[CENTER][img]https://www.nationalgalleries.org/sites/default/files/styles/postcard/public/externals/124876.jpg?itok=lQUGOA5r[/img]
Alp Tarkhan - Younger Years [/CENTER]

Giving a man a musket is not enough to make him into a soldier. For a soldier not only wears his uniform and wields his weapon, but he is also a man first and foremost. A man that must be shaped into a soldier through training, obedience and spirit. To make a man bleed for his brothers in arms or his king is no easy task. The people of Khazaria know this well enough, for once upon a time nobody would fight for a king that didn't fight with them, nobody would lend their bows or swords to a man who couldn't show that he is a capable leader. As such, the free warriors of the clans were only led by the truly capable of a meritocratic tradition to last the ages.

However, times have changed. Many Khazars have gone from the saddle to the comforts of urban life, some to sail the seas and some more to make use of cannon. There isn't much else to say, the leaders of the once-proud noble warrior clans turned to business and luxuries and the great warriors of the Khazars were slowly but surely being transformed into soldiers at the command of an Emperor. The great plains were slowly but surely developed into lush farmlands and ranches. Filled with crops and animals as far as the eye could see.

There wasn't a better time to be alive in the Empire of Khazaria, but certainly, much of the tradition had been slowly been forgotten. Yet, something remains an constant in the minds and spirits of the Khazarians and that is the ability to wage war, become forces of nature that destroy everything in their path and that cannot be stopped by simple means. This is the spirit of Khazaria which remains asleep, not awakened until now.

The Emperor of Khazaria Şahin Macar had seen to it. He had appointed Alp Tarkhan as the commander of the forces to be sent to aid Stevata in their war against the Kingdom of Dorist, and he had a certain history to him that was well known amongst many in Khazaria and the clans to the east. For many, Alp Tarkhan was the stereotypical great general and warrior, someone who could be compared with Nursultan in terms of military genius and savageness. Someone who nobody wanted to mess with or face in one to one combat, and even with his age he was still as feared as ever. Nobody would want to disappoint him, yet his charisma made everyone want to be lead by him.

He was all in all a man that represented Khazaria's past spirits. Truly there was none else who could reign in the clans of the east into his army and control them, basically integrating the savage east with modern west of Khazaria into a single unified force. Truly a force that could put fear in the minds of any of its enemies.

Yet at this force was assembled in the border with Stevata, there were those that didn't believe in total victory and just wanted to go back to enjoy in their urban cities. After all, with the recent increments in allowances to recruiting officers, there was a certain amount of let's say "unlucky" recruits, who had been tricked into signing into the Imperial army. A good beer or a couple of them, a rousing speech of patriotism in a bar was enough to trick some into joining up in the army and by the time they had any lucidness, they were already on a camp receiving their bright yellow uniform and their musket. 

One such young man named Khuterkin aged no more than eighteen had seen his normal life at home been put to a quick end when his signature was found on a document of signing up to become a soldier. He received a small pouch of coins, rather generous for his first pay but still not enough to truly remove the shock that was to be basically drafted into the army because he got too drunk one night at the tavern. 

Regardless, what had been done could not be changed and he alongside probably hundreds of men from his city was now on the way to the border with Stevata. Khuterkin was a rather carefree man, not a lazy one though. He was known for his ability in the textile craft, but even then he expected to spend his life on his father's workshop not on the battlefield against the westerners. His training was rough to saythe least, the equipment was alright but not up to par. There were still many workshops within the Empire producing uniforms, clothing, boots, muskets that had yet to arrive at the hands of the soldiers.

Yet, before a month had passed he was already on the border. Marching in column formation, while he saw only from afar the general Alp Tarkhan on his bright gold and red uniform, he was a man of tall stature from what he had seen before. Very tall and with a strong presence amongst his soldiers, he had been sort of charmed by his lousy speeches against the Dorist calling them the rats and pigs of Europe. Overconfident, small and weak. Defeated a thousand times before by the likes of the great Khan Nursultan and his descendants. 

Every time, he heard his speeches he felt empowered and confident. More than capable and willing to fight against the Dorist, confident on his return home and on the many women he would be able to charm with stories from the battlefield and everyone in his own battalion felt the same way. In barely a few months, Khuterkin had turned into loyal and obedient followers of the Imperial army that now sallied forth outside of Khazarian borders into Stevata.

Yet much like before, he had been tricked and fooled by the sweet words of a general. One that did fight alongside his soldiers but one that made use of his particular talents to ensure that he could gain more glory for himself and the emperor. Someone who was more at home speaking with the chieftains of the eastern clans than with his own officers and commanders. Regardless, the dice had been cast and Eastern Alliance of Stevata, Khazaria, and Teclav were now fighting against three other nations. Thousands would die and many more would suffer because of this war, a war that had begun due to the tricks and foolishness of Dorist. Who only sought to expand their nation even further against the expense of those whom they only saw as savages to be conquered.