Nurhaci was born the third son to a wealthy Mansurian merchant who had based his business on the border between the Mansurian homeland and that of the horse lords to the west. The man was so wealthy that he basically controlled Nurhaci’s home city of Noho. Trade flowed through this area from all over the known world. Goods from the great dragon empire to the south and from the silk road to the west made their way into Mansuria for her agriculture and mineral wealth making the Mansurian people rich beyond measure, no citizen of this land lacked for anything. There was no conflict and all the citizens of every clan within Mansuria were happy and content with their lives. At least that is what the leaders of Noho would like for you to believe, but according to Nurhaci the political intrigue and fighting among the wealthy of his homeland could make it far more dangerous than the steppes at times, they were just better at keeping their underhanded dealings a secret.

Being from a wealthy family Nurhaci was raised away from the common folk of Noho and spent his younger years surrounded by other wealthy people and the slaves owned by the leaders of Noho and surrounding cities. He was sheltered as a child and kept blissfully unaware of the state of things outside of his home and own social circle. He lived like this for thirteen years before he finally came face to face with the dark side of humans and of the city that he had, to this point thought was a Utopia on earth. Nurhaci had been born rather late in his father’s life so by the time Nurhaci was thirteen his father was quite old, and it was common knowledge to those in the household and in the city, that he would soon be leaving his earthly body. When he knew that he was nearing the end of his life he had decided to split his assets among his three sons in an effort to avoid fighting between siblings once he was dead.

Nurhaci had little care for such things since he was still young and didn’t really understand the gravity of the situation, but Nurhaci’s mother and those around her were ecstatic since they knew that Nurhaci and them would be cared for, for the rest of their lives if things went well after his father’s death. Time passed and Nurhaci’s father’s health took a turn for the worse. The doctors called by the family could do nothing and in the summer of Nurhaci’s fourteenth year his father died an old man leaving Nurhaci and his two older brothers all of his assets to govern over. On the night of his father’s death as the family was mourning another tragedy struck. Nurhaci was fast asleep in his room, tired after spending most of the day going through different mourning rituals meant to aid in his late father’s passing, when the door to his room burst open. The noise woke Nurhaci who jumped awake startled looking over to see who the intruder was who had just burst into his room. To Nurhaci’s confusion the intruder was one of his brother’s personal slaves. Nurhaci just sat there looking at the man confused. He was wondering, why does this slave dare to enter my room? And, why is he holding his hand behind his back? Before Nurhaci could ask the slave what he was doing the slave spoke up first. “I apologize but it’s the master’s orders,” after the slave finished speaking, he rushed towards Nurhaci revealing that he was hiding a dagger behind his back when he entered the room.

The attack was so fast and unexpected that Nurhaci was almost completely powerless to act. Nurhaci should have died then and there without really knowing what was going on but luckily for Nurhaci his survival instincts kicked in even before he was able to process the situation that he found himself in. The slave who was hell bent on Killing Nurhaci may have been older and larger than Nurhaci, but he hadn’t been trained for combat over the past few years as Nurhaci had been. Nurhaci quickly rose to his feet before the slave got to him. The attacker Lunged with the dagger aiming for Nurhaci’s gut. Nurhaci used the slave’s momentum to push the weapon wide right and used this opportunity to punch the slave in his side. The hit caused the slave to hit his knees and gasp for air. Nurhaci could have taken this opportunity to run away but he felt confident that he could win so instead of fleeing he stayed in his room and fought. While the slave was trying collect himself after that unexpected blow, Nurhaci grabbed a metal candle stick that sat beside his bed, reared the stick back behind his head and bashed the slave over the head knocking him flat on his stomach and sending the blade in his hands sliding across the floor. Nurhaci rushed over to the dagger picked it up and turned around only to be bodily slammed into the ground by his attacker. Both people rolled around on the ground struggling for the dagger.

Nurhaci tried his best and used the methods taught to him by his combat teacher but the difference in size and strength between the two left him at a clear disadvantage. Before long the victor was decided, and the slave sat atop Nurhaci with the dagger in his hands with a disgusting grin plastered on his disheveled face. Nurhaci knew that this was going to be the end of him, but even if he knew that much, he still didn’t know why this was even happening to him. Nurhaci’s brother’s slave raised the dagger over his head getting ready to plunge it into Nurhaci’s chest and end the young man’s life. Nurhaci didn’t look away or close his eyes he just looked at the weapon curiously, noticing little details about the blade like how he had seen this blade on his brother’s hip many times in the past and how there were specks of dried blood around the hilt where it hadn’t been cleaned properly after use. The blade looked beautiful as it shined in the dim light, if he was not so close to death Nurhaci would have liked to sit there and continue to watch the blade. Nurhaci knew he did not want to die, even if he was out matched in strength and already thoroughly worn out, he was not ready to pass and would go out fighting until the bitter end if need be. In a last-ditch effort to stay alive he through his hands up into the path of the falling blade, to try and block the blade from penetrating his chest. Technically this move was successful, and Nurhaci caught the dagger with his own flesh. With the adrenaline Nurhaci didn’t feel too much pain it just felt like a sting from a bee and nothing more. Nurhaci used this opportunity of having the dagger stuck into his hands to kick his adversary off of him.

Luckily for Nurhaci his little stunt of allowing himself to be stabbed got the slave off balance giving him a chance to get free, however kicking his opponent off caused the dagger to rip out of his hands covering Nurhaci’s face with his own fresh blood. Once free from his constraints Nurhaci ran for the door and didn’t look back, he knew that if he were to attempt to fight anymore that he would die this time and there wouldn’t be another chance to leave. Nurhaci ran through his father’s house passing by confused slaves and priests of the house as he went. Nurhaci knew that his home was not safe for him so he made his way out as quickly as he could, not even stopping to check on his mother for fear of being found by someone else who may be after his life. He made his way through the compound making sure to avoid the more populated areas in order to avoid any unwanted encounters. He made it outside the walls of his father’s hosing complex without any more incidents and swiftly made his way to the only place he thought he could find safety. He made his way through the dark streets of Noho on memory alone as his mind was clouded from the pain that had finally set in once the adrenaline had begun wearing off.

Before he knew it, Nurhaci was standing before a door, he had seen this door many times over the years, a door he used to be scared to enter in the past but now was his refuge where he could feel safe and secure. He went to knock but moving his hands in such a manner caused too much pain so instead he kicked the door to get the attention of the home’s sole occupant. “Master open up, it’s Nurhaci,” he yelled between intervals of kicking the door. Nurhaci stood there kicking the door and calling his master for what felt like hours but was just a few minutes at most before his master opened the door looking angry at being disturbed so late in the night. The look of anger quickly turned to that of shock instead at seeing the state that Nurhaci was in. “What happened boy?” asked Nurhaci’s master Bashimur. Nurhaci looked up at his Master and said, “I was attacked in my sleep by my brother’s slave.” Bashimur’s eyes went wide and looked around the vicinity cautiously as he beckoned Nurhaci inside. When Nurhaci came inside the house, he noticed that a half-naked woman was present in the home making Nurhaci feel uncomfortable. Bashimur shooed the woman away handing her some money telling her to leave which she did looking somewhat displeased. “I am sorry for disturbing you two master,” Nurhaci said shyly. Bashimur waved off Nurhaci’s concerns, “Don’t worry boy you are much more important than some whore off the street. Bashimure grabbed Nurhaci’s shoulder and began guiding him to the kitchen. Bashimur sat Nurhaci down in a chair in his kitchen and began to tend to Nurhaci’s wounded hands while they talked. “which brother’s slave was it?” he asked while cleaning Nurhaci’s wounds. Nurhaci did not even have to think about who it was, he immediately knew the identity of his attacker since he had known the man since he was a small child. “Dorgon,” Nurhaci said, “it was Dorgon’s slave who attacked me.” “Figured,” said Bashimur as he finished patching up Nurhaci’s hands. “What do you mean?” asked Nurhaci. Bashimur stopped what he was doing and stared at Nurhaci. It seemed to Nurhaci that he was trying to find something as he peered into his eyes. Bashimur stared into Nurhaci’s eyes for an uncomfortable amount of time. Nurhaci was almost to the point of looking away but Bashimur looked away first releasing Nurhaci from the awkward situation he found himself in. “your tutor has failed to teach you a valuable lesson about this world Nurhaci,” Bashimur said looking off into the distance, “no, I should have taught you myself instead of expecting others to teach you everything about life’s harsh realities.” “what are you talking about?” Nurhaci asked confused. “Do you have any idea why you were attacked?” Bashimur asked. Nurhaci responded by shaking his head no. “figured as much.” Said Bashimur. Nurhaci looked at Bashimur quizzically urging him to continue on with his point. “tonight you learned the most valuable lesson in life, a lesson that should you forget you’ll wind up dead and your body discarded with the trash somewhere to be forgotten about by the world,” Bashimur said as he moved his seat closer to Nurhaci so that he was sitting directly in front of Nurhaci’s face. “Everything and everyone in this world are out to get you and if you slip up and let down your guard for even a moment someone or something will finally get you and end you. You found that out tonight and you now bear the scars to prove it,” Bashimur finished up by pointing to the dressed wounds on Nurhaci’s hands. Nurhaci looked down at his hands and was reminded just how much pain the dagger caused as it plunged into his hands, causing him to wince in pain at the sight. “Master I still don’t understand.” “what do you not understand?” asked Bashimur. “Why did this happen?” Nurhaci asked back, “why did this happen to me?” “there are many reasons this happened to you and none of them are easy to accept but this is the reality of the world and in order to move on you will need to accept these facts,” Bashimur said sternly. Nurhaci nodded for Bashimur to continue wanting to hear what his master had to say about his situation. “the first reason is your inheritance,” Bashimur said, “You were to receive a piece of your father’s estate and your eldest brother did not wish to see the estate broken up, if I am correct he probably had your other brother killed as well in order to inherit the entire estate rather than just a piece as your father had wished.” Nurhaci looked at Bashimur shocked. In his naïve mind he had not once thought that one of his brothers would try to have him killed for their inheritance. Bashimur nodded, “You are beginning to understand.” “But we are brothers even if he wants father’s money why would he go this far?” Nurhaci asked shocked and in disbelief. “Money can turn the most honest man’s heart as black as night,” Bashimur said with a distant look on his face as if he were remembering something as he spoke. “I-I see,” said Nurhaci. “Your father should have seen this outcome coming but sadly it seems he thought familial bonds would have kept things civil among you brothers.” Nurhaci hung his head at Bashimur’s words.

So much had happened to Nurhaci in such a short amount of time that it was hard for him to take it all in and process it. His mind was a buzz with activity as he was trying to come to terms with the fact that his father was dead, and his oldest brother was probably out to kill him for their father’s inheritance. Nurhaci just sat there, head held low, for a long time trying to come to grips with this new reality. Finally, Nurhaci raised his head and looked at Bashimur, “what could I have done to stop this?” Bashimur smiled at Nurhaci’s question, “I’m glad you asked because that was another of my points on why this happened to you.” Nurhaci leaned in closer, now very interested in what Bashimur had to say. “in order to have stopped this from happening, you would have needed far more power than you currently have,” Bashimur said, “and not just marshal power but the power you get from influence over others.” “Influence over others,” Nurhaci asked, “what do you mean by that?” “who attacked you, Dorgon or his slave?” asked Bashimur. “Dorgon,” Nurhaci replied. “Exactly,” Beshimur exclaimed, “He did not need to do it himself because he held power and influence over others so that they would do the dirty jobs for him.” “I think I am beginning to understand,” Nurhaci said, “You’re saying I need power in order to survive and without it I am doomed.” “That is a start yes, but there are other circumstances that are not always so easy to control regardless of how strong you are.” “Then master will you help me get stronger?” Nurhaci pleaded. “Of course, you are my disciple and it is my duty to train you, but first we must leave Noho before your brother can find you,” Bashimur said standing up, “I would not be surprised if he is already hunting you down.” Nurhaci nodded and stood up with Bashimur, “yes master but what of my mother shouldn’t we fetch her before fleeing?” Bashimur looked down at Nurhaci with a pained look on his face, “Nurhaci your mother is dead, and you will do good to remember who did this to her” Nurhaci stood there shocked, not being able to comprehend what Bashimur had just told him. Soon that shock turned to grief and finally the grief turned to anger at himself and at his brother. Nurhaci swore right there to grow stronger so that one day he could avenge the injustice done to him.

~

Bahimur was a nomad from the steppes and like me he was raised to be a warrior for his clan. He fought in many battles every spring for his clan’s grazing rights. In his time there were many victories helping his clan grow in prestige and power. until one spring where his clan was crushed in defeat by a much larger clan and forced to fold into the larger clan. Being a strong warrior Bashimur was invited to be a free warrior in the new clan but Bashimur’s pride wouldn’t allow him to accept the deal so he banished himself and wandered towards the east. He eventually made his way to the Mansurian’s land where he acted as a mercenary for many years putting his training and experience to good use. Bashimur found himself in Noho on a contract where he met Nurhaci’s father. He took a liking to Bashimur and after Bashimur had finished his contract in Noho, Nurhaci’s father hired him to be Nurhaci’s tutor in combat, going as far as giving Bashimur his own house not too far from his estate keeping Bashimur close at hand. Since the house was a gift from Nurhaci’s father Bashimur knew that the entire estate knew of the house, his existence and his relationship to Nurhaci meaning that they were not safe from Drogon and his lackeys while they were in the house. So, after tending to Nurhaci’s wounds, packing some supplies and grabbing some horses, the two of them sneakily left the house and headed west out of the city.

Nurhaci did not know the plan and was just following Bashimur blindly until they got out of Noho and he started to wonder where they were going and why they were heading west in the first place. “Where are we going?” Nurhaci asked, riding alongside Bashimur. “My home,” He replied flatly. Nurhaci was shocked, he had grown up hearing stories about the steppes. How they were a barren, harsh wasteland home to vicious barbarians and beasts alike. “why would we go there?” Nurhaci asked somewhat shaken. “Dorgon will follow you anywhere you go in Mansuria, he has enough money and influence to find you in any of the Mansurian clans but he and his subordinates will think twice before entering the steppes, he will most likely assume you’re dead once he finds out that’s where we went.” Nurhaci nodded his head, understanding the logic behind Bashimur’s words but still scared of the thought of entering the steppes for the first time. “don’t worry I know my way around, what places and clans to avoid and where it is somewhat safe to go.” Bashimur said reassuringly. “Somewhat safe?” “Yes, somewhat,” Bashimur replied, “there isn’t anywhere truly safe on the steppes, just about anything and everyone is out to kill you out there.” “how do people live there then?” Nurhaci asked. “Most don’t, just the strong survive.” Bashimur said face void of any emotion. Nurhaci shuddered at his words. He was beginning to realize just how much his life was changing all of a sudden and it all started with the death of his father not even one day ago. “are we going anywhere specifically?” Nurhaci asked after some time of thinking about the future. “We won’t be staying in the steppes long,” Bashimur said, “we will continue west and hopefully we can catch some merchants along the way and act as guards.” “Merchants to where?” Nurhaci asked confused. “the silk road travels along the southern borders of the steppe and that is where we will be going, those merchants can always use extra guards since so many find themselves dead along the way to their destinations.” “wait we are going along the silk roads to the countries in the west?” Nurhaci asked dumfounded, “Why are we going out there?” “We both need a fresh start Nurhaci, and this will be a good opportunity to get stronger and see the wider world.” Nurhaci sat in his saddle shocked, trying to grasp what was happening. Finally, he turned around in the saddle and looked back towards Noho and off into the distance saw the first few rays of sunlight. “Will I ever be able to come back here?” Nurhaci asked turning back around to face the front again. “that depends on you,” Bashimur said, “But if you do come back make sure you have the strength to take back what was taken from you.” “how will I get the power and people to take back my home if I am so far away?” Nurhaci asked confused. “only time will tell,” Bashimur replied, “But I will guide you as best I can from here on out.” “thank you Bashimur I appreciate your help.” Bashimur smiled at Nurhaci, “you are like my son Nurhaci, and I will support you as such.” Nurhaci was shocked at what Bashimur had just said, and the more he thought of it he started to notice that he too looked up to Bashimur as a father figure and not just a teacher. Thus Nurhaci’s great journey west began.