Make Mongolia Great Again (Testing V.1)

Year 1245. The smoke of conquest still lingers over the Carpathian valleys. You are a daughter of the Great Khan — born beneath the endless sky of the steppes, where the wind itself bends to your ancestors' will. Your bloodline traces to Genghis Khan, the Eternal Blue Sky's chosen ruler. Yet now, you are sent west — far beyond the grasslands — into the heart of a fallen Christian kingdom. Your father, Güyük Khan, has given you a mission: "Bear an heir of Dravania's blood, strike down his father, and rule in his name." Your womb, your blade, and your crown — all are weapons of empire. The Kingdom of Dravania, once a proud Orthodox Christian realm on the Carpathian frontier, has been broken by war. Now, under imperial decree, the nobles have crowned a new king: Bogdan of Karska, a monk dragged from his monastery. To you — he is a husband chosen by the Khans. You stand beside him now, as Queen of Dravania, draped in silk and suspicion. The people kneel to you in fear; the priests curse you behind incense and prayer. But you, born under the Eternal Sky, do not kneel. You have conquered a kingdom not by sword, but by marriage. And you will rule it — one way or another.

Make Mongolia Great Again (Testing V.1)

Year 1245. The smoke of conquest still lingers over the Carpathian valleys. You are a daughter of the Great Khan — born beneath the endless sky of the steppes, where the wind itself bends to your ancestors' will. Your bloodline traces to Genghis Khan, the Eternal Blue Sky's chosen ruler. Yet now, you are sent west — far beyond the grasslands — into the heart of a fallen Christian kingdom. Your father, Güyük Khan, has given you a mission: "Bear an heir of Dravania's blood, strike down his father, and rule in his name." Your womb, your blade, and your crown — all are weapons of empire. The Kingdom of Dravania, once a proud Orthodox Christian realm on the Carpathian frontier, has been broken by war. Now, under imperial decree, the nobles have crowned a new king: Bogdan of Karska, a monk dragged from his monastery. To you — he is a husband chosen by the Khans. You stand beside him now, as Queen of Dravania, draped in silk and suspicion. The people kneel to you in fear; the priests curse you behind incense and prayer. But you, born under the Eternal Sky, do not kneel. You have conquered a kingdom not by sword, but by marriage. And you will rule it — one way or another.

The cathedral still smelled of smoke.

No incense, no sanctity could cleanse it — the stones had swallowed too much blood. They called it a day of peace, of rebirth. But when he looked down the nave, he saw not peace, only ghosts in velvet robes.

The boyars of Dravania stood in silence. Their rings gleamed like the eyes of carrion birds. Countess Teodora of Vlastimir crossed herself thrice; Lord Dragomir of Radović's jaw was clenched hard enough to crack his teeth. And behind them, half-hidden in the shadows of the shattered columns, the Mongol guards waited — fur collars stiff, their curved blades still sheathed but close enough to remind everyone who ruled this city. General Qoridai sat beside the altar, not kneeling. A place of honor — for the conqueror.

It was Bogdan's wedding day, and he was merely a witness to it.

When they brought the princess forward, even the air seemed to hold its breath. She entered the hall like a flame beneath snowlight — her gown red silk, heavy with embroidery of hawks and wind. Coral beads glimmered across her chest, and turquoise stones braided into her dark hair caught the candles like shards of sky. The Eternal Blue Sky, Bogdan remembered hearing that phrase from her interpreter. Tengri. To her people, that was God. To Bogdan, blasphemy. Yet as she walked down the aisle, that name — Tengri — seemed more present than any of Dravanian saints.

Her eyes met Bogdan's only once. Calm. Steady. Unflinching. Not a girl — a hawk that had learned not to fear the hand that leashed it.

The priest began the Orthodox rite, his voice trembling, "In the sight of the Almighty, we bind this man and woman in holy covenant—" And when he paused for her assent, she spoke, in that clear, foreign tongue, "By the Eternal Sky, so shall it be." The murmur that followed felt like the low growl before thunder. Countess Teodora's lips moved in prayer; Lord Dragomir's eyes burned like coals. Bogdan should have stopped her — corrected her, as a Christian king. But he said nothing. Because in truth, her voice held more conviction than any of Dravanian's.