The Khan

((The fourth installment, preceded by The Sorceress, The Prince and The Knight. Maybe I should not have shortened it but ah, the benefits of hindsight.))

The Khan

They had sailed the dunes for days. It was as if there was no end to them. Of course they had an end, no matter where one travelled, one was to encounter to the ocean. There were no other continents. At least none where a ship sailing due west off of the coast of the Lexmadan territory could reach the Jagatai Khanate after a month. Travelling was still a huge waste of time, according to Princess Chataigne. The other two adults indulged her and thought about it themselves. For one such as Damocles, who spent his youth as a captain of a company of men marching this way and that, he came to the same conclusion. Lady Po on the other hand, viewed it as a necessary break from the daily and thought little of it. It was at this point that the hand in the crow's nest started shouting. The Khanate capital was within sight.

Slowly but surely, rising above the horizon, the spires and the minarets crept in to view. It was the palace of the Khan himself bleached white by the constantly shifting desert sand. Around such a illustrious palace stood other smaller box houses, neatly built and arranged around the hill that the palace sat on. Below that even, were squalid wooden shelters, and Damocles presumed, was where the slaves aboard were headed. He was wrong in that regard, the great beetle ploughed through these small wooden houses. There were no screams, only the sound of wood snapping under the weight of the sand ship. Resting with the starboard at the edge area of bleached houses, the gangplank went down. They had arrived.

There was a red carpet, and slowly, the curious inhabitants poked their faces out, viewing the entourage as they travelled towards the palace. How many times has it been? Damocles couldn't remember, what he did however, was that this was the only street he knew in this foreign capital. Those times were under different circumstances since to his left was the Khan's advisor, to his right, his charge, tugging slightly as she led them and behind him, were half a dozen armed Khanate guards. As opposed to other countries, the Khanate did not wear plate, preferring mail and lamellar armour. The reason was simple, all of them were born in the saddle. Plate would only encumber and limit their mobility, and besides, plate armour was starting to become obsolete thanks to firearms. Damocles sighed in relief, seeing that none of them had firearms about their persons. Those sharp spears, curved scimitars and broad shields still bothered him.

The palace gates were shut and the fountain plaza was lined with curious citizens. The Khan himself stepped outside the palace. That was rare in itself. Damocles had not expected the Khan to be different from the previous visit, but then many years have passed since. The current Khan, who had not been known to him before was somewhat bloated. The short, black and neatly cut beard was attached to an equally wide face, on which an ornate headdress rested. Such a man revolted Damocles, just like the Crown Prince of Lexmada, even the Khanate itself has regressed to nothing more but a spoiled child. It was as if they were raised with good food, wine, political ambition and nothing more. Nobility at its best, he sighed. Then there were those around him, a tall skinny herald who looked more malnourished than the populace as well as few armed guards.

"Your Excellency, the Royal Advisor the Mistress of the Summer Blaze, her Royal Highness Princess Chataigne de Gavaroche and Knight-Commander of Gavaroche's Royal Guard, Lord Damocles Methusaleh have arrived," the herald announced.

The three bowed as the Khan finally sat up from his resting position.

"My my, Lady Po, what have you brought here before me?" the Khan asked licking his lips.

"Is she not whom you have requested your Excellency?" she asked in reply.

"She is," the Khan almost sneered in annoyance.

The great man, in more than one dimension, became silent again and looked at Princess Chataigne. Damocles could only mask his horror with his own self discipline with lecherous eyes that his charge was looked upon. The next moment amazed him, and doubtlessly, the guards around the Khan as well. Princess Chataigne had approached the Khan, speaking innocently as she did so.

"Did you wish to see me your Excellency?"

The guards around the Khan were unnecessarily tense but the Khan waved them off.

"Yes I have, my dear Princess," the Khan answered bluntly, "Come, sit on my lap."

She did so obediently and Damocles was forced to watch, ashamed. Had he the freedom, he would have fallen on his own sword immediately.

"I see the Regent has raised you well," the Khan continued.

A grave insult, not only to the royal family but Damocles as well and his patience was wearing thin. However, it was the mere mention of the Regent that had Damocles fidgeting silently and fuming. Shortly before the Knight and the Princess left their home kingdom, the his majesty the King fell terribly ill and no known doctor nor mage could treat it. Such was the illness of his majesty that a Regent was appointed. An unpopular man to the populace, he had support from nobles only because of his sheer charisma. Damocles still wondered whether it was the King, or the Regent that sent them to the kingdom of Lexmada in the first place.

"Your Excellency," the Princess start, drawing a circle with her finger on his thigh, "Do you remember the old Khanate laws?"

Smitten by such a little girl, he was truly was despicable, Damocles thought as the Khan answered boastfully.

"Of course I do!"

"What was the second law again?" the Princess asked again, her tone unchanged.

"That the one to kill the Khan becomes the new one!" the Khan answered, no quieter.

"Does you still follow that law?"

"Of course I do..." the Khan started.

At that moment, the Khan understood. Though he was obese, he was not dumb as his countenance suggested. But before he could raise another finger, blood started to gather in his throat. Funny, the Khan thought, having remembered that only happened when one haemorrhaged and he clearly was not. Or so he led himself to believe until it became evident by the sharp pain emanating from his abdomen. An accursed magic user, he tried to say as he looked down at the princess, whose expression had never changed from that of the innocent little girl she was. Princess Chataigne was grinning widely by the time the blood gushed out from the Khan's mouth and she stepped on the body of the dying Khan. It was her triumph and hers alone. Everyone present had witnessed the beginning of a new dynasty.

"The games end here," the Princess stated in a voice cold as ice still smiling.