Yusuf arrived carrying a leather document case. Two attendants came with him, though he left them outside the tent entrance.
That alone told Batu this meeting would not follow the same course as the first one. The first time, Yusuf had arrived with nothing except the complaint he'd been carrying for weeks.
A document case meant preparation. Yusuf expected negotiation now, not discussion.
Batu sat and waited.
Yusuf was perhaps fifty, heavy through the shoulders and chest, with the kind of eyes Batu had seen on veteran negotiators before. The man watched reactions the way scouts watched terrain.
He placed the case on the table but did not open it.
"The flat toll is workable," Yusuf said. "I can accept that much. But a flat toll on a crossing I can only use when the crossing is safe doesn't solve my problem when the crossing stops being safe."
So that was the pressure point.
"What makes it unsafe?" Batu asked.
"Two things."
Yusuf rested one finger against the table.
"On the northern routes, where the rivers cut along the forest edge, the Rus collect their own tolls. Unofficial ones."
He paused long enough to make certain Batu followed the implication.
"A flat Jochid toll means I pay twice. And the Rus toll has no fixed limit."
Batu studied him. "You're paying Jochid tolls on crossings the Rus are also taxing."
"On the upper crossings, yes. The lower crossings are different. Your authority reaches cleanly into the steppe there."
That clarified part of the structure immediately.
The Jochid claim held strongest south and east of the main river systems. The northern routes curved close to the forest edge before turning toward the Bulgar cities. Authority weakened there. Rus influence pushed farther south.
A merchant carrying cargo between Bulgar territory and the steppe markets would pass through that unstable boundary twice on every northern circuit.
Which meant Yusuf's costs changed constantly depending on who held leverage at a given crossing.
"The second problem?" Batu asked.
Yusuf's expression barely shifted.
"Three of your sub-commanders on the western line have been collecting their own levies on cargo moving through their sectors."
So there it was.
"Different rates. Different goods. Nothing recorded."
He folded his hands loosely.
"I've paid all three because refusing would have cost more." A pause. "Other merchants have done the same."
Unauthorized taxation.
Three officers extracting revenue from Bulgar traffic without approval from the command quarter.
Batu felt the supply reports settle into place in his mind. The western-line records had shown irregular payment patterns for two seasons. He had assumed accounting inconsistencies. The numbers pointed instead to corruption.
He kept his face neutral.
"What do you want?"
"Guaranteed passage through every Jochid-controlled crossing. Written terms. Sealed authority. Protection against your sub-commanders and against local clan interference."
Reasonable so far.
"And in exchange?" Batu asked.
"I route all Bulgar commercial traffic exclusively through Jochid crossings. Every cargo falls under the percentage arrangement we discussed."
Yusuf leaned back slightly.
"Your toll becomes the only toll I pay inside Jochid territory."
Batu considered it.
The exclusivity mattered more than the flat toll itself. If Yusuf redirected his network entirely through Jochid-controlled crossings, every merchant tied to those routes would become dependent on Jochid infrastructure.
Revenue. Information. Cargo manifests. Trade patterns. Movement between Bulgar territory and the steppe.
Yusuf understood that leverage. That was why he had arrived with prepared documents instead of a simple agreement.
"The Rus issue on the upper crossings remains," Batu said. "You're asking for guarantees on routes I don't completely control."
"I'm asking you to guarantee the sections you do control," Yusuf replied. "And to hold the rate steady when Rus pressure increases. I'm not asking you to remove the Rus."
A practical distinction.
The upper crossings would eventually require a broader solution. No trade network could function efficiently while half the route remained unstable.
And a merchant network moving through those crossings would produce intelligence every season.
"What I can guarantee," Batu said, "is every Jochid-controlled crossing. The rate remains fixed for three years."
Yusuf listened without interrupting.
"The exclusivity agreement begins once the first sealed document is delivered. The unauthorized levies stop the moment I issue the order. If another officer attempts it, you report directly to me."
Yusuf considered that longer than Batu expected.
"Three years is short," he said finally.
"Three years is what I can guarantee in writing. After that, terms are renegotiated."
Silence settled between them.
Then Yusuf nodded once.
"Agreed."
Batu turned toward Orel, seated to the side with a writing board balanced across his knees.
"Draft the terms."
Then another problem surfaced.
"What seal are we using?"
Orel had anticipated it.
"The administrative records currently use the Karakorum central seal for formal agreements," he said carefully. "If the guarantee carries that seal, then the authority behind it is Karakorum's."
He chose his next words with visible caution.
"If it uses a separate mark, then the authority is yours."
Batu watched Yusuf during the exchange.
The merchant understood exactly what was being discussed. He did not comment.
"A separate mark," Batu said.
The answer came easily once he saw the implication. A separate seal meant administrative independence. Limited, but visible.
"I'll provide the design before the document is completed."
Orel made a note immediately.
Yusuf gathered the document case and rose to leave.
"The three sub-commanders," Batu said before he reached the entrance. "Give Orel their names."
Yusuf provided them without hesitation.
Of course he had prepared for that question.
After he left, and Orel went to draft the agreement, Batu walked the perimeter.
The morning had reached its middle hours. The training grounds sat mostly empty between rotations.
He followed the eastern arc of the camp, passing supply stacks and outer officer quarters where the Ulus guests had been lodged.
All three men were outside.
Batu slowed.
Suuqai's reports had tracked their routines since arrival. During the day they usually separated, each observing different parts of camp activity.
Seeing them together meant something had shifted.
They noticed him before he reached them. The eldest straightened first. The other two moved into position beside him.
Not random movement. Formation.
Senior speaker forward. The others bracketing his shoulders.
A prepared stance.
So the news about Mersek had reached them.
Batu stopped.
The senior man studied him.
"The camp runs well," he said.
Neither praise nor criticism. A measured acknowledgment.
"You've been here long enough to judge that," Batu replied.
A single nod.
Batu continued walking.
Three men outside their ger in a composed formation. Calm posture. Controlled tone.
They had heard about Mersek's removal and chosen restraint.
Which meant they already understood something about the camp. Discipline here was internal, enforced quietly, observed closely.
The Ulus headman would hear that assessment on return.
Batu completed the perimeter and reached the eastern horse lines.
Kirsa stood near the fodder distribution point with his two guards nearby.
But he wasn't watching the horses.
He was watching the northern treeline.
Batu stopped beside him.
"You're looking north."
"I know the upper river country," Kirsa said. "Before we moved west of the Ural, my father's line traveled through that territory."
His eyes stayed on the trees.
"The crossings where the forest edge meets the steppe."
A pause.
"I know which crossings survive the spring floods. I know which ones the Rus monitor."
Batu said nothing.
"Two families control the local clans around the upper crossings," Kirsa continued. "They've held that position since before my father's time."
That was already useful. Batu waited.
"They don't answer to the Rus," Kirsa said. "And they don't answer to the steppe. They follow whoever controls the crossing fees."
Influence tied to revenue rather than territory.
"How current is this?" Batu asked.
"Five years old on the details."
Kirsa finally looked away from the treeline.
"But structures like that don't change quickly. The families change. The system doesn't."
Batu turned back toward the command tent.
Upper river crossings. Rus pressure. Clan families controlling passage fees.
And now Kirsa offering information tied directly to Yusuf's problem less than an hour after it had been raised.
Batu reviewed the pattern as he walked.
Horse assessments. Rider intelligence. Merkid history.
Everything Kirsa had provided before had been fixed in the past. Existing conditions.
This was different.
The first time he had offered something with future use.
The timing was too precise to ignore.
Kirsa had been tracking movement inside the camp since arrival. Conversations. Priorities. Shifts in focus.
Which meant this was not accidental.
More importantly, it meant he understood the difference between being useful for what he knew and being useful for what he could help shape.
That changed the calculation.
The conversation Batu needed to have with him no longer belonged beside the horse lines.