Coria and Boudiaca

Two weeks later, my father made the decision to send a group of people over to the territory of the Nori on the riverbank, to establish the camp for the campaign. This was the first step of the western campaign, but this was to be done three months before winter ended. It would not be an easy endeavor for those assigned to this task, but little did I know, I was one of those lucky people selected for this brutal task.

My father had his ways of messing with me, and this was one of them ! I was not angry, but it is 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 make suggestions on 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 where I began to make a name for myself, and it was the campaign that granted me status. My father did not just send me alone, there were a couple of notable figures accompanying me. The most notable were Stanillo the Younger and Yarik. In terms of status, I did not measure up to these great men. However, in combat I proved to be their equal.

I was not a 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, in our culture, watching the light leave the eyes of another man in battle on either side was what made a man, a man. I was not foolish to belittle my people, not even the prestige of being the son of Illya made me consider it.

My mother always reminded me to be humble and avoid being overconfident amongst my elders. This is something unique to her, because others in this village try to make themselves seem greater than they actually 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. Anyhow, the number of men to set up camp accompanying us would be about five hundred, and the number of cavalry was around one hundred and fifty.

More men would bring attention to our camp, and my Father did not want us to get the attention of the enemy. Other stragglers would be blacksmiths and their apprentices, a shipwright, and some engineers. It was a great number of people 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 putting her arm around his shoulder, sighing, ‘It’s gone by so quick, has it not, my love?’

Wiping his tears, he said, “I once had him in my arms, loving him, like he was 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 for your son put those feelings of a boy behind? Embrace him. He is the future of this country. As you said before, 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 so, the little girl that you and I have desired for so long.”

“It is true,” Illya gulped, “The prophecy…the sixth child has come!”

Twelve years prior, Illya the Elder was beginning to make a name for himself in the world. He had won a great victory against the tribe of Murom, where he succeeded in killing the enemy general in single-handed combat. This is where he earned the nickname, Muromets, to commend him for annihilating the tribe of Murom. It was this battle, where 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 creature 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 proceeded to confront them. The person had neither face nor eyes or the distinguishable characteristics of a mortal man. Its appearance did not frighten the young Illya, he approached it, and the odd creature also stepped forward. 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, and neither am I alive,” Death said, “I am the one who guides others outside the mortal realm, leading them to their truth.”

“You are dead,” 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 themselves went to 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 own kin. It is this distinct son of yours who 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 descendant's 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 own kin that will lead him to this cruel fate!”

Before the eyes of everyone, Death disappeared, leaving everybody speechless. At the time, neither my father nor my mother understood the words of this thing. However, I understand it now. 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. My fate was decided from the beginning, and I could not escape it.

The company and I headed west that morning, prepared for the journey to come. My weapons of choice were 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 will you do?” said Stanillo.

“Do what? The campaign, you mean?” I said.

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

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

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

“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 distinction and glory. It has driven the men of previous generations, and it will drive men, until they no longer have tongues to speak with.

“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 child 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 patrol throughout the night, to ensure we were not caught off guard. After all, it is the duty of a leader to protect his fellow man. 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 where a 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 from 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 very much of a bright leader.

Abbula was a warmonger 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 are one of many tribes who originally migrated from the southern part of the continent, where the country Ugrica lies. 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, vengeance fueled Abbula’s campaigns, instead of expansionism. However, it is uncertain what to say. The troubling succession process brought about a usurper, Acco, to emerge from the sidelines.

Acco was descended from one of the original founders of the tribe. 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 and dealt with. He did not want the boys to grow up and challenge him for the throne when he was to become an elderly man, or put his future successors at risk from rivals. 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 women apart from the former chieftain's harem, particularly those who were baring 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 starve and die in exile. However, the idea of forcing these daughters of Abbula into marriage with his sons could further legitimize his reign. He ordered the men to recall the girls from exile, but to his surprise, they had already left. This led to a massive hunt for the girls, and the eldest daughter, Coria, having read the usurper's mind, grabbed her younger sister and fled quickly on foot.

A life of exile was terrible, but a life of servitude against 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, who 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 fought abroad in the spring and summer. 

At the same time, Yarik and I decided to venture out into the woods. We had finished eating and I felt the need to go for a walk, so Yarik decided to accompany me. My excuse was to get to know the area, but in reality I just wanted some time away. It happened to be, by fate maybe, 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 running straight into a tree, knocking herself out.

Their fear was so great, they kept turning back to the dogs, trying to avoid them. At the sight of it, the eldest sister came to stop, but the youngest said, ‘Keep going, forget about me, Coria!’ However, the eldest sister refused to, extending her arm, but it was then, one of the dogs from the pack latched onto her arm. Coria came to her aid, but she too 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 my father fought in the spring. They were vicious, and if there were more of them, they would not have a chance of making it out. I shoved his worries aside, in which he mocked me for being a chivalrous fool and reminded me of the responsibility 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 too must live to the standards of my mother, who would never approve of me leaving a woman to fate. I grabbed onto my sword, noticing this, Yarik sighed, following my command to help the girls.

The girls were surrounded by their persecutors. 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 knelt towards where the younger girl was, releasing her from the dog’s bite too, and proceeded 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, by fucking him over in death!”

“I do not know guys,” the third mumbled, “I do not think it is a great idea. The chief 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 said, “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 robbed me from 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 with his  sword. This sparked fear into the dogs, who broke free from their handler, trampling the man over. The other took a step back, putting his hands up, indicating he surrendered. Illya was in no 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 gorged the guy's eyes and when his body dropped to the ground, he stomped upon his cranium, until he died. Yarik walked from behind the eldest girl, a bit surprised at his comrades' 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. And where else do you think they will lead them 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.”