Uluç turned to his son Togay, his gaze sharp and filled with the weight of impending responsibility. The firelight flickered across his scarred face, casting shadows that seemed to mirror the dark times ahead. He had lived long enough to know that wars were not won by swords alone, but by strategy, loyalty, and the strength of alliances.
With a deep breath, he spoke, his voice low and commanding, resonating in the stillness of the tent. "Togay, you and Baypars are now the most powerful leaders within your army. As you know, Bay Pars currently commands our stronghold in Bukhara. He oversees nearly forty thousand Tarkans, warriors who are scattered across the surrounding territories. You will go to him. He will train you and prepare you. The banner of the Golden Horde now belongs to you."
The words hung heavy in the air, as if a monumental torch was being passed from one generation to the next. Uluç's face was grim, but there was a spark of hope behind his eyes—a flicker of belief in his son and in the men who would carry on the legacy of their people.
"I am no longer the commander of the Golden Horde," Uluç continued, his voice growing softer, as though the admission pained him. "But that only ensures that the Horde will never lose a war again. From now on, we fight under the banner of the Nöker Group. Some of you may not know what the Nöker Group is—it is the secret intelligence organization that Kara once led, long ago. It is an elite brotherhood that operates in the shadows, gathering knowledge and protecting our people through unseen means. And now, we are part of that brotherhood."
Togay nodded, understanding the significance of what his father was telling him. The Nöker Group was more than just a military order; it was the backbone of their realm's survival. It ensured that while wars raged on the battlefield, victories were secured behind closed doors, through strategy, alliances, and secret negotiations.
Uluç's tone shifted, becoming sharper. "The Volga Bulgar queen may have been swayed to the enemy's side, but we have allies too—friends in many realms and kingdoms who still stand with us. We will not fall. Our legends will continue. Our culture will survive."
He paused, his gaze drifting from one face to the next, ensuring his words sank in. "Now, go, Togay. Leave for Bukhara. Continue the Tharkan training with Bay Pars. You will live under his roof, and he will guide you. The Golden Horde's glory rests on your shoulders now. Keep the Horde's honor alive."
Uluç's voice grew more powerful as he spoke of the Tarkan warriors, their proud traditions, and the strength that bound them together. "And remember," he said, locking eyes with his son, "I may have once led the Golden Horde, but I am, and always will be, a Tarkan. The role I perform now is my duty as a Tarkan. If anyone asks what Uluç Bey is doing, tell them he is fulfilling his duty to the Tarkan brotherhood."
He paused, his gaze narrowing slightly as he continued, "And Timurtaş's son, whom I made a Tarkan, will also perform his duty. Togay, you are part of this legacy, as am I. Let our people know that we, their leaders, are willing to sacrifice everything for them, for our land, and for our survival."
The word sacrifice echoed in the tent, and for a brief moment, all eyes were on Uluç. There was a deep conviction in his voice, and the weight of the years of struggle and leadership could be heard in every syllable. Kutay, standing near the back of the tent, stared at Uluç, his eyes filled with a mixture of surprise and confusion. The word sacrifice seemed to strike him as if Uluç had spoken of something greater than the battlefield, something more personal.
"Sacrifice?" Kutay whispered, as if questioning what Uluç truly meant.
Uluç ignored the look from Kutay and finished his speech with a tone of finality. "Now, go. Set off on your journey. Togay, you and Bay Pars will continue the legacy of the Golden Horde. Train the Tarkans. Keep our traditions alive. And remember," he said, his voice turning hard as steel, "I will remain here with Kutay. Together, we will build a defense that no enemy can breach. You have eighteen years. For eighteen years, you will hold these lands through small skirmishes, never engaging in full battles until you have gathered enough strength. Use the tactics I taught you, the hit-and-run strategies, the guerilla warfare. We will outlast them. We will survive. And when these eighteen years are over, the realm will be ours once again."
The firelight flickered against Uluç's worn face, his words full of ancient wisdom and unbreakable resolve. Togay and the others stood silent, absorbing the orders and the immense responsibility laid upon them. There was no turning back now, and no room for failure. Uluç's laws, his tactics, his leadership—they were all that would carry them through the coming storm.
"One last thing," Uluç added as Togay prepared to leave. "In these times, remember who you are. You are more than just warriors; you are Tharkans, bound by the legacy of our ancestors. Your duty is not just to fight, but to uphold the spirit of our people, to protect our culture, our land, and our way of life."
With that, Uluç stepped back, the flickering flames casting his shadow long across the ground. His eyes, deep with the wisdom of many battles, met those of his son one last time. Togay, standing tall and proud, nodded in understanding. He had been trained for this moment his entire life. And now, the weight of the Golden Horde, the fate of his people, rested on his shoulders.
Without another word, Togay turned and left the tent, Bay Pars following closely behind. The others soon followed, their minds filled with Uluç's words and the immense task that lay ahead. As the cool night air hit their faces, they knew they were stepping into a war that would define their lives—and the future of their realm.