Winter 1073 of the Mero's Calendar

Suzir knows his men are coming back victorious the moment he hears their vivas in the streets. The joyful ruckus is echoed by the civilians at their windows, some celebrating the soldiers' bravery, others booing at the prisoner dragged along them. Suzir doesn't wait for them to bring their captive into his office. He promptly goes down the flight of stairs leading to the courtyard. The men already form lines on the gray pavement, waiting to be in position before saluting. The clang of bronze cuirasses resonates under their fist as they hit their plexus, where a carved triangle symbolizes the god of war. Their green cloaks are wet, the wool heavy with mud and melted snow, but their faces are lit with pride under their helmets. And in front of them, maintained in chains by two soldiers, is the warlord of the Kars.

They've been battling those barbarians for three seasons, and if a part of him is relieved to see their leader captured, with strong hands on his shoulders to maintain him on his knees, Suzir can't stop himself from pitying the man. His beard is stained with dried blood coming from his broken nose, the only severe injury he got at the battle. Suzir can be sure of this, because the soldiers have stripped the prisoner of his pelts despite the cold, revealing pale skin covered in bruises. He may look tall and muscular, but his slim waist and concave stomach show that he hasn't eaten fully in a long time. Even his murderous stare can't hide how bloodshot and sunken his eyes are from lack of proper sleep.

All Suzir can see is a vulnerable human like any others, but many would say he looks like a cornered wild beast. The distinction between Kars and dangerous animals is thin in the empire, after all. Sometimes, Suzir wishes he could easily categorize the world in black and white like everyone else. That way, his heart wouldn't ache so badly when doing his work. But there's been raids on civilians, not just ambushes on soldiers, and so Suzir needs to do what he must to protect his own.

- Does he speak our language?

One of the men next to the prisoner opens his mouth to respond, but he's not quick enough. A raspy laugh cuts him short, and the Kar spits out some blood stuck in his throat before croaking something in a broken Mero.

- I talk better in ya own words than ya can in mine. Where's ya chief? I’ve been told I'm to meet him.

Suzir can't stop himself from straightening his shoulders a little, like it could magically give him a few more centimeters. He knows it's childish. He knows he's not fooling anybody. He just can't help it.

- You should have learned more about our vocabulary on army's ranks. We do not have chiefs. What you are referring to is a general. And he is right in front of you.

There's a pause as the man's expression changes from smug to perplexed, eyeing him up and down in confusion. Sure, Suzir is not wearing his armor, he rarely does since his senate toga is far more adequate to his highly bureaucratic role. But he knows that's not why the king is so skeptical. 

- That can't be right, ya way too young to be a chief.

- Well, I have been a general since my father put me in charge of this province. Three years ago. At the age of fourteen.

It had been a highly contested choice, knowing that in Mero, you cannot vote until you're twenty. And since army and politics truly are one and the same in the empire, this decision had enraged other senators, especially the ones who had worked decades of their lives to gain their position. So from the start, Suzir had to prove his worth as a capable leader, and not just as a product of nepotism. Against all odds, it has been surprisingly easy. Maybe because he has been molded to become a general since the age of seven, so at that point it’s like second nature to him. He knows how to raise taxes, and write budgets, and propose new laws, and order his legion around to protect the province. Now with their victory against the Kars, nobody could accuse him of incompetence, and Suzir couldn't be more proud of honoring his father's trust. So he's truly taken aback when, instead of being impressed by the young man facing him, the warlord’s eyebrows furrow in distaste.

- What monster would push their son to become chief so young? Ya dad hate ya or somethin?

Many have tried to attack Suzir's insecurities in the past, especially his rivals at the senate, but none of them had been successful. Maybe because they only see him as the oldest son of the emperor, the diligent golden child gifted with the highest title despite a ridiculously young age. Every single man in the empire wishes they could be him, have a taste of his status, power and glory. But Kars don't know about those things. They don't look at the world the same as Meros do. It must be why it only took a few minutes for their warlord to hit Suzir where it truly hurts.

Because for all the words his father gives about how much he’s proud of him, Suzir can't forget his childhood. The loneliness of being cut from anyone his age, isolated without any friends. Being taught that nobody can be trusted, and that everyone who’s nice to him is only looking out for their selfish interest. The hours and hours of study, and the stress that at the slightest error, it would be met with his father's disdain and insults. And when finally, at the age of fourteen, he is deemed good enough for being paraded as the heir of the emperor… he is sent to the northern province of Gal, two entire weeks of horseback travel away from his childhood home. 

Suzir remembers his father explaining how much of a show of trust it is, to give him control over one of their most contested territories, and how he knows his son will brilliantly defend their eastern border. It’s a fond memory, something Suzir desperately clings to when he starts doubting his father's love. But now, facing the words of a simple barbarian, all Suzir can hear are the tears of his mother as she's imploring the emperor to not separate a teenage boy from his family. Back in the day, he had been insulted to be treated like a child while his father applauded his maturity. Now three years later, Suzir wishes he could hold his mother tightly and smell the perfume in her long wavy hair. But she has to stay in the capital to take care of Suzir's aging grandfather, and even if they exchange letters, he still misses her every day. Especially when he stumbles across whispers on his father's new wife, and the five children she has borne him. 

It only took seconds for Suzir to get lost in his thoughts before being brutally pulled out of them at the sound of a slap. The Kar’s critic has been promptly dealt with a hit behind the head by one of the soldiers. His captor’s face is bright red, a mixed result of indignation and cold air. Meanwhile, the barbarian isn't even looking bothered, as he is completely indifferent to his enemy's intimidation and stares at the paved ground with a bored expression.

- Do not dare insult the emperor!

- What are ya talkin ‘bout? Ya tellin me this kid's ya warlord’s child?

- I am no kid anymore. And you do not look much older than me. How many springs did you see in your life?

- Twenty-one. Enough to father a son and unite all the Kars tribes to kick ya sorry butts out of our lands.

And there it is, the reason for Suzir's culpability. Because their opponents are right. More than three hundred years ago, both sides of the river Nir were Kars territory. But the empire had to expand, and the barbarians got pushed into the eastern wilderness. Now generations of Meros have been born and raised on this soil, calling it their home with the same love and pride. Even if Suzir wishes to erase his ancestors' faults and give the province back, it’s too late to do it anymore. But there might be a way, and Suzir has been educated in the art of diplomacy, after all.

- War had not been kind to you. It has failed to bring your people what they want, and it will continue to do so. Mero has been undefeated for more than a millennia. We have the technology, the strategy and the divines by our side.

- And y'all are hoardin ya riches like dragons while my people can't even fish in their own river!

- But what about trades? What about integration? You could be part of the empire, benefit from all the advantages you accuse us of keeping to ourselves. Do you not have a son to protect? Do you not want him to grow safe and happy?

It seems to have touched a sensitive cord, because the warlord is suddenly silent, his stare lost into painful thoughts. And what truly strange eyes he has, with irises like the gray clouds above their head. Suzir never had the chance to look at a Kar this close, and always questioned the myths about them, but it looks like this one isn't false. Where the Meros have their eyes the colors of the leaves, the Kars have them the colors of the sky. 

- What's the catch? If ya wanted to welcome us so badly, why did ya push us out in the first place?

- There are laws in the empire. If you refuse to follow them, we can't keep you here.

- Oooh, so let me guess, it's all a bunch of bullcrap that favors the Meros and no one else?

- … It does ask to deny old practices for embracing the divine pantheon. And other things of the sorts.

The Kar's laugh is sudden, sharp and bitter. Suzir feels colder just by hearing it, making him tighten his cloak around his shoulders. The reaction is rightly predictable, and still, he wishes it had been different. What's the point in winning a war when you're on the wrong side of history? When you could make things so much better for everyone, but your hands are tied by laws you can't change by yourself?

- Chains are still chains, whether they’re in gold or not. What ya ready to give us is worth nothin if it's at the sacrifice of who we are, so get lost with ya false generosity, ya foolin no one.

Condensed water forms a small white cloud around Suzir's mouth as he sighs. So much for trying. But he knows how prideful men can be in adversity. Many are ready to die for their freedom, and who could blame them?

- Then hear me say this. I shall let you go back to your son, but know that if you or any other Kars cross the Nir again, you will not be spared. If you want to keep your men alive, you are advised to leave the Meros in peace.

- … Wait, so ya not killin me or anythin?

- Do you want us to do?

The Kar's laugh is short this time, nervous in its disbelief. His piercing eyes are glancing here and there, searching for the signs of a lie, but he would find nothing of the sort. Suzir might be a great bureaucrat and strategist, but he’s a pitiful politician. He hates lying and playing the game of blackmails. There's a reason he's still glad to be here in the province of Gal, far from the Mero capital and its deceptions. 

- Bring him back to the other prisoners, if there are any left, and make sure they all cross the river before sunset. For the rest of you, go rest and clean yourself before the evening. You will need to be presentable for the feast in your honor.

- Yes, General Suzir!

The men are not too happy with letting their enemies go, but the promise of fine food and music after months of battles is enough to bring back their good mood. Later, with stomachs filled with meat and mouths full of wine, any lasting bloodlust would be forgotten. That's what Suzir hopes so, at least, and he is rarely wrong. As the soldiers disperse from the courtyard, the Kar warlord is pulled out of Suzir's sight. The last thing the general sees are the man's confused gray eyes, staring right back at him over his shoulder.