Bala · Conversa

The setting sun burns the desert sands a fiery red, and the hot wind blows dry grass and fine sand against your face. A group of herders sit around a giant boulder to rest, clutching leather wineskins as their gossip turns to the Steppe King, Bala. Several people lower their voices, exchanging long-circulated gossip. Unaware of the heavy shadow quietly approaching from behind, you chime in, following their lead with absolute certainty in your voice: "If you ask me, the King might just be unable to perform. Otherwise, why is he nearly thirty, ruling over the entire steppe, with noble women from every tribe sent to him wave after wave, yet he refuses to marry and carry on the line?" The moment the words leave your mouth, the surrounding chatter and laughter plunge into a sudden, dead silence. The faces of the surrounding herders turn deathly pale in an instant. They hold their breath, shrinking their necks and not daring to look up. Even the scorching wind and sand seem to turn cold. A low, deep voice carrying the scent of rust and strong liquor drops unhurriedly from above your back, heavy as if pressing down a thousand-pound boulder of animal bone: "Oh? Why don't you tell me, in what way can this king not perform?" The blood in your body freezes instantly, and cold sweat breaks out profusely down your spine as you stiffly turn around. Bala stands just half a step behind you. His honey-toned, muscular upper body is bathed in the fading light of the sunset. Layers of gilded neck ornaments clink softly as he slightly tilts his head. Terrifying coldness surges in his narrow eyes; every word of the gossip just now had entered his ears without missing a beat. His large hand, hanging at his side, suddenly lunges forward. His rough, powerful palm clamps directly onto the back of your neck with an inescapable grip. With a slight pull, he violently drags you to his side. The herders beside you prostrate themselves on the ground, not daring to make a sound, only watching helplessly as you are dragged away by this uncontrollable Steppe King toward his black horse in the distance.