Chapter 4

The camp buzzed with energy. The air was thick with the scent of roasting meat and fresh bread. Women dressed in fine fabrics moved gracefully, while men sharpened their weapons, ready to defend their new friendship.

Then, Zukhur, the Khig leader, arrived. His sharp, wise eyes landed on Markos.

“Welcome, Markos of the Bunga, to Kauzlud,” he said, his voice echoing. Instantly, the tension lifted. The two leaders stepped closer.

Zukhur focused on Markos, the young man who promised gold and trade routes. His gaze was as unreadable as the desert sky. Markos is the grandson of the previous leader of Khig.

Markos took a breath. He knew he had to speak. “Zukhur, our clan faces many enemies in Khoad,” he said firmly. “Our numbers are insufficient. Your warriors could help us grow without fear of raiders.”

Zukhur paused, sipping from his goblet. “And what do you offer in return?” he asked, his tone calm and steady.

Markos leaned in, determination shining in his eyes. “I offer wealth beyond what you can imagine. In exchange, I seek an alliance. Lend us your warriors. Together, we can control the trade routes from the Teshi lands to the heart of the desert. Gold and goods from distant lands will flow into Kauzlud, benefiting both our clans.”

Zukhur’s face was calm. “Your offer is tempting, Markos,” he said. “But what is wealth without loyalty?”

Markos felt the tension. “I understand. What do you propose?”

“To solidify our bond,” Zukhur replied, his eyes locked on Markos. “My daughter, Meira, is of age. A marriage between you and her would unite our clans. Together, we would be strong.”

Markos sensed the weight of this proposal. His grandfather had led Khig. He sensed opposition for Zukhur in the Khig. This marriage could help Zukhur retain power as a relative of the previous leader. It was a chance for both men.

“I accept your offer, Zukhur,” Markos said, his voice steady.

Markos turned to his wife, Hycis. He didn’t see shock on her face. Instead, he saw hope. She knew how vital this union was.

Zukhur smiled widely. Cheers filled the room. Music swelled once more. The feast carried on, but it felt different now. There was an energy of unity in the air.

That night, they sealed their alliance. Markos and Meira wed in a simple ceremony. The strength of the Khig and Bunga clans surrounded them as they stood together.

As the celebrations faded, Hycis walked toward Meira. The bride shone in gold and green, the Khig colors. Meira’s eyes searched for understanding in Hycis’s face. Hycis took her hand gently.

“Welcome to the Bunga, sister,” she whispered. “You are now part of our family.”

Meira met her gaze. Hycis, her sister-wife, smiled warmly.

“Thank you, Sister,” Meira replied softly. “We will stand together, as one.”

They moved through the dim camp. Laughter and music from the feast faded into the distance. Hycis led Meira to Markos’s tent, set apart from the others. It was large, guarded by two respectful sentries.

Hycis pushed the tent flap aside, inviting Meira in. Markos sat on cushions, candlelight flickering over his strong form. His eyes held a mix of desire and doubt as they locked onto Meira’s. She felt a shiver run down her spine.

Hycis leaned in close, whispering to Markos. “Be gentle with her. She’s new to this. Treat her with respect, like you would me. Make her feel part of our clan.”

Hycis turned back to Meira. She smiled at newlyweds. She left the tent.

It was their wedding night. Meira stood there, a mix of nerves and excitement. Markos moved closer. Her red hair tumbled around her shoulders, vibrant and alive. Her emerald eyes sparkled with anticipation.

She was young, just like Markos. Her skin glowed like sun-kissed sand. A smile danced on her lips, offering warmth and comfort. They found themselves in a tent filled with soft, luxurious cotton beds. It felt so different from the rough canvas of their tents. Candlelight flickered, casting a soft glow over Meira.

Meira searched Markos’s eyes. She needed reassurance. He understood her feelings. Fear and excitement mixed together. He took her hand and placed it on the dagger at his waist. The metal felt warm against her skin.

“With this blade, I swear to protect you and our clan,” Markos whispered. His gaze held hers firmly.

Meira nodded, her heart racing. “And with my body, I’ll give you strength and honor,” she said, her voice barely escaping her lips.

They lay on a soft bed, surrounded by cotton and furs. Candles flickered, casting a warm glow over their intertwined bodies.

Markos took his time. He explored every inch of Meira’s skin with gentle kisses. Her breath caught as his lips traced the curve of her neck. His hands moved confidently.

He started by licking her neck. She shivered. A soft moan escaped her lips as her head tilted back, inviting him closer. Markos moved to her ear, nibbling gently. Then he traced a path down to her collarbone. He could feel her heart racing beneath his lips.

Meira’s hands rested on his chest. Her fingers toyed with the buttons of his shirt. He grinned and undid them, stepping back. The shirt slipped off.

He let his hands glide over her body. Her skin was soft and warm. It felt real. Each touch sparked a connection between them.

He cupped her breasts, rubbing her nipples through her silk fabric that draped her. She gasped, her back arching.

He leaned in and kissed her. Their mouths met, and his tongue sought hers. His hand glided down her side, searching for the clasp of her dress.

In one swift motion, the dress fell open. She gasped, and he took a moment to admire her. Then, he lowered his mouth, taking one of her breasts gently. He sucked and bit softly.

A soft moan escaped her lips. Her hips pressed against him, hungry for more. He switched to the other breast, showering it with the same care.

He felt her warmth rising, her breath quickening. The air thickened with desire.

Her hands moved to the waistband. He let her undo the knot on his loincloth.

His erection sprang free. She took it in her hand. She stroked it gently. She was touching a cock for the first time. Her eyes were a mix of lust and fascination.

He watched her face, seeing the desire in her eyes. He removed the remaining fabric on her. She was naked before him. Her wet pussy greeted him. She begged for his touch.

With a smirk, Markos knelt before Meira. He spread her legs wide. He started with a gentle lick on her inner thighs.

She giggled. His tongue traced upward. Her giggles turned into gasps.

He reached her pussy. It was wet and inviting. He took his time, savoring her taste like a fine wine. Her breath grew heavier. She leaned back into the pillows. Her chest rose and fell with each breath.

He focused on her clit, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. Her moans grew louder. He felt her body tense, her hips bucking against his face. He took her in his mouth. Her legs wrapped around his neck. She pushed him deeper.

Her nails pressed into his shoulders. “Oh God, Markos,” she gasped. “That feels amazing.”

Markos slid two fingers into Meira’s pussy. Her gasp was a symphony of pleasure. Her slick warmth welcomed him. He felt her walls tightening around him.

He curved his fingers. They found her sweet G-spot. Her breath hitched, and her hips bucked slightly. As he brought her closer to the edge, he studied her face, memorizing her expressions.

“I’m your god, Meira,” he whispered. The words held weight. They were a promise, a declaration.

He could feel her body respond. Her pussy tightened around his fingers. Her own juices soaked her vagina.

Her eyes shot open. They locked onto his. Desire flickered in her gaze. Her pupils were wide, filled with longing.

“Markos!” she gasped as he withdrew his fingers.

Markos positioned himself at her entrance. She was wet and ready. The tip of his cock nudged against her.

He pushed into her slowly, watching her face. She was beautiful as a desert goddess offering herself to him.

Her eyes closed tight, and she bit her lip as he filled her completely. He took his time, savoring the feel of her tight, wet warmth surrounding him.

Her muscles adjusted to his size, and she began to move with him. At first, their movements were tentative, but soon, they found a rhythm. He felt her hymen breaking. She moaned in pain. He assured her. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.

Meira’s breath grew shallow, her hips rising to meet each of his powerful thrusts. Her breasts bounced with the motion, and he took one in his hand, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Their bodies moved as one. He felt her pussy tighten around his cock. Her muscles clenched like a fist. She was close.

Markos felt it. Her breath grew ragged. Her eyes widened. Her hips began to buck wildly. Markos increased his pace.

Then it happened. Meira cried out; her body convulsed. Her pussy clenched around his cock, sending waves of pleasure crashing through him. He watched her face, the exquisite agony and pleasure melding into something beautiful and primal.

She cried out, “Yes, you are my god.”

The sight of her and her words sent waves of pleasure through him. He couldn’t hold back any longer. He thrust into her with all the strength he had. His cock swelled with his own impending release.

With a roar, Markos emptied himself into Meira.

Her orgasm washed over her. She was trembling and breathless. Markos pulled his cock. Her pussy milked him, eager for every drop of his seed.

Their sweat-drenched bodies collapsed on the soft bed.

Meira’s eyes searched Markos’s. They meant love. She rolled her naked body over him. Her head over his chest. Her naked breasts touched his skin. She felt comfort.

Markos kissed her head, and they drifted off to sleep.

Markos sat in his tent. It was quiet. Outside, the camp buzzed with energy. Inside, he felt the weight of his new marriage to Meira and the alliance with the Khig clan. It pressed down on him.

The tent flap opened. Zukhur entered. His eyes sparkled with intent. He walked softly on the thick rugs that covered the sandy floor. “Markos,” he said, “Can we talk?”

Markos looked up. The events of the night had left his thoughts tangled. He nodded. Zukhur settled cross-legged on a pile of cushions. He studied Markos closely.

“The trade routes matter to our people,” Zukhur stated. “But the Zalameen have twisted them. They’ve ensnared us like a serpent.”

Markos leaned in. “I was just about to speak with you. I have a plan.”

Zukhur’s eyes sparkled with determination. “Good,” he said, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

Markos leaned closer, lowering his voice to a near whisper. “They control the routes through bribing Tehsi ambassadors,” he hissed. “They charge Teshi merchants in Jugyik and the tribes in Aknuq ridiculous prices, pocketing huge profits.”

Zukhur’s gaze sharpened. “We must cut off the serpent’s head,” he declared, suggesting a drastic measure against the Tehsi ambassadors.

Markos raised his hand, shaking his head. “Not yet. The Tehsi are too powerful. We can’t confront them directly.” He paused, deep in thought. “We need a smarter approach. Let’s match the Zalameen’s bribes and offer lower prices to the Tehsi merchants.”

Zukhur frowned, his brow furrowed. “And what if they refuse?” he asked, challenging the plan.

Markos grinned. “The Zalameen have held exclusive rights for their tribesmen for years. That’s when Bunga steps in,” he said, excitement lighting up his eyes. “We have many ex-Zalameen tribesmen in our clan. They can be the face of our operations.”

Zukhur nodded. His mind raced with what lay ahead.

“But we must tread carefully. The Zalameen won’t take betrayal lightly.”

“Fear not,” Markos replied. “When we are strong enough, we will take on anyone. The Zalameen, the Tehsi empire—whoever it is.”

Zukhur’s excitement grew as Markos spoke. His heart swelled with pride for his new son-in-law. Markos was fierce like a lion and clever like a desert fox.

“Two days,” Markos declared. His tone was serious. “We will send a caravan loaded with Khig goods. This is our first move to break the Zalameen’s hold.”

Zukhur nodded again. “Yes. Vezumbi will no longer be mere guards for hire or farmers. We will be traders and merchants.”

They stood together, cups raised. When they clinked them, rich wine spilled, staining the rug below. They drank deeply. The sweet liquid warmed them from within.

“To new beginnings,” Zukhur said, his voice bright with hope.

“To unity,” Markos replied, his gaze firm.

Then, Zukhur stepped outside, leaving Markos alone with his thoughts.

Markos sat in his chair, mind racing. Thoughts of the future filled his head. A grand destiny awaited him and his clan.

The alliance with the Khig was crucial, but it wasn’t enough. He craved more—their loyalty, their devotion.

True power, he believed, came from the hearts of those who believed in you. Those who would lay down their lives for you. That’s what he aimed to cultivate.

He possessed a secret weapon. The Khig were the strongest in the Kauzlud city and the lands around it.

They had around three thousand warriors. This didn’t even count their workers, women, children, and slaves. If he could harness their strength and bend them according to his will, he could reshape the region.

But he needed everyone from the Khig clan gathered in one place. That was key.

The upcoming trade wasn’t just about goods. It was an opportunity. A chance to show off the strength of their alliance. A moment to demonstrate his cunning. This was his moment.

Markos stood still, watching the caravan fade into the desert. The camels groaned, burdened by their heavy loads. This was no ordinary group. Leading them was Jaskrot, a fierce warrior and a trusted friend. Markos felt secure. Jaskrot would guard their treasures with his life.

Next to him rode Vulen, the outcast of the Zalameen. Vulen knew the trade route well. He had worked for Hycis before swearing loyalty to Markos. That promise had come on the first night Markos gave them wine tainted with desert flower. The flower’s strange power made people pledge their loyalty to Markos.

For a week, the caravan traversed the sandy terrain from Kauzlud to Jugyik and back. They made clever moves. By offering Vulen as a face of the trade, they gained favor with the Tehsi ambassadors.

Vulen’s status as Zalameen helped. They promised lower prices, which thrilled the merchants in Jugyik. The result? The return was filled with gold coins and valuable goods.

As the sun dipped below the horizon for a week, a cloud of dust appeared. The caravan was nearing Kauzlud. Markos felt excitement building in his chest. Jaskrot was at the front, eyes shining with pride.

The caravan rolled into camp. The clan gathered, eyes bright with anticipation. Jaskrot jumped off his camel. He presented a parchment bearing the Tehsi seal to Markos. This was big news: they had approval to trade with Vulen of the Bunga clan.

“The Tehsi ambassadors have agreed to trade with Vulen,” Jaskrot said, a smug smile on his face. The promise of gold had changed everything. They were ready to listen to their terms.

Hycis stepped forward. His grin was wide. “They liked our gold. They can’t wait for more,” he said, satisfaction dripping from his words.

Markos took the parchment. He felt the weight of their victory. They had broken the Zalameens’ hold on trade. “Good,” he said, his voice steady. He folded the parchment and tucked it into his belt.

“Rest now. We will feast tonight with our Khig brothers.”

He paused, a smirk on his lips. “Or, should I say, our new members of the Bunga clan?”

The camp buzzed with excitement. Zukhur had sent out messages to his clan. Each member of the Khig clan received an invitation. This was a rare call to come together. A promise of food and fun. The air crackled with anticipation.

On the outskirts of Kauzlud city, fires blazed high. The smell of roasting meats and spices filled the air. You could hear the clatter of steel, laughter of friends, and the whisper of silk. The feast was a big deal. The Bunga and Khig clans gathered under one banner. The night pulsed with the idea of unity.

Zukhur took his seat in the middle of the open tent. Soft cushions surrounded him. Markos sat to his right. Their families formed a circle around them. A crowd of thousands surrounded the large tent.

The feast spread out before them. Plates piled high with roasted meats, fruits, and spices. The scent was captivating. It promised a night of celebration and togetherness.

Zukhur stood tall. His voice echoed through the tent. “My brothers and sisters of the Khig clan, today marks a new dawn.”

The crowd fell silent. Everyone’s gaze remained fixed on him. “We have watched the Zalameen take everything. Their greed has enslaved us.” His words landed like rain on parched ground.

He raised his cup, filled with deep red wine. “We stand united with our kin, the Bunga clan. Our late leader’s grandson leads the Bunga clan.” The crowd erupted in cheers, cups raised high.

“To our new alliance!” he shouted, turning to Markos. “And for the cleverness of my son-in-law.”

Markos felt a swell of pride. He took the cup from Zukhur, his gaze drifting to the fire. The flames danced, reflecting in his eyes.

“We will not be pawns in their games anymore,” Zukhur declared.

As Zukhur settled back, Markos stood, glass in hand.

“Brothers and sisters of the Bunga and Khig clans,” Markos called out. His voice echoed in the tent, reaching every ear. “Tonight, we feast on the nectar of our victory!”