Batu stood in the marketplace, dressed in simple clothing, working humbly in an arsenal stall. He sold weapons to those in need, but more than that, he listened—listened to the murmurs of the people, their complaints, their daily struggles. No one could tell he was the Great Khan. Among the crowd, he was just another man.
Across the street, his mother Amala Yara's small tavern bustled with life. It was known for its fine liquors and quiet hospitality. Inside, Sage Liu sat near the window, watching Batu closely. His eyes narrowed in admiration as he observed the Khan lowering himself to the people's level, understanding their hardships firsthand.
He turned to Amala and said, "Your son is extraordinary. No king I've known has ever walked so low for his people."
Amala smiled modestly, but before she could speak, Pema interjected, "No, Sage Liu, you're mistaken. Batu does this not just for his people... he does it for the princess."
The sage, now quite close to the family, chuckled and said, "Then allow me to ask him myself."
He approached Batu and asked, "Why do you sell weapons?"
Batu smiled warmly. "Sage Liu, as Khagan, I do it to hear my people's problems firsthand. That way, I know where to extend aid. As a warrior, I sell to learn whose hands my weapons end up in. And as a common man, I sell... for the money."
The sage laughed in surprise. "I didn't expect such an answer."
Batu shrugged. "Everyone loves money. Better to earn it from one's own sweat—and I am no different."
As the days passed, Sage Liu's visit came to an end. Batu's family gathered to bid him farewell.
"I shall return when the child is ready for studies," Sage Liu promised. "Amala, Pema... thank you for making me feel more than at home."
"The pleasure is mine," Amala replied graciously.
He looked around at the modest cluster of yurts. "What you have here... it's rare, even among royalty. A true family."
Turning to Batu, he added, "Next time I come, I hope we can call each other friends. You are more than worthy of it."
He mounted his horse and rode off slowly. At the edge of Evergreen Mountain, he stopped to admire the view once more. "Your Majesty," he said to Amala, "you have a beautiful place. And a remarkable family."
Amala smiled. "I get that a lot."
---
In the days that followed, Amala prepared a small celebration in honor of her newborn granddaughter. As tradition dictated, it was customary to present a child to the community after the naming ceremony. Close family members were invited.
When word reached Enkmaa, she sighed. "I waited for you in the capital... but it seems you are not returning soon. So be it. You've left me no choice."
At dawn, she prepared herself—not in mourning, but in the ceremonial bone-armored robes of her ancestors. Her warrior's cloak flowed behind her, the howls of the Wolfborn Horde echoing in her heart.
As she stepped from her yurt, all who saw her bowed. Khaltma emerged from her own, but the moment she saw Enkmaa's outfit, she turned right back inside. Even the queen, who had no intention of attending, rushed to get dressed. She couldn't risk letting anything "spicy" pass her by. Bolorma, still bitter since Khishigjargal's wedding, didn't bother to come.
Enkmaa climbed into the carriage and saw the queen and Soyolma already inside.
She turned to Soyolma and said calmly, "I hope today you won't do that cheap dancing again."
Soyolma blinked, speechless.
Enkmaa continued, "It's for your own good."
Without waiting for a reply, she dismounted and climbed onto her horse. The carriage fell into silence for the entire ride to Evergreen Mountain.
By the time they arrived, neighbors had already gathered around Amala's compound. The moment Enkmaa appeared, silence swept through the crowd like a disease outbreak. The sight of her ceremonial robe whispered danger: Wolfborn Horde.
The Queen Mother, upon seeing her outfit, hurried to Batu. "Your wife... she might be returning to her tribe. She's in armor. A warrior's cloak!"
Fear gripped Batu's chest, but he steadied himself and walked out to meet her.
He found her standing amid the crowd, unmoving, silent, like a soldier on duty.
"You look beautiful today," he said with a half-smile—half happy, half worried.
Before she could respond, the Queen grabbed his hand and led him to the front of the gathering. The ceremony was about to begin.
Pema stepped forward, carrying the newborn child. A hush fell across the crowd.
The Great Khan stood tall, his frame powerful yet softened as he looked at his daughter.
Pema bowed low and said, "May the Vast Sky bless the House of the Khagan. A daughter was born—strong-lunged and with eyes like the morning star."
The crowd buzzed in mixed murmurs—some pleased, others cautious. A male heir was expected. Yet Batu did not flinch.
He took the child and raised her toward the circular sky-hole of the yurt, where sunlight streamed in.
"In the name of the Tenger and the will of the ancestors," he declared, "she is named Orghana Naimanzunnadintsetseg—the Seventh Lotus of our lineage. May her name echo through the steppes!"
The crowd bowed. Women clutched their hearts.
Tomor whispered to Chulun, "Our sisters always get the fancy names."
Chulun chuckled. "Because they carry more than beauty, Tomor. They carry legacy."
As music played, General Orlok called Chulun forward.
"Young prince," he said, "today we celebrate your sister, but your day is coming. I have seen how you ride and lead. The spirit of the lion is in you."
Chulun bowed. "Your words honor me, General."
The Khan placed the baby into her mother's arms, and the Queen Mother said, "This child will be raised in the ways of our ancestors—but also with the wisdom of distant lands. She shall learn from mountain monks, Silk Road poets, and warriors of her blood. Let it be known: the noble bloodline has begun."
Suddenly, little Gan tugged his mother's sleeve.
"Mother... will she be stronger than me?"
She laughed. "She already is. Born in the hour of the White Hawk, under the shadow of prophecy."
Gan frowned. "I'm not happy about it."
Everyone laughed. Tomor teased, "Gan, be glad you're the youngest. If you were my age, you'd be walking home."
Laughter returned to the compound. Drinks flowed, songs rose, and elders whispered tales of prophecy beneath the vast, glowing sky.
Then the wind stirred, as if carrying ancient words:
"…the noble bloodline shall reach her mightiest…"
Enkmaa walked toward the Great Khan—not as a wife pleading for affection, but as the daughter of the Wolfborn Horde. Before the gathered court, she laid down her marriage seal, her royal hairpin, and—perhaps most shocking of all—the breast wrap she once used to nurse Baigalma's son.
Then, with a voice steady and unshaken, she declared:
"I married a dreamer and built his empire—only to be forgotten when the dream came true. I have no tears left, only pride. Today, I return to my people. Let history remember: I was not left behind. I walked
away.
Then she turns and walks towards her horse and rode it towards the capital and not even the him dares to stop her.