The night had scarcely lost its grip on the steppe when the yurt's felt flap stirred. Temüjin, the Great Khan, entered silently, his heavy fur cloak trailing behind him. Firelight danced across his cold face as he surveyed Tului, who lay seated on a rough pallet, still pale but determined.
"You have teeth like a wolf's, but eyes of a stranger," Temüjin said, his voice low but firm. "You carry burdens not seen on these lands."
Tului met his father's gaze. "I carry knowledge from another world, Father. I do not understand how—or why—I came here. But I am your son now."
Temüjin nodded. "Then your fate is tied to the steppe. Tomorrow, you will begin a task—a test of your mind and spirit." He paused, the words hanging heavy in the smoky air. "The Bayad herds roam like wind across endless grass. Your duty is to count them: horses, sheep, cattle. Know their numbers, their strength, and their health. Our empire's power depends on numbers, young prince."
Tului's heart sank. "But father, how can I count what moves like the clouds?"
"You will learn patience, cunning, and observation," Temüjin replied. "Leadership demands knowledge as much as sword. Without it, no throne will hold."
The Great Khan swept from the tent, leaving Tului alone with his thoughts and the steady crackling of the fire.
The dawn came clear and cold. Anya, the sharp-witted daughter of Bayar—the clan elder—met Tului outside the yurt. She handed him a wooden staff, worn smooth by touch.
"Today we hunt numbers, not beasts," she said, voice light but serious. "The steppe waits."
Together with Bayar, they rode out across the undulating plains. The herds moved in loose clusters, horses neighing softly, sheep scattered like clouds over the hills. Tului studied the rolling grassland, mentally dividing it into sections.
"Where do we start?" he asked.
Bayar grunted. "The mares with foals are near the north ridge. The stallions patrol the valley below."
Using simple sticks and stones, Tului began marking tallies as Anya called out the groups. The Count took hours, punctuated by sudden bursts of chaos when a stallion charged or a flock scattered.
At midday, Tului paused, rubbing sore arms. The sun beat mercilessly, but the clarity of counting soothed him.
In the evening, back at the campfire, Bayar grunted approvingly. "You have focused the clan's scattered eyes. This knowledge will feed the Khan's decisions well."
Anya smiled. "You bring a new way to ancient strength."
Tului looked up at the stars stretching over the vast horizon. This was only the beginning. The days ahead would test not only his intellect but his ability to survive amid rival brothers and wary clans.
And always, the distant memory of Kyiv whispered—reminding him of a world lost and a promise unfulfilled.