Author's Note

Translations

Chapter 4:21.1 - Khatun

Chapter 4:21.1 – Khatun

The Brave Companions filed out of Golden Oak’s laboratory into the biting cold, keeping close to share warmth as the wind stirred up the snow and tried to catch the edges of their cloaks. Once Twilight Sparkle confirmed that Spike had finished closing up the tree-laboratory, she opened a portal. There were multiple reasons not to leave from within Golden Oak’s laboratory, the foremost being the cramped quarters with the contents of Yliiena’s Tower cluttering up the place. Another was that their destination would be just as cold as Ponieville; it was better to open the portal in a similar environment and merely limit their time outside as much as possible rather than eliminate it entirely. This time, Ream and Baldavin had no need to clear away curious onlookers, so they both stepped through the portal first to survey the destination. Both the cold and the residents of Ponieville becoming used to Twilight’s frequent use of portals kept the crowds away, so the only ponies that saw them leave were those peeking through windows across the market square.

Their destination was plenty safe, being as it was outside the gates of Appleoosa. The southern town’s walls had been impressive once to those among the Brave Companions who’d never ventured far from Ponieville; but returning now after their many travels across Equestria and beyond, they seemed quaint in comparison to the barriers around Cant’r Laht, Manehattan, or Embariz. They even paled compared to Ponieville’s new walls, though these had been erected earlier and when the town was much younger. Regardless of how they compared to others, though, the walls did serve the purpose of protecting the town—just not from those they’d originally been intended to keep out. The Treaty of Boulder Brook, negotiated by the Brave Companions the last time they’d been here, had held out; and the McLellans of Appleoosa and the South Equestrian Bison remained on friendly terms. The bison camp was visible nearby, a column of smoke rising from each yurt, and was the reason the Brave Companions had come here. A small band of bison approached them as the portal closed, at their head the leader of the herd.

“Princess Twilight Sparkle, Brave Companions, Spike,” the bison chief greeted them, raising her head and exposing her neck to Twilight and Spike as a sign of respect.

“Chief Strongheart,” Twilight greeted her in return, reciprocating Strongheart’s gesture with a slight bow.

“Thank you for coming at my request,” Strongheart said. “To travel so far north even with just the few of us would be quite impossible to do in time. I think the intent was to exclude us from the khuraldai.”

The bison herd had passed Appleoosa on their way to the Shimmering Sea almost two months earlier, so it must have come as a surprise to the residents of the town to see them again so soon. Chief Strongheart had deviated from her herd’s stampeding path (or rather, doubled back on it early) due to the message she’d received near Dodge’s Crossing. The other bison herds of Equestria had called a khuraldai, a conclave of multiple herds to make an important decision regarding their collective future. The site for the khuraldai was in the north of what had until recently been part of the Kingdom of Vanhuv’r, but was now claimed by the northern bison herds. It was inconceivable that the South Equestrian Bison would be able to make it by the date specified—the 20th day of the 7th month by the Equestrian calendar—and so their voices would not be heard. Strongheart held out hope, though, that by returning to Appleoosa, she could get a message to Applejack, and through her the Brave Companions, including a sorceress with the ability to travel anywhere in Equus in a single moment. Her plan had worked, and Applejack had brought the message to Twilight, who had gathered them all to aid the bison chief in her quest to join the khuraldai.

“I do not doubt it,” Twilight replied, “Nor could I abandon you in this matter. This is the first Equestrian khuraldai in centuries, and the other herds have made no secret of what they intend to use it to accomplish.”

Over the past few years, the fragile relationships between pony realms and bison herds across Equestria had broken down. First it had been the North Equestrian Bison, who’d taken advantage of the Stalliongrad Civil War to break the agreement they’d made with Bann the Terrible. Then, the return of the North had brought two ancient herds who wanted nothing to do with pony realms. Finally, the Los Pegasus Succession War and subsequent fragmentation of the kingdom had emboldened the Westerlands Bison to openly fight against Grand Duchess Flax to carve out their own territory. Across Equestria’s northwest, the bison had rampaged and usurped control from pony authorities, creating a vast swathe of lands that had once been Northern, Stalliongrader, or Vanhuv’rite, but now knew only the law of the bison: a law of tribute. Now the bison of the north and west sought to formalize their conquests and unite into a khaganate. The summit in Trotstagor was only two weeks away, and a pressing topic for Grand Duchess Cadence, Prince Braid, and King Hyelliff would be the bison. Traveling with Chief Strongheart and her retinue to the khuraldai would give Twilight important information that would be useful at the summit regarding the bison herds’ unity and intentions.

“Let’s not delay, then,” Strongheart said. “The khuraldai will not meet until tomorrow, but we will need to establish our camp, and many important things will be said and decided informally around fires and at tables.”

Twilight Sparkle obliged in opening another portal in the same place as before. This time, it looked out upon the windswept coast of the Agate Ocean. A chill wind blew through the portal, pushing through foreign swirling flakes that were soon lost in the layer of local snowfall upon the ground. Ream and Baldavin made to pass through first again, but were preempted by two bulls of Strongheart’s retinue, each dressed in blocky armor. Given that they were about to walk into a camp of bison herds hostile to ponies, it was probably for the best, but the pony guards did look perturbed at having their duties taken from them.

Chief Strongheart and the rest of her party passed through the portal next, the chief leading the way. In total, Strongheart was bringing seven bison to the khuraldai. Besides herself and the guards, there were three leading members of her herd to provide her advice and to show that she spoke not as an individual, but for the others that she led. The final member of the party was her consort, Moonlight Dust, a bull with hair so dark brown that it was nearly black. All the bison carried on their broad backs everything they’d need to set up camp, including their yurts (apart from Chief Strongheart, who would share her yurt with the bison who carried it).

The Brave Companions passed through the portal once the bison were all through, and Twilight allowed it to snap shut behind her guards, who brought up the tail. The site the bison had chosen for their khuraldai was in the narrow strip of land between the shore to the west and a dense pine forest to the east. It wasn’t the most defensible position, but with so many bison in one place, they weren’t concerned about any threats. The coastal site had been chosen for another reason; a vast fleet of boats could be seen in the distance, pulled up onto the shore, a few stocky figures milling around them. The northern bison herds could easily congregate, but the Westerlands Bison could not join them by land without passing Vanhuv’r. As strong as the bison had become, they weren’t yet willing to lay siege to such a fortified city. Instead, the party of the Westerlands chief had crossed the Agate Ocean to be here.

From the number of the boats, it was evident that the Westerlands herd had come with a party far larger than Strongheart’s, but still far short of the full herd. The other three herds, however, appeared to be here in their entirety from the vast city of yurts to the north. With so many in one place, it was no wonder most towns had opened their gates and thrown down their arms rather than attempt to fight the bison. Chief Strongheart led the way toward the outspread camp, and the group was intercepted by a trio of very cross-looking bison in armor as they neared its outskirts.

“Nas! Lakattekah pan? Shané baghel tallethöt sama?[1]” a bison with an almost blue coat demanded in a gruff voice.

“Moli Khanum Coccokohote lega Aseibakh Ordu, belakadedo khuraldai. Baghel nemahno tótum, ékkagara sóme mettellékallah[2],” Strongheart replied, not shrinking a whit from the challengers’ unfriendly stares.

The camp guards snorted unhappily at her reply, but moved aside to let the group pass.

“Gorsh lematkh lega yurig. Kojchakh Ordu hihnaman lamorrah emt[3],” the lead guard told Strongheart begrudgingly.

“Is there a problem?” Baldavin asked, trotting ahead to let Ream watch the rear, as the bison and ponies started moving again.

“No,” Strongheart said with a shake of her great, shaggy head. “I just don’t think they were expecting us to show up, and they weren’t particularly pleased that I’d brought pony guests along. There will be a space for us, though we may have to ask others to move from it.”

“Is there likely to be much objection to our presence?” Twilight Sparkle asked. They began to pass into the camp, and bison stared at them with mixtures of surprise and resentment.

“Objections, surely, but as my guests there is nothing they can do to you without my permission. Getting you into the khuraldai tomorrow will be the most difficult thing, but I have a plan. I intend to do something to repay you for your help in this matter. Only the chiefs are allowed to speak in the khuraldai, but I hope I can get you the opportunity to observe the proceedings firsthoof.”

To the ponies’ eyes, the bison’s yurts all looked alike; but the patterns and symbols on their sides surely had meaning, and Strongheart had no difficulty in following them to navigate her way to the center of the camp. Finding it wasn’t all that difficult once they were within the sea of tents, since a large, freshly built yurt had been erected there to serve as the meeting place for the khuraldai. Even so, getting to it wasn’t as simple as walking in a straight line. The paths through the camp wove around sinuously and sometimes terminated in dead-ends, turning the city of yurts into a labyrinth. Groups were clustered together around communal fires, and Strongheart was careful to skirt these until they were established, lest they disturb someone’s festivities or get roped into them and not find where to sleep until after dark.

Once they were at the center of the camp, it was easier to navigate, since the meeting yurt was surrounded by a broad band of empty ground. Here, looking out at the yurts, it was a little easier to see the subtle differences in them as a whole and pick out the similarities that identified the various herds assembled here. The yurts surrounding the camp’s center could be divided into quarters, though unevenly, and Strongheart identified them for the ponies. To the south was the Noníenkh Herd, known to ponies as the North Equestrian Bison, previously sworn to Prince Braid of Stalliongrad. To the east was the Rembrahn Herd, one of the two that had returned with the North and King Sombra, and the other, the Kojchakh Herd, was to the north. To the west was the Tanerahm Herd from the Westerlands, occupying a fifth of the circumference around the cleared circle, but with less depth compared to the other herds who had come here in totality. They had no direct access to the exterior of the camp and were closed in by the North Equestrian Bison to the west. Filling in the spaces were the other three herds, who had spread out to encircle the meeting yurt completely, despite the fact that they were supposed to leave space to the north for Chief Strongheart and her herd to encamp. She would have to ask the Kojchakh Herd to give her her space back, but instead of going there directly, the chief of the South Equestrian Bison led the group to the camp of the Westerlands Bison.

A group in front of the camp was having a conversation, with several gestures toward the meeting yurt and back toward their collection of smaller yurts. At the center of the group was a bison bull who towered over the rest, with a gray coat and one horn broken off halfway along its length. Conversation died down as the larger party, half-composed by ponies, neared them, and the large bison waved the others away.

“Khan Higullahmakorn[4],” Chief Strongheart greeted him.

“Khanum Coccokohote[5],” he replied.

“I see you’ve certainly grown into your name,” Strongheart commented, sizing him up.

“And have you into yours?” the other bison asked.

“Well enough,” Strongheart replied before explaining to the Brave Companions. “I spent a year with the Westerlands Bison when I was a calf, and Great Mountain was my constant companion.”

“The way I remember it, I was the patsy for your mischief more often than not,” Chief Great Mountain said with an amused grunt.

“It doesn’t seem to have hurt your prospects of succeeding your father as chief,” Strongheart said with a smile. “We were young then.”

“We still are young,” Great Mountain said, more somberly and looking toward the meeting yurt. “At least compared to the other chiefs; gray-beards all.”

“What do you think about tomorrow’s business?” Strongheart asked seriously.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“As am I,” Strongheart said, letting that sit for a moment to sink in before proceeding. “Will they actually manage to choose a khagan?”

“Or khatun,” Great Mountain pointed out.

“I have no desire to be part of an Equestrian khaganate, much less lead one,” Strongheart said. “Even if I did, it wouldn’t work for my herd. These northern herds can speak of khaganates when they have abandoned their stampeding routes that were close to each other already, but what can we do, isolated? Are we to give up our routes and come north, leaving our ancestral paths behind?”

“A year ago, I might have agreed with you,” Great Mountain sighed. “But things have changed in the Westerlands. My herd’s relationship with Queen Helianthus never could have been called friendly, but at least we stayed clear of each other. Her realm was large enough, and she had enough unrest in the Westerlands to deal with without picking additional fights. Grand Duchess Flax is different; the Westerlands are all she has, and she intends to use my herd as a coin purse to empty into the coffers of her new grand duchy. The tolls she’s demanded are unbearable. I’m left with little choice if I want my herd to survive.”

“Perhaps if you hadn’t attacked her,” Strongheart suggested.

“I’m not the only one who took advantage of the chaos the Los Pegasus Succession Crisis provided,” Great Mountain said with a frown.

“I allied with the ponies and secured safe passage for my herd,” Strongheart said defensively.

“And if Alfons had lost his head, you’d be in the same position as me!” Great Mountain shot back, before taking in and letting out a deep breath. “Let’s not stand here and argue, at least not with empty stomachs. With some food in our bellies, perhaps we’ll think more clearly and speak more wisely. Will you join me at my table and fire tonight?”

“I would be honored to,” Strongheart replied. “First, however, we must set up our camp.”

“Ah, yes, the Kojchakh Herd clearly believed you weren’t coming. I’ll help to get them moved,” Great Mountain offered.

“It would be appreciated,” Strongheart acknowledged.

***

There was a sense of anticipation in the camp the next morning as everybison awaited the calling of the kuraldai. Strongheart and her advisors waited at the fire in the center of their circle of bison yurts and pony tents along with the Brave Companions, trying to look unconcerned about what was to come. No further arguments had broken out during the meal the night before, but neither had the two chiefs spoken much about the khuraldai, instead reminiscing on their calfhoods. Which direction her friend would fall was still a mystery to Strongheart; certainly he was leaning toward the idea of a khaganate, but he wasn’t beyond pulling back.

Conversation, already subdued, ceased as a gong sounded from the meeting yurt. Ten times it sounded until it was certain that the entire camp knew the khuraldai was about to be called.

“Noníenkh Ordu!” a scratchy voice called out from the center of the camp.

The herds had each arranged their camps to place their leader’s yurt at the center, which meant they were far from the center of the overall camp and some time was required for most of them to travel to the meeting yurt. Since the South Equestrian Bison’s camp was so small, though, they had an easy time spotting the other chiefs and their parties as they arrived, especially since the entrance to the meeting yurt was to the north. Chief Bleached Skulls—Khan Blaenarratate in the bison tongue—arrived with his retinue of North Equestrian Bison, looking as fearsome and worn as the last time Twilight Sparkle had seen him. He had some additional scars across his patchy coat now to go with the older ones already there and the one across his sightless eye. Accompanying him were four members of his herd, mostly old bulls like him, but one was a younger warrior with an orangish coat.

“Kojchakh Ordu!” the voice called from the meeting yurt after Chief Bleached Skulls and his crew were within and the gong had sounded once more.

The scratchy voice from the tent carried, but not far, and word had to be passed by other members of the Kojchakh Herd along until it reached the chief. Several minutes later, Chief Burning Hoof—Khan Norélithrakkah—arrived with his party from the north. Of the Brave Companions, only Pinkamena had met the chief before, on an ill-fated attempt to negotiate with the reappeared ancient herds on behalf of Cadence. Great Mountain had been exaggerating somewhat in his assertion that all the other bison chiefs were “gray-beards” when it came to Burning Hoof. He was an old bull (both in the sense of years lived and how much time had actually passed since his birth), but his beard was far from gray, and he still retained most of the strength of his prime. Three other bison followed him, two of them actual gray-beards and the last a cow closer to his age who wore the symbols that marked her as his consort. Some discussion was going on between her and the chief, but they broke it off as they neared the meeting yurt and realized they were being watched by ponies.

“Rembrahn Ordu!” was called from the meeting yurt after another gong strike.

From the east came the party of the other herd that had returned to Equestria with the North, the Crystal City, and King Sombra, led by Chief Stonehorn—Khan Panninyekke. The group moved slowly, and Chief Stonehorn looked somehow even worse than the last time Pinkamena had seen him. His breathing was labored and uneven, punctuated repeatedly by coughs that blew steam from his nostrils to halo around his head. Though his beard and face looked as if they’d been freshly cleaned of the mucus that extruded from his nose and eyes, the walk over had caused some fresh buildup to occur. It was difficult to tell if the sores that had coated him before were still there, for he was covered in many layers of clothing and blankets to keep warm, but the unsteady way he walked suggested they were. At his side was his daughter Stormblown Plain—Laundukrittelletéo in Equestrian Wisentish—and his consort and two aged bulls followed behind. After what seemed like ages, they made it into the meeting yurt and the gong sounded again.

“Tanerahm Ordu!” the voice from the meeting yurt choked out.

Chief Great Mountain—Khan Higullahmakorn—and his party were well prepared by this point, and it didn’t take them long to make their way through their small (but still large compared to Strongheart’s) camp to the space around the meeting yurt. Four other bison accompanied him, two of them easily as old as or older than Chief Burning Hoof, but that was to be expected when one’s advisors were usually the herd’s elders. The other two bison were younger; still older than Great Mountain and Strongheart, but far nearer their ages than the other two bison accompanying him. One was a bull and the other a cow, though there was nothing to mark her as the chief’s consort, so she had a different role to play. Once they had all passed into the meeting yurt, the gong sounded once more. A silence stretched on for far longer than it should have, seconds turning into minutes, and Strongheart began to fear that the others were intending to exclude her despite the fact that she’d miraculously managed to show up.

“Aseibakh Ordu!” was called at last.

Chief Strongheart—Khanum Coccokohote—gathered her retinue quickly, lest the others change their minds. Her three advisors would be accompanying her, but not Moonlight Dust, who’d stay behind with her bodyguards. The Brave Companions also rose to accompany her, but as they’d discussed that morning, Ream and Baldavin would also be staying behind. Guards were forbidden within the meeting yurt as they suggested a lack of trust, something that couldn’t be forgiven no matter how genuine it might be felt.

“Follow my lead and don’t speak unless asked a direct question,” Strongheart reminded the ponies as they made their way to the meeting yurt, all eyes of the camp on them. Some muttering and cries of alarm went up as bison realized that Strongheart meant to take the ponies into the khuraldai, but she ignored them.

The meeting yurt’s supporting posts were rough-hewn tree trunks from the nearby forest, and they ringed the inside of the exterior wall as well as supported the yurt’s peak. Around these posts, rugs and pelts had been scattered across the ground to create a carpeted surface upon which to walk and sit. The other chiefs and their retinues had already taken their seats, in a partial ring around the center posts. Around the yurt were hung braziers to provide light and warmth, and there was a long brazier on the ground in the center along with an incense burner that emitted a pleasant-smelling steam. Also at the center was a gong nearly the size of a pony, with an attending bison in ceremonial robes who held the mallet to ring it. He looked shocked to see the Brave Companions enter with Strongheart, but not nearly as incensed as the other chiefs or the scraggly-looking ancient bison also in the middle of the yurt, his ceremonial robes a patchwork of colors.

“Etram nemahno ghorzakhayellabiy!” he screeched as he hopped from hoof to hoof, revealing himself as the bison who’d been calling the herds to the meeting yurt, “Khasta ékkagara feltaírbhaténgrael sama![6]”

The other bison in the yurt also made their outrage known, but Chief Strongheart replied calmly and directly to the agitated scrawny bison who remained hopping, the tassels, braids, and stoles hanging from his robes bouncing about erratically.

“Tenigáladimantikobzkamafanteh,” she addressed him respectfully, baring her neck to him, “Baghel nemahno tótum.[7]”

“Tatóm? Magak! Gheltoragh semingel khuraldai! Pellilidad sekhada![8]” he replied, and the other chiefs seconded his demands.

“Padosimah, tenigáladimantikobzkamafanteh[9],” Strongheart replied before switching to Low Equestrian for the benefit of her guests, and for what was to come next. “The ponies will leave, but surely the dragon may remain.”

“Zethinagraygra?[10]” he asked with awe, and the Brave Companions moved aside to reveal Spike. “A thousand pardons, oh wise one. I am Godstalker Daybreak Rime. Thou art, of course, welcome to the kuraldai.”

Spike opened his mouth, then looked to Strongheart, who shook her head to indicate he shouldn’t speak. Even a dragon was to remain silent in the khuraldai if they weren’t a chief (or speaking for the gods). Instead, Spike nodded to the godstalker, which seemed to delight him to no end. The other bison in the meeting yurt also seemed to have been overcome by the chance to meet a dragon and dropped their hostility, all except for Stormblown Plain, who glowered at him. Her annoyance was for what the others would soon realize: that with a dragon among them, they’d be obliged to conduct their business in a language he could understand, so as not to offend him. The khuraldai, one of the most sacred of the bison practices, should have been conducted in Equestrian Wisentish, their own tongue, but instead they would have to use Low Equestrian since that was undoubtedly the only language they shared in common with the dragonling.

The Brave Companions filed back out of the meeting yurt, Twilight giving Spike an encouraging look before she left, and her page pulled scroll and quill from his pack to silently assure her that he’d be taking notes of everything that was said in the khuraldai. Chief Strongheart, her advisors, and Spike found their positions on the floor of the meeting yurt, and once everybison (and dragonling) were settled, the gong was rung one last time.

“Kháne nemahno akkekar. Khuraldai nemahno stítom. Lelathad thin caffren sama refestrimango detking obelantetteor,” Daybreak Rime said before repeating in Low Equestrian for Spike’s benefit, “The chiefs are assembled. The khuraldai is called. May what is said here be sealed in the heavens.”

Both the godstalker and the gong-ringer let themselves out of the meeting yurt, the latter wheeling out the instrument with him.

“We all know why it is we are here,” Burning Hoof spoke first. “We must choose which of us shall be khagan … or khatun.” His eyes strayed to Strongheart as he made his addition. She was an unexpected and unwelcome presence in the khuraldai, but she couldn’t be ignored, especially when she had been invited.

“Oughtn’t we first to decide whether there should be a khaganate?” Bleached Skulls spoke up in a gruff, low voice, surprising every other chief in the meeting yurt. He’d been the first chief to rebel against a pony ruler and seek to carve out a bison-ruled realm and had been one of the major pushers for a khaganate, but now he was questioning it.

“What’s this?” Burning Hoof asked in shock.

“We must ask ourselves, is there a need for a khaganate? Must all but one of us bare our necks and submit to another? Why give up our independence?” Bleached Skulls asked.

“You think a khaganate is unnecessary?” Strongheart questioned.

“Each chief must make their own decision,” Bleached Skulls said as he stared down Great Mountain. “Why break free of the ponies only to shackle ourselves more tightly than they ever did?”

“Ridiculous,” Burning Hoof huffed. “Dost thou thinkest that uniting into a khaganate is the same as subjecting ourselves to soul-deficients?”

“Bleached Skulls raises a question worth asking,” Great Mountain interjected. “Ready some us have been to extol the virtues of a khaganate, but what of the cost?”

“Cost?” Chief Stonehorn harrumphed derisively before breaking into a coughing fit.

“One of us has the opportunity to gain great power by becoming khagan or khatun, but the rest will all lose. Tribute and service is expected from a khagan’s subjects, unless you propose a khaganate without this, in which case it’s not truly a khaganate and nothing has changed. For those of us who do not become khagan, we can look forward to the protection of a khaganate, but also to submission and less control over our herds. Is the cost worth the benefit?” Great Mountain went on.

“In the past, khaganates have been formed in one of two ways,” Bleached Skulls said. “A strong chief has subjugated others by force and become khagan, or herds had no choice but to band together to survive an existential threat. Neither can be said to be true today. The pony realms of Equestria are weak and divided. Prince Braid, King Hyelliff, and Grand Duchess mi Amore can do nothing independently to stop us, and cannot abide the idea of uniting. We are victorious, so why embark on a differing path?”

“Thou art fools!” Stormblown Plain burst out. “‘Tis because the pony realms are divided that we must form a khaganate! When Queens Celestia and Luna and Emperor Boreal ruled Equestria, the bison herds were kept divided and isolated, but now the situation is reversed! For final victory, we must unite, crush the ponies, and form a khaganate to force them to subjugate themselves to us!”

“Stormblown Plain!” Chief Stonehorn reprimanded his daughter, blood flying in his spittle. “Be silent in the khuraldai! Thou’rt not chief yet!”

Stormblown Plain stewed silently, and wisely gave no response. Spike took advantage of the silence left by Stonehorn’s chastisement to refresh his ink and parchment supply as he worked to record every word spoken by the bison to share with Twilight later.

***

While the chiefs continued to debate their course of action, the Brave Companions waited outside. When they moved throughout the camp, most bison were displeased to see them and refused to speak with them. Though word had spread that Chief Strongheart had brought the Brave Companions along with her, it was not welcome news for any. For bison attempting to carve out an independent realm with territorial ambitions, the last thing they wanted was ponies snooping around. Eventually they found themselves in the company of Strongheart’s guards and the Westerlands bison, who, while not entirely welcoming, were not as unfriendly to them as other herds. The Brave Companions were sitting down for a midday meal with one of the Westerlands elders who hadn’t been invited to accompany Great Mountain into the khuraldai when a young bison arrived, out of breath and steam rising from him.

“Belatékotehalletoka!” he addressed the elder the Brave Companions were dining with. “Hweste nelderoppa chekit vlathóte! Hwestebaghata stetagrízote Khanig Hyelliff dhastrank![11]”

“What’s happenin’?” Applejack asked, alerted at having picked out the name Hyelliff from the string of Equestrian Wisentish.

“King Hyelliff has landed his troops nearby,” Roaring Cascade said gravely as he rose. “Pardon me, but I must see that our vessels are safe.”

“We will come with you,” Twilight Sparkle announced as she too got up, and the rest of the Brave Companions followed. “Perhaps we can speak to the commander of this force and convince them to depart.”

Roaring Cascade huffed, clearly unenthused by the idea of relying on ponies to solve the problem, but he didn’t forbid them from accompanying him. As they made their way to the edge of the camp, they both picked up other curious bison following them and saw more ahead of them who had also heard the news. By the time they were on open ground, it wasn’t very open, for a large band of bison had assembled and were looking out at the army in the distance, speculating amongst themselves on what the ponies had come here to do and how the chiefs would choose to respond.

On the way, Roaring Cascade had gathered a small group of bison warriors that continued with him as he advanced out onto the coastal plain, headed toward the boats that had brought the Westerlands bison here. The bison that had been left to guard the boats milled about uncertainly, all of them having pulled on their armor when the Vanhuv’rite force was spotted but unwilling to form up for combat until the ponies got closer or their intentions became apparent. With the bison Roaring Cascade brought, their force was brought up to about forty, which seemed quite inadequate compared to the first glimpse of the pony army. The Vanhuv’rite troops could be seen a little more clearly now and looked to have at least a couple hundred members. While some were working to erect tents, others stood in a protective line facing the bison. Over the ponies flapped pennants of blue and gray, as well as the full banner of Vanhuv’r, featuring the mount of gray stone upon which Epaphrus’s Monastery was perched with a blue Faust’s cross on white in the background.

As they watched, a small band of ponies trotted out from between the line and approached, getting only a bit more than an arrowshot away from the massed ponies before halting. Two of them carried banners on long poles and thrust them into the snow before using the crossposts near their bases to drive them into the frozen ground. The first banner was unfurled, revealing the standard of House Vattern, the royal line of Vanhuv’r. The body of the banner was gray embattled per fess on blue, over which was a white, round-bottomed shield bearing a golden bell overlaid with a sword. The second banner was very similar, except that a mace and guisarme in black were crossed behind the shield, which bore a green chief. It was the personal standard of King Hyelliff. The King of Vanhuv’r was here, in the flesh, and had stepped out from his army as an invitation to meet.

“That is King Hyelliff himself,” Twilight Sparkle said to Roaring Cascade, in case he failed to recognize it himself. “Do you intend to speak to him?”

“Me?” Roaring Cascade said in surprise before stroking his beard thoughtfully. “No, it should be a chief who goes out to see him.”

“But the chiefs are all in the khuraldai,” Rarity said. “Shouldn’t somepony meet the king soon?”

“We could go to speak with him, try to discover why he has come, and try to convince him to leave,” Twilight suggested, and Roaring Cascade looked at her skeptically before grunting.

“Very well. Go speak to your pony king,” he said before turning his attention back to the pony army poised within sight of the Westerlands bison’s only means of returning to their herd.

As the Brave Companions made their way across to where the King of Vanhuv’r was waiting, Twilight regretted not bringing the standard of House Haltrotsun with her from the camp to have something to hold up and notify Hyelliff who she was. Not that she’d have anyone to hold it for her, with Spike occupied taking notes on the khuraldai. In his absence, she’d also need to remember everything said without the benefit of notes to go over later. As she watched King Hyelliff’s personal standard flapping in the wind, she considered whether she ought to have one of her own made rather than continuing to use her family’s standard. As Crown Princess of Cant’r Laht, she more than had the right, but Cadence had never had a personal standard for the years when she was Celestia’s heir. Granted, Cadence had also spent most of that time in Tyrannus, where the dragons couldn’t give a lick about personal standards, and she did have one now that she was Grand Duchess of the North. Twilight wasn’t even sure what she would include on a personal standard.

All her rambling thoughts were pushed aside as the Brave Companions neared King Hyelliff’s entourage. A wooden seat had been set up for him in the snow, and the King of Vanhuv’r, Prince of the Fellmark, Holy Guardian of Saint Epaphrus’s Monastery, Baron of Galloping Gorge, Warden of the Agate Ocean, and (so he still claimed) Lord of the North occupied it, blankets draped over him to keep him warm while he waited for the response he was hoping to provoke. It wasn’t just the blankets keeping the king warm; a mare stood behind him wearing robes and a peaked hat that marked her out as a sorceress. Around the base of her hat was an iron loop with brackets that held three burning candles, not an oddity for sorceresses in the Kingdom of Vanhuv’r since it showed she had spent time honing her skills in the Candlebright Scholarate. A few minor nobles stood around the king, none of which the Brave Companions recognized from other times they’d encountered Hyelliff. The only other ponies in the group they could remember seeing before were the king’s sons, who stood next to their father, looking uncomfortable in the snow despite the heavy and elaborate clothing they wore. A bench was being prepared for them before the Brave Companions arrived, but when they’d been spotted, the servants had been waved off, forcing the foals to stand in the snow for the meeting. Borhold and Ostaff had both grown since the Brave Companions had last seen them nearly two years ago at Galloping Gorge, and Borhold at least seemed more sure of himself as a royal prince, giving the Brave Companions an imperious look as they approached. King Hyelliff waved off his herald as he prepared to announce his liege’s titles and cleared his throat to address the arriving ponies himself.

“Brave Companions, welcome. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here, although it was not something I expected,” Hyelliff said.

“We did not expect to meet you on this trip either, your majesty,” Twilight Sparkle replied. “I thought you would be preparing to leave for the summit in Trotstagor.”

“I’ll have more than enough time to make it to the summit,” Hyelliff waved off her concern. “I don’t expect to be here long.”

“Why have you come, then?” Twilight asked.

“What kind of a question is that?” Borhold asked impudently.

“Borhold,” Hyelliff said firmly, “You will show the proper respect. This is the Crown Princess of Cant’r Laht, heir to a throne the same as you. Unlike you, she may never sit on the throne she is heir to, but that is irrelevant.”

A knot formed in Twilight’s stomach. If only he knew the truth. If any of Equestria’s monarchs knew the truth about Celestia’s frailty, how different things would be.

“Her question, I’m sure, is not born out of ignorance, but a desire to discern my intentions,” Hyelliff said as he turned his attention back to the sorceress. “I cannot allow this gathering of bison to occur on my lands and do nothing.”

“You’re going to try to drive them off?” Pinkamena asked skeptically.

“Hardly,” Hyelliff laughed, “Look at what I’ve come with compared to the camp arrayed against me. Does it look like I’m in any position to drive the bison away?”

It would have been a question with a simple answer if not for the sorceress standing behind the king. While she didn’t look capable of casting battlefield spells, looks could be deceiving. Among the bison, Sources were extraordinarily rare, and those with enough magical potential to become sorceresses even more so. Twilight had nothing to go off of when it came to the herds that had returned with the North, but she would be surprised if there was even a single sorceress among them. A few powerful Vanhuv’rite mages could tear through the bison if they had no magical defenses, but if that was what King Hyelliff planned to do, why hadn’t he already done it and instead allowed swathes of his kingdom to slip away?

“No, I am here to make a point,” Hyelliff said soberly. “I will not ignore what is happening in the north of my realm. I may not have the ability today to drive this plague from my kingdom, but there will be time enough to do so in the spring. The bison cannot be allowed to think that I will allow them to do as they wish, and I am here to remind them of this.”

Without a doubt, Hyelliff’s excursion in the dead of winter with a small personal retinue to the bison had less to do with reminding the bison and more to do with reminding his vassals. A king who lost territory was a king that didn’t inspire confidence or loyalty in those sworn to him. Years earlier, he’d lost the Westerlands to Queen Helianthus of Los Pegasus, and though he had managed to regain some of it in the recent tumult, this loss of land to the bison doubtless made some wonder if Hyelliff was a king who was fated to see his realm diminish and, potentially, fall. If too many ponies asked that question, Borhold might never see his throne after all.

“Now you know why I am here, but why are you here?” Hyelliff asked.

“Chief Strongheart of the South Equestrian Bison requested our help to attend the khuraldai,” Twilight answered. “We will be here until the khuraldai has completed.”

King Hyelliff smirked at that, having seen Twilight’s intention in that announcement. The bison would have magical protection during the khuraldai, even if it didn’t come from their herds.

“And, I suspect, you want to know the outcome of the khuraldai, whether the herds will unite and form a khaganate,” Hyelliff said suavely.

“Of course. It is the question on everypony’s minds at the moment.”

“Well, you shall have to share it with us all at the summit,” Hyelliff said as he stretched dramatically. “What chance do you think there is that the bison chiefs will come out to speak with me?”

“Not high,” Twilight admitted. “At least not until after they have finished their deliberations for the day.”

“That’s a pity,” Hyelliff said as he rose from his seat, a servant taking his blankets, “Well, there’s no point waiting out here, then. Will you come back to my camp, where we can continue our talk in a bit more comfort?”

Twilight accepted.

***

“Pay no mind to her,” Great Mountain advised the Brave Companions that night as they sat around the fire with him and Strongheart. “Stormblown Plain has zealously pursued this khaganate from the beginning and will do anything she can to see it brought about.”

The ponies had stayed long in Hyelliff’s camp. He’d fed them, hosted them, and given them free reign of the camp, claiming he had nothing to hide. They’d gone back and forth throughout the camp, and Hyelliff’s claims seemed to be legitimate. His force was small and incapable of inflicting any real harm on the bison camp if it wished to get away alive. Other than the mare that accompanied Hyelliff, Twilight had sensed no other sorceresses among them. By the time they returned to the bison camp, the sun was setting over the Agate Ocean and the chiefs had just departed the meeting yurt. The first thing Stormblown Plain did upon seeing them was to hurl accusations at them about being pony spies in Hyelliff’s service. It was especially ironic given that if they were spying on anyone, it was Hyelliff. The cow had only relented in her charges and demands that they be expelled from the camp to tend to her father and accompany Chief Stonehorn back to the Rembrahn Herd’s yurts.

“It’s true!” Pinkamena exclaimed through a mouthful of stew. “When I met her in the North, she wasn’t friendly at all!”

“You don’t give her accusations any merit?” Rarity asked Great Mountain.

“There is no love lost between me and ponies,” the chief said somberly. “But if Strongheart trusts you, then so shall I.”

“Did the khuraldai make any decisions?” Twilight asked as she skimmed through Spike’s transcripts.

“Meaningless ones,” Great Mountain said. “If there is a khaganate, we have decisions on future khuraldan, tribute, settling disputes, and sending messages, but no decision on whether there will be a khaganate.”

“But aren’t the others already set on that?” Fluttershy ventured.

“Bleached Skulls, of all bison, began the khuraldai by questioning the idea,” Great Mountain said.

“He’s waiting for you to commit before he does,” Strongheart remarked.

“Why would he do that?” Fluttershy asked.

“Consider a khaganate without my herd … or Strongheart’s,” Great Mountain replied, “Bleached Skulls’ herd would be outnumbered by the herds out of time. We bison pride ourselves on maintaining our traditions, but there are differences between those of us who have roamed Equestria these past thousand years and those who were locked away until only recently. They are closer than any of the other herds and would act together. Bleached Skulls is worried that if he joins a khaganate where the other herds are from the past, he will be at their mercy.”

“Yet another reason why this khaganate is a poor idea,” Strongheart said. “The vanished herds know nothing of this time. They have no ancestral memories of the last thousand years. They cannot be allowed to lead a khaganate or they’ll take everybison who joins down with them.”

“You are right in some ways about them,” Great Mountain acknowledged. “They are overconfident, but I believe if we all united, we could accomplish some of what they speak of. They are correct when they observe that Equestria’s pony realms are disunited in a way that they were not in their time. And they have been successful in their conquests so far.”

Whatever Strongheart had been about to say in retort was forgotten as horns blared from elsewhere in the camp. Bison bellows soon accompanied them and grew in volume and number.

“It’s coming from the Rembrahn Herd,” Rainbow Dash commented.

“Did Hyelliff decide t’ attack th’ camp after all?” Applejack asked in disbelief.

“No, those are not warning horns; they are horns of mourning,” Strongheart said with a shake of her shaggy head. “Chief Stonehorn is dead. Change is coming tomorrow.”

***

The next day brought a light snowfall to the coastal camp. There were no calls by herd to the meeting yurt, just a single gong that notified the chiefs that the time had come to meet. Deliberately, it seemed, the delegation from the Rembrahn Herd was the last to arrive. The herd’s smaller khuraldai, composed of its elders, had chosen Stormblown Plain to succeed her father, as everyone expected. Khanum Laudukrittelletéo arrived at the meeting yurt with a different retinue than the one her father had brought the day before. His consort was absent, and though one of the old bulls still followed his chief, the other was missing and had been replaced by two younger bulls.

Just as Chief Great Mountain had predicted, change came to the second day of the khuraldai. Not in outcome, for by the end of the second day, there was still no decision as to whether a khaganate would actually be formed. Largely this was due to Great Mountain’s continued fence-sitting, refusing to state a clear decision one way or the other regarding his support for the khaganate. The change came from Stormblown Plain being allowed to speak in the khuraldai, and did she ever speak. Chief Stonehorn, impaired by the chronic illness that had killed him, had barely spoken but to object to something another chief had said. Mostly, it seemed he’d deferred to Burning Hoof to speak for his interests as a chief from the same era. Now Stormblown Plain monopolized the discussion, much to Burning Hoof’s naked annoyance at losing his preeminent position. She spoke zealously about the need for a khaganate, the manifest destiny of the bison to conquer Equestria, and the retribution deserved by the ponies, this time without her father to silence her.

By the end of the second day, they’d managed to come to even fewer decisions than the first. Stormblown Plain and Burning Hoof were still clearly in favor of a khaganate, but Bleached Skulls remained uncommitted, continuing to wait on Great Mountain’s decision to make his own. When they left the meeting yurt that night, the chiefs were weary from the day’s discussions, and settled down to sleep as the snow increased in intensity outside of their yurts.

In the middle of the night, they were awoken to the sound of horns and shouting. The Brave Companions emerged from their tents wrapped in furs and hurried over to the camp of the Westerlands bison, which was in chaos. Bison were rushing around shouting, pulling on armor, and grabbing weapons. Great Mountain stood at the center of the chaos, shouting orders.

“What’s happening?!” Rainbow Dash yelled, shouting to be heard over the tumult of the camp and the wind that whipped the still-falling snow into a frenzy.

“Our boats are under attack!” Great Mountain shouted back before returning his attention to the crisis befalling his herd.

Twilight Sparkle didn’t wait. Though she still wasn’t properly dressed, the sorceress teleported out to where the bison’s boats were pulled up on the shore. A glow suffused the night, refracted through the blowing snow, as the boats burned. Flames engulfed the entire fleet, the damage already beyond saving. A few bison bodies could be seen scattered on the beach while others rushed around, futilely attempting to put out the fires. Twilight Sparkle reached out and confirmed what she suspected; no ordinary fire could have spread through the fleet so quickly or burned the boats down to their frames in the time it took the guards to raise the alarm. Sorcery had been at work here.

Angry shouts erupted in the night as some of the surviving guards spotted a pony nearby, and the alicorn teleported away before they could attack her. She materialized in the camp of King Hyelliff, which was completely deserted. Campfires burned and tents remained, the wind bowing their canvas sides, but all were empty. At the nearby beach, the boats that had brought Hyelliff and his retinue here were gone. He’d slipped away in the night, his sorceress setting the fires as they left.

When Twilight teleported back to the burning boats, the flames beginning to die down as they ran out of fuel, her friends and Great Mountain had arrived. The chief stared out at the remains of his means to return home, a stern look on his face. It was an expression that held traces of both sadness and fury.

***

“‘Tis an outrage! An affront! Retribution must be had!” Stormblown Plain yelled in the khuraldai the next day.

“King Hyelliff is a coward and always has been,” Bleached Skulls observed, seeming unperturbed. “Why else strike the boats rather than face the camp? Why slink away in the night?”

“He did the damage he sought to do,” Great Mountain said, his voice tightly controlled. “I am now cut off from my herd. He and Flax can tell them any story they wish about my fate and do whatever they wish to them.”

“This cannot be tolerated!” Stormblown Plain shouted, the only level of volume she seemed capable of in the khuraldai. “We must march on Vanhuv’r Laht itself, tear down its walls, shatter its gates, and burn the driftwood city to the ground! Their monastery shall be torn apart, and its stones scattered across the slopes of its mount!”

“We shall return thee to thy herd, one way or another,” Burning Hoof promised with less vigor and hoof waving than Stormblow Plain.

“More than a thousand years have passed, and still the ponies show us no respect!” Stormblown Plain continued her tirade. “If they do not know respect, then they shall know fear! We shall teach them to fear the wrath of the bison!”

“What King Hyelliff has done deserves a reprisal,” Strongheart conceded. “But we cannot allow ourselves to be blinded by rage and forced down a path that leads only to destruction. Negotiation cannot be discarded wholesale when it is in the best interest of the herds.”

“There canst be no negotiation with murderers who would strike without provocation!” Stormblown Plain yelled, spittle flying from her mouth as she wheeled on Strongheart. “The only negotiation ponies accept from us is the acceptance of slavery!”

“I am no slave,” Strongheart said, her face hard. “And you make a mockery of truth claiming this was murder done without provocation. It was your herds who rampaged across the north without any move from the ponies against you. How many murders have you committed during your path of terror to establish your territory?”

“The deaths of the soul-deprived are nothing worth bemoaning,” Stormblown Plain scoffed. “Their lives must be sacrificed for us to obtain our rightful position, something thou hast clearly forgotten. Woe be upon us were the other herds to have become so weak willed as thee in the past thousand years. Your argument holds no water. ‘Twas Great Mountain’s herd ‘twas attacked, and they didst not strike against Hyelliff without provocation!”

“Enough,” Great Mountain said silently, but forcefully, cutting off the argument between the two cows. “There is no khaganate yet, and these matters are the matters of my herd, no other. Might I make a request?”

“Of course,” Burning Hoof answered in surprise as Great Mountain turned his shaggy head toward him.

“Might we take a recess and return after a meal? I have much to think about,” Great Mountain said.

Usually in such a multi-herd khuraldai, the chiefs would meet from nearly sunup to sundown, never leaving the meeting yurt. Each chief assented to the exception in this case, though, and the chiefs and their retinues filed out, each returning to their camps with unexpected requests that midday meals be prepared for them. As Great Mountain ate his, the Brave Companions approached his fire.

“Please accept our apologies for what happened last night,” Twilight Sparkle opened.

“Why? Did you know what King Hyelliff was planning?” Great Mountain asked as he continued to look down as his food and avoided meeting the eyes of the ponies.

“No, we did not,” Twilight said. “I should have suspected, though. When I saw the size of his force and that he had only brought one sorceress, I discounted it as an attempt only to show his nobility that he was taking the threat you pose seriously and not that he actually intended to make any attack. I underestimated him and did not see his true intent.”

“Then you have nothing to apologize for,” Great Mountain said as he finally looked up. “I do not blame you for King Hyelliff’s actions, but they have left me in a difficult position.”

“You can’t return home,” Fluttershy observed.

“Precisely. I am cut off from my herd, and the only path back takes me past, or more likely through, the city of Vanhuv’r. I cannot fight the armies of Hyelliff with only those I have brought with me.”

“That is why we wanted to speak to you, actually,” Twilight said, “After the khuraldai, we will be returning Chief Strongheart to her herd by portal. If it is agreeable to you, we would return your bison to your herd in the same way.”

“You would do this?” Great Mountain asked cautiously, and the ponies nodded. “Thank you, I would be happy to accept. As chief, I must return to my herd. I have a duty to do what is best for them. I … know what I must do in the khuraldai. Thank you, Brave Companions.”

***

After their meals, the five chiefs reassembled in the meeting yurt. As soon as they were all seated in a circle, Great Mountain spoke.

“The time has come to make our decision,” he announced, catching the others off guard by his suddenly authoritative stance when previously he had been largely passive. “Tanerahm Ordu will join the khaganate. I nominate Khanum Laudukrittelletéo as khatun.”

Shock continued to pervade the meeting yurt, not least from Stormblown Plain, whose nomination had come as a surprise. The matter was far from concluded, however. Both Burning Hoof and Bleached Skulls seemed to recover at the same time, but the former managed to speak first, unwilling to cede any more initiative than had already been stolen by Great Mountain calling the khuraldai to its ultimate decision.

“Kojchakh Ordu will join the khaganate. I nominate Khanum Laudukrittelletéo as khatun.”

“Noníenkh Ordu will join the khaganate. I nominate Khanum Laudukrittelletéo as khatun,” Chief Bleached Skulls echoed the others.

All attention now turned to Chief Strongheart. Like the others, she had been shocked by Great Mountain’s announcement. She was disappointed that her old friend would be going down a path that she was certain would not end well, but she could understand his choice. The Westerlands bison were in a difficult position, and if the conflict with Appleoosa had gone differently, perhaps she could have found herself in a similar place. She gathered herself before speaking.

“Aseibakh Ordu will not join this khaganate,” she announced. “May the heavens bless you all in your future.”

Standing, she and her retinue, including Spike, filed out of the meeting yurt. Once they were gone, Chief Stormblown Plain stood in pleased disbelief, and addressed her new vassals.

“Rembrahn Ordu akklé khaghánate. Enestat khatun. Lelathad obelantetteor sebattató.[12]”