Beasts inevitably undergo an awkward phase. They are strong enough to survive on their own, yet still yearn for the comfort and nourishment of their mother. They naively believe that life should always be this way, expending their surplus energy in rolling about and playing with insects. Sometimes, a curious scene unfolds: a young leopard, larger than its mother, lazily lies in the grass basking in the sun, patiently waiting for lunch to come to it. It has no idea that these blissful moments are fleeting. As soon as the mother is ready to mate again, the once-proud offspring will be cast out, forced to roam the world alone. Each arduous hunt will wear away a little of the innocence once held, and in the end, it will either die tragically or grow into a ruthless killer.
Fourteen-year-old Aryan found himself in a similar phase of life. His name may sound a bit old-fashioned, but his body still retained the mischievous innocence of childhood. His parents and older brother had begun to worry about him, but Aryan had his own plans: he would only "officially" grow up after his sister married.
With three months still remaining until that day, his carefully planned life was interrupted by an unexpected event.
One afternoon, a servant returning from the mountain with the livestock brought strange news: a knight had stopped on the opposite slope and was watching the estate.
Master Gulen himself went to investigate. By the time he arrived, the knight had vanished. He rode around the area but found nothing amiss.
The Gulen family had moved from the Western Kingdom to Central Asia only two years earlier, and their estate was located in a remote oasis at the foot of the Hindukush Mountains. The surrounding desert was vast and desolate, with only a small village of farmers at the base of the mountain, and visitors were rare. So, it was no surprise that Gulen was taken aback by the news.
Gulen, originally a military officer, was highly alert. He pressed the servant for further details about the knight's appearance and actions, then quietly instructed the estate's guards to heighten their vigilance.
Aryan's two older brothers thought their father was making a fuss over nothing. They believed the knight was probably just a shepherd searching for grazing land, who left as soon as he saw signs of civilization.
Aryan, ever one to stir trouble when bored, took the matter as seriously as his father did. He diligently rode his horse around the estate, alert for any signs of danger, and at the slightest rustle in the bushes, he would spur his horse to investigate, eager to determine if it was a rabbit or a bird.
However, in the following days, no strangers were seen near the estate, and everything returned to calm. Life seemed to resume its usual course. The Gulen household was busy preparing the dowry for Miss Hafsa's upcoming marriage, a journey of thousands of miles from Central Asia to the Western Kingdom, with much to arrange.
Everyone had their tasks. Aryan's primary duty was to visit his sister's chambers daily, playfully annoy her, and make her cry. Despite her not yet leaving, her tears had already soaked several of her garments.
Aryan had his reasons for such childish behavior. The Western Kingdom and Central Asia felt like two separate worlds. Once they parted ways, who knew when they would meet again? He intended to ensure his sister would remember him through these seemingly childish antics.
The peaceful days, however, were only temporary. Ten days after the mysterious knight's appearance, several masked intruders snuck into the estate, causing quite a stir.
Regardless of the intruders' intentions, they failed to achieve them, and it seemed that nothing had gone as planned. Master Gulen maintained a strict, watchful approach, while the vigilant servant Sabir was the first to detect the intruders.
Amid the chaos, a few brief scuffles took place in different parts of the estate, but the confrontations were over quickly. Young Aryan, groggily awakening from sleep, was still unclear on what had happened when the masked figures swiftly fled.
No one was injured.
The entire estate was soon awake, and the guards excitedly discussed how they had repelled the intruders. From their stories, it seemed as if there had been hundreds of them, though Sabir, ever sure of himself, insisted that no more than five had entered.
Aryan was disappointed not to have seen the masked figures himself, and he badgered his father and brothers for details. His eldest brother, exasperated, ordered him to be silent, and Aryan reluctantly withdrew into a large armchair, listening in silence as everyone speculated about the intruders' origins and goals.
Central Asia was home to a vast array of powers, and the names and places were bewildering to Aryan. Slowly, his interest waned, and before he knew it, he had fallen back asleep. In his half-conscious state, the word "butcher" kept echoing in his ears. He thought to himself that whoever these "butchers" were, they were nothing to fear—after all, his father was a genuine general.
In truth, Gulen's title as a general wasn't as impressive as Aryan imagined. He had once served as a palace guard in the Western Kingdom, retiring with the honorary title of "Divine Military General." Though famous in the martial arts world for his family's legendary skills, his true military exploits were more symbolic than substantial.
Despite his lack of formal military experience, Gulen had trained his sons in their family's martial arts. Aryan's two older brothers were both skilled, while Aryan, the youngest, had yet to master anything. Aryan was a handsome and clever boy, but his one flaw was his lack of persistence. He would begin many things with enthusiasm, only to abandon them after a short while. As the youngest, he was spoiled by his family, which only encouraged his fickle nature.
Aryan was sent back to his room. When he awoke, instead of seeking out his sister as usual, he wandered the estate asking for details about the previous night's intruders.
The estate's guards, feeling triumphant about their victory, were disappointed only by the fact that no captives had been taken, and not a drop of blood had been spilled. Yet they eagerly recounted the event, exaggerating the danger to Aryan.
Listening to their accounts, Aryan grew more disappointed, blaming his bookboy, Halim, for not waking him in time.
Halim, who was of a similar age, was the only person in the household who dared to challenge Aryan. With a shrug, he replied, "Young master, you're the martial artist. You should have been alert, seeing and hearing everything. As a mere servant, I wouldn't have known if someone was being killed in their sleep. How could I wake you?"
Unable to counter his servant's reasoning, Aryan stormed off to his sister's room for comfort.
Unlike the guards' excitement, Gulen and Sabir were unusually serious throughout the day. Gulen was stricter than usual in overseeing the guards and had dispatched people to inquire about the situation. Clearly, he did not believe the incident was over.
A tense atmosphere settled over the estate.
By the time the excitement had worn off, Aryan had lost much of his interest in the intruders. He had full confidence in his father and brothers' martial skills. With other capable hands to assist, even an army would be no match for them. His role was simply to watch from the sidelines.
Moreover, Central Asia was not the same as it had been a decade ago. The power struggles of the past were now over. The three great powers—the Western Kingdom, Northern Court, and Xorazm—had reached a delicate balance, and over thirty small nations had been stabilized. Bandits were becoming increasingly rare, their presence now only a legend.
When Gulen had moved the family to Central Asia, he had done so after careful thought. "Central Asia is stable now," he had said. "This estate is like a hidden paradise."
Aryan believed his father's words without question. Thus, he had no worries. He spent his days chatting with his sister, idly wandering the estate, and playfully bickering with Halim. As night fell, his father sent him to bed, and he quickly drifted into sleep.
In the murky half-light of the night, Aryan felt someone pushing him awake. Irritated, he opened his eyes. "What's going on? Are the robbers back?"
Halim, equally sleepy, held a candle. "It's not robbers. It's your father."
Aryan reluctantly climbed out of bed and saw his father's thin figure standing in the doorway's shadow.
"Aryan, get dressed. You're escorting your sister."
"Is sister leaving already? I thought her husband's family hadn't sent anyone yet." Aryan was taken aback. The departure was still two months away, and he had made no preparations.
"Yes, it's been moved up. There have been some changes. We must leave now."
Aryan, too tired to think, nodded. With Halim's help, he dressed quickly, donned his cloak, and Gulen fastened a prepared bundle to his back, then tucked a short sword into his belt.
The family's martial arts relied on both swords and spears, though they were less adept with swords. This short sword had been specially made for Aryan. Its blade was narrow, just under two feet long, and weighed slightly over a pound.
The sword was usually kept by Gulen, and Aryan rarely had occasion to use it. This moment, however, filled him with excitement. The drowsiness disappeared as he eagerly reached for the sword to admire it, but Gulen gently held his hand down.
"You are a man of the Gulen family now. Use this to protect your sister and yourself—never for show."
"Yes, Father," Aryan replied solemnly, already envisioning himself fending off a horde of masked attackers with the blade.
Under the cover of night, Gulen led Aryan and Hafsa to the rear gate, where Sabir and two others waited. Gulen's lean frame appeared even more austere in the pale moonlight, a stark contrast to the boy's growing apprehension.
"Where are my brothers? Mother? Aren't you coming with us?" Aryan asked, glancing at the sparse party. Their meager provisions and quiet departure resembled a flight more than a wedding procession.
"You go ahead. We'll follow," Gulen replied curtly, urging the group to mount their horses.
Sabir's steely gaze silenced Aryan's questions as the small party set off into the desert under the watchful moon. Behind them, the manor faded into the shadows, and with it, the comforts of a life Aryan had taken for granted.