amongst each other for the scraps of power. They are not worthy to lead Taragaians. I am.

To the people of Taragai, you need not suffer any longer, nor let these godless and murderous Reds control you any longer. The time of a new Khanate is here. Ride to my banners, people of Taragai! Together we will protect our people, expel the hateful Communists, and restore Taragai to the position of greatness and prosperity that it once held and that it deserves.

Ebegei, Khatun of Taragai

[Xiomera]

March 24th
Bor-Öndör

In the month following the People's Army changing sides to back the protesters, Bor-Öndör (and Taragai as a whole) had fallen into a stalemate.

The People's Army and the protesters had taken control of much of the capital, with Internal Security maintaining control of important sites such as the Presidium. Neither side had moved, despite the angry insistence of Chairman Tömörbataar and Internal Security Director Khoga that action be taken. Neither side wanted to be the one that triggered a civil war against their own people.

Slowly but surely, the other members of the Presidium were recognizing that things had changed. Without the military backing them, the protests couldn't be quashed. The people were no longer scared of Internal Security, now that the Army was supporting them. The government simply didn't have the numbers to force the people back into line as it had so many times before. And as the protesters, in growing numbers, continued to demand change, the Presidium continued to debate and discuss what to do.

In the end, there was only one answer. The members of the Presidium knew that sooner or later, the Army and the protesters would get tired of waiting for them to do the right thing, and would force them to. As Tömörbataar stood at the podium to insist yet again that Internal Security be allowed to try to suppress the protests, another person stood up to interrupt him. Argasun Qorchi was the First Deputy Premier of Taragai. Qorchi was also the only person in the Presidium with the rank and the support to be in a position to challenge Tömörbataar. "I accuse Chairman Tömörbataar of mismanaging this situation and leading us into this untenable situation. I call for a vote among the members of this body to remove the Chairman from his position."

While Qorchi was speaking, the guards at the main entrance of the Presidium chambers received a message. They quietly stepped aside, allowing the doors to be swung open. Army soldiers quickly entered, making their way to the observation balconies above the Presidium chamber.

As Tömörbataar protested the call for a vote to remove him from power, the soldiers began filling the balconies above the Presidium members. The members of the Presidium, and  Tömörbataar, observed this with shock. "It is time for a vote," Qorchi said quietly.

Without much debate after that, the Presidium voted unanimously to remove Chairman Tömörbataar from his position. As Tömörbataar was quickly hustled off stage by a pair of soldiers, the Presidium voted to put Qorchi in his place as the new Chairman. The new leader of Taragai was quick to issue his first orders: arrest Chaghagan Khoga, and release  Khadagan Daldurkhan from prison to begin discussions on what it would take to end the protests.

[Xiomera]

The Xiomeran Empire found itself in a dilemma.

Prior to December 6th most Xiomeran military planners had thought the Empire's preferred faction, the self-proclaimed Khanate of Taragai under Ebegei Qoriqacha, would win easily. In Taragai's not-quite-a-civil-war-yet, the would-be Khatun's forces were the closest thing to a strong force in the country. The communist forces of the old regime under Chaghagan Khoga were demoralized, cut off from the rest of the world, and backing a regime that wasn't especially popular. The transitional government had lost half its army when Khoga fled to his home region. Taragai's Army hadn't been a serious threat to Xiomera even before the defections, and was even less so when half of its troops scurried off to Khogne. Khoga's forces at least had the benefit of strong and somewhat coherent leadership going for them. In Bor-Öndör, a mix of former communist leaders and inexperienced opposition activists were struggling to form a government, plan elections, and figure out who was going to run the country and how. In short, it was an ideal scenario for Xiomera to do what it did best: roll in when they were unexpected and their foes beset with chaos, mop up, and reap the benefits. 

That, however, was before Mizu troops began pouring into eastern Taragai to prop up the transitional government. Suddenly, Xiomera's dream scenario was emerging as a possible nightmare.

When the government of Misumi decided to intervene, there was immediate consternation and debate in Tlālacuetztla. The Ministry of State and Ministry of Security were quite vocal in their we-told-you-so's. Intervening in a state right on the doorstep of several Hesperidan powers was not the same as Xiomeran adventures in Caxcana or Neria. Trying to create a vassal or puppet state within striking range of multiple Hesperidan states would generate a response from someone, they had warned. If it hadn't been the Mizu, it would have been someone else. Which exact Hesperidan state finally decided to stand up to Xiomera (other than sending some money or arms here and there) ultimately had been a coin flip as far as the Xiomeran intelligence and diplomatic communities had been concerned. Someone would. We warned you.

The other side of the internal Imperial debate, however, wasn't interested in said warnings or chiding. We couldn't have been expected to believe anyone would intervene, they argued. This side of the debate consisted of the Imperial General Staff, and a bevy of Empire First-leaning advisors. XCP leaders, Cabinet members and the like. Their attitude was summed up by Camanahuac, the Director of the New Empire Program. Why would we have thought anyone would try to stop us? No one has until now, he reasoned. And in truth, no one had.

As Huenya fought for its life repeatedly, many nations were happy to send arms or money. No one had been willing to match money or gifts with action, though. No one had responded in the one way an Empire respects - with boots on the ground and steel in hands.

As Xiomera set up shop in Roucourt and pillaged its platinum resources with "permission" from the local government, there had been plenty of displeased words from the world's capitals. Words, however, aren't very effective against tanks or warplanes.

When Xiomera responded to Saladian "insults" by occupying their country, taking their government prisoner, and eventually claiming part of their land for the Empire, there were more displeased words from the world's capitals and from LIDUN. But still, nothing more than words.

When Xiomera sent missiles and troops to Kerlile in a direct challenge to Greater Acadia, again, the world shrugged. It's Xiomera. What can you do? seemed to be the attitude of the day.

When Xiomera sent weapons and mercenaries around the world in pursuit of Imperial gains, words continued to outweigh action. Even in Auria, where a coalition had managed to force out Xiomeran mercenaries and the puppet regime they backed, everyone was more than happy to let Xiomera maintain its utterly transparent charade of "not being involved". They're mercenaries, not government forces. We're not responsible, the Empire's leaders said while laughing in the halls of Tlālacuetztla at how eagerly everyone chose to play along with that ludicrous veil rather than actually call Xiomera out and risk a real war.

Yes, the XCP and the generals had finally miscalculated in Taragai. But given what the world had done (and more importantly, not done) in response to Xiomeran actions ever since Calhualyana had come to power, the XCP and the generals collectively shrugged and said can't blame us.

The choice for Calhualyana now was simple: back down, or double down?

The Empress had already backed down once recently, in Huenya. When President Xiadani had threatened to drop a nuke or three on the Palace of Flowers, Calhualyana had to pull back. She believed Xiadani was just crazy enough to do it. As a result of the Xiomerans' pullback, the Golden Blade insurgency collapsed, and the best chance Xiomera might ever have to regain their Huenyan empire slipped through their fingers.

Calhualyana had promised Xiomerans a New Empire. And while she was still immensely popular and powerful at home, neither of those conditions would last forever if she continued to not deliver said empire to Xiomera. Huenya was a setback, and everyone knew it, no matter how much the Ministry of Information tried to spin it. The Empress couldn't back down again, especially not so soon after the debacle in Huenya. Escalating too much, however, could earn her a wider war that was neither desired nor beneficial. After much internal debate, the Empress finally decided.

---

In the western half of Taragai controlled by the "Khanate of Taragai", CSSC mercenaries had been in-country since February. They had been working hard to shore up the Khatun's defenses, get her forces trained and armed, and the infrastructure under her command up to speed. That last bit was the one proving to be the biggest challenge.

Taragai was, quite possibly, the least developed country in the IDU that wasn't Yesteria. Outside the immediate area of the capital, and a single highway leading to the port of Khatgal, there were almost no roads or highways to speak of. Airfields in most of the country were rudimentary at best. High-speed rail? Sort of, if the train was going downhill with a windstorm behind it. (There were also very few rail lines.) Most of Taragai, especially in the west, was a mix of mountains and wide-open steppe with some villages here and there, but that was about it. 

Working continuously for the past nine months, CSSC engineers had been working around the clock to expand the vital airfields that were the lifeline for the Xiomeran operation. Züünbayan,  Töv and Khongkhortai airfields would be the conduits for continued Xiomeran support of the Khatun's forces. As long as those airfields remained operational and in friendly hands, Xiomera wasn't dead yet in Taragai. Not by a long shot.

Planning their future operations, Xiomera's General Mācalō and Khatun Ebegei's military leaders began arranging their forces along two fronts. Facing the transitional government's lines west of Arvaikheer and Muntsaglan, multiple mingghan would be deployed to block any advance westward. They would be backed by artillery, armor and missiles for both air and ground defense. They would respond if attacked by the government or the Mizu, but would otherwise hold the line.

The Xiomerans would leave the transitional government and its backers alone for now. They had a much easier target in mind.

December 12th

In the early hours of the morning,  Khachiin Naranbaatar sighed slightly as he manned his position. The private in the 1st Guards Rifle Corps of the People's Revolutionary Army sat waiting for another day of nothing happening. Since his unit had deployed on behalf of Choghagan Khoga's remaining hardcore communist supporters, they had been waiting for someone to come after them. Anyone. Nothing had happened. For nine months.

Supplies and tempers had grown short, in the long period of nothing happening. Maintaining order in the ranks, not to mention preventing desertion, had become increasingly challenging for the officers and political commissars of the unit. Stuck between the forces of the Khatun and the transitional government in their little pocket, with only the even unfriendlier environment of Lao Sangsong to their south, the remaining loyalists to the TPRP's extremist wing were wondering if there was even a point anymore.

"Don't fall asleep," a bantering voice piped up behind him. Naranbaatar turned with a smile to see Akona Hariwana behind him with a mug of coffee. The Milintican guerrilla was one of the few that had managed to get into Taragai before things back there had gone south. The private took the mug from Hariwana with a grateful smile. "Kind of hard not to. The coffee helps."

Hariwana smirked as she sat next to Naranbaatar with her own coffee. "Better drink it then. Don't want the political officer to catch you sleeping at your stick."

"Post, not stick," Naranbaatar laughed as he gently corrected Hariwana's Taragaian speech. "You've gotten a lot better at speaking Taragaian from when you first got here, but a post is - "

Hariwana suddenly gestured to Naranbaatar to stop talking. She grabbed a pair of battered and old field glasses and raised her head slightly over the wall of their defensive position. As she did so, a soft rumbling could be heard. Naranbaatar got the message, shutting up and looking over the wall with Hariwana. "Movement. We have movement," Hariwana shouted as she looked through the field glasses. Men on horses, backed by armored vehicles, coming over a ridge to the west and advancing rapidly. The soldiers of the 1st Guards and the scattering of Milintican guerrillas began taking positions. As they settled into firing positions, another series of noises began to emerge. Sounds of thunder, and whistling in the air. Hariwana and Naranbaatar ducked with their comrades, as the Xiomerans' contribution to the day began to arrive. Artillery, missiles and mortars began pounding the communist lines. Explosions began to shake the earth beneath them, as smoke filled the air. Through the smoke, Hariwana, Naranbaatar and the others could see the enemy charging at them. Bullets began to whine and pop against the walls of the position, followed by the sound of screaming and shouts. A bullet struck Hariwana in the shoulder, and she fell to the ground with a curse that was definitely not in Taragaian. Naranbaatar crouched next to her, desperately looking for a target.

---

The Xiomeran leadership had decided to try to split the difference in their troublesome dilemma. Rather than tangle with the troublesome transitional government and their foreign backers, it was decided that Xiomera would kick the legs out from under the weakest player in the Taragai situation. Along the entire front west of Khogne and Kharkhorin, the forces of the Khatun launched a major offensive, backed by the Xiomerans. Liquidating as much of the communist enclave as possible, and ideally eliminating Choghagan Khoga, would leave the Khatun and her friends in a much stronger position. It wouldn't hurt to gain control of the airfields in Khogne and Kharkhorin, as well as a bit of rail and road, either.

[Xiomera]

Northern Taragaian border
January 25th

Toa Kahurangi cursed as he looked through his binoculars. The guerrilla in the 14th Popular Freedom Militia of Milintica was eyeing the valley of the Tebengri River from just outside the Taragaian border in no man's land north of the country. The Tebengri Valley led to Kharkhorin, where the communist forces loyal to Choghagan Khoga and the old government were supposed to be still resisting the monarchist advance. Kahurangi was of the distinct opinion that the NDIP intelligence report was outdated, and that it was probably wrong even when it was new. "Milintican intelligence service" was more of a tongue-in-cheek comment about NDIP than an accurate description of it, Kahurangi snorted to himself.

"Anything out there?" a voice whispered softly over Kahurangi's shoulder. He bit down a sigh. He hated it when Mecatique, his Red Wave Guards counterpart, snuck up on him like that. "I don't see anything. Doesn't mean there isn't anything out there," Kahurangi said while trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. "Those hills on either side of the valley are prime ambush spots. There could be transitional government soldiers and Mizu in those hills. Or worse, the monarchists and their Xiomeran buddies."

"More likely the crown-humpers and the Xiomeran devils," Mecatique snorted. "The transitional government's busy wasting Mizu money and weapons trying and failing to break the lines east of here."

"That's not a good thing. The Mizu and the transitional government, as far as I know, don't torture prisoners of war or just line them up for a firing line. The Xiomerans and their puppets do," Kahurangi reminded him.

"So what are you saying?" Mecatique raised his eyebrow. "I'm saying we should turn back. Either find another way into Kharkhorin, or go back altogether. This is screaming 'trap'," Kahurangi replied in a flat tone. He already knew what Mecatique was going to say.

"We have a mission to complete, or die trying." Mecatique folded his arms. "We're not going back to Milintica in shame having run with our tails between our legs. We came here to fight imperialists and that's what we're going to do. Or are you afraid?"

Kahurangi sighed to himself. Even if he refused Mecatique's demand, he knew that the Red Wave Guards would just shoot him and order the mission ahead anyway. If Kahurangi were alive, there was at least a tiny chance he could save some of his people once they entered the meat grinder ahead. With a brusque gesture, he stood up. "Let's go," he said, walking past Mecatique.

An hour later, the mixed band of PFM guerrillas and Red Wave Guards were moving down the valley. So far, the hills around them had been silent. Like much of Taragai, the Tebengri Valley was a virtually uninhabited domain disturbed only by the occasional nomadic band. The quiet and flat landscape, without even an occasional town or farm breaking it up, was both monotonous and a bit disturbing to the Milinticans. The Red Wave Guards, in particular, were used to the dense environment of Milintican cities. The more experienced PFM guerrillas kept having to remind the Guards to keep quiet and practice proper marching discipline.

Without warning, a whistling sound broke the silence. Unlike Mecatique and his band of Guards, Kahurangi knew what it was. "Incoming!" he shouted, using hand gestures to order his men into defensive positions. The first shells blasted the ground around the Milinticans, sending smoke and earth into the air. Shouts and cries of pain echoed out as the incoming fire continued. Kahurangi desperately tried to put his men into some kind of defensive line, with no ground cover to speak of to help him. Then, over the sound of the artillery fire, he heard another sound. Horses, and men shouting. Then the sound of gunfire.

As the Milinticans frantically tried to ready themselves, the first wave of horsemen reached them. They had been firing as they approached, and several Milinticans had already fallen. With loud shouts, the horsemen leapt off their mounts with surprising athleticism and charged the Milintican line. Kahurangi no longer had the option of organized thought, as he and his men were now in an up close and personal fight to survive. The Taragaian horsemen were attacking with both firearms and swords, and the Milinticans were struggling to defend themselves with anything they could. Kahurangi fought off multiple attackers, shouting angrily as he dispatched one after one. He felt something strike him from behind in the head, and he fell to the ground. Kahurangi rolled over, groaning in pain. As he did so, he saw Mecatique on the ground. The Red Wave Guards leader had his hands wrapped around the hilt of a sword that had been plunged deep into his chest. His eyes were blank. Lucky bastard. You didn't deserve to get off so easily, Kahurangi thought bitterly as he forced himself to his feet. Through the smoke, Kahurangi noticed that the wave of horsemen had been thinned out and seemed to be wavering. Maybe we have a chance. Then he heard the sound of feet hitting the ground. He looked hazily up to the hills around him, and saw them. Xiomeran infantry, surging towards the remaining Milinticans with rifles roaring. Guerrillas and Red Wave Guards alike around Kahurangi began to fall as the Xiomerans swarmed the valley. Kahurangi tried to rally himself for a last stand, hoping to take down as many Xiomerans as he had the Taragaian monarchists. But the Xiomerans knew a commander when they saw one. Kahurangi was quickly buried under a wave of Xiomeran soldiers. He felt his hands being tied behind him, then another rifle butt to the head dropped him into merciful darkness.

---

Some time later, Kahurangi woke up with a start. He was tied to a chair, inside a tent. He looked around blearily, and saw four men facing him. Two of them were Taragaian, and two were Xiomeran. The entrance to the tent rustled, and another Taragaian walked in. Like the other two Taragaians in the tent, he was wearing a traditional deel. However, his tunic was much more elaborate and rich-looking. The man stood before Kahurangi, giving him a short nod. "I am Osbeg Zayaat, Cherbi of the Keshik of the Great Khatun Ebegei. I am here at her command to find out who you are and why you are here."

Kahurangi responded by looking away from Zayaat, focusing his eyes on the wall away from him. Zayaat sighed. "Ignoring me is what a child would try to do. It will not save you." Zayaat pulled a jeweled dagger from a sheath at his waist. He idly played with the dagger as he looked down at Kahurangi. "You know, Taragaians used to be renowned around the world for how we punished our enemies. My Khatun...embraces the old ways. You might experience that firsthand if you continue to refuse to cooperate."

The two Taragaians standing behind Zayaat stared impassively at Kahurangi as the Cherbi continued. "But new ways have their uses as well. Our new friends the Xiomerans have their own unique....spin on punishing enemies and getting them to cooperate. Perhaps your stubbornness will inspire their creativity."

Unlike the Taragaians who remained stone faced, the Xiomerans smiled at Kahurangi as they looked at him. The smiles were anything but friendly. Kahurangi was not sure which was worse: the Taragaians' coldness or the Xiomerans' clear eagerness. He was only sure of one thing: Yeah, we should have turned back.

Khogne
February 1st

Khachiin Naranbaatar ran for his life. The PRA private was one of the few remaining soldiers in the 1st Guards Rifle Corps left alive, and he wanted to keep it that way.

The city of Khogne was encircled in steel. The last remaining holdout for the hardliners under Choghagan Khoga had been surrounded by the monarchist forces for two days now. The Khogne pocket had grown smaller and smaller, as had the numbers of soldiers on Naranbaatar's side. Akona Hariwana, his Milintican friend, was not there with him. She had fallen along with dozens of his comrades at the battle of Junghoi, just north of Khogne, two weeks ago. Junghoi, and the PRA forces there, had been blasted into rubble by Xiomeran artillery and missiles before the monarchists had come in a seemingly never ending wave. Naranbaatar didn't remember much after that, only the desperate retreat back to Khogne and their last remaining stronghold.

As Khogne now came under the same kind of barrage that had reduced Junghoi to ruins, Naranbaatar cursed the Xiomerans for destroying his country. He cursed the primitives from the hinterlands that Ebegei Qoriqacha had riled up to return Taragai to the dark ages. He even cursed Khoga, for his inept leadership and his empty promises of victory.

Naranbaatar ran towards the one place he knew left that might be under his side's control: the Government Palace in the center of Khogne. That was where Khoga had set up his government in exile after he had fled from Bor-Öndör. 

Naranbaatar rounded the corner of a building on Khogne's main plaza, and skidded to an abrupt halt. In the distance, he could see the Government Palace. Men in deels, each wielding the CC-AR-11 "Atlatl V" assault rifle that was the standard issue weapon of the Xiomeran army, were surging into the building. Behind them, multiple "Chuehe" infantry squad vehicles had surrounded the building. Xiomeran soldiers were dismounting from the vehicles, clearly in no hurry. For them, the situation was under control.

Khogne had fallen.

Naranbaatar hastily backed around the corner. He looked around for a hiding place, and saw a nearby door. Luckily, the door was unlocked. He ran inside what turned out to be a small shop. Running up the stairs in the back of the shop, Naranbaatar found what he assumed were the living quarters of the shopkeeper. The merchant and their family themselves were long gone, undoubtedly fled to escape the fighting in Khogne. Naranbaatar found a closet and pulled out a set of clothes that looked like they would mostly fit him. He went to unbutton his uniform jacket, then paused. Looking in a mirror, he contemplated what it would mean to take off his uniform. It would mean abandoning the cause he had fought for, not to mention the comrades he had lost along the way.

A thought came unbidden to Naranbaatar: You can't fight for anything if you're dead.

Naranbaatar quickly stripped off his incriminating uniform, swapping it for the merchant's clothes. Once suitably dressed, he made his way out of the shop. He had to get out of Khogne and away from the fighting. That proved easier than he expected. He was able to blend into dozens of other civilians trying to flee the city. None of the monarchist rebels or their Xiomeran masters tried to stop them. They were too busy celebrating their victory to worry about some locals. The group was able to pile into the back of a pickup truck that was on its way to anywhere there weren't bullets flying.

Naranbaatar looked back at Khogne as the truck lumbered down the road out of town. The Taragaian communists had fallen with their last stronghold.

For now, Naranbaatar told himself. For now.

---

Back at Khogne's center, Choghagan Khoga was a simmering ball of anger and resentment in the city's main square. He had tried to flee the Government Palace through a tunnel, but had been caught and dragged unceremoniously to the square. Khoga had resisted and cursed the pair of rural animal-herders who had dared to manhandle the Director of State Security. Barely a year ago, no one would have dared to challenge Khoga or the Internal Security Directorate due to that being an invitation to one's own execution. Now, the formerly most powerful man in Taragai found himself on his knees in the middle of an insignificant regional capital's dusty town square. His hometown, no less. He had hated it then, and still did. What he hated most of all, though, even more than the loss of power, was the loss of face. How had things collapsed so quickly?

Khoga's thoughts were broken as the men in their deels around the square, and the camo-clad Xiomeran soldiers with them, suddenly stood at attention. Khoga looked up to see three people approaching him. One of them was unknown to him, someone whose entire demeanor and appearance screamed Random Bodyguard A. The other two, however, were known to him. Osbeg Zayaat, leader of the upstart Khatun's personal guard, walked forward with a small sneer on his face. Khoga sneered back, just waiting for Zayaat to twirl his mustache or do something else equally theatrical. The two men stood to either side of the third figure as the group finally reached Khoga. Khoga looked up at her, eyes taking in her richly embroidered tunic before reaching her face. Sharp cheekbones, a slim jawline, and hazel eyes that seemed to bore into his soul greeted him. Her neatly-pulled back dark hair and pale skin lent her a more severe expression than what otherwise might have been present.

Ebegei Qoriqacha, Khatun of Taragai, stared down at Khoga as if she was looking at a particularly unimpressive bug. Khoga stared back, sneer replaced with an expression of unbridled hatred. Throughout his youth, Khoga had been taught to despise the former Taragaian rulers. He had been taught that the Party had replaced their backwards and repressive one-person rule with the power of the people. He had spent his life, for better or worse, in the service of the TPRP and the nation. He had spent decades to preserve the revolution that was supposed to have put people like this in the pages of history.

But like a nightmare, the noble tyrants had returned, and that revolution was now in tatters. It had all been for nothing. The blood on his hands, the years of work and sacrifice. Nothing.

The Khatun raised an eyebrow. "Chaghagan Khoga. You are the former director of the security service. In that role, at the command of the evil communist regime that once controlled Taragai, you were responsible for countless crimes against Taragai and its people - my people. Do you have any words to speak in your defense?"

Khoga looked at her for a moment. Then, he leaned over with deliberation and spit on the ground at her feet.

"I served Taragai, its legitimate government, and its people. I did not, and do not, answer to deluded fools who still think there is a place for crowned heads in this world. Whatever your bloodline is, you're no more a Khatun today than I am a yak. Yaks, at least, exist. Thrones don't. I have nothing more to say to you." Khoga raised his head to stare expressionlessly at the sky.

Qoriqacha smiled slightly. "You are true to your values even in the face of death. I can respect that, at least. But defiance aside, your road has ended. And you will now answer for your life." She motioned to the guard standing next to her, who began walking forward. Whatever the future held for Taragai, it held nothing more for Chaghagan Khoga.

[Xiomera]

General Mācālo sighed slightly as he looked over his latest reports. The Imperial general in charge of the Taragai operation had already been facing a significant challenge in keeping the Imperial forces there going. Resupply had slowed significantly since the Mizu entry into the situation. And without a significant new number of troops or supplies, the effort to secure the country for Ebegei Qoriqacha had entered into a stalemate. The new government in Bor-Öndör didn't have the muscle to force the Xiomerans out. But with a finite number of troops and supplies, Mācālo didn't have a great position to force their hand, given the Mizu presence in the east.

And now, he had just received word from Central Command that the already slow resupply of Imperial forces in Taragai was going to slow even more. Imperial forces and supplies were being delayed due to an "emerging situation", he had been told. Mācālo wasn't an idiot. He knew the "emerging situation" was Milintica, and the possibility that the Empire would need to teach that tiny nation a lesson. Mācālo was all in favor of putting upstarts like Neina Arana and her band of nasty Communists in their place. But not at the expense of his own mission!

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at his door. "General, Osbeg Zayaat is here to see you. He says that it is urgent." Mācālo nodded brusquely at his subordinate, who showed Zayaat in.

Mācālo did not like Zayaat. The head of Ebegei Qoriqacha's guard was the defacto commander of all her troops, so the Xiomerans had to deal with him. Mācālo had found Zayaat to be a sneaky, troublesome obstacle to deal with when he would have much preferred to deal with the Khatun directly. But the situation was what it was, so Mācālo dealt with it as best he could.

Zayaat walked in, a slight smile on his face as he greeted the General. Mācālo nodded as politely as he could. "Good morning, Cherbi. What can I do for you?"

Zayaat sat down in the chair in front of Mācālo's desk. While his smile was friendly enough, his eyes were cool. "I am here to address a....concern that my Khatun has. Well, actually, two concerns. One is that we seem to be in a state of stagnation in regards to this mission. My Khatun would like to know when you believe we will be ready to take the offensive and move against the illegitimate government's forces now that they have rejected her overtures of peace."

Mācālo did his best to keep the polite expression on his face. "As you know, we are trying to ensure that we have sufficient manpower and supplies for such an offensive in place. We are still dealing with issues of resupply, given the lack of locations here in which we can maintain an ongoing airlift of large-scale shipments. But we are working on it. We are hopeful to have that issue resolved within the next few months."

Zayaat nodded. "Your forces, and those of your CSSC before you, have been expanding our airfields and building new ones. Yet the problem persists. This is interesting. We are also hopeful this will be resolved soon."

Mācālo gently bit the inside of his lip to keep his polite expression from cracking. "We will do whatever we can to redouble our efforts."

"I am glad to hear that. This is reassuring. That was my other concern, so it is fortuitous that you mention redoubling your efforts. The situation emerging in Milintica has caught our attention, as it has the world. We know that Xiomera has to address this Milintican problem. Yet we are hopeful that the Empire will be able to do so while not forgetting its friends here in Taragai. Or our mutual commitments."

Mācālo bit the inside of his lip slightly harder. "I can assure you that the Empire has the resources to deal with the Milintican situation and our commitments in Taragai. There is no need for concern on the part of the Khatun."

"This is gratifying to hear. I feel much better. I will make sure to provide the Khatun with your reassurances." Zayaat stood up and gave Mācālo a polite nod before turning to walk out. At the door to the office, he looked over his shoulder. "You know, General, there were some here in Taragai who were concerned about allying with Xiomera. They saw what happened in Auria, and in Huenya, and did not believe Xiomera to be a state that lived up to its commitments to its allies and partners. But your Empress came here and assured us with her charming and graceful words and presence that this was not so, making your Empire's promises directly to our Khatun. I knew then that Xiomerans in fact did have honor. This is fortunate...Taragaians are not as accepting of betrayal as, say, Aurians or Xiomerans in Huenya might be. I am so pleased that we need never worry about our bonds of kinship being broken. Have a good day, General." Zayaat nodded once more, before seeing himself out.

Once he was alone, Mācālo stopped biting the inside of his lip. He reached inside his desk for the bottle of metoctli that he kept there, poured himself a small glass, and downed it. A deep sigh escaped him as he put the glass down.

[Xiomera]

The situation in Taragai, as much as no one wanted to admit it, had devolved into a stalemate.

As repeated attempts by the government in Bor-Öndör had demonstrated, its forces alone didn't have sufficient power to defeat the insurgents in the west. Those attempts had resulted in multiple planes and helicopters being shot down, and multiple offensives halted in their tracks. Armed with Xiomeran weapons, the insurgents had done a surprisingly strong job of holding the government's forces back.

But for all that, the insurgents also had not been able to press their own attacks forward. No matter how many pleas and veiled threats came down from Khatun Ebegei and her advisors to the Imperial command in Khongkhortai, the Xiomerans had insisted on incremental gains at best. A few strategic points here and there, but no major offensive yet. The reason for that was simple: the Xiomerans were not especially eager to bring the Mizu more fully into the conflict than they already were. A major Xiomeran-led push to the east would do just that, the advisors to Empress Calhualyana warned. Having fallen into a situation where a wider war was very possible, and with Milintica on her wish list as well, the Empress was not prepared to humor the impatience of her "fellow royal ally" Ebegei. A brief but blunt conversation between those "dear friends" had finally made the Xiomeran position clear to Ebegei - the Xiomerans were determined to wait out the Mizu rather than engage them. Both sides would tire of the stalemate eventually, Tlālacuetztla reasoned, and maintaining the status quo for now was the wisest course.

Without the might of the Imperial army and its CSSC support levies behind them, the insurgents also did not have the force needed to decisively end the issue. So the "civil war" in Taragai seemed destined for the indeterminate future to remain an unsatisfying quagmire of nothing.

But if nature abhors a vacuum, one could say that chaos does also. Something - someone, actually - was about to fill that void.

---

Khünbish is a small, insignificant village in far northwestern Taragai, a few miles from the border. Looking at the vast steppe surrounding it, it seems like a million miles from anywhere. Hundreds of miles from any city of significant size. Khünbish's sole claim to fame was that it was where the revolution of 1931 began. But after that revolution, everyone else promptly forgot about Khünbish. With the end of the communist regime, no one even held celebrations to honor Khünbish's minor role in history anymore.

Given all that, Bodii Kherlen found himself wondering what in the world he was doing there. Kherlen was Taragaian, but had grown up in the capital, far from this dusty place. He had left Taragai for college to study abroad, and had only returned to the country as part of his current role in life as a reporter for DTNS. When the protests for democracy had begun, leading to the elections, Kherlen had provided valuable reporting and insights to DTNS as one of its few reporters who spoke Taragaian and actually knew the country.

He had never imagined, though, that DTNS would send him into the territory controlled by the rebels under Ebegei. Kherlen considered them little better than backwards barbarians, wanting to restore a monarchy that had been deposed for decades. They may have been Taragaian as well, but Kherlen felt no kinship with them.

DTNS had told him that someone in Khünbish had some kind of story lead, though. Something supposedly big, that he would only discuss with a reporter in person. Too much risk to do so any other way, he claimed. Kherlen knew that taking such risks upon himself was part of a journalist's life, but still, it was a little annoying.

With the help of friendly guides, Kherlen had managed to slip past the so-called "border guards" that the Khatun's forces had placed north of Khünbish. That had proven to be a less than challenging task, as they were more interested in bribes than in security. Kherlen was just glad he hadn't run into any Xiomerans. The servants of the Empire had almost no discernable virtues, as far as Kherlen was concerned. But he had to admit, you couldn't really bribe them.

Clad in a simple deel that marked him as a modest everyday person, Kherlen did his best to remember his old-school Taragaian ways as he walked into Khünbish. The locals and the Khatun's forces would notice if he acted too much like a city-dweller.

Kherlen finally made it to the small building near the center of the village that was his destination. The sign on the front proclaimed it The House of the Never Ending Sky. That was a rather grandiose name for what was essentially a small inn and lodging place. The traditional architecture and well-kept surroundings were quite pleasant, though. Kherlen walked inside, booked a room, and carried his single bag to it. He settled in, and waited.

Eventually, a terse message came through on his burner phone. Room 3. Now.

Kherlen went to the room as instructed. Before he could even knock, the door opened. An older Taragaian, with unruly white hair and a wispy mustache, gestured him inside hurriedly. The door was closed and locked behind him as he entered. Kherlen was distinctly nervous at this point, but hid it well behind his journalist's demeanor. "I'm Bodii Kherlen with DTNS. I was told you had something to share with us."

"Oh, I do," the other man said with a long laugh that sounded exceptionally self-satisfied to Kherlen. "But first, introductions require reply. I am Ankhbayar Jirgal. Does that name mean anything to you?" Kherlen shook his head. "Of course, you would not know. I doubt you have ever set foot in this town before, whereas I have spent my whole life here. Tell me, young one, what is Khünbish known for? Other than being the place where the filthy communists started their revolution, of course?"

Kherlen sat upright, racking his brain. What is this town known for? Being the biggest producer of dust and yak crap in Taragai? How should I know? Something finally came to him. "Isn't this the place where they kept the corpse of the last Khan after the revolution, like some morbid wax museum tourist trap?"

"The body of Medekhgüi Qoriqacha is not a tourist trap! He is not a wax figure! He is the last of the line of Khans who made Taragai what it is!" Jirgal shouted, lurching to his feet.

Kherlen gulped. Great, a monarchist true believer. I should've expected that, here of all places. "I meant no disrespect," Kherlen said carefully, keeping his gaze lowered until Jirgal calmed down. "I should not get angry with you. No one has truly taught you young ones of the glories of ancient Taragai, especially with the nonsense and lies the communist schools indoctrinated people with." Jirgal sighed. "I can make up for my anger by giving you something, though. A story that will make your name, if you can get it to the world."

Kherlen's ears perked up and he nodded politely. Jirgal sat back down. "So, you know as well as anyone that Ebegei Qoriqacha is leading the revolt here, as a new Khatun ready to restore the Khanate of old. How has she explained her emergence, after so many years of the Qoriqacha being hunted by the communists and then disappearing?"

Kherlen looked at his notes. "She said that some of the last Keshig escorted the daughter of Medekhgüi, Khanbala, to safety in the wake of the Khan's fall from power. She said that the leader of those Keshig helped father a line of the Qoriqacha in exile, in the wild lands to the north of Taragai. That she was raised there, waiting for the day that her family could return to power and lead Taragai back to greatness. That's her story."

"And it's bullshit," Jirgal snapped. "What would you say, reporter, if I told you that Ebegei 'Qoriqacha' is not the descendant of Medekhgüi or any other of his line? That she's not a Qoriqacha at all? Or even noble?"

Kherlen paused for a very long time. "I would say, that if you want me to tell the world that, you had best have some pretty good proof."

"There are two things that will undo Ebegei's lies. One, the genealogical records of the Qoriqacha lineage that are housed there in his tomb. Two, the great Khan's body itself. Ancient truths and modern lies alike can be disproven by your modern wonder known as DNA. I can provide samples of both," Jirgal said.

"How did you manage to get all that?" Kherlen said with his eyes wide.

"You never asked why my name matters in this town. Well....it used to, anyway." Jirgal sighed. "I used to be the caretaker and guardian of the great Khan's tomb. For decades, I made sure that his body was preserved, along with his story. The communists mostly left me alone, because it was a good 'tourist trap' as you put it and kept the people of Khünbish pacified." Jirgal's face grew stiff as he continued. "When the communists fell, it was like a dream come true. I felt that I could finally elevate the tomb of Medekhgüi to its rightful place. But Ebegei forced me out. She said I was 'too old' to protect it anymore. Too old! I'll show that usurping witch who is too old!" A series of vile curses in Taragaian followed.

Kherlen wisely waited until Jirgal calmed down again. "There is one other piece of evidence to complete the puzzle that will seal Ebegei's fate. If you, or someone else, can acquire something that has her DNA on it, it can be compared to Medekhgüi's. That will prove without a doubt she is a liar."

Get the DNA of probably the most closely guarded woman in all of Taragai, surrounded by mad rebels and Xiomerans. Sure. Easy. Kherlen was, though, strangely excited. "Can I record you saying this? For more proof?" Jirgal nodded. "I would have it no other way. Let my words also doom the woman who took my mission from me."

As Kherlen prepared to record, he looked up at Jirgal. "So....as far as you know, did any of the Qoriqacha actually survive the purges?"

"No," Jirgal said sadly. "The communists were inept at almost everything they did. But when it came to ending the line of Khans, they were quite efficient. There are no Qoriqacha left. More's the pity," he sighed. Kherlen knew a great picture when he saw one, so he began recording on the image of Jirgal as he sighed. An old man, clad in his own simple deel, regretting the loss of a past that could never be restored.

[Xiomera]

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.