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Tagged by: @beasthuntergalvus

“You need ask?“ Magnai huffs, clearly unhappy about something. He swings down to the ground, the horse nudging him impatiently for treats. He borrowed this mare from the Buduga and she is not used to carrying burden - not without compensation at least.

“Even you, whose people hardly ever dare the Mettle should know that it is the Khagan’s duty to oversee the feast celebrating the young warriors.” He hauls the bags down and marches to Cirina, frowning down at her with his usual ill temper on display. “It is of great import for the tribes where braving the Mettle is the mark of coming of age. We must needs get you ready.” His face softens just a touch.

“You need not worry for we shall be of your aid - Daidukul and myself and indeed even Sadu to keep peace, but you must needs head the event.”

Cirina pauses, and softly gasps after a moment. Of course! How had she forgotten about the feast? The time had come around already? She bows once more, a frown upon her lips.

“F-Forgive me. I should have known.” She apologises as he glowers down at her, straightening up then and glancing towards the bags he was carrying. A curious expression crosses her features.

The Mol sentries had seen the lone rider approaching, and had already sent word that someone was on their way. Of course, they couldn’t determine exactly who was on their way until he had arrived. Magnai of the Oronir. Naturally, many of the tribe members grew nervous. They knew his reputation.

Shortly after his declaration, the pink-haired Xaela he sought brushes aside the fabric of the main yurt and peeks outside. She herself nearly froze up upon seeing him. What business did he have that involved her? If it required the acting Khagan, perhaps it was important...