2 Chapter 2: Journey to the West
Bu Jing shook the reins in his hand for a bit as he steered the horse he was riding forward. To the east of the Red waste, the morning sun was steadily rising. It hung high at the top of the endless dunes, exuding its might to dispel the chill of night. Scorching heatwaves washed over the barren wasteland.
Except for the Qartheen, who built their city on the coast near the bone mountains, no other civilization on their right mind were willing to step foot into that barren place.
That, of course, excluded Bu Jing and his convoy of thirty cavalry warriors, who wore a mixture of scale and lamellae armor with cotton shirts under their armor, were riding warhorses. There were also forty commoners and five eunuchs, who served as servants. Right behind Bu Jing were ten horses pulling carriages with Yi-Tish goods such as silk, saffron, and other spices.
Bu Jing frowned as he looked forward at the winding dunes. He flipped the hood on his linen robe over. His black hair draped over his shoulders. His young, supple face was plastered with dust.
His brown eyes contracted, making them look harsh as he rode. They were in the Red Wast, a world filled with sand and dust. The land has low hills, barren windswept plains, and dry rivers. Life is sparse in its red parched soil, stone, sand, and red clay. There is little forage, and water is found in shallow pools, bitter and stagnant. Wood is also hard to find, with the best being gnarled and tough. It was a wasteland that stayed true to its name.
Once the city of Qarth was but a tributary of Yi-Ti many centuries ago, at the time Jar Han was the God-Emperor of the Golden Empire of Yi Ti and the eight member of the sea-green emperors. Under his rule, the Golden Empire reached the apex of its power that had began under the rule of his father, Jar Har and then his elder brother, Jar Joq. Jar Han exacted tribute from Qarth, Old Ghis, and Asshai.
A city of merchants and heretical warlocks. Qarth has become wealthy due to its control of the Jade Gates. Because of its location, Qarth is seen as a gateway of commerce and culture between the east and west, and the north and south.
Qarth claims to be the birthplace of civilization, although scholars of the empire are skeptical and doubtful as Qarth has no written records beyond the long night. It is the sole surviving city-state established by the Qaathi people, who rose in the grasslands of central Essos—known today as the Dothraki sea—and founded city-states as they moved southeast following defeat in wars against the Sarnori.
The new lands of the Qaathi turned into the red waste, however, and their civilization declined. During the Century of Blood, the Dothraki pushed into the red waste and destroyed the remaining Qaathi cities, leaving Qarth as the sole surviving Qaathi city. The ruins of Vaes Orvik, Vaes Qosar, and Vaes Shirosi still stand today.
The western lands beyond the Empire of Yi-Ti turning into a wasteland is the reason why the empires border remained where it is. On the map, the border of the Empire remained at the Bone mountain Range right next to the Red waste. Even criminals and escaped slaves from the Empire's western provinces, who were at their wit's end, would not go to such a place.
'This is pathetic.' Bu Jing shook his head as he thought, 'I actually ended up in a wasteland like this.
If it had not been for the fact that he had run out of options, he would not have stepped into the barren wasteland in the first place. Furthermore, it was still summer. The sun was like a bakery oven. Even the morning sun was capable of heating the entire desert to 130 degrees Fahrenheit. Bu Jing looked up at the sky. The sun above the dunes continued to rise.
During the summer seasons in the barren desert, noon temperatures could reach 160 degrees Fahrenheit, which was a temperature no one could withstand.
'It is so hot!' He gulped a mouthful of sticky saliva and adjusted the breathable linen hood. His frown turned even more serious as he moved.
He hastened the horse before turning around to the Convoy behind him and shouting, "Move it, people! Hurry up. If you don't want to end up being toasted under the sun at noon, we need to set up camp to rest before noon!"
"Yes, Your Heavenly Highness."
Sluggish responses were heard. The servants pushed the carriages, making them go faster. They were traveling on foot, some on mules. With ten carriages full of supplies and goods, the convoy's speed was abhorrent. The wheels of the carriages, which were crafted using hardwood and nails, were better suited to roads on the flatlands of the Golden Empire of Yi-Ti. The wheels dredged through the soft sands, causing even the stout horses to neigh in exhaustion. Every step they took was difficult because the wheels kept getting stuck in the sand, requiring the servants to push the wheels to be able to move even slightly faster.
Bu Jing understood their predicament. He sighed seeing the convoy behind him move. 'This is awful'. Bu Jing frowned.
"Your Highness." Wang Lun, the captain of the warriors riding behind him, rode up to Bu Jing's side. That middle-aged man, who was usually steadfast, looked rather worried as he said, "Pardon my rudeness, but we'd really like to know how long it will take before we reach the City of Qarth."
"How long?" Bu Jing looked calm and kept his eyes on the winding, endless dunes ahead. He gritted his teeth before saying, "I have no idea, the map called this route the sand road but all i see is sand and no road."
"Well..." Wang Lun looked even more worried after hearing the answer. That was apparently not what he had hoped to hear. The corner of Bu Jing's mouth rose slightly. However, there was hardly any emotion seen on his calm face as he plainly said, "According to the calculations, we've been traveling for nearly a month. If the map and route are correct, we'll reach our destination soon enough."
"We'll reach soon enough?" Wang Lun gulped, feeling his throat hurt from being so parched. They had been marching through the waste for nine days. Everyone had reached their physical and psychological limits. They had had enough.
That was especially so regarding the storage of fresh water. Today, it had hit the red line. Seventy-five people, forty horses, and six mules needed their thirst quenched.
That was one of the reasons why Wang Lun was so anxious. He and the 30 warriors he commanded, who all served as escorts, were promissed glory and riches when they decided to follow Bu Jing. They did not want to die at this wasteland far from home.
The sooner they reached the city of Qarth, the sooner they would leave the dreaded waste behind and enjoy the city's hospitality. He sat upright as he rode, gazing at the faraway dune. He encouraged both the servants and knights behind him. "Keep it up, people! We can take a break at that dune at the horizon before us!"
"Hurray!" The servants and warriors cheered in a high-spirited manner.
The Dothraki are a race of nomadic horse-mounted warriors in Essos, the continent to the east of Westeros across the Narrow Sea. They inhabit the vast central plains of Essos, known as the Dothraki Sea. Their bond with horses is such that Dothraki are said to be born, fight, and die in the saddle. Their eastern cousins, the Jogos Nhai are a nomadic people who live in yurts, tents, and saddles. They are a proud, warlike race who prize freedom above all and are never content to remain in once place for long.
Besides their custom of skull modification, the Jogos Nhai shave their heads but for a single strip of hair down the center of the skull, while women go wholly bald and are said to scrape all the hair even from their pubic area. Unlike the Dothraki khalasars, Jogos Nhai bands do not make war upon one another, as their gods forbid them to shed the blood of their own people. Young men do ride out to steal goats, zorses, and dogs from other bands, while girls go forth to abduct husbands, but these are rituals allowed by the gods, during which no blood may be shed. However, the Jogos Nhai do live in a perpetual state of warfare against all their neighboring peoples.
Legend claims the Jogos Nhai, led by their jhattar - the jhat of jhats and war leader of all their people - Gharak Squint-Eye, slew the last of the Jhogwin at the Battle in the Howling Hills.
The Jogos Nhai carried out constant attacks upon N'Ghai, reducing the once proud kingdom to a single city, Nefer, and its hinterlands.
Prior to the Dry Times, the Jogos Nhai were also involved in a bloody border war with the Patrimony of Hyrkoon that saw the zorse-riders poisoning rivers and wells, burning down towns and cities, and carrying off thousand Hyyrkoon into slavery. The Hyrkoon, for their part, sacrificed tens of thousands of Jogos Nhai to their dark gods. Thus, the enmity between the zorse-riders and the warrior women of the Bone Mountains runs deep into the present, and over the centuries dozens of jhattars have led armies up the Steel Road and broken against the walls of Kayakayanaya.
Nevertheless, the moonsingers sing of the glorious day when the Jogos Nhai will prevail over the remnants of Hyrkoon and spill over the mountains to claim the fertile lands beyond. Even the Golden Empire of Yi Ti have been target of the Jogos Nhai depredations. Raids into the empire are a way of life for the zorse-riders, and a source of the gold and gems that decor the arms and necks of moonsingers and jhats as well as of the slaves that serve them and tend their herds.
Over the past two thousand years, YiTish cities, towns, farms, and fields beyond count have been reduced to ruins and ashes. Many imperial generals and three God-Emperors have led armies to bring the nomads to heel but have seldom ended well and soon the raids began anew, even when jhats were compelled to vow eternal fealty to the God-Emperor and foreswear raiding forever.
During his long reign, forty-second scarlet emperor Lo Han led three such invasions of the plains, yet by the time of his death the Jogos Nhai carried out bolder and more rapacious raids than when he began his reign. His successor, Lo Bu determined to end the threat of the nomads for all time, assembled a mighty host, said to be three hundred thousand strong, and crossed the borders of the empire with slaughter as his only purpose. Tributes, hostages, oaths of fealty, or offerings of peace failed to sway him and his vast army swept the plains, leaving behind a burning wasteland.
When the nomads resorted to their traditional tactic of melting away at the approach of the army, Lo Bu divided his host into thirteen smaller armies and sent them forth in all directions to hunt down the zorse-riders. History tells a million Jogos Nhai died at their hands.
The rival clans of Jogos Nhai unified under jhattar Zhea, a woman in man's mail, who, in the period of two years isolated each of Lo Bu's thirteen armies, slew their scouts and foragers, starved them, denied them water, led them into wastelands and traps, thus destroying each army one by one. Finally, her riders fell on Lo Bu's own host and carried out a slaughter to terrible that every stream for twenty leagues around was choked in blood. Among the slain was Lo Bu himself, whose skull was stripped of flesh and dipped in gold, becoming Zhea's drinking cup. Ever since, every jhattar of the Jogos Nhai has drunk fermented zorse milk from the gilded skull of the Boy Too Bold By Half, as Lo Bu is remembered.
As for the horse lords west of the Bone mountains, they are not less savage than the Jogos Nhai. The ancestors of the Dothraki came from the lands beyond the Bone Mountains in the Further East of Essos, leaving behind the bones that give the mountains their name.
Bu Jing wetted his parched, cracked lips. His expression was filled with resolve.
He was determined to build his own destiny after making the arduous journey through the waste. Being the hundred thirteen son of the God-Emperor who stand not to inherit anything from him but his last name and title of imperial prince, he was determined not to fall into a state of having absolutely nothing.
The dunes, which were recently discussed, were right in front of them. That was where they were about to set up camp.
The plan was to set up tents in the shade behind the dune. "Alright, you people, get busy!"
The warriors under Wang Lun's command. He went on to carry out his arrangements for them. "Search the perimeter thoroughly. though few Dothraki raid around these lands I don't want any Dothraki or beast cutting up my innards while I'm asleep!"
The thirty warriors swiftly dispersed at his command, their cloaks billowing in the scorching winds of the Red Waste. Yet, a few paid scant attention to the assigned duty, wearied by six days of relentless march and the eerie emptiness of the desolate landscape, devoid of any sign of the Dothraki. Thus, the warriors, their diligence waning, conducted a cursory search. Upon verifying the unremarkable nature of the surrounding dunes, they collectively retreated to establish camp, yearning for the respite promised by the shelter of tents after the exhaustive march.
"Raise the tents," commanded Bu Jing, while orchestrating the servants to commence their labor. Among the ten carriages were provisions tailored for camp setup. A myriad of tents, along with sticks and ropes for their assembly, spilled forth. A handful of peasants, swift with their shovels, delved into the sand. Their blades unearthed layers, about 11 meters deep, unveiling the cooler strata concealed beneath the surface.
Mastering the art of survival in the desert, lying down within the sand became a crucial tactic to elude the relentless heat. This technique, inherited from the Qartheen dwelling in desolation, found its way into the practices of the merchants from the Golden Empire of Yi-Ti, engaged in trade with Qarth. Scholars, meticulous in their record-keeping, documented this wisdom within the tomes they penned. Before venturing into the Red Waste, Bu Jing delved into books, absorbing the accumulated knowledge on the arid expanse to prepare himself for the harsh realities that awaited.
Fifty tents stood sentinel over the freshly excavated hollows in the sand, rising with disciplined order. Constructed with sturdy sticks and anchored by taut ropes, they formed a makeshift sanctuary in the arid expanse. All seventy-five souls in the convoy, alongside the forty steeds, found solace within the sheltered haven. Bu Jing, his gaze sweeping over the encampment, spoke decisively, "I entrust the remainder of the task to you, Head Eunuch Sun Yaoting." Stationed before his expansive tent, Bu Jing exhaled a sigh of relief. The most demanding phase of establishing the camp had concluded. Sun Yaoting, ever dutiful, bowed in acknowledgment, "Yes, Your Heavenly Highness."
The work after setting up the tents required feeding and watering the horses. People were also assigned to prepare lunch and distribute water throughout the day to all denizens of the encampment. Though seemingly straightforward, the responsibilities demanded unwavering attention. None were more fitting for the charge than Sun Yaoting, whose demeanor is cautious and steadfast.
Sheltered beneath the tents, the sun's relentless gaze thwarted, and the shallow pits radiated a comforting coolness from the earth below. Bu Jing unfurled a linen sheet upon the sandy ground and reclined. A sensation enveloped him, as if the weariness accrued from the arduous journey dissipated into the very sands beneath. In this fleeting respite, a notion fluttered through his mind – perhaps, at such a juncture, a sip of Baijiu would be perfect.
Bu Jing sealed his eyes and exhaled, pondering, 'When will life afford me ease once more?' In this moment, he found himself amid the daunting phase of rebuilding from the ground up. Baijiu was basically a luxury at such times. There was no way he could have drunk some anyway. No trade caravans traveled the sand route after after all. After all, this was the Red Waste – a desolate expanse where human presence was scarce.
Bu Jing shook off these contemplations, shaking his head to dispel the thoughts. He inhaled, catching a whiff of the enticing aroma drifting from the exterior of the tent.
It was lunchtime. Just as Bu Jing was preparing to head outside to grab a bite to eat Wang Lun voice emerged from outside his tent, the folds of his cloak whispering in the breeze as he approached Bu Jing's dwelling. "Your Highness," he spoke with a measured tone, "I must report that a small khalasar, maybe twenty riders strong, has been sighted near our camp."
Bu Jing immediately rose from his makeshift bed and briskly exited his tent, there were more then a dozen servants still preparing lunch. He approached Wang Lun with a decisive gaze. "Wang Lun, ready the warriors," Bu Jing commanded, his words carrying the weight of imminent conflict. "Prepare for a horse-to-horse battle. "
"Yes, Your Imperial Highness," Wang Lun acknowledged with a sharp salute. With a swift pivot, he hastened to rally the warriors, mobilizing them for the impending clash on horseback. The camp stirred with a newfound energy, as the desert air became charged with the anticipation of battle. Bu Jing came to the side of one of the ten carriages and found his box. Within it were a light crossbow and a quiver with 20 short, thick iron bolts.
Acknowledging the imperative to lead by example as an imperial prince, Bu Jing determined that he must be at the forefront. Despite possessing reasonable skill with the spear and sword, he recognized the imprudence of engaging these savages in close combat. Thus, he opted for a more strategic approach, choosing the crossbow as his weapon of choice in the impending confrontation.
Bu Jing, accompanied by three of his most skilled warriors, ascended the dunes overlooking their camp with purposeful steps. Cautiously crouching, his keen eyes swept the horizon. "Over there. I found them," he declared in a hushed tone. One of the warriors, sharp-eyed, confirmed the sighting. "Dothraki. Twenty of them." The other warrior nodded in acknowledgment. Approximately half a mile to the north, a small khalasar of twenty Dothraki, adorned in light armor, roamed the desolate expanse, scouring the terrain for any signs of tracks.
"Fall back. Gather everyone at camp and prepare for combat," Bu Jing commanded, his tone resonating authority. Slowly retreating in a squatting position, his expression, though serious, bore a notable lightening. It was apparent that the perceived threat from the Dothraki was not as formidable as initially assessed. It became evident that these twenty Dothraki, likely cast out from a larger khalasar in the Great Grass Sea, posed minimal danger. They were not even comparable to Bu Jing's entourage.
All 30 Yi-Tish cavalry warriors, still resting in their tents, held the capability to swiftly handle the Dothraki, minimizing potential losses. For seasoned warriors well-versed in combat with the Jhogos Nhai, dealing with these primitive horse lords was a task well within their expertise.
Bu Jing descended the dune with swiftness, crossbow in hand, and addressed Wang Lun urgently. "Captain Wang Lun, the Dothraki are approximately half a mile to the north of us." The warriors surrounding them responded promptly, grabbing their weapons and preparing their horses for the impending confrontation.
Wang Lun nodded respectfully, "Your Highness, I apologize, but I must ask you to stay here at camp as we deal with the Dothraki." Bu Jing, undeterred, took charge, leading the warriors to mount their horses armed with Qiangs (spears) and Daos (longswords). Turning to Wang Lun, he asserted, "We will all deploy," then shifted his gaze to Sun Yaoting, standing beside him, awaiting orders. "So, we probably will not be able to cover for you, Head Eunuch Sun Yaoting."
The cavalry, acknowledging the offensive nature of their role, surged forward to confront the Dothraki head-on, relinquishing any notion of defensive posturing. Observing the prince and Captain Wang Lun leading the charge, Sun Yaoting swiftly issued his commands, rallying the commoners and eunuchs under his charge. "Everyone, prepare for combat. Unload the weapons from the carriages and follow my lead."
"Understood," echoed the unanimous response from the forty commoners and four eunuchs.
While primarily tasked with serving the prince, they were no strangers to combat. Armed with specially modified Ji, a hybrid of a dagger-axe with a spear. Affixed to 6-foot-5-inch staffs, they presented a formidable force. Despite their seemingly unwieldy appearance, these weapons were adept at both stabbing and slashing, capable of inflicting substantial damage even to cavalry.
Furthermore, the forty Yi-Tish servants brandished their long Ji dagger-axes, forming five square formations with each eunuch leading a squad. Head Eunuch Sun Yaoting positioned himself in the middle square of the formation, waiting for any Dothraki who escapes the charge.
Approximately 740 feet away, the thirty warriors thrust their Qiangs, each over thirteen feet long, fearlessly charging at the Dothraki.
"Glory to the God-Emperor and the Golden Empire of Yi-Ti!" The warriors bellowed their war cry as their warhorses thundered beneath them.
Though the sand hindered their maximum speed, the warriors' charge caught the Dothraki off guard. As the dominant force in this corner of the world, the Dothraki demanded tribute from their neighbors. Witnessing the eastern men of Yi-Ti descending from the dunes, the Dothraki answered with their own battle cry, meeting the impending clash with fierce determination.
The clash erupted on the shifting sands, a symphony of war cries and thundering hooves. Prince Bu Jing, crossbow in hand, strategically positioned himself on the outskirts, while Captain Wang Lun, sword unsheathed, engaged the Dothraki in the thick of the skirmish. The Yi-Tish warriors, well-versed in the art of combat, executed disciplined maneuvers against the charging Dothraki. Bu Jing's crossbow bolts found their mark with lethal precision, picking off foes from a distance.
Wang Lun, a seasoned swordsman, danced amidst the Dothraki, parrying their strikes with practiced ease. The Dothraki, armed with arakh swords, retaliated fiercely, their swift and aggressive style colliding with the disciplined tactics of the Yi-Tish.
Arrows whistled through the air, finding their targets amid the chaos. Swords clashed, and the clash of steel resonated across the Red Waste as the two forces grappled for dominance in the unforgiving desert terrain.
While Prince Bu Jing and Captain Wang Lun battled with precision and skill, the other warriors of Yi-Ti, their faces etched with determination, engaged in fierce combat against the Dothraki. The Yi-Tish warriors, clad in distinctive lamellar armor, moved with disciplined coordination. Some wielded long Qiangs, thrusting at their opponents with the formidable reach of over thirteen feet. Others brandished Dao longswords, slashing through the air in well-practiced arcs.
Among the warriors, a warrior named Xun Wei displayed exceptional prowess with his Ji dagger-axe. His precise strikes disrupted the fluidity of the Dothraki's attacks, creating openings for his fellow warriors to exploit.
Amidst the blood-soaked chaos, the charging warriors of Yi-Ti mercilessly sent Dothraki riders flying, their chests caving in as blood erupted from their mouths. The initial screeches of insanity morphed into desperate whelps of struggle, a cacophony of pain echoing across the Red Waste.
" The great God on Earth, the God Emperor of Yi-Ti, is watching us!"
Captain Wang Lun, pierced through a Dothraki and fell the savage being onto the soft sands, yet he did not stop there. He drew his longsword and began to shout in fierce encouragement, "For the Emperor and the imperial prince, charge!"
that single line drove the warriors into a frenzy as they charged into the Dothraki, bringing down their longswords left and right at the savage beings. The stench of blood permeated the place they trod. The battle was intense but short. Dead bodies soon littered the place. Blood spilled from their wounds. It seeped into the sand, staining the already red sands of the red waste even redder.
The Yi-tish warriors, which clearly emerged as victors, did not stop slaughtering. They went on to split up and chase down all of the scattered Dothraki trying to escape. They wanted to kill them all and prevent further troubles. Only four or five Dothraki became panicked enough to run into the middle of the guarding servants, intending to make a breakthrough. They were quickly struck down by the long Ji dagger-axes wielded by the servants, preventing them from even getting close to escaping.
the long Ji-wielders were gathered in a tight formation, making even warriors reluctant to barge into them head-on.
The battle was over.
"Your Highness, they have all been taken care of," Wang Lun reported dutifully. "Let's head back to camp," Bu Jing replied, sparing little attention for the fallen Dothraki as he focused on issuing further orders.
The scorching sun bore down on the weary warriors standing atop the dunes. Dizziness lingered, and some bore minor injuries from the intense battle. Delaying rest risked succumbing to the oppressive heat, teetering on the brink of heatstroke. Even the warhorses, steadfast companions in battle, showed signs of exhaustion, foaming at the mouths and restlessly neighing. "Pack up and give the horses some water," Wang Lun directed his subordinates.
The next day a lone figure emerged on the horizon, a scout clinging to his warhorse, racing back to the camp. Pointing south, he shouted, "Thanks to the God Emperor, your Highness, the city of Qarth is but a few miles from here."
Surprise etched every face as all eyes fixed on the shouting scout. Bu Jing, though momentarily taken aback, swiftly regained his composure and issued orders to hasten the march, tracing the direction the scout had indicated. As they approached the end of the horizon, a city near the coast emerged through the red haze.
"We're almost there," Bu Jing muttered to himself, clenching his teeth. "The city of Qarth." After nearly a month of toil across the Red Waste, they had reached their destination – the great city of Qarth, standing proud at the southern tip of the Red Waste on the shores of the Jade Gates.
"Hurray!" echoed the excited cheers from servants and warriors alike. "Alright, alright," Bu Jing's voice tempered the jubilation. He rested his light crossbow on his shoulders and addressed his people, "We should probably settle down first and have a good lunch at such a moment."
"You're right, Your Heavenly Highness," Sun Yaoting smiled and nodded, the prospect of reaching the city uplifting the spirits of the entire expedition.
Qarth, a city of opulence and wonder, stands encased in three imposing walls, each adorned with intricate engravings depicting animals, war, and lovemaking. These triple walls, renowned as one of the nine wonders crafted by man, are immortalized in the pages of "Wonders Made by Man" by Lomas Longstrider. The port of Qarth, a gateway to the east and west, the north and south, is hailed as one of the greatest in the known world. A hub of commerce, Qarth's wealth is attributed to its strategic control of the Jade Gates.
Positioned as a crucial nexus between the diverse realms, Qarth is frequented by Westerosi traders from Oldtown and the Arbor seeking the city's bountiful treasures. Three rival guilds, the Thirteen, the Tourmaline Brotherhood, and the Ancient Guild of Spicers, vie for supremacy among the merchant princes who govern Qarth. Trade goods flowing from Qarth encompass a spectrum of riches, including saffron, dreamwine, and liqueur with potent spices, silk, and the majestic presence of elephants. Qartheen spice ships, grandiose as palaces, traverse vast distances, reaching as far as Braavos in their pursuit of trade and cultural exchange. In the realm of commerce and culture, Qarth stands as a beacon, a testament to the prowess of its merchant princes and the allure of the Jade Gates.
As Bu Jing and his convoy approached the monumental triple walls of Qarth, adorned with their enigmatic engravings, a hushed anticipation hung in the air. The city gates, ornate and formidable, swung open to admit the approaching entourage. The Qartheen people, inhabitants of this opulent city of merchants, lined the bustling streets, their curious gazes fixed upon the foreign arrivals.
Bu Jing, leading his convoy with regal composure expected of an Imperial prince, observed the Qartheen onlookers as they whispered among themselves. The vibrant tapestry of Qartheen culture unfolded before them, with merchants clad in silks and adorned with exotic spices weaving through the lively streets. The air was thick with the scents of spices and wine, a heady combination that mingled with the distant calls of street vendors. The Qartheen elephants, majestic creatures bearing richly adorned howdahs, added an air of grandeur to the scene.
As Bu Jing's convoy proceeded further into the heart of Qarth, the scrutiny of the Qartheen populace intensified. Eyes filled with curiosity and speculation followed the procession, and the intricate engravings on the city walls seemed to echo the whispers of the crowd.
As the sun began its descent over the vibrant city of Qarth, Bu Jing's convoy halted near an inn, its sturdy structure hinting at ample rooms within. The innkeeper, a portly figure with a shrewd gaze, approached, bowing respectfully as he greeted the arrivals. Bu Jing surveyed the inn and its surroundings, nodding in approval.
"Secure accommodations for our party," he instructed Head Eunuch Sun Yaoting. "Ensure there's ample space in the stables for our fifty horses." Sun Yaoting, with a crisp nod, set about organizing the arrangements. The inn's stables, expansive and well-kept, would offer shelter to the weary horses.
Turning his attention to the task at hand, Bu Jing addressed Sun Yaoting once more. "Wait, we'll need a translator to navigate the markets and facilitate the sale of our goods. Find someone proficient in the Yi-Tish tongue." Sun Yaoting acknowledged the order and set off through the lively streets of Qarth, tasked with securing both a comfortable haven for the convoy and a skilled translator to navigate the complexities of Qartheen commerce. The inn, standing as a bastion of respite amid the exotic city, awaited the unfolding of their ventures in the heart of this famed merchant hub.
Inside of the Qartheen inn, amidst hum of the city, Bu Jing and his weary entourage found respite. The air was imbued with the scents of exotic spices and the soft melodies of distant melodies. As the group settled into the inn's comfort, Head Eunuch Sun Yaoting returned, accompanied by a mysterious figure veiled in an intricate lacquered wooden mask.
The room seemed to hold its breath as the enigmatic woman stepped forward. "Your Heavenly Highness," Sun Yaoting began with a bow, "allow me to introduce Quaithe of the Shadow. She will serve as our translator and guide in the intricate markets of Qarth." Quaithe, her mask an enigma, offered a slight incline of her head, acknowledging the assembly.
The lacquered mask seemed to conceal both secrets and wisdom, leaving an air of mystique in her wake.
Bu Jing, studying Quaithe with a discerning gaze eyeing the woman from Asshai by the Shadow , extended his gratitude. "Welcome, Quaithe of the Shadow. Your assistance will be invaluable as we navigate the labyrinth of Qarth."
As the night settled over the city, a sense of anticipation lingered in the air. In the company of Quaithe and the promise of new alliances, Bu Jing and his convoy prepared to unveil the fruits of their journey in the city of merchants and mysteries.
