As the half-crescent moon began to sink beneath the endless expanse of the Sumerû plains' horizon, a murky haze concealed the banks of the tributary Angiin from the unobservant eye.
A mild, cold breeze swept over the vast grasslands, swaying the petals southward and rudely disrupting the resting dewdrops. Birds, anticipating the dawn, chirped occasionally, perhaps startled by mysterious, reverberating howls.
The tributary Angiin, indifferent to the whims of the winds, flowed unperturbed. Its waters shone silver through the shadowy haze, casting a serene atmosphere over the surroundings.
Suddenly, a low snort from a majestic and tall dark horse disturbed the quiet. Some distance away, tied to a thick tree by the river, two large horses leisurely chewed grass in contentment.
With a slight grunt, the other horse, which was just as impressive with strong muscles, brown skin, and its exceptionally long tail, raised its head and shook it vigorously, trying to dislodge a fly from its eyelids. The fly buzzed away immediately, but the horse seemed unconcerned.
The horse then looked ahead at two human silhouettes in the distance quietly sitting at the riverbank beside each other. An inquisitive look flickered in its eyes, after a moment, it shrugged and pulled a long face, appearing disinterested.
Shaking its head in a human-like manner, the horse gazed at the distant figures, as though it had seen this scene countless times but still did not understand its significance.
The black horse raised its head as well, appearing momentarily lost. Glancing at its companion, it snickered mockingly with a negh before lowering its head again to continue eating the green grass.
The brown horse stomped its feet, seemingly frustrated with its companion's earlier actions. It then lowered its head, ignoring the two humans in the distance as well.
In the quiet hours of the morning, two horses engaged in what seemed to be an ordinary interaction. However, to an outsider from the South or the West, this seemingly mundane exchange would have been nothing short of astonishing. The horses displayed remarkable intelligence and poise, far surpassing that of typical wild horses. However, a knowledgeable noble or an experienced warrior would perhaps salivate out of desire for such a high-quality steed even for the Altansar breed–which already was considered one of the best breeds of horses.
Unfortunately for them, an average commoner beyond the vast plains of Sumerai would never have the opportunity to lay his eyes upon such magnificent creatures of nature.
For the nomadic tribes of the Desolate Sumerai Plains, horses were as valuable as gold if not more. And those of the Altansar breed were even more so. It was said that for a nomad, one's horse was his first true friend. Although good-quality horses were abundant in the Sumerai Plains, even a nomad belonging to the plains would envy a man possessing such a high breed Altansar.
This would undoubtedly raise questions as to who the two great persons at the riverbank are, being able to possess such magnificent beasts, especially considering that one was a woman and the other was but a mere teenage child. Of course, no one was present at such an early hour to question this oddity.
As the two horses leisurely continued their usual shinanagence very nonchalantly, the faint murmur of voices drifted over from the riverbank, blending with the soft rustle of the wind and the whispering waters of the tributary Angiin.
The woman, dressed in layered woolen garments and a fur-lined cloak, sat cross-legged beside her son. Her attire, practical and worn from usage, consisted of a tunic and trousers made of sturdy fabric, designed to withstand the rigors of the plains. The boy mirrored her posture, his simple but durable clothing showing signs of wear from their nomadic lifestyle. His eyes were closed in concentration.
As the mother and son sat together at the riverbank amid a mystic-esque mist, a figure lay against a nearby tree, eyes vigilant. This was Torgana, the woman's personal aide and guard.
Both the mistress as well as her subordinate were women. Considering the time and setting, this might as well be the start of some heroic novel prevalent westwards, but in reality, both women couldn't be more different from each other. In fact, the first reaction of most people after seeing the woman leaning against a tree would be to run away immediately as they would probably be pissing their pants out of fear.
As the woman sat at the riverbank with her son, she resembled a river goddess descended from the heavens. Her skin was as fair as the moon above, her eyes bright like celestial stars, and her long, silky hair flowed gracefully like the river Anjiin. With a slim, elegant figure and features that seemed chiseled by the gods, she exuded a royal grace that would shame even the most pampered noble ladies of the civilized world. Her serene beauty stood in stark contrast to the rough and cruel Sumerû plains.
Her aide, on the other hand, was a stark contrast. At least twice her size, she had the physique of a beast, even larger than the burly men of the plains. Battle-hardened, with callused hands and a scarred face, she exuded a thick killing intent. Her stern, narrow eyes cut through the veil of darkness like cold daggers.
Any man seeing such a woman for the first time would be stunned into silence. When they finally found their voice, their first words would certainly be, "How is this a woman? She's clearly a yaksha!"
Keeping her appearance aside, Torgana was certainly a strong and reliable bodyguard. Both the mother and son were fully relaxed with her around, trusting her to guard them.
The most notable thing was even the horses in the distance seemed curious about what the mother and son were doing at the riverside so early in the morning. However, Torgana looked like she couldn't care less. Her entire focus was on surveying the surroundings for any potential threats. In this way, she truly was like a beast.
The mother and son at the riverbank seemed unconcerned by the existence of their guard, or the horses, or the birds, or the world around them for that matter. The boy, with his eyes closed, was solely focused on his breathing, which was anything but controlled. Sometimes, it would be as rushed as the flow of a river or the rhythm of a galloping horse. At other times, it would be silent as a water stream, but then suddenly, it would be as chaotic as a waterfall.
Suddenly, a mournful howl echoed from the distance beyond the shrubs of the Angiin River. The two horses raised their heads and snorted as they eyed beyond the river cautiously. Torgana narrowed her eyes as she gripped her sword and glanced at her mistress for instructions patiently and calmly.
Lady Naran opened her eyes and first looked at her son beside her. Seeing that he was still focused and unperturbed, her eyes flashed momentarily but then dimmed. As she looked at her son with complicated emotions, the mournful howl once again reverberated from the distance, this time a bit louder as well as frantic.
Lady Naran sighed as the complications from her gaze disappeared, only to be replaced by coldness and decisiveness. Once again, assuming her calm and cold elegance exterior, she simply glanced at Torgana and turned to look at her son Noyan, who was still lost in concentration. Her clear eyes reflected her son's noble image in the moonlight. At the same time, it also reflected the image of that man who she could only sigh in resignation thinking about.
Noyan's hair was white and long, his eyes were bright red and sharp, resembling his mother's heritage, and his face was handsome as well as noble, very unlike the one commonly seen in the Sumerû plains. For his age, his muscles were well-toned. However, his body still lacked the build and stature that was common for a "barbarian" child.
It was quite evident in the first look that both the mother and son did not completely belong to the Sumerû plains. But no doubt in spirit, they were both no less than any Nomad of the Vast Plains.
As Noyan's image was mirrored in Lady Naran's clear mirror-like eyes, her complex gaze towards him seemed to be hiding many stories and laments of her life.
Unknowingly, in her daze, Noyan had already opened his eyes and was silently looking at his mother with an inquisitive look. This was the first time he had seen something other than coldness and calm in his mother's gaze. It was confusing, profound, and difficult to understand. Alas, it only lasted for a moment as Lady Naran was jolted out of her daze by a sudden chilly morning breeze as well as the howl that seemed to be coming from ever closer than before.
Seeing the calculative coldness return to his mother's sharp gaze, Noyan shivered unknowingly and lowered his gaze. Lady Naran had regained her calm as if nothing had happened. She turned from her son and looked beyond the Angiin River at the slowly receding mist.
"In the Aurethian Martial Arts practice, control over one's breathing is believed to be essential. Do you know why that is?" Lady Naran spoke suddenly, her gaze still lingering beyond the river. However, her voice brimming with sternness.
"It's beca-" Noyan spoke up nervously, but just as he was going to answer, the distant howl once again echoed from beyond the river. Furrowing his brows, Noyan turned towards the river in concern, momentarily forgetting what he was saying. Just as a strange silence ensued in the vicinity, Noyan suddenly shivered. Slowly turning his head, he looked at his mother whose expression was cold as ice. Lowering his head in fear, Noyan exclaimed flusteredly, "Forgive me!"
The sudden silence was unbearable as Noyan could only feel his mother's icy gaze bearing into him like daggers. Noyan, who feared no one, not the eternal starry sky, not the wild beasts, and not even his father who was feared by thousands – was now truly afraid to the point of trembling.
In the whole wide world, Noyan only feared and respected one person, and that person was none other than his mother. He couldn't understand her at times, she seemed so distant from him and sometimes even repulsed by him but nonetheless, Noyan always obeyed her every word to the last detail. She held a special yet complicated place in his heart. It was because Lady Naran of the Ulaan Tribe was no ordinary woman. She was the famed pearl in the harem of Batuul Uraan of the Uraan Tribe, She was called by other Nomads as "The Mirage of Gabi"
Naran Ulaan's reputation was not unfounded, and no other person other than her own son would fully realize this fact and that is exactly why Noyan respected as well as feared his mother. He respected her because she was strong among men, yet he feared her for her ruthlessness and coldness to which not ever her own children were exempt.
"Answer the question!" Lady Naran said calmly without the slightest hint of anger in her voice, and yet, Noyan shivered as the last time he had made his mother angry, it did not go pleasantly for him. He did not wish to recite those classics hundreds of times again.
Taking deep breaths, Noyan quickly calmed his mind and thoughtfully answered, "Breathing means inhaling life into our body itself. Without breathing no man or woman can survive, therefore, by gaining control of our breathing, we can set the foundation for taking control of our life forces."
"Hm, the world has known this for a long time, but then, why do you suppose there are so few martial experts? Even in our Ulaan Tribe they could be counted on two hands." Lady Naran asked monotonously.
Lady Naran's stern gaze held Noyan in place, awaiting his answer. But before he could respond, another distant howl echoed across the plains. Unlike before, this one was slightly more desperate, a note of pain hidden within it.
Noyan's attention momentarily flicked towards the sound, but he quickly caught himself and refocused on his mother, knowing that any distraction would not be tolerated. Yet, even as he steadied his breath to respond, Torgana's mind had already started analyzing the situation.
The sound was distinct—a predator, likely injured, moving steadily but with strain. She gauged the distance and direction, calculating that the beast was still about fifteen minutes away. Though far, its pace suggested a need for water, meaning it would likely reach the river soon. The open plains carried the sound well, but there was no indication it was an immediate threat. Still, her instincts remained sharp. Her grip on her sword tightened slightly, though her outward demeanor remained as calm as ever, prepared for any potential danger.
As Torgana surveyed the area, her sharp eyes briefly flickered to her masters by the riverbank. Their unshaken composure in the face of the approaching threat puzzled her, even if only for a fleeting moment. It was strange how they seemed so at ease, as though the howl was nothing more than a distant murmur. She quickly dismissed the thought, refocusing her attention on the plains, yet the subtle confusion lingered in the back of her mind.