Reincarnated as Genghis Khan's Grandson, I Will Not Let It Fall-Chapter 36: The March South

The screen went out before dawn.

Batu was at the eastern gate when Chaidu’s riders passed through, forty in the first layer, moving south at the spacing the protocol specified.

Behind them, consolidated from the Hasal crossing where a replacement officer had already taken over, came Jaran with his forty. He passed through the gate without ceremony, his riders folding into the second layer’s position without instruction.

The time at the crossing had made them patient readers of ground. They would use that here.

Kirsa’s contingent came last of the screen auxiliary, a hundred and fifteen men who knew the southern approaches from the other direction.

They separated to their intervals without instruction. The three layers spread as they cleared the gate, moving to their positions on the southern ground.

The screen was out. The main body was not yet moving.

Batu rode back from the gate along the forming line and read what he had.

Close to the front of the column, the smallest units were visible as their own kind of thing.

Ten riders. An arban. The men of an arban ate from the same fire and answered to the same arban commander, and on the march they moved as ten men who had learned each other’s pace.

Close enough to pass a hand signal along the line, spread enough that a single arrow landing among them would find one man and not two. Each arban had its own identity inside the larger structure, and that identity was the reason the structure held under pressure.

Ten arbans made a jaghun. A hundred men, the first unit large enough that its commander read the formation rather than the men.

A jaghun on the march occupied a specific strip of terrain. Its width adjusted to the country, its depth compressed or spread as the land demanded.

The jaghun commander could see his left boundary and his right. He could not see every man under his orders. He knew the arban commanders and trusted them to know their ten.

Ten jaghuns made a mingan.

When the mingans began moving the ground itself changed character. A thousand horses carrying a thousand men did not sound like anything smaller than itself.

The sound came through the earth before it came through the air. A sustained percussion that the grass transmitted and the body registered before the ears did.

The dust a mingan raised on dry ground was visible from the heights for a distance that made individual counting pointless. At that scale a formation stopped being men and became direction and mass.

Torghul’s tumen moved first. Ten mingans, each running between seven and eight hundred riders after the narrows had taken its cost, the theoretical thousand trimmed to the actual number a fought engagement produced.

What remained was not diminished. The arbans were complete or near-complete. The smallest units had been filled from the wounded-returned before departure, and the social reality of ten men who trusted each other had been preserved at the base of the structure even as the middle layers ran thin.

And one more, Dorbei’s tumen had held the western and northern circuits while Batu operated northeast, his riders spread across the patrol lines through the full duration of the narrows operation.

He had commanded since before Batu arrived, a compact man in his forties whose mingans maintained their intervals without being managed. The mark of a commander whose unit had absorbed his habits completely.

He had received the orders for the southern movement and had prepared his tumen on time and without complication. His riders were ready at the time specified.

Fifteen thousand men on the southern steppe. Two tumens in parallel columns where the terrain permitted, merging to single depth where it narrowed, spreading again on open ground.

Penk’s relay system ran between the mingans, carrying timing signals across the tumen boundary without requiring either commander to direct the spacing.

A rider from Penk’s numbers moved between the formations at the set timing, the signal going out and the adjustment happening in the mingans without announcement. Batu had watched this coordination develop over several months. It worked at scale.

The supply column ran on the eastern flank, pack horses and spare remounts carrying the arrow allocation forward on rotation.

Each jaghun’s supply state was tracked through the relay. There were still moments where a supply rider paused and looked for confirmation before moving. The system was not yet fully absorbed. That would change with distance.

He turned his horse north and looked back at the camp.

The western tumen was still visible on the tribute enforcement line, spread across the southern and western patrol circuits.

The northern approach was covered by pairs, two riders on each outer observation point, enough to read movement and raise the alarm. Not enough to stop anything with mass behind it.

That was the calculation he had accepted. A force moving south through the corridor approaches could not leave the northern corridor fully protected and still bring what the south required.

If the timing held, if Berke was building against a push he believed was still seasons away, the gap in the north would not be tested.

The force in the south needed to have finished its work before someone in the east decided to test the boundaries.

What reached Guyuk’s network through the channel would help with that.

What he carried east when he went would describe an internal Jochid matter. Adjustment of southern clan relationships, minor disciplinary movement, no large-scale military operation implied.

Guyuk’s picture of the west would stay limited. Guyuk would continue telling Berke that Batu was consolidating. Berke would continue building his layer against the wrong version of events.

Batu rode back south and rejoined the column’s head.

By midday the terrain began to change. The flat ground south of the camp gave way to the longer folds of the corridor country.

The approaches Aidu had described, the territory between the Ulus pasture line and the northern edge of Berke’s reach.

The forward relay came back at the timing Penk had set. Clean to the first fold. Clean to the second.

The third report was different.

The lead pair had come down from the second fold’s height and found the road ahead clear.

But on the eastern approach, where a grazing track ran parallel to the main route before bending south toward the first of Aidu’s named clans, the sign in the track was recent.

Horses. More than a clan’s ordinary movement. The spacing between prints was not the casual spread of animals grazing their range. It was directed. A group that had moved through at pace and had not stopped.

Batu read the report.

Berke had visited three clans. The arrangement with Aidu had been made to get Ulus riders to those clans before Berke’s next visit.

The sign at the eastern track was a few days old. Ulus men moved slower than Berke’s prepared men on a route Berke had already used.

The question was not whether Berke’s layer was real. What the track showed confirmed it was real and already working.

The question was whether Aidu’s riders had arrived at the first clan before or after that movement passed.

The answer would be in the camp at the track’s end.

He sent the second layer toward the eastern approach at a pace that read as reconnaissance and passed the word to Torghul to hold the main body in place until the report came back.

The southern steppe ran on ahead of them, flat and enormous and holding everything it knew without offering it.