"The Great Khan has spoken!"
The Keshig reined in his warhorse beneath the city walls. Iron hooves struck stone with a ringing clang as he lifted his head toward the commanders standing atop the battlements.
His voice cut cleanly through the twilight.
"One hour. Surrender, or the city will be put to the sword."
With that, the Keshig turned and rode away without a backward glance, utterly indifferent to how the Palatines might respond.
When others demanded surrender, they used the threat of massacre to force the enemy to yield.
But Jaghatai Khan was different.
This was not a threat; it was a notice.
Surrender, or annihilation. There was no third option.
If the Palatines surrendered, the Great Khan guaranteed the safety of the entire city. His army would not even enter its gates.
But if they resisted, even for a single minute, and then surrendered, the city would still be destroyed.
Jaghatai Khan had no time to waste. He had to unify Chogoris in the shortest time possible.
Only by making it clear that his word was absolute would others fear him, rather than cling to futile, desperate resistance.
Since the steppe army had plunged deep into the territory of the Palatine Empire, this was already the fifteenth city they were about to attack.
Of the previous fourteen cities, ten had been completely annihilated.
Yet Jaghatai Khan did not slaughter indiscriminately.
He would always select a few "fortunate" survivors to witness the destruction in full and carry word back to the Palatine Empire, otherwise, how would the world know that he truly meant what he said?
The four cities that surrendered were treated just as promised. Their safety was guaranteed. The steppe cavalry did not loot, did not occupy, and did not even station troops within their walls.
Because Jaghatai Khan had no troops to spare.
He commanded only tens of thousands of riders.
Leaving garrisons behind in every city would have stretched his strength to the breaking point, so those cities remained under their original noble rulers.
Jaghatai Khan wanted everyone to understand one thing:
His word was rule, his rule was law.
Submit, and wealth and status remained unchanged. Resist, and the extermination of one's entire bloodline would be considered leniency.
The steppe army had been away from the grasslands for far too long to rely on their traditional supply lines.
Thus, logistics now came from the surrendered cities. Even though Jaghatai Khan had conscripted many able-bodied men as auxiliary troops, any city that might consider rebellion simply lacked the manpower to raise an army.
Still, rebellion was possible because they had no loyalty.
But Jaghatai Khan did not need their loyalty.
He was a foreign conqueror. What loyalty would Palatine nobles have toward him?
As long as he kept winning, they would not dare betray him.
And would he ever lose?
The cities that refused to surrender had already answered that question.
Jaghatai Khan's massacres were pure. They were not conducted for plunder.
He razed entire cities to the ground, erasing them completely from the map.
....
On the city walls, the defenders were in chaos.
"Count Becker, we must surrender!" a knight begged desperately. "The steppe warriors really will slaughter the city! We have only two thousand men; how can we withstand tens of thousands?"
"Surrender, and you will still be a count!"
Count Becker's eyes burned red as he stared at him.
"Spreading panic, undermining morale, death!"
He raised his sword and charged, but the knight did not panic at all.
Because even as the count surged forward in rage, several knights suddenly attacked from behind, locking down his arms and throat.
"Release me!" Count Becker roared, veins bulging. "Traitors! Are you rebelling?!"
The knight slowly removed his helmet, revealing his face.
"Count, don't you understand yet? We are not rebelling. You are the one blinded by stubbornness, condemning the entire city to die with you."
Becker howled, "Alexei! What are you doing?! You are my eldest son, not my legitimate heir! Even if you kill me, you won't inherit my title! You bastard born of a whore, I should have strangled you at birth!"
Alexei's expression remained cold, his eyes utterly unmoved.
He drew his sword.
A flash of steel, and the blade pierced Count Becker's heart with surgical precision.
"Father," Alexei said calmly, "you didn't strangle me. But your wife strangled my mother."
Becker looked down at the sword protruding from his chest, disbelief frozen on his face.
His lips trembled as if to speak, but only torrents of blood spilled out.
"Count Becker," a knight stepped forward, "the steppe deadline is nearly up."
Alexei sheathed his sword.
"Take his head. I will present it to the Great Khan personally. Arrest all members of House Becker; none are to escape. Especially my dear mother and dear younger brother."
"Yes, Count."
Before the final deadline expired, Alexei walked alone out of the city gates, carrying a wooden box containing the former count's head.
The shadow of the Keshig cavalry rolled forward like a black storm, and in an instant, they stood before the city.
Alexei looked up, and his pupils shrank violently.
Upon the saddle sat a giant.
A four-meter-tall figure whose shadow swallowed him whole.
"Great Khan!" Alexei dropped to his knees. "Count Becker refused reason. This is his head. We surrender!"
Jaghatai Khan looked down at the kneeling young noble.
"What is your name?"
"Alexei Becker. I am the count's eldest son, but my mother was only a maid, so-"
Jaghatai Khan raised a hand, cutting him off.
"I have no interest in your family grievances. From this moment onward, you are Count Becker. I don't care how you rule this city. I require only grain and manpower, on time."
"Yes, Great Khan."
Alexei pressed his forehead to the ground, humble as a dog crawling before its master.
His father's blood was still warm between his fingers, yet in his heart burned an even fiercer ambition.
Compared to a title, what was a father worth?
Everyone dies eventually. His death had contributed more than his entire lifetime ever did.
"Isn't this efficient?" Jaghatai Khan asked, turning to the mortal beside him.
"Efficient," the man next to the Khan replied. "The Imperium does the same."
'The Imperium? The Palatine Empire? When did we... no, they ever do that?' Alexei was utterly confused.
"This proves we truly are father and son."
"Indeed."
Though the Imperium's technology exceeded Chogoris's by a large margin, what they did was not so different.
Lost human civilizations either joined the Imperium, wealth and privilege guaranteed, or were utterly destroyed, their ashes scattered to the void. There was no middle path.
Those who surrendered and later rebelled, or resisted before surrendering, were met with brutal purges.
Regardless of how they submitted, all worlds paid the tithe to support the Great Crusade.
Thus, Jaghatai Khan's unification of Chogoris was simply the Great Crusade, infant edition.
On average, the steppe cavalry conquered a city every three days.
Within mere months, over a hundred cities had submitted or been erased, but Jaghatai Khan still felt it was too slow.
His brother had already unified Barbarus and joined his Legion.
The Emperor had already set out.
Before long, the Emperor would arrive in Chogoris.
If Jaghatai Khan had not unified the world by then, he would consider it a disgrace.
Caelan spoke gently. "You need not be so fixated. This does not prove anything."
"That is no excuse for incompetence," Jaghatai Khan replied sharply.
Caelan was right, this was merely a small matter.
But Jaghatai Khan's pride and honor would not allow him to lag behind.
Not even behind his brothers, especially not them.
If it were Caelan, the Emperor, or even Malcador, he would never compete.
One was his teacher. One was his father.
They had given everything to humanity, any honor they received was well deserved.
But his brothers were Primarchs like himself.
Jaghatai Khan was less childish than some, but his competitive spirit burned fiercely.
If he lost from the very beginning, how could he stand beside them?
He stared at the burning city ahead.
Mortarion could unify the poison-choked world of Barbarus before the Emperor's arrival.
Was he to fail on a feudal world like Chogoris?
Unifying Chogoris proved nothing, but failing to do so proved everything.
Caelan watched him, torn between amusement and helplessness.
"If the Emperor arrives early," he muttered, "Jaghatai Khan will hate him for life."
Mortarion had untangled himself, only for Jaghatai Khan to become tangled instead.
Perhaps 'tangled' never disappears. It merely transfers.
Or perhaps being tangled was the essence of Primarchs.
After all, the Emperor himself was tangled, and his sons inherited fragments of his nature.
Not dominant traits, perhaps, but they were there.
Looking back through Imperial history, that entire family was tangled beyond salvation.
They were simply tangled in different ways.
Suddenly, Caelan's expression stiffened. His mouth twitched as though struck by a pain he could not name.
"You're hurt?" Jaghatai Khan pulled his horse to a halt, concern flashing beneath his stern gaze.
"No." Caelan shook his head slowly, eyes dark with realization. "I've just realized… I'm one of the tangled ones too."
The Emperor was father to the Primarchs, but wasn't he, in a way, as well?
He had once obsessively corrected how others addressed the Primarchs.
Now, with Mortarion, he couldn't even be bothered.
Was that not tangled thinking?
"Tangled…" Jaghatai Khan murmured, fingers unconsciously rubbing the reins.
Unlike some of his brothers, he reflected on himself.
Caelan had pointed out his flaws without mercy. Jaghatai Khan wouldn't claim he'd fixed them, but he recognized them, and tried.
'Tangled' was a word Caelan first used to describe another brother.
One yet to return, or perhaps not yet 'born.'
That brother, Caelan said, was the most tangled of all.
Caelan never lied.
So where was he tangled?
"Teacher," Jaghatai Khan asked softly, "do I pursue honor too much?"
Caelan thought for a moment.
"Seeking honor isn't wrong. It's part of human nature."
"In any era, those with honor gain resources and support. In primitive societies, 'heroes' had more mates and descendants, people sought superior genes, while weaker lines faded."
"Astartes don't reproduce, but they are still human. Without biological legacy, other desires become stronger."
"Honor fulfills them all, recognition, status, purpose."
"It can even drive one to sacrifice personal gain for the collective."
"This kind of honor, centered on the whole, is civilization's highest ideal."
"But everything is a double-edged sword. Cross a certain threshold, and honor becomes a shackle."
Jaghatai Khan asked earnestly, "Then how do I keep it from decaying?"
"That depends on why you seek honor."
He was silent for a long time.
"What should I anchor it to?"
Caelan answered, "Honor must be anchored, to race, civilization, homeland, loyalty, the Emperor. If honor is anchored only to itself, it becomes an illusion. Corruption is inevitable."
The Horus Heresy began with corruption, but it spread because of honor.
They believed not that they betrayed the Imperium, but that the Imperium betrayed their honor.
The reason Terra-born warriors in all Legions were mostly Loyalists was because they all came from Terra itself. They were educated by the Emperor, not by the Primarchs.
The Emperor's education was to teach them that the Great Crusade was fought for the revival of human civilization.
This was their original purpose in pursuing honor.
Moreover, many of these warriors were veterans of the Unification Wars of Terra.
They knew very well what the Emperor was doing. The revival of human civilization that He spoke of was by no means an illusion.
For the Astartes who came from the Primarchs' homeworlds, however, the pursuit of honor was more about gaining their father's recognition.
Their attachment to the collective cause of humanity's revival was minimal.
Thus, although both pursued honor, their motives were entirely different.
In the eyes of the Custodes, it was precisely the Astartes' pathological obsession with honor that triggered the Horus Heresy. This was not a baseless speculation.
Honor kept the Astartes loyal, yet it also led them into betrayal.
Many Chapters in the 41st millennium became corrupted because, over ten thousand years, they gradually pursued honor for the sake of honor itself.
Many Chapters no longer remembered the original purpose behind their founding. The Iron Hands were the most glaring example.
This is like certain extremist sects who forget the teachings about kindness and virtue, and only remember the prohibition.
One could even argue the Emperor failed to educate the Primarchs, and the Primarchs failed the Astartes, leading to near extinction of human civilization.
So, education mattered.
The Emperor built the Imperium, but Caelan's role in shaping the Primarchs and Legions was indispensable.
"I understand," Jaghatai Khan bowed slightly. "Every path has a red line. Balance is necessary."
Of all Caelan's teachings, balance was his favorite.
Balance might not be perfect, but it is rarely wrong.
Caelan smiled faintly, pride glimmering in his eyes.
Jaghatai Khan saw him as a mentor, not a father, and that was enough.
Growth mattered more than empty titles.
If Caelan taught merely to be called 'father,' he'd be a hypocrite.
Such a man had no right to teach the Primarchs.
Better to go home and sleep, less harm to the Imperium that way.
"Great Khan!" Qin Xia galloped up. "They refuse to surrender."
"Then burn the city," Jaghatai Khan replied coldly.
Dozens of stubborn city-states had already been reduced to ash, and captured nobles had pleaded reason.
He had not encountered refusal in a long time.
The Keshig halted a thousand meters out, silent as a black tide, watching as their Khan rode alone toward the doomed city.
"Fire! Shoot!" the defenders screamed.
Gunshots thundered. Arrows filled the sky.
But the Khan's great blade became a whirling tempest, every projectile shattered before it.
Moments later, he stood before the gate.
He leapt down, drew back his fist, and struck.
BOOM.
The oak gate exploded like paper.
Through splintered wood and dust emerged a four-meter-tall giant, whose shadow drowned the wall in deathly silence.
In that instant, morale collapsed.
"We surrender! We surrender!"
Helmets and blades clattered as soldiers fell to their knees.
But the thunder of hooves had already reached the gate.
Too late.
"You don't get to surrender only when you're losing."
Jaghatai Khan kept his word.
He said he would raze the city, and so he did.
.....
15 chapter ahead in [email protected]/DaoistJinzu