Collision of Fate's; Coria and Boudiaca

On returning to the village, my Father made the decision two weeks later, to send a party over to the area that we went to see. It was the beginning of the campaign to the west, but this party was to head three months before winter ended. It definitely would not be easy, I thought, it was unlucky, for those people assigned to this task. Little did I know, I was one of the “unlucky” people selected for this brutal campaign…

My father had his ways of messing with me, and this was one of them -! I was not angry, but it was almost, like this was his way of getting back at me, for the suggestion I made. If there was something my father hated more than anything, it was for an unqualified person to suggest what he should do. In his eyes, I was one of those people, I guess.

Either way, it was a good thing for me, looking back at it. The Western campaign was the beginning where I began to make a name for myself, and it brought me an important person. My father did not send just me alone. It was a couple of notable figures accompanying me, most notable was Stanilio the Younger and Yarik. In terms of standing, I did not measure up to these great men in terms of prestige and accomplishments throughout our army.

I was not a made man yet. The only experience I had of battle was the spars with my father, but this did not compare, to what these men had gone through. They had experienced the risks of battle, but most importantly, to watch the light leave the eyes of another in battle on either side. I was not foolish to belittle my people; not even the prestige of being the son of Illya made me considered.

My mother always reminded me: to be humble and avoid being overconfident amongst my elders. It is something unique to her because others in this village try to make themselves seem better than they are. If only Iziaslav was older, this would not have been too lonely. In my absence, he will become a man, and I will become worthy of carrying the name of Father. The number of men was about five hundred, and the amount of cavalry was around one hundred and fifty.

More men would bring attention to our camp, and my Father did not want, to grab the attention of the enemy. Other stragglers would be blacksmiths and their apprentices, a shipwright, and engineers. A great number of people were sent, and there were some risks to this, like the discovery of our camp and risking annihilation by the natives. It was this that worried my father; as he watched me head outside the village, my mother put her arm around his shoulder, sighing at the sight of me, ‘It’s gone by so quickly, hasn’t it, my love?’

Wiping his tears, he said, “I once had him in my arms, loving him like he were my blood.”

“Is he not your son, my love,” Himari said, “You raised him, my love. If anybody deserves to call himself the father of that boy, it is you.”

“He may not look like me, but his spirit resembles my own,” Illya said, “My boy continues to grow into my shoes, and I fear, he will become greater than me.”

“Does your reputation matter to you that much, my husband,” Himari asked, “Should not your love of a father put those feelings of a boy behind; instead you should embrace him? He is the future of this country, like you said, he will have to distinguish himself from yourself.”

Turning towards her, he kissed her, putting his foolish pride aside, saying, “You are right, my wife, my window is closing. However, I will put forth a great reputation, so that he and his brothers have something to climb towards.”

“You are so childish,” Himari laughed, “If you will do that for them, I will make an effort to be a great example, for her too.”

“For her? Do not tell me,” Illya muttered, “You are with child again…”

“I am,” Himari declared, “This one will be a girl, I believe, the little girl that you and I have desired for so long.”

“It's true,” Illya gulped, “The prophecy…the sixth child has come.”

Twelve years prior, Illya the Elder was beginning to make him in the world. He had won a great victory against the tribe of Murom, where he succeeded in killing the enemy general in single-hand combat. It is where; he earned the nickname, Muromets, and where he displayed his great skill as a combatant and leader. In this battle, he ripped off the enemy’s armor, to dedicate it to the founder of the country, Oleg of Rus. It is a great honor, for many men; and only the most powerful men of Belomas are allowed to make such a dedication to a great man; like Oleg of Rus.

At the arrival of the statue of Oleg, there stood an odd thing in front of the statue. Many of the men thought, it was an enemy, but Illya did not think so.  He ordered the men, to stand down and allow him to talk to this person. The person had neither face, neither eyes, nor distinguishable characteristics of the mortal man. Its appearance did not frighten the young Illya; he approached it, and so did the odd thing. The two came to a standstill, and the faceless thing caressed the face of Illya, muttering, ‘Illya of Muromets, Son of the World, how I have desired to meet you.’

“You know my name, do you,” Illya said, “you have no eyes. Nor face, how is it that you can say such things?”

“I am neither dead, nor alive,” Death said, “I am the one, who guides others outside of the mortal realm, leading them to their truth.”

“You are death,” Illya gulped, “how can such a thing be? Have I died?”

“If you were dead, would you be satisfied,” Death asked.

“Does it matter? If I am dead, it would not matter. I only ask you, if the souls of my comrades and family went to the right place.”

“They went to a place. They went towards a place,” Death said, “A place, they worked all their lives to get to.”

“I understand, so where will I go,” said Illya.

“Your time has not yet come, for you have yet to give rise, to the greatest man of the mortal realm. He is a man of distinct origin from yourself. He is a man of another seed and nation,” Death said, “He will resemble the greatness of you, and it will be the son of this woman, who shall bring about the golden age of your country.”

“A son of mine? From distinct origins, what does this mean?” said Illya.

“He shall bring about a great age, but he will succumb to a great defeat amongst his kin. This distinct son of yours will give rise to the greatest warriors to ever touch the realm, for he is nothing, but a stepping stone towards greater greatness!”

“You speak in tongues, but why are you here to tell this to a dead man?” said Illya.

“A dead man does not know when his time comes,” Death laughed, “My appearance here is simply a warning, for you to live your life and not to become satisfied with your current success. In twelve years, a woman unlike any you have seen, shall come to this land and it is this woman that will give you many children, but it will be the first child of hers, who will grant you and your descendants imperium over these great lands. This great son of yours will die a dog’s death at the hands of a great man, like himself, but it will be his kin that will lead him to this cruel fate!”

Before everyone, Death disappeared, leaving everybody speechless. At the time, my father, nor my mother understood the words of this thing. However, I understood it. I was destined, to die in my homeland, and I entered this battle against Sakata, knowing that I would die and give rise to great men, who would make the world their playground. Fate has decided, and I could not escape it.

The company and I headed west that morning, preparing for the journey to come. My weapon of choice was always a sword, but I never found these swords to be right. I just could not get used to them; perhaps, it was a reminder of my origins being elsewhere. Something about our weapons lacked elegance. However, this was no concern for my comrades, who enjoyed their nomadic lifestyle.

“Younger Illya, what do you think of this?” said Stanillo.

“Of what? The campaign?” said I.

“That too, but I mean, your father’s attempt at reforming the fragmented kingdom,” said Stanillo.

“My father is a different kind of man, Stanillo,” I said, “ambitious and fearless.”

“He is fearless, I admit,” Yarik interjected, “However, I do not think this a good idea. One thing is trying to force the tribes under our yoke, but another thing is to go to war against our people.”

“You lack vision, Yarik,” Stanillo said, “Regrouping the villages and cities is a good idea, it will elevate us. A united house is the greatest weapon against enemies abroad. This reformation may be the chance of propelling our people to greatness.”

“Personal glory aside, friends,” I said, “I do not think this to be my father’s reasoning. He is a patriotic man, and I doubt, he is after something like glory.”

“Maybe, Younger Illya,” Stanillo said, “However, your Father too is also a young man. There is nothing a young man wants that is not prestige and glory. It has driven the men of previous generations, and it will drive men til they no longer have tongues.

“It may be so,” I said, “However, let us focus on guiding the others to that place. Try not to die on me, you two.  My father did not send you, for nothing. You two are my babysitters, are you not?”

“Get a load of this idiot, Nilo,” Yarik said, “He thinks, we are here to cater to him, like his mother.”

“Partly true, but his father sent us: to establish the camp. His kid is only here, to experience this way of life. He will have to get used to this. I have a feeling, we will be doing this again in the future,” said Stanillo.

By sundown, we arrived at the site. Rations were distributed to the people, and some began to set up their tents, trying to beat the others to the best spots. While everybody did this, Yarik, me, and a few others began to put on our armor. We had to guard ourselves throughout the night, to ensure we were not caught off guard. After all, it is the duty of a leader: to protect his fellow soldiers. To think; this would be my life for the next three months. Father did not lie about the great responsibility that campaigning would be; however, I welcomed this challenge.

Elsewhere, conflict began amongst the tribe of Nori. It was this tribe that my people had just fought against in the fall, and it was this tribe, who my father defeated its leader in close combat. This tribe’s defeat, led to tensions brewing to the point that a possible civil war outbreak was possible. The death of the tribal chieftain, Abbula, left no male heirs of age to take his spot.

The male heirs, he left behind were mere children. These young children were about the ages of five to seven; they were two boys, to be exact. However, succession would not have been problematic, if Abbula had not made the mistake, he did. Abbula was a great warrior, but not much of a bright leader.

Abbula was a war-monger type of leader. In his thirty-three-year reign, he was the first of his family line, to lead multiple campaigns against Belomas, trying to expand further. The Tribe of Nori is one of many tribes that originally migrated from the southern part of the continent, where the country Ugica is located; this is how they became known as the Ugics amongst the villagers of Belomas.

This constant campaigning of Abbula led to the death of his three eldest sons, who each met their end at the hands of Illya of Muromets. It can be suggested, that vengeance fueled Abbula’s campaigns; instead of expansion. However, it is uncertain, to say. The troubling succession process brought about, a usurper named Acco; to emerge from the sidelines.

Acco was descended from one of the original founders of the tribe, and his warrior spirit was something that played a role. The tribe needed a warrior like Abbula, who could keep his people strong against the other tribes and the Belomians. This support led Acco, to do the most disturbing things, which I will begin to say.

First and foremost, he went on to have the young sons of Abbula thrown to the dogs. He did not want the boys to grow and challenge him, for the throne when he was to become an elderly man, or put his future successors at risk. Having murdered the children, he forced their mother to marry him, to further legitimize his rule and also to kill the spirits of former loyalists of Abbula.

Acco went on to execute the women apart of the former chieftain's harem, especially those who were bearing his illegitimate children; however, there was one issue. Abbula had left behind two illegitimate daughters, who were of age to spark some political tension. The two daughters were named: Coria and Boudicia.

At first, he forced the two illegitimate daughters into exile, thinking that they would die. However, the idea of forcing these daughters into marriage with his sons could further legitimize his regime. He ordered the men, to recall the girls from exile, but to his surprise; they had already left. It led to a massive hunt for the girls, and the eldest daughter, Coria, having read the usurper’s mind, grabbed her sister and fled quickly on foot.

A life of exile was terrible, but a life of servitude towards a man, like Acco, was something worse than that! The girls fled through the woods, but the men of Acco trailed them with the same dogs that had mauled their younger brothers to pieces. Adrenaline ran through their bodies, forcing them to run at a speed like no other. The women of Nori lived a sedentary life, unlike the men, who went to fight abroad in the spring and summer.

At the same time, I and Yarik decided to venture out to the woods. We had finished eating and I needed to go for a walk, so Yarik agreed, to accompany me. My excuse was to get to know the area, but in reality, I just wanted some time away. It just happened, by fate maybe that these girls came across our path. A pack of dogs trailed them viciously, but behind them were three men, intent on capturing them alive. When they caught my attention, I noticed one of the girls ran straight into a tree, knocking herself out.

Their fear was so great; that they kept turning back to the dogs, trying to avoid their bite. At the sight of it, the eldest sister came to a stop, but the youngest said, ‘Keep going, forget about me, Coria!’ However, the eldest sister refused to, extending her arm, but it was then; that one of the dogs from the pack latched onto her arm. Coria came to her aid, but she also was attacked by the dogs.

Yarik did not want to get involved, telling me; to head back and not risk exposure. He told me: these were the people that my father fought in the summer. They were vicious, and if there were more of them, they would not have a chance of making it back. I shoved his worries aside; he mocked me, for being a chivalrous fool and told me to think of the responsibility that my Father had left me.

I knew this, but something in me. Just could not help, to not help someone in need. I had to live up to the standards of my father, but I also must live to the standards of my mother, who would never approve of me leaving: these girls to a cruel fate. I grabbed onto my sword; noticing this, Yarik sighed, following my lead to help the girls.

The girls were surrounded; by their persecutors, and one of the men came from behind Coria, releasing her from the dog’s bite. The other man whistled at the dogs; to round them back up in one harness. The final man kneeled towards, where the younger girl was; and released her from the dog’s bite; proceeding to chain her hands and legs from behind.

“One should be good enough, right,” One of the men said, “it’s not like this younger one will dare to talk, huh?”

Groping onto Coria’s breast, the other whispered into her ear, “You may be able to answer that for me, would you? I always hated your father, and what better way to fulfill my vengeance than by fucking him over in death.”

“Uhhh,” the third mumbled, “I do not think, it is a great idea. The chieftain wants the two, for his son’s, and what excuse will you have for her death?”

“He’s going to kill her,” One of the men asked, “what a waste! At least, let me have some time with her, if this bootlicker here does not want his chance.”

“Sure, you can have a chance,” The other cackled, “I am getting the first shot at this. After all, it was this bitch’s father, who cut my hand and took the chance of me becoming greater than he. I was a prominent warrior, and it was he, who robbed me of my glory!”

However, they would not get the chance, as Illya took the head off the man groping onto the eldest sister with his sword. It was this that sparked fear in the dogs, who broke free from their handler, trampling the man over. The other stepped back, putting his hands up, indicating he did not want problems. Illya was not in a good mood, instead, he walked over to the man, until he cornered him by a tree. Nowhere to go, the two met face to face, where Illya put his hands on the man’s face, caressing it until he reached the eyes.

He put his hands over the man’s eyes, proceeding to knee him into the stomach, until he gouged the guy's eyes out; and when his body dropped to the ground, he stomped onto his cranium. Yarik appeared from behind the eldest girl, a bit surprised, at his comrade's brutality. The only man alive was the dog handler, but this one they did not kill; instead they leashed him, like a dog.

“So what will you do with the bodies, kid,” Yarik said, “You will have to mince them and relocate the camp temporarily. Those dogs are running, to wherever they came from, and those same dogs will lead them to this scene. Where else do you think they will lead them to next? That is why I told you, to stay out of this and not risk exposure.”

“It seems you have the solution,” Illya said, “How about we get going now?”

“And what will we do with the girls,” Yarik asked, “kill them too?

“They can do what they want,” Illya said, “They are free women, and I will not be like those men and force them under my yoke.”