“Truly worthy of Lord Ogedei.”“There is no one but Lord Ogedei who can quell such fierce discord.”

  Ogedei savored those words again and again in the haze of half-sleep. It felt as though he had returned to those earlier days. His spirit brimmed with vigor. At this kurultai, the three great campaigns decreed by Chinggis Khan’s will would finally be decided. Once that was settled, he could devote himself more fully to the construction of the palace at Karakorum, and perhaps even spend quiet days fishing and hunting waterfowl at the Ormekht retreat.

  As he rose with such thoughts drifting through his mind, T?regene appeared with the maidservants to attend to him.

  “So Prince K?chü is to command the Southern Song campaign,” she said, her brows lifting ever so slightly.

  Kipchak lay far from Karakorum, and Goryeo was of lesser importance compared to the Southern Song. That Ogedei had entrusted the most valuable of campaigns, the Southern Song expedition, to K?chü, son of the First Empress, was clear enough. The west belonged to the House of Jochi. Then where, T?regene wondered, would her beloved son Güyük prove his worth?

  Even as she attended to Ogedei’s meal, her thoughts continued to churn.

  As for Jochi, measures had been taken, at least for now. But how fiercely would the flames catch? That foolish man had apparently lodged a complaint with the First Empress, entirely missing the mark, and seemed to have conveniently mistaken the affair as Chagatai’s doing. A reenactment of the past. Let them devour one another as they pleased. The finest meat would fall to her in the end.

  Ogedei, meanwhile, ate his breakfast at leisure, glancing sidelong at T?regene’s face.

  Batu went in person to Chagatai’s tent. Having raised objections only the day before, he could not help but feel the suspicious gazes of the Chagatai household upon him. Even so, he was granted an audience with the aged Chagatai.

  Chagatai’s expression was stiff. Batu did not sit. He dropped to one knee and bowed his head.

  “Yesterday, I made a request born of poor judgment. I am deeply ashamed.”

  Chagatai looked startled.

  “It was my misunderstanding,” Batu continued. “I beg your forgiveness for having cast suspicion upon you without cause.”

  At Batu’s frank and sincere apology, Chagatai’s features softened.

  “So you have come to understand,” Chagatai said, a smile touching his lips.

  “Yes. After reflecting through the night, I realized that what you said was right. This western campaign is not something the House of Jochi should undertake alone. I intend to withdraw my remarks from yesterday’s council.”

  Batu went on.

  “However, the west is land entrusted to the House of Jochi. In order to fulfill the will of our great grandfather, I ask that you permit us to bear full responsibility for the campaign.”

  Chagatai nodded deeply.

  “Come, sit here,” he said. “What you say is reasonable. I, too, believe it is right.”

  “Thank you,” Batu replied, relief flooding his chest as he looked up at his uncle. Sensing the easing of tension, the attendants brought in tea.

  “I quarreled bitterly with your father,” Chagatai said quietly. “But I never hated him. That I can finally speak words of regret after ten years brings me joy. I do not mean that I rejoice in my brother’s death. Rather, it is that I can say this directly to you.”

  Batu thought he saw a faint glimmer of light in his uncle’s eyes.

  “Thank you, Uncle.”

  Batu’s own chest burned with emotion. Chagatai’s gnarled hands reminded him of his father’s. This was surely what his father had wished for as well. Batu felt as though he had fulfilled a long-held hope of the dead.

  Having apologized directly to Chagatai for his discourtesy and repaired the rift between them gave Batu a newfound inner strength. At the Kurultai, he stood tall, retracting his previous stance and declaring his readiness to accept the support of the other houses.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Seeing Batu speak and Chagatai nod in agreement, Ogodei felt a pang of disappointment, though he opened his mouth with a pleasant smile. "I, too, concur with Lord Batu’s view. Let Lord Batu serve as Commander-in-Chief, with the House of Jochi at the core, reinforced by appropriate forces from the other houses. Now, I have a proposal of my own: what say you that each house sends forth the bearers of the next generation to join this campaign?"

  A stir ran through the assembly. "It is an excellent thought, Sire, to allow the young ones to gain experience." "However, a host of youths alone lacks weight. It would be prudent to appoint someone seasoned as a deputy."

  Subutai raised his hand. "Then allow this Subutai to spur his old bones into action and serve."

  "Oh, that is most reassuring."

  The discussion grew lively as the plans began to take shape. Ogodei cast a sidelong glance at T?regene, as if to confirm, this will do.

  For Batu, it was a highly satisfactory outcome to bring back to Jochi. That his vision had broadened was thanks to Sorghaghtani. Before departing, Batu went to pay his respects at her tent.

  Seeing Batu’s refreshed expression, Sorghaghtani seemed to grasp the outcome at once.

  “It went well, did it not?” she asked with a bright smile.

  “Thanks to you, Lady Sorghaghtani. I believe we can build a good relationship with the House of Chagatai from here on.”

  “That is wonderful. I hear each house will be sending members of the next generation. I intend to send M?ngke, along with a few others. He may not yet be of great use, but he is a brave child. I hope he may learn much from you.”

  She smiled, indulging in a mother’s pride.

  “I will accept gladly,” Batu said. “I look forward to it.”

  Maidservants carried in several chests, large and small.

  “They may be a burden, but I hoped you might partake of them along the journey.”

  In the smaller baskets were fried bread and mutton; the larger chests held woven cloth and dolls, things likely to please a young girl.

  “You honor me,” Batu said with pleasure. He had not given a thought to gifts for those left behind.

  “You mentioned that you are raising Lord Jochi’s youngest daughter. I hope she will like them.”

  Batu could hardly say that the girl, so boyish by nature, was unlikely to care for such things. He offered his thanks with care and departed Karakorum.

  The kurultai came to an end, and one by one, the powerful figures who had attended returned to their own lands.

  The flurry of public life subsided, and alone before her ledgers, Sorghaghtani sat deep in thought in her private chamber.

  The wealth she had inherited from her late husband should have grown, not diminished.

  Yet since his accession, ?gedei had repeatedly seized assets once entrusted to the Tolui household under various pretexts, redistributing them to his own sons.

  Worse still, the task of placating and persuading the offended clan leaders had somehow fallen to her.

  He had always been kind.

  The memory of her husband surfaced without warning.

  Overworked, rarely able to return home, he had collapsed and died on the way to the tent where she and their children waited for him.

  A dull ache formed behind her eyes.

  She blinked the tears away and fixed her gaze on the ledgers.

  Now she stood alone.

  The Tolui household, and her children, depended entirely on her protection.

  She had assessed Batu carefully.

  With his backing, how reassuring things might be.

  For the sake of her children, she needed—at any cost—to strengthen ties with the House of Jochi.

  Batu had departed without much inclination to pursue that matter further, yet Sorghaghtani found herself wondering whether those missteps and petty slights had been deliberate—an attempt to recreate the old conflict between the Houses of Chagatai and Jochi.

  Unable to entrust the empire to either of the feuding brothers, ?gedei had been chosen as Great Khan—regarded as the most even-tempered among them, and known for standing between his brothers rather than contending with them.

  It was impossible to know whether either house was truly unfit to be entrusted with matters of real consequence.

  Was someone trying to force that uncertainty into certainty?

  Who, then?

  Sorghaghtani pressed her fingers to her brow.

  To think further along this line was dangerous.

  Her thoughts returned to something Batu had mentioned.

  His youngest daughter, born shortly before Jochi’s death.

  Pampered by her elder brother, already nearing—and perhaps past—marriageable age.

  Batu, she suspected, was feeling the pressure. He had even admitted that he had raised a daughter who did not listen to him.

  Marriage was an obvious possibility—

  But a marriage alliance between the Tolui and Jochi households would be far too blatant—like laying one’s cards face up before an enemy.

  So what, then, was to be done?

  As she continued to turn the question over in her mind, she thought of someone connected to the Tolui household, yet not visible on the surface.

  When she finally thought of the right person, the sky over Karakorum was beginning to pale.