Chapter 11
Khan’s close attendant, Yi Sun, burst out of the ger with a nimbleness that belied his age.
Even before making eye contact with Argana, he bowed and said,
“Greetings, Your Highness the Princess. His Majesty the Khan just fell asleep after taking the medicine prescribed by the Royal Physician. Please do not worry too much. He said it was merely a calming remedy.”
Truly a man who had survived a lifetime with sharp intuition and political finesse.
Even if Yi Sun were dropped in the middle of a desert, he’d likely become a wealthy merchant commanding hundreds of camels before you knew it.
Hands on her hips, Argana sighed and tossed her wind-blown hair back.
“Why did he come here instead of staying in the palace? Was the bed uncomfortable?”
“Not at all. As Your Highness is well aware, His Majesty often says we must never forget that our bloodline began and ends with the ger. He finds this place more peaceful than the noisy palace filled with roaming attendants.”
Yi Sun was right. Khan Astrahan preferred life in the ger and was more accustomed to it.
It was likely due to the habit of leading military campaigns in his youth, constantly camping in unfamiliar lands.
Since it had been a while since her father had taken a nap, Argana thought it best not to disturb him.
“Did the Royal Physician return to the infirmary?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Very well. Move the guards further away so Father can rest undisturbed.”
“I shall follow your command.”
Yi Sun gave Argana a look of admiration for her attentiveness as he saw her off.
✦ ✦ ✦
Royal Physician Chaihan had returned to the infirmary and was busy writing something when Argana entered. He rose to his feet upon seeing her.
“No need. Remain seated,” she said.
Chaihan lowered his head with an apologetic expression and sat back down.
As Argana sat, she glanced at what he had been writing—it was a prescription. Since Chaihan existed solely for the Khan’s health, this prescription was surely for Astrahan Khan.
“Chaihan, is Father unwell? Has his illness worsened?”
“I report to Your Highness: though this illness is indeed more severe for the elderly, it does not worsen overnight.”
“Then why did you visit him just now? I heard you gave him medicine.”
Chaihan let out a soft chuckle.
It sounded partly troubled, partly resigned.
“His Majesty complained of a headache and feeling unwell, so I gave him a simple calming pill. It’s nothing serious—anyone can take it, even healthy individuals. Similar remedies are found among the common folk.”
“But Father rarely gets headaches. Yet since last year, he’s mentioned them more often.”
In truth, it wasn’t just last year—but far earlier, as Argana knew from her previous life.
She vividly remembered her father growing steadily weaker.
“Is that due to the illness too?”
“I can’t say it has no effect at all.”
Argana sighed, clenching and unclenching her fists before suddenly slamming the floor.
“My father, whose blood runs in my veins, is suffering—and I, his child, can do nothing. How unfilial of me.”
“Please, Your Highness, do not blame yourself. Birth, aging, illness, and death come to us all.”
“Chaihan, do whatever it takes to alleviate my father’s condition. If you need anything, tell me directly. And if it’s urgent, don’t even bother—I’ll speak to Father myself.”
“I am overwhelmed by Your Highness’s consideration.”
Only after receiving multiple reassurances from Chaihan did Argana leave the infirmary.
It was a relief that the illness hadn’t suddenly worsened. But her unease didn’t fade.
“I already have a mountain of things to do—why didn’t I know Father’s condition was this dire? If I’d known earlier…”
But she shook her head.
No—that wasn’t right. Hadn’t Chaihan said it was an illness hard to detect?
He was a skilled physician and, more importantly, someone the Khan trusted. If even he hadn’t realized it earlier, how could she?
“If I were to come back to life, I wish I could have returned to childhood instead.”
As Argana wandered the courtyard lost in worry, she suddenly looked up at the sound of women laughing in the distance.
Through the branches, shrubs, and rocks, she glimpsed fluttering skirts—it seemed to be the maids.
“They’re not working. What are they doing?”
Passing under the broad shade of a crepe myrtle tree, she could now clearly see the maids.
Each held something in their hands—small baskets with beans, balls filled with sand, or toy instruments that made sounds when tapped.
“Your Highness the Prince, this way!”
“No, this way, Your Highness! Over here!”
“I’m here, Your Highness!”
“Ugh! What the heck! You’re all making noise at once! I can’t find anyone like this!”
In the middle, a boy wearing a blindfold spun around in frustration, prompting Argana to laugh involuntarily.
That laugh rustled the branches nearby.
“Ah!”
“Oh no—Princess! Your Highness!”
The maids turned pale and hastily dropped what they were holding to bow.
“What? What’s going on? Is Sister here?”
The boy, still flailing blindly, fumbled to remove his blindfold.
His eyes were a shade of gold similar to Argana’s, but with more red. They sparkled as they lit up.
“Sister!”
“Tir.”
The boy who ran up with a wide grin was Tirsalan, the Khan’s youngest son and Argana’s little brother.
He had just turned twelve. Being the youngest and the son of the Fourth Empress, Sorcate, he had been doted on and spoiled—still very much a child.
“Rise.”
Argana patted Tirsalan’s head as he clung to her hand, then gave orders to the maids.
“It seems I ruined your fun.”
“Not at all, Sister! I couldn’t find a single person because they were all making noise at the same time!”
Tirsalan pouted, and the maids bit back smiles.
This bright, innocent prince wasn’t particularly exceptional among the Khan’s children, but like a cloudless midday, his cheerful nature made him beloved by all.
“Sister, you haven’t forgotten your promise to help me practice archery, have you? When will my bow be finished?”
Argana’s gaze slowly—so slowly that he wouldn’t notice—drifted away.
She didn’t clearly remember, but it seemed she had promised to make Tirsalan a bow.
“It’s almost done… Once it’s finished, you’ll need to practice taming it first.”
“Yay! Sister, let’s go eat some sweets! Hey, bring the ones Sister likes—those honey cookies and lotus rice cakes!”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
While a few maids scurried off, Tirsalan led Argana by the hand to a cozy pavilion.
“Sister, where were you coming from?”
“I went to visit Father, but he was napping, so I came back. And you….”
Her eyes narrowed teasingly as she looked at her little brother.
“Did you finish the homework the Grand Tutor gave you before playing?”
“Almost! Just a little left! And Mother said she had a headache, so I came outside to play.”
Tirsalan, who had been so lively moments ago, quickly became downcast.
“Is Mother Sorcate unwell again?”
Tirsalan hesitated, lips pressed together, then finally said,
“Lady Turegen came by earlier.”
