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The Leopard lurches onwards towards the Lion’s Den.

462 miles of steep mountain terrain, charted through by a few structurally sound and large enough roads to support the Khudlaa-Khan’s forces on their march towards the capital. Great peaks crowd the road on both sides, with slopes sometimes at full verticals or overhanging along the entire paved road up the slopes of the West Chubvlai’s, through the Burkaguutsval gap, and onto the East Chubvlai’s, where they would gradually descend down the slopes and upon Chan’Kogalnikeau.

Through the first night, Costin’s forces made great progress under the shadow of darkness. Filled with reverence, a growing fire in their chest, and fanned by the final show of Costin to his superiors and those now under his command in preparation for his waiting ascension- the world seemed clear, absolute, and ready for the oncoming change as they hastily crowded into troop transports. Commanding the column, Costin and a few other key strategists and supporters drew up their tactical approach towards the capital as the time to act would draw near faster than they knew they needed. There was no time to slow in their approach, nor in their planning.

The shadows of transport trucks flashed across the stone cliff faces from illuminated road-lights bringing light to the road, while shadowing the great depths below and heights above in another veil of darkness and un-scalability. With its difficult terrain, they fought and clawed their way up and down the winding highway, crowded side by side as they pitched down the two-lane road, far more fit for civilian cars than military vehicles. In a few hours they had made only some 120-miles under gravity’s torrent and the chugging of their engines

Frustrated, and knowing time and the element of surprise was quickly fading with the shock that was surely being induced by the death of the Vu’duce and the appearance of a nondescript military convoy heading towards the capital, Costin slowly grew frustrated and impatient, yet kept a steady appearance before his comrades, and continued steadfast in his planning.

Still tuned into the strategic command channels of the Utocistite military, they continued under a perceived quiet through the dead of night. The sky was darker than usual, with the stars shining brighter than before. Fate, in Costin’s mind, was lining the way to Chan’Kogalnikeau. But as fate would have it, they could only get so far until the convoy was found out.

…

Dear brother,

I write to you in recognition of our history, and the history that stands before us.

I ask of you to forgive me, and my inexperience. I know that father’s passing and that of the dynasty will not bode well in your heart and in your mind. And the many flurries that have defined our times together will once again fall upon you.

We have both struggled, and will know struggle in times to come. We are two different men, how we have been raised and our experiences- but I wish to shed this difference. I don’t wish to feud with you or contend you and your ideas, but offer you an opportunity. Just as father had, The halls of Utociste-Zeme are yours as they are mine. There is indefinite possibility for you in our people’s realm, and places for you to make and install change within our government.

If a place of governance is unappetizing, I will fully support your endeavors in the military and onward. Your titles and rank are yours, and in-fact earned, rightfully and dutifully. There is no doubt about that. You have proved yourself over and over, and are too valuable of a brother and soldier to forget amidst the flurry of my new occupation.

I have nothing for you but…

Costin lifts his pen from the white paper, and lets his thoughts wander as he gazes out the window over the deadened city, with nothing astroke but yet the city lights remain lit, void of any activity, lighting the canvas of the city, with its native white walls, square structure, and hidden legacy. He thinks onward and about his letter, in somber reflection and pre-thought as to how to guide his brother back into the fray. He fades between thoughts about his brother and the city before him. It is dark- in fact, it's the dead of the night, and the capital lulls.

A day of death and a day of mourning had passed, in which the nation mourned but the Ketchenak Khan could not, for the state had to be tended too, and have the reality of its wounds revealed to its own inner workings. The heavy air of death, and the uncertainty of the country's future loomed heavy wherever the Ketchenak Khan wandered, even within his own ranks- followed closely by advisors, friends, and mourners who haunted him throughout the day. The Chan’s Palace was a hive who had lost its queen, or aptly, king, bee.

Now, Costin presented himself in valor and aptitude in any way possible as he tended to the swarm. He knew that while his crown and color displayed the prestige of a proper Khan, he needed to win and confirm his affiliations lest be rejected by those that controlled the Vu’duceship behind the scenes- for as powerful as the Vu’duceship was, it was only the head of a great body that controlled the many quarters and corners of Utociste-Zeme. An entire day of crafting resoluteness in the face of grief, and intelligence and courage in spite of zealousness. Dialogue over the future of the nation’s society, military, and state to determine if the young but trained Ketchenak Khan had the early hallmarks of a future, apt, Vu’duce.

In a dress mixed of a military stature and of the traditional black Utocistite mourning-garb, the Ketchenak Khan spent an entire day confined by the chalk and clay walls of the Chan’s Palace, seeing the progression of time through the windows of busy hallways. In his time during the first day, he realized the new respect he commanded, and felt more confident in his ability as the day progressed. But as the day ended, and the halls of the palace fell empty, he was once again reminded of his circumstances. The grief, everpresent, and the anxiety, rampant.

Hoping to find friendship and shed the sibling rivalry with his brother, and find some solace in himself in his own words, he wrote eagerly. But was now left unsure as he fought with himself to describe his relationship with his young brother. Although similar in many ways, an entirely different upbringing and life path differentiated them atop with physical characteristics. He felt like sometimes he had loved him only for that he was his brother, but maybe that was proof enough. Now he aimed to give him security in the face of uncertainty, or so he thought.

Still in a distracted trance, looking towards the city lights and trying to drum up the right synonym to describe his attachment, the rumble of boots was heard down the hallway. It grabbed his attention immediately, as the housekeeper's soft steps sounded nothing like it, and it remained far-too-early into the morning. He shifted his eyes towards his study door as he felt and heard them get nearer and nearer before finally they were at his door.

The door was knocked upon and opened, to the familiar sight of several military officials. Costin’s heart had already started to pound, but now a shiver was sent through his spine. If they weren’t there for him personally, there was still sure to be bad news. They saluted him as they entered in,

“What is it?!” Costin demanded, anxious towards whatever would happen next.

The generals exchanged a few brief looks to the horror of Costin before the eldest of the soldiers spoke. “There have been reports and a confirmed sighting from the military detachment in Anarba of an unannounced military column towards the capital.”

Costin frowned, and needed a moment to process the information, a moment not afforded. The general continued, “A similar report was later given by a lower ranking officer in Lahovnbagüi, which has gotten increasingly silent since yesterday…” The general looked upon the Ketchenak Khan, “They are saying your brother is leading the column towards the capital. It’s an insurgency, sir.”

Any emotion Costin showed on his face dropped, as he became pale and his eyes distant. A million thoughts rushed through his head. His father’s death, his older sister bolting, and now his brother’s betrayal in spite of any relation and common pain. His family now left him one by one. His heart thumped, and his brain told him to act, lest be seen as weak before the same generals who command respect in the branch divided by mutiny. He stood wearily from his chair, his arms slightly buckling under the weight of his situation. He looked at the generals, and them, at him.

“Wake the forces of the capital and surrounding cities, build strategic planning outside the city and higher into the Chubvlai’s. We want as little possible civilian casualties if it comes to that. Try and get a line to the convoy, and if it's true,,, I shall talk to my brother myself.” The Ketchenak Khan said. The general’s faces seemed somber, and with nods of acknowledgement, they exited the room towards the military corridors of the Chan’s palaces’ basement.

Costin, left on his own, fell back into his chair in expiration. Sadness, tiredness, and anxiety fell upon him. And once again he looked out the windows of his study towards the lights of Chan’Kogalnikeau. He was at his own mercy. Seconds later, he sat up scarily fast, and ripped up the letter in front of him, crumpling up its scraps and throwing them off his desk in frustration and betrayal. Pens and other folders sent flying, the yet-proven Vu’duce sat back and took deep breaths to calm himself.

…

Chaos had yet to fall over Chan’Kogalnikeau.

…

Florin’s finger traces a line on a map, shadowed on both sides by changing colors distinguishing sharply changing elevations, divided by a yellow and blue line parallel to each other- the Uruudaj’baina River and the highway carved into its valley crest. They had just rounded south around Anarba and were making decent headway down the eastern slopes of the Chubvlai’s. Two hundred and fifty miles separate them from the Chan’s Palace.

Although no longer fighting against the strain of gravity as they clawed their way up and through the Burkaguutsval Gap, they now fought with her, one foot almost always on the brakes as too not gain too much speed with the sometimes dangerous pitches and turns of the road. Traffic, even past midnight, still remained higher on the slopes surrounding the capital- and now the column was repeatedly passed by one after another civilian vehicles that further heightened the soldiers’ anxiety and alarm. The drive towards the capital was on, and now gradually descending in elevation, their pace was increased.

A hundred ranks of transport trucks, heading down towards their destiny at Chan’Kogalnikeau.

A hundred ranks soon to be met by a growing volume of military forces organized by the rightful Ketchenak Khan.

With the slow rising of the sun in a time that they were once shadowed by the mountains surrounding their homes and sanctity in Lahovnbagüi, the sky grew increasingly bright, and with it, the spirits of Florin and his closest supporters grimmer. The veil was slipping, if not already drawn back.

The Promise of Vu’duceship seemed to leave Florin as quick as the moon, dropping behind the Chubvlai mountains, leaving the absolution of day to shine with increasing brightness, and the day waking. Descending down, the Leopard has started to fall into the Lion’s grasp.