Disclaimer: I do not own Disney's Mulan.

Betaed by: Jazz queen and Zim'smostloyalservant

Chapter Two

Troubles and Trials

In the end, they did not meet up with the main force under Bataar after the victory. The Prince did not keep his throne long after word arrived of the two defeats. Despite Bataar's formerly royal prisoner now being worth far less, the new Prince and his allies wanted the Huns gone as swiftly as possible and a peace was forged. The representatives of the Turkmen forces had apparently withdrawn in good order after the coup. There was no desire to press the matter by Bataar, as their absence improved the Huns' position at the table.

The victory had been as rich as one could hope from such a prize as this, barring a sack. Treasure, livestock, slaves, and a pledge of increased tribute for the next ten years. More importantly, the Confederation's sphere of influence had been tested, and found strong. Their fellow horsemen would see to it that fact was carried far and wide.

For all China considered the barbarians lacking in culture and honor, they had plenty. Truthfully, Hachin no longer believed in "barbarians". It was just a slur toward people who the speaker both knew little of and disliked. That being said, there was comfort in familiarity, and she wished she could have dealt with the other horse nation in such a fashion, seen more of them than what was revealed at Summits and other meetings of prepared refinement.

Their return route was remaining split. A leisurely return from the frontier, showing the royal family's face and influence with their banners lifted high on victorious winds. The continued division let them cast the net wider in making that impression.

Though it had forced her to lift much of the punishment on Zaya, Hachin noted, as she looked down on the supply caravan from the hilltop.

Her and Bataar together were enough to sate even the most proud chieftain. But with only her, it was expected for a present princess to be seen. And not be seen reduced to menial roles. A royal family had certain images to maintain, even among the Huns, and especially among the more distant tribes, many of whom would only serve under royalty directly if a horde was assembled, if even that.

Still, Zaya had quickly been reminded her mother was not Queen of the Huns by lightly accepting defeat.

X X X

Zaya adjusted her tunic frowning. Chimeg walked around her, tapping her chin. The older spear wife was stoutly built and with battle past, had taken to ornately braiding her hair again. And wearing gold bracelets that hung loose enough to jangle whenever she moved.

'Jangle jangle jangle', Zaya thought.

"Eee!" Zaya squeaked as Chimeg seized her belt from behind her and pulled it up. Then down again with jangling.

"Hmm, still not sure about the belt," Chimeg muttered. Zaya felt a muscle in her cheek try and move. She was not going to let it.

"Its just a belt, isn't it enough that it's fancy?" Zaya demanded. She rapped a knuckle against one of the six silver medallions sewn onto the well-cut leather around her waist. Or tried to, as the long open sleeve ended up between her and the metal.

"Hachin wants you presentable. Tonight, you and the Queen will dine with Chief Munkhbat and his mother. We leave this ger in the morning, so this will be your only chance to make an impression on them."

"We aren't so far out they can't make a Summit anymore," Zaya protested. The princess checked her own bracelet; unlike Chimeg, her gold was worked into leather and tied snugly to her wrist.

If only she had a mirror, she could just check herself and not have to use a minder, she thought. Mother thought she was so clever, but if dining with chieftains was a challenge, she could overcome it like everything else.

That Night:

Munkhtsetseg, it meant "eternal flower". Zaya was sure the woman's parents had good intentions when handing out that name. Then again, apparently she had "eternal" in the names of all her children, so maybe that was just this family's oddity?

Well, the flower was looking less than eternal at the moment. No amount of jewelry or fancy clothes could hide how poorly the fat woman had aged. And she wasn't even trying, it seemed. Zaya was left feeling overdressed as she sat cut off from the rest of the diners by the old woman rearranging the seating arrangements.

Mother could have protested, Zaya thought, but no, she had decided to play the ever arbitrary "respect the hosts and not assert royal privilege" notion.

"More Arkhi!" The old woman declared, lifting her cup.

"Mother," The chieftain said.

"Bah," the old woman flicked a hand at the so-called ruler of the tribe and ignored him while a girl of an age with Zaya brought a grass-wrapped jug to place next to the woman's plate.

"So, a warrior then?" the woman finally addressed her.

"Yes," Zaya answered.

"One for few words, eh? Good, men like that in a woman. Have you been blooded below yet?" the ugly woman pressed.

Zaya gaged on her own second cup of arkhi.

"No then," The old woman said, "Don't take too long. For all men and shamans go on about maidens, a husband goes to his marriage bed expecting something special. And you don't expect a woman who has never raised a ger to raise one worthy of a chieftain on command. For that, you want a woman who knows her way around putting up a ger. Besides, a spear woman has a certain allure. The men worth having like a challenge, and what's more challenging than a woman who could gut you under the skins?"

Zaya cleared her throat. Her chest was still aching; had she actually felt a lung, she wondered?

"Blushing? That's no good, your highness."

She could smell the woman. Was that some kind of scented oil? She had never smelled anything like that in Kaspar's tent.

'She's not making conversation, just nod and ignore it,' Zaya told herself. Her father had taught her a trick for situations like this, though not for dinner, she thought. Just let her mind slip away to be on horseback scanning the steppes for game, the scents of the grasses and her horse in her nostrils and the comfort of her own saddle.

She had crafted it herself, after all.

"And remember, always put the boy on top. That way, if you get caught, you can claim it was his idea. That's how I got my first husband. Or if you don't like the boy, you can use it to get him exiled from the ger or killed," the woman slurred. That brought Zaya back to the tent.

"Princess!" the chief stood up, looking over his mother with a too wide grin, "Perhaps a toast to your first battle?"

"Indeed! More Arkhi as well," the chief's mother said, raising her cup. Which slipped to spill the fermented milk all over Zaya's shoulder.

"…This is my favorite dress," Zaya said, not looking at the horrid old woman.

"I'll bet the boys like you better without it," the drunk grinned.

Later:

"Look, it's not that bad. The chieftain doesn't mind that Princess Zaya knocked out one of his mother's teeth with an elbow. Honestly, he probably thinks he got off lightly after that display by her," Chimeg said.

Hachin was on her knees, double-checking her saddlebags by lamp light. Most everyone else had retired for the night. Leaving just her and Chimeg for this little conference.

"I didn't expect her to be that bad. I wouldn't have asked for her to join us," Hachin said.

"Didn't you hear what's she's like?"

"I thought it was an exaggeration. I was expecting maybe an older, more perverted Choeten or something. And don't tell Choeten I said that," Hachin snapped.

"We still leave with the sun, Your Highness?" Chimeg asked. Placing her saddlebags back into her traveling tent, Hachin sighed.

"Yes, we are to meet Bataar in two days time. Munkhbat also wants us gone — he worries something else will shame his tribe in the eyes of the royal family. If it were anyone but his mother, he might be organizing an execution. Which reminds me. I need to speak to Zaya," Hachin said, dusting her trousers off as she stood up.

"Ah, she went just east of the guest corral, probably pampering Yesun to calm down."

Sure enough, Hachin found Zaya in a grove of stunted trees sheltered by a hill. A pathetic bit of cover, but she had guessed on seeing it Zaya would come here. The moon was bright, and there was hardly enough cover to cast them in shadow as the clouds slid from the moon.

Yesun was getting rubbed down by Zaya. The mare looked up as Hachin approached, greeting her with a huffing sound. Zaya stayed at her task, but her stiffness made it clear she knew she was not alone with her horse anymore.

The mare backed away from Zaya enough to turn to nuzzle the girl's shoulder. A hard nuzzle, forcing Zaya to change her footing to catch herself.

"Ha, she worries about your mood," Hachin commented. Taking a moment to glare at her horse even as she scratched the mare's ears, Zaya sighed.

"So, why are you here?"

"Does a mother need a reason to see why her daughter is up so late when they are going to be riding out before first light?" Hachin asked.

"Yes," Zaya answered.

"…You did well," Hachin said. Zaya stopped the grooming to look at her.

"…"

"Well, until you didn't. But that was more than I expected."

"Really?" Zaya intoned.

"Her, the old woman. I did not expect her to be that bad. But we have to deal with people that annoy us and we can't just…" Hachin searched for a polite way to describe punching an elder in the face.

"If I wasn't using restraint, I would have stabbed her," Zaya drawled, taking Yesun's reins.

"No, you wouldn't have!" Hachin snapped.

"Would you?" she asked as Zaya lead her horse off.

Standing alone, watching Zaya leave, Hachin let out a long breath and grabbed her braid to run her hands over it slowly.

"That did not go well," she confessed.

It hadn't gone well for awhile, she admitted to herself. They had never been too close, she supposed, but when exactly had this distance become the rule between her and her elder daughter?

It always seemed to end like this, at best. Zaya sulking off, and when they both calmed down they would act as if it hadn't happened. Ordering her to stay could drag things out, but Zaya was a fierce mare who, when she truly wanted, would make reining her in an ordeal not worth the effort.

How long was it not going to be worth the effort, she demanded of herself?

With a brisk pace, she caught up with Zaya, who naturally had to head back to camp. Seeing the tension in the girl's shoulders as she drew near, of course Zaya could hear her, she threw an arm over them. She would not risk Zaya hastily mounting her horse to escape.

"I once set a woman on fire, you know?" Hachin said. Zaya stopped her squirming and looked over at her with a raised eyebrow.

"So, fires can happen in battle," Zaya remarked.

"What? Hahaha! No it wasn't a battle. Though there was a lot of agony involved, particularly around the waist. And meticulous, arduous preparations, but no. I wasn't actually supposed to hurt anyone."

"Did you ruin a fancy dinner party?" Zaya asked. She sounded dull, but Hachin thought there was a sprig of curiosity trying to peek through the bland grass.

"No, I was meeting with a matchmaker. 'The' matchmaker of my village. Matchmaking is different among Han than us," Hachin said. Zaya stopped now and Hachin followed suit, glad to have the girl's attention.

The mare jerked at the reins in Zaya's hand and gave whining sounds, before sitting down with a bit more dramatics than necessary.

Hachin went on talking.

"I had hidden notes inked onto my arm, and my grandmother had me smuggle in a cricket for luck-"

"Cri-kee?" Zaya asked.

"Yes! Did I never say how we met? But that was the most important day of my life, you see. I was a great man's only child, and I had a reputation of sort. But the first meeting with the matchmaker, it was a beginning as a woman. I could leave all that came before behind and have fresh start in the eyes of the town. A start I could do right and begin to bring honor to my family. I think the gods must have have emptied a chamberpot on me that day," Hachin cringed.

"…Well?" Zaya pressed.

"I not only set one of the important women in town on fire, I made it worse. And putting it out ruined her makeup. And she was ugly enough she actually looked better with that beard," Hachin admitted.

"Beard?" Zaya asked, eyes narrowing.

"That's enough Han stories for today. Tonight," Hachin said, taking her arm off Zaya.

The silence was not tense as they returned to the camp. But it was still silent.

X X X

The steppes. He imagined to outsiders, they blended together much as China oft seemed a chaotic mix of too many landscapes to him in his youth. But a son of the steppes knew them as well as the faces of his tribe. The borderlands giving way to the heartland of the Confederation. Even the sky seemed more majestic today, as if welcoming them home.

"My Shan-Yu," one of the young scouts road up. No, just one of the scouts, he supposed he had to admit. Sun and Moon, it seemed every other warrior under his command was the son of somebody who had once fought beside him. Gaitan was the only member of his old Circle to accompany him. And they had perhaps not changed enough. Over blowing his nephew's deeds and valor was one thing, but his behavior had crossed a line. An officer of his rank and years could be amiable with the men, but there was a time to set an example.

That talk, though, was better left to Batu, Bataar had decided. A brother's authority could be wielded at times more effectively than a Shan-Yu's. And besides, there was a good chance that Choeten would involve herself, as Dzhambu had been dragged into the whole ox fiasco, too.

But for now, he was content to let the both of them languish guarding the baggage and wounded, contemplating their actions long after the hangovers had passed.

"What is it?" Bataar asked the young Hun.

"Outriders from the Queen's force. The Queen is with them. She requests your presence," the scout reported.

"Of course she does," Bataar smiled. Scanning the horizon, he spotted the returning riders and broke from the column.

X X X

He could pick his wife out from a distance. The way she sat her horse, even without the familiar shape of Min, would give her away. She did not wait for him, leaving the others to ride out and meet him. Hmm, she was eager. He let his own stallion slow and meander; if she was so eager, she could come to him.

Hachin arrived, Min looking annoyed as his stallion gave a greeting. Chuckling quietly, he patted his mount's neck. Min was a tough old horse, but she seemed to be alluring to plenty of stallions.

"Hachin, what's so urgent that you leave your charges when we would meet up soon anyway?" he asked.

"Can't a woman be eager to see her husband after a campaign?" Hachin asked with a grin. Dismounting, she led Min on.

"Well, it has been awhile since we carried out certain acts under a bare sky," he remarked, dismounting.

"And it won't be today. We'd both be sore and in a foul mood for the rest of the way back," she cut him off.

"So, are you going to answer the question, or is this one of those times you talk around the issue like a scavenger bird circling before finally biting the corpse?" Bataar asked.

"It's Zaya. Have you heard anything?" she asked.

"She is a blooded warrior now. Never thought my daughter would beat my son to that particular bell. Well, before I had children I wouldn't have thought of that. Knowing them, it's not so surprising."

They continued on as silence stretched.

"Is this supposed to be a problem? As I recall, you insisted she learn how to fight early on. Considering who you are, it was rather understandable she would be a spear maid," Bataar commented.

"She went into battle against my orders," Hachin admitted.

"Ah. Discipline issues then. How have you punished her?" he asked.

"It's not the punishment that's the problem."

"The point of punishment is to prevent a repetition of misbehavior. If you're just complaining without doing anything…"

"Don't talk like I have done nothing. I am her mother, I have raised her since she was born. But she's grown. Willful," Hachin admitted.

"Ha! There comes a time when sons tend to challenge fathers authority. The same is true for daughters to mothers, I expect. But this is no surprise. You and her have been grinding blades in one way or another for years. Are you rally surprised at sparks?" he asked.

"Bataar, this is serious," she said flatly.

"Yes, and what are you going to do about it?" he asked.

"I was going to ask you to talk to her about this."

Bataar stopped walking. Hachin seemed to expect that and stopped with him.

"This isn't just about insubordination," he said. There was no question in his words.

"It's about her and Zhu, too. I had hoped-"

"Hoped? You're her mother, I'd like to think you've done more than just hope for the best with our children. Especially if Zaya is still nursing ridiculous notions. Ones that could endanger this family," Bataar demanded.

Hachin took a breath and glared at him.

"I did not come here to fight this fight."

"Perhaps, but you are asking me to do your job, aren't you? It hasn't been easy with Tianlinn, you know. That boy is a puzzlement half the time, and the other half a worry. But I haven't stooped to foisting my duty as his father to you just because it's hard."

"Zhu, his name is Zhu. Why are you calling him the formal name when it's just the two of us?"

"Because when we return, he will face the first rite to measure his worth as heir to the mantle of Shan-Yu. Ready or not, our boy needs to start growing up. It will be Tianlinn the man the Confederation will follow, not Zhu the boy," Bataar said.

"…Let's not get distracted," Hachin stated, "Zaya is put of control. I think Ulai is to blame for some of these ideas, but they would not take root if Zaya was not acting the part of fertile soil."

"So, she is mocking her brother then? Nothing new there. Even among royalty, siblings make sport of each other. I hope it's more than slights that have you worried."

"She questions the succession," Hachin finally said it. Bataar did not answer, and they walked on. Hachin looked to him and stared, waiting for her husband to answer.

Finally leaning a bit closer, she began to speak, "Ba-"

"So, it really has come to that? She thinks she could be Shan-Yu then?" Bataar stated. His tone was lower than usual, and when he shifted his eyes to the horizon, they were hard and focused intently.

"Yes. That is what has been lead up to. I suppose now that she has both been blooded before him and defied me so directly, Zaya feels bold enough to press the issue," Hachin explained.

"…You have until Zhu's ceremony to punish her and work this out, Hachin. If you don't, I will set her sights away from what is not hers to claim. I ask you as your husband, and a father who loves his children — do not force me to be as harsh I may need to be, to protect the family from this problem you have let fester."

"Left? I-" she objected. And was silenced as he turned a glare on her. Not Bataar's glare, annoyed or even angry. The wolf eyes of the Shan-Yu, the man defeated in only one battle and who had come to the verge of bringing the greatest nation in the world to its knees.

"Understood, my Shan-Yu," Hachin said, bowing her head. As Queen she held authority over the Huns. But even if they stood far more as equals as husband and wife, he was her Shan-Yu, and a threat to the succession, however distant or thin, called for his authority and in turn her obedience.

Now if only she knew how to deal with Zaya.

Elsewhere:

He dreamed of a bird, black with white-edged wings. The bird flew over the steppes, their beauty and vastness spreading beneath it like a tapestry. The steppes gave way to the borderlands; he had never seen them, but he recognized them all the same. The trees and the rocky terrain growing thick, and then darkness loomed on the horizon.

The Wall. It stretched beyond sight and knowledge, casting the bird in darkness as it hid the sun behind its black stones.

He was the bird, and he must reach the light of the sun again.

So he flapped, feeling the wind beneath his wings, and even the ground growing more distant. Muscles he'd never known ached, and still the wall reared up, like a wave of water drawn on a painting in Kaspar's tent.

"Zhu!" Thunder broke behind him.

He did not want to look back, he was almost over the Wall. Almost to the sun.

"Zhu!" his father's voice boomed. He could the giant looming over the steppes behind him, tall as the wall before him.

"Prince Zhu!" his father called out angrily as he finally caught a glimpse over the top of the wall. The color pink, and a man sitting silhouetted against the radiance beyond.

Then a boot hit him in the face.

"Ach!" Zhu shouted, swinging out with an arm as he bolted up. Blinking, he realized he had no wings and was in his chamber of the ger.

"Finally. You sleep like your momma," Mushu griped, leaning on the boot he had hit Zhu with.

"Huh?" Zhu muttered, blinking away sleep.

"Listen, princey boy. I got me a summons, special guardian spirit stuff. Ghost horse getting bitey and everything."

"Mehedrk," Zhu mumbled, eyes slipping closed.

"What do you mean, 'what did I do'?! Don't go acting like I only get summoned when something went wrong. Need I remind you of that whole sacred cave incident was a case of mistaken identity? You'd think someone could tell the difference between a lizard and a dragon. That guy couldn't breathe fire!"

"Merk," Zhu said, lying back down.

"Anyway, point is you'll have to do without me for a bit. But don't worry, I'll be back before baby girl and your big day! As your guardian spirit jointly with your mother, I do so swear I will be there to help you ride that horse so well your scary daddy's jaw will-"

"Mushu!" Tseteg called out gleefully somewhere as Zhu closed his eye and rolled over.

"Ahhhh! No! Official guardian business, no time for dolls! Ahhh!" Mushu screamed, running off as Tseteg gave a joyful scream, pursuing him, as the rest of the household woke up to the shrieking.

Zhu resolutely rolled up in his skins and slipped into soothing, dreamless sleep.

The Next Day:

Han leaf tea; Boke had never seen the appeal of it. Hot leaf juice, not the worst thing he had ever drunk, but the fact the Han were obsessed with the drink only gave credence to tales of their oddness.

As as he watched, this particular teapot started to steam, and he cringed as spices were added. The dried bits and powder were added delicately, but he thought the expression made it clear there was no great idea of what was being done here.

But protocol demanded he not only drink the brewing horror, but courteously compliment the drink prepared for him.

Why they could not just share some well salted suutei tsa like civilized people, he did not know. But experience had taught him this host did not bid well to having their choices in what they served their guests questioned. Only the Shan-Yu and the Queen could get away with such, and even they did not always come out on top.

He needed to tread carefully if he was going to get the support he needed for the brewing crisis. The one not literally brewing, and shouldn't that pot have been taken off already?

The would-be tea brewer followed his gaze and took the pot off delicately. At the very least, the sampling of food laid out was proper Hun food, he noted. If arranged to resemble a Chinese meal, maybe?

Well, it was time to stop dawdling, anyway. He had come here for a purpose, and he would not be diverted from it by tea or those eyes. He was a son of Shan-Yu Bataar the Mighty and Queen Hachin the Cunning; this was merely another test to see if their strength had been passed down to him.

"I am worried about Zhu," Boke admitted, "I came here today because I want, need, your assistance with what's going on. He has poor rapport with not only the warriors, but the boys of his age. Even those younger than him. A Prince need not be loved to rule well, Father told me once, but he cannot be seen as an outsider. And that is exactly what Zhu is becoming.

"That reading addiction of his is a big part of it. Any time he can, he's either studying some Han text or practicing writing. I don't think Mother even realizes how bad it is. And I don't know why Father has not taken proper measures. I think he wants Zhu to mend his ways on his own, a test of some kind? But I think Zhu will fail. He doesn't listen to me. We just end up arguing, or one of us stomps off first.

"And now Zaya has gone to war. And she will be magnificent," Boke said. He paused, smiling at the thought of his big sister finally winning glory in battle, the first verse of what would surely be a saga of might and victory in the same class as their parents, still growing legends.

"Zhu already looks bad enough next to her, and she will only be better now. And he's still, well, Zhu. So we need to get him on the right tract, at least, before she gets back so people will not whisper even more.

"And that's why I have come to you. He listens to you. Other than Mother, and sometimes Father, there's no one in this Ger, perhaps no one in the Confederation that can long deny you when you really spur your arguments."

Tseteg looked up at him as she filled his tea cup. They sat in the main room of the ger, the low foldout table they sat at also hosting two of her dolls, fine things of cloth made to resemble a wealthy Hun lady and the other a Turkmen princess. The girl herself was wearing some of Mother's jewelry which, while properly worn, was far too big for her.

Now she frowned, setting the teapot she held with two hands in the wrong place and turned those sad wolf pup eyes on him.

"So you didn't answer my invitation because you wanted to try my new tea?" she asked softly.

"Uhmm…" Boke searched for a safe answer not looking at his little sister.

X X X

With Mushu gone, this was not an opportunity to be wasted. Zhu liked the spirit, he was his most open source on China. If perhaps not the most reliable one — Zhu could not help but wince at having sounded so stupid as a child, reciting the dragon's tall tales as facts.

But liking the spirit aside, he had a tendency to bring chaos and drama to most everything he sought to help with. Gaitan had once joked that it was a wonder China had survived Mushu trying to save it. They all remembered the time he had set the laundry tubs ablaze with that mixup with the oil.

So a chance to study without the chance of his help was a boon even if he felt guilty for the relief.

Zhu nodded as he reread the last page of the text. Considering not just what he had read today, but the whole piece now that it was finally in his mind.

Shifting to a more comfortable sitting position, he grabbed the carrying case for the text and gently replaced it. Not that anything was going to happen to it in Oyunblieg's ger.

The woman may be a terrible keeper of her space, but Qorchi was diligent enough to make up for it. Even with the chaos nibbling at the edges of the simple ger's set up, Zhu smiled at it. After all, troubles and all, this was a sanctuary for him when he really needed it.

The door swung open to a figure that was definitely not Qorchi, who he had asked to stand guard while not looking like he was doing it.

"Prince Tianlinn," Choeten greeted him. Zhu stood and politely greeted her, glad he had put the text away already. Then her eyes found the treated case.

"Another Han philosophy?" she asked.

"Actually, this piece deals with the administrative reforms carried out by the Han Emperor who founded the dynasty, after overthrowing the First Emperor. It can be a bit difficult at times; it assumes knowledge in many areas when describing the function and changes in the Empire's administration. But I think I have a much better grasp on China, having read it. The real way things work south of the Wall rather than stories from China or the Steppes about the Emperors," Zhu said. He didn't seem to note the woman's sigh.

"Well, I suppose it's better than poetry," she remarked dryly. Zhu wilted a bit under the harsh words, and that made her frown.

"No words of reprimand? You are the Crown Prince. And you are no longer a child, to simply have to accept the authority of the wife of a member of your father's circle."

"You scold me and then you tell me I shouldn't listen to you?" Zhu said, picking up the text case and his dagger from the floor.

"Don't turn this around on me. Ulai is openly mocking you around certain fires for letting my husband and the others run this Ger themselves," she said, leading him out of the dwelling. She saw Qorchi sitting off to the side, avoiding eye contact by inspecting his impeccable bow.

Still, as Choeten talked on, he could not blame his friend for failing to bar the door from this woman. The only reason Oyunbileg and Choeten were not known as the indomitable women of the Ger was because of his mother. And honestly, at times he felt his mother was less deserving than this woman.

Choeten's second son Chuluun joined them a few paces out of the ger; he was already big, wearing a sword at his side, and seemed to be acting as an escort, making it clear the two were on official business as they made their way to the Ger.

Zhu, despite having known the family all his life, found it odd how similar all of Batu and Choeten's sons looked. The four to live past the dangers of infancy were all broad-shouldered boys who only showed their mother in their faces, or in Chuluun's case, her fairer face.

And that reminded him of the oldest, Dzhambu, off to war under the command of Zhu's father and the instruction of uncle Gaitan.

"Crown Prince, pay attention," Choeten snapped without raising her voice, "What is in that head of yours that you find it so interesting?"

Even though he'd been caught, he tried to defend himself, "I just try and think things through."

"And I suppose we should just be grateful you have not walked into anything while 'thinking' in a while. A boy should not fall through the wall of a woman's bath when he wasn't even trying to peep. It is twice as shameful. Now out of that head of yours. My husband has decided it is past time you be dragged to matters of merit if you refuse to come of your own accord."

"A judgement, then?" Zhu asked. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Correct. A matter of property. Not horses," she answered. Zhu avoided rolling his eyes; even with the aging woman slightly in front of him, like his mother she seemed to always know. Horses were important, and great companions, but he felt everyone here put them too high on their lists of things that warranted bloodshed. And the fact she pointed out a lack of horses meant they had decided this was not too important for their strange prince to weigh in on.

Well, if he impressed them, maybe he could get a refrain from disapproval silent and otherwise for awhile.

"What is the issue?"

"Dagasi and Sanga," Qorchi said. Choeten made a sound of disapproval, and Zhu looked to his friend, who shrugged.

"News travels, and those two are loud," the stoic archer stated.

"Heh," Choeten's son smirked, "Which girl shared that gossip, keeping you company while guarding the prince's reading? Ow!"

The teenager rubbed his forehead where Choeten had reached up and smacked it. He was already a good bit taller than her, but between the two, a glance showed who had the power. Then that glare turned on Zhu without softening.

"Yes, it's those two again. Both their husbands are gone at the moment, so it falls to the tribe to settle the matter."

"So, a petty matter."

"No, my prince, it seems to be a serious theft of livestock."

"What?" Zhu asked, as they started walking again.

X X X

Batu had assembled the acting Circle as he sat in judgement in the center square of the Ger.

The gathering was clearly put together hastily. The only ornament to the proceedings was the chair used to seat the chieftain, Shan-Yu, or their representative. Given Batu only acted as representative, it was shrouded in a black cloth with a white border, rather than the traditional white adorned with designs.

Batu sat with his chin on his fist, the only concession to his current elevation in ranks being a nicer pair of trousers and daily-cleaned boots. It was a testament to his power of will that Choeten had not been able to dress her husband up appropriately for acting chieftain.

Shaman Burning Antler stood at his right hand, with Oyunblieg at his left. The middle-aged spirit man stood with his eadol adorned staff, and a necklace of antler fragments on his chest beneath a long beard. Oyunblieg was clearly bored, and as usual looked as if she had not washed her clothes for longer than was expected but not enough to be chastised. The two men were attentive, the woman clearly glancing around with her one eye, fiddling with the spear she held to the side.

It was hard to believe the unwashed warrior woman had once held Batu's place as effective leader of the tribe in the absence of royalty, Zhu thought.

There wasn't much of a crowd. The day had its business, and if the two neighbors' dispute was the major item of the docket, the various taskmasters would hardly forgive their charges running off to attend.

The two women stood to opposite side of the open area before Batu, glaring at each other. But it wasn't their case he was hearing. One of the goat herders was ranting about something.

Of course thee were always matters people wanted brought forth, and a hearing on one matter could be extended to certain outstanding business. But when Batu noticed Qorchi's presence, he raised a hand, silencing the goatherd.

"We adjourn now to consider," the bald warrior proclaimed.

The crowd dispersed, some quicker than others. The two women were swept up by their respective cliques, but he had feeling they would not go far, regardless.

As Batu walked off toward the royal ger, he gestured for Zhu to follow. Zhu broke from the others to take a brisk pace. Batu reached the door to Zhu's home first, but waited to the side.

"Please join me in my family's ger," Zhu said politely. Batu nodded and bowed his head, opening the way for the young royal.

Batu did not take a seat at the small table set up in the entry room. He looked Zhu up and down and raised an eyebrow.

"You do not look like a man who has been training hard."

"I was training my mind, Batu. Didn't you say a warrior should hone their greatest skills?" Zhu answered.

"Well, let's see if that edge can cut as it's needed," Batu remarked, crossing his arms.

"You're the one who started without me."

"I would not have had to had you not been hiding. You can't count on important things being scheduled. Events can spring up quickly and horrifically like a grass fire."

"Important? Those two have been feuding over every soured milk skin since before I was toddling after my mother, Batu."

"Old Moon used to say, solving the little problems prepares us for solving the big ones, my prince. So what did Choeten tell you?" Batu asked.

"A theft of livestock, but those two don't own any great herds. Do they have anything but goats and their horses?" Zhu remarked.

"The issue is the theft of a prize goat. Samga's prize goat was found in Dagasi's pen. Samga claims theft."

"That makes no sense," Zhu said.

"It makes perfect sense when you keep in mind how stupid those two can be. But Dagasi is not so stupid as to steal something as difficult to hide as a goat and keep it there in her own pen. Clearly, Samga planted the goat to use the law to get her revenge. Which we cannot allow. So it is Samga who needs to be punished. What does the prince think is an appropriate punishment for deceiving the law?" Batu asked.

Zhu frowned and paced for a moment. Stopping, he turned his wolf eyes, sharply focused on the shirtless warrior.

"Call back the needed parties, Batu. We will need something else before judgement can be passed," Zhu commanded.

X X X

Zhu knelt down, looking at the fence. One of the old goats had taken an interest in him, looking over its shoulder. The prince ignored it and, standing up, walked a few paces to kneel again. The gray goat followed.

"What is he doing?" Choeten asked Batu. They stood outside the pens with the two women and the other members of the Circle present.

"I have no idea," he whispered back. Reaching the other end of the fence, Zhu jogged back to them and smiled.

"Do you ladies have the goat in question?" Zhu asked.

"No they don't," Batu spoke up, "We have it for the moment."

"Well, can someone bring the goat and put it back in its pen?" the prince asked. Batu resisted the urge to roll his eyes; why was he asking, he should be ordering. As it was, the attendants looked to Batu, who gave the nod.

X X X

Zhu smiled as the prize goat, with a final bit of effort, slipped through the fence and made a beeline for a certain lady goat. The fence went back into place with the lightest of taps with his foot.

"The wind likely put it back. You see, this was neither theft nor framing. The only crime here was failure to properly maintain a mutual fence. I believe the penalty for that is a fee," Zhu declared, crossing his arms.

"Well done, young prince," Batu smiled. Choeten… her expression was unreadable as she studied him.

Then the two women started shouting at each other on who should pay more of the fee. An accusation of a goat being lecherous saw a slap in answer. Then Batu was breaking up a fight and Zhu decided now was the time to slip away.

Author's Note:

Well here we are. I doubt any chapter I could make would be worth the wait. But after years of banging my head against the wall I threw out the old chapter 2 idea and started from scratch, going on to reevaluating the entire first part of the story. The conclusion I reached was the first idea was a failure because I was, ironically, trying to move the story too quickly. Eager top get to the main action as quickly as possible, I was not building the characters and their dynamics properly first which was why it wasn't feeling right.

The coming war will tear apart the status quo the Huns have settled into. But for that to mean anything to I need to explore that status quo some and reveal these characters before they get tossed from their niches into conflict and uncertainty.

As a bonus Boke after so long with too many question marks floating over him finally clicked as his own character.

I wish I could say the next chapter will be along quicker. But I can not offer any guarantee with my record. With a better idea of the story going forward I hope we won't see such a dry spell, but that hope is all I can offer.

Also, I want to take a moment to thank Jazzqueen, for their incredible patience. They have always been ready to discuss ideas or offer feedback, even after lengthy periods with no progress or meaningful communication due to said lack of progress. So thanks Jazzqueen, for being able and willing to work with the likes of me to make this story happen.

On a lighter note some Fan News:

In addition to Festum's art of the Hun Royal children on deviantart, we now have fanart of both Unegan and the Ghoul from Hachin. The art is by Cuine, entitled 'King of the Left'. Thank you to Cuine for such great art!

So then, in conclusion I hope you enjoyed this chapter; and thank you for still having any interest in this idea after such a ridiculously long wait.