BES: Chapter 4

Dorgon Donggo was a man of few, if any, words. He was more fond of actions, though his laconic manner of speech probably wasn't helped by his limited Mongolian. Instead of fluency in Mongolian, he spoke it with halting, accented words, though he was fluent in Manchu and Jurchen instead to make up for such things. I was fluent in Jurchen, but not Manchu, and would have to learn that as well as a bevy of other languages if I were to effectively command, including Khwarezmian, Korean, Turkic, Hakka, Hokkien, and various others. The Army of the Great Khan was made up of many peoples of many languages, after all, and to effectively command, one had to either delegate to native speakers who could translate for the men or learn the languages oneself. I refused to delegate when I could be a Polyglot. After all, that was one thing that had always impressed me back in my old life, when people spoke a bunch of languages.

Regardless, Dorgon Donggo was mostly silent, though I gradually got him to agree to begin teaching me Manchu. That wasn't on today's schedule, however, and would only start next week. Accordingly, most of my instruction with him today would be via demonstration. These would then be followed by him making me repeat his movements as I tried to fire arrows at a target on horseback before wheeling away before I got too close. If I got something wrong, if I missed the target, or if I wheeled about too slowly, he would make me do it again until I got it right. Fortunately, we didn't do anything too strenuous that first day, riding at and attacking targets at a more leisurely pace, as it was my first day of instruction. It was a pretty easy day, all things considered. I was certain that things would get far more difficult once we began riding at targets faster or simulating battlefield conditions.

That last bit was going to be a lot more difficult than just riding at and attacking stationary targets. I was given to understand that eventually, I would be expected to do this while various arrows with soft, padded cloth tips would be shot my way. This was supposed to teach me how to deal with attacking enemies from horseback under enemy fire, but really, I suspected it was a way for some veterans to blow off steam in the guise of a sanctioned lesson for the Prince. Hopefully, I would be proven wrong on that before one of those arrows hits me somewhere sensitive. A boxing glove to the throat would still hurt, after all, and that was about how the practice arrows would feel, or so I'd been informed. That wouldn't happen for a while yet, though, thankfully, and for right now, riding at and attacking stationary targets at a much more leisurely pace was the name of the game.

In the meantime, the targets themselves took a few different forms. For archery, these were the standard bullseye set up for me to ride toward, fire arrows at, and wheel about before doing it all over again. For the sword, straw dummies that were immobile, but which had a counterweight system that would swing a wooden blade at me on a hit as the dummy rotated on its post was the name of the game. The goal here was to hit the dummy and avoid the counterattack from the counterweight-powered sword strike as you rode away. For the lance, however, there was a trio of different targets. The first was the same straw dummy as the sword target, immobile, large, and easy. The second was a set of suspended rings on a rope, the goal of which was to thrust your lance through the center of the rings and ride off with them on your lance. This was harder but not impossible. Finally, the third targets were tent pegs dug into the ground, the goal of which was to hit the tent peg with your lance tip just under the flared head of the peg to dig them out of the ground. This was the hardest exercise and, for the moment, practically impossible for me to do. I ran at the targets throughout the day. Each time, Dorgon Donggo would watch and, if my form was poor, show me how to correct it with a grunt.

At archery, I managed to hit the target maybe sixty percent of the time, though I fell off my horse once when I was trying to wheel about, much to Dorgon Donggo's annoyance. My Lance work was better. I was primarily the best at the straw dummies, able to thrust my lance on target eighty percent of the time while only getting hit by the swinging arm, powered by a counterweight to simulate an enemy counterattack, a few times. The rings were harder, and a bit under half the time I missed, my lance coming up empty without any rings collected on the tip, and I was forced to go again with corrections to my form. I only managed to dig a few of the tent pegs out of the ground. It was my sword work that was the best, managing to hit the target every time, and I managed to consistently avoid the counterattack from the counterweight-powered sword each time. Unfortunately, the sword from horseback was a weapon of last resort for a Mongol soldier, and so didn't count for as much as the bow or lance. It was definitely something that I would have to work on if I were going to be in the thick of battle, leading troops. I couldn't exactly expect the men to fight for a Prince who could barely strike targets himself, after all, even if I was the Blood of the Great Chinggis.

Eventually, however, we had spent the day on the targets, and it was time for me to head back to the palace. I was sweaty, tired, and hungry, but the ache in my muscles was a good one, which meant that I was getting the motions of fighting on horseback into my muscle memory. That was good, as I doubted I would have time to think about my maneuvers in a battlefield scenario. Fighting from horseback had to be instinctive, and it definitely wasn't helped that much by my previous life, unlike strategy and tactics or martial arts. Nobody still fought from horseback in the twenty-twenties, after all.

"Hn. Good enough. You can go." Grunted Dorgon Donggo, dismissing me.

It was the most words I'd heard him string together all day. I wasn't questioning it, though, as my stomach rumbles a warning out for anyone passing by to hear. If this kept up, I was going to get a nickname, Hungry Dalai or something, possibly one that was unflattering. I didn't care, though, and headed back toward the City and Palace, ready to eat. It was as I returned to the palace that something interesting happened. At sunset, just before the gates of the city closed for the day, a procession entered the city. Servants bore aloft a richly carved palanquin, and household retainers flanked the litter. Ahead of them, a man called out from his position in the procession.

"Make way for the Gongsun Clan! Her Excellency, Gongsun Mei, and her daughter, Gongsun Lian, require the road!" Called out the point man, clearly a Herald.

I recognized the name. The Gongsun Clan was one of my father's Noyan, claiming descent from the General Gongsun Zan from the Three Kingdoms period. They controlled Shanggu Orda ever since Gongsun Kang had defected to the Khan during the initial conquest of the Jin. Gongsun Kang's son, Gongsun Xu, was currently at court. This must be his wife and daughter, coming to join him at court.

As the procession moved down the main thoroughfare of Zhending toward the Toluid Palace, people scrambled out of the way to let the small caravan of nobles pass. It was mostly small-time merchants or peasants out and about. The few guards around watched in amusement as they hurriedly packed up their wares and moved out of the way to avoid being trampled by the procession. As for myself, I maintained my leisurely pace towards the palace, something that seemed to cause the Herald no end of consternation.

"You, Boy! Make way!" Snapped the Herald.

"I go at my own pace and none may compel otherwise." I shrugged.

"Insolent wretch, the Gongsun will have your head! Do you not know your place?" Snapped the Herald.

"Do you not know yours?" I queried.

That caused the Herald to turn bright red with rage, and he sputtered out, "Such insolence! I will have you whipped!"

The Herald pulled a whip from his saddle horn and unfurled it. He reached back as if to wind up for a lash, only to be confronted by a trio of guards who had decided that if they didn't intervene, Kublai would have them scourged. The first guard brandished his spear at the Herald.

"That is the son of the Khan. The nephew of the Great Khan. Think twice before you let fly." Growled out the First Guard.

The Herald went from bright red to pale white as the magnitude of what he had been about to do dawned on him. With the standoff having reached an impasse, the Palanquin's window opened, and a graceful Han Chinese Lady called out.

"Cousin Chang, please come here, I have need of your counsel." The Herald, now named as Gongsun Chang, nodded before heading back. "Apologies, my kin require my assistance." He said.

As Gongsun Chang withdrew using the face-saving excuse given to him by Gongsun Mei, the first guard turned to me and asked. "Are you alright, Prince Dalai?"

"I could have dealt with him on my own. Thank you for your assistance, though." I nodded.

"The young prince is fearless. Most would fear the lash in his place." Commented the second guard.

"Indeed. You should take care, though. With the trouble with Goryeo, the last thing the Great Khan needs is trouble between his Brother's family and his Noyan." Intoned the First Guard.

I frowned, politics reared its ugly head once again. I was confident that Kublai could crush the Gongsun Clan without much in the way of backlash from the other Noyan. They may have been Noyan, but they were still Han Chinese, which meant the vast majority of Noyan wouldn't care much if they were dispossessed. The people, though, well, the populace in these parts was majority Han. If one of the scant handful of Han Noyan in the empire was dispossessed, it might cause a popular uprising.

"You may be right about that." I sighed.

After that, Gongsun Chang came back to where I was standing and bowed his head, even though I knew it galled him to do so. "Apologies, my Prince. I did not recognize you in your riding clothes. I hope you will forgive my outburst." He said, face the picture of sincerity. He couldn't hide the anger in his eyes, though.

"It is of no consequence. An honest mistake." I replied.

Gongsun Chang straightened, and soon the procession continued on its way back to the Toluid Palace. I stayed behind a bit longer to chat with the guards who had intervened on my behalf, but they were soon moving on to continue their patrol. Bereft of anything else interesting to do or see, I finally picked up the pace and made my own way back to the Toluid Palace. As I returned, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had not seen the last of Gongsun Chang.

As it happened, I would prove to be correct in that assumption. . .

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AN: So yeah, here we have the next chapter. Dalai not only starts his formal training at arms from Horseback, but also gets in the bad books of a powerful noble family. After all, what would a Chinese Dynasty be without court Intrigue? As to the Gongsun Clan, they're a real family from ancient China, nobles dating back to the time of the Han. The most famous was probably Gongsun Zan of Romance of the Three Kingdoms Fame. They were also pretty Mongolophile during the Yuan Dynasty, to the point that when the Ming took over, they forced the Gongsun to change their name and confiscated their titles and land. This was because they were one of those Han Noble Families that sided with the Mongols during the Conquest of the Jin. They were allowed to keep their titles and lands for the Ming to confiscate because of that.

At any rate, the next chapter will involve lessons with Dorji under Liau Yong Cho, the Hokkien Shipwright. You'll get to see the brothers interact more, along with a bit of technical uplift, as Dalai introduces Liau Yong Cho to the concept of the Hwacha about two hundred years or so early.

Stay tuned. . .