The Prince jerked himself awake, blinking in momentary confusion. There was little to see but darkness, the view shifting up and down, and the cool smell of the grasslands at night filled the air. From the lumbering gait he knew he was on his personal elephant, Ramaputra. It hadn’t been the first time the Prince had fallen asleep while on march and he knew it wouldn’t be the last.

“We could head east,” a voice said behind him. My lancer, Chairat. “Back to the Veldt.”

“Do you really want to risk it?” came the reply from the howdah farther back. My gunner, Deng. “After all…” the gunner trailed off.

“Shh, you’re disturbing the Prince,” came another voice in front of him, the dark shape turning to whisper back at the other mercenaries. My mahout, Dhamdalek. If I hadn’t been disturbed before, having you hiss in my ear would do the job. Is this your way of waking me up?

Prince Hulagu straightened up and looked around in the pre-dawn gloom. Though it was still dark, it was clear that they had passed through the mountain range and into the open grasslands that led toward the Veldt. And to my brother’s kingdom,  he thought with the old familiar irritation. Which was mine by rights.

The Prince stopped himself from yawning. It’s best not to show weakness in front of the men. Even men such as these, close companions who had stuck with him for the better part of a decade. And who were clearly aware that he had been sleeping. Dark shapes rustled around the elephant. The Rama Guard, marching all through the night and steadfast as ever. The Prince squinted into the distance, the sloping plain visible only with the aid of the moon. At least he could count on his personal guard to stay alert. He realized now that they had let him sleep for hours, and his waking up now was not an accident.

“We should call a halt,” Prince Hulagu said to the mahout in front of him. Dhamdalek knew his business, and he had repeatedly earned his place as Ramaputra’s personal rider. The tireless beast was at the vanguard of their procession, and for hours the mahout must have been squinting into the darkness. All while I was asleep, the Prince thought with embarrassment.

“A wise decision, my lord. This is fertile land for our elephants to feed. Beyond the next few rises lies the mountain pass that leads into the Three Kingdoms.”

“Into Kintari territory, anyway,” the Prince replied. “Shinzen and Hangyul territory is still some ways distant.”

“As you say, my lord.”

It was common knowledge that the Three Kingdoms were only nominally unified and were ruled by several clans that maintained a tenuous peace between themselves. Oh, they had a boy Emperor of course, the son of that crazed pyromaniac that had burned his own palace down all those years ago. It didn’t seem the most stable of bloodlines but magic affinity flowed through their veins and that still commanded respect. Even so, the agreement between the clan leaders couldn’t last forever, though year after year dragged on with a few political assassinations being the only exception to the unparalleled period of peace and prosperity in the Three Kingdoms.

A peace that a mercenary leader like the Prince of the Wastes found increasingly frustrating. A private army of war elephants is not the ideal tool for political maneuvering and assassinations. I need a war, damn it, before our funds run dry. The Prince turned back to look at the howdah atop Ramaputra.

Unlike most nobles who rode elephants, the Prince himself did not use a howdah, instead riding in the manner of a common mahout or lancer. He had spent years designing a howdah that could fit a swiveling ballista and a gunner. The Prince raised a hand in a gesture to his gunner Deng, squeezing his fist tight. Alert as ever, the gunner pulled out his conch shell and blew the low, almost mournful note to halt. The dark line of elephants behind them slowed and came to a gradual halt, sleep-addled men making way for the giant animals, their handlers and camp followers sluggishly taking off the many straps and howdahs so that the great beasts could feed.

“Hungry, my boy?” The Prince asked, his voice light and affectionate as he scratched behind Ramaputra’s ear. Below him, the elephant rumbled in appreciation. Both men and elephants had had a lean campaign in the frozen north, with little to show for it. Now at least they could spend some time relaxing and fattening themselves up in the sunny grasslands.

Not the Prince, however. He needed to secure a contract, and quickly. The Prince sighed. They had wagon loads of loot, food, and fodder, but he had seen before how soon it could be depleted. If they couldn’t find a war to join he might be forced to start one of his own, and that wouldn’t do well for his reputation. That wouldn’t do well at all.

He thought for a moment. “Perhaps we should ride to the Kintari border and make our presence felt. You never know, Lord Kintari could be making an attempt at seizing power.”

The mahout was the very picture of skepticism, but nodded and urged Rama onward. Prince Hulagu scratched his beard in thought as he weighed his options but they seemed to be quite limited indeed. Aside from that absolute debacle in the frozen north everywhere was just so damned peaceful...