Steppe west of Astrakhan.

Cold winter, first snowfall, withered brown grass and trees dotted with stars.

Evening.

A young man is riding on an old horse galloping northwest.

The man was about fourteen or fifteen years old, and he looked like a Kyrgyz (the name given to the yellow-skinned nomads in all areas under Tsarist Russia), but he was wearing winter clothes that are common among the Turghut people nowadays.

Mink Toltsk hat, long blue silk fabric, lambskin winter robe exposed at the cuffs and hem, loose white trousers, red Chalga felt boots.

There is a long knife hanging on the right side.

He is thin, has a delicate face, and is haggard. Although he is only fourteen or fifteen years old, he is quite tall, about two and a half feet (about one meter seven).

Seeing that he had already left the city of Astrakhan for more than ten miles, with only the white marble city walls and the reddish-brown spire of the Assumption Cathedral still visible, the young man could not help but let out a long sigh of relief.

He relaxed the reins slightly and continued to walk northwest along the general road.

There is a vast expanse of white all around, and the occasional brown color becomes a road sign.

As if he was not familiar with the path, the old variegated horse became a little impatient, broke away from the boy's shackles and started running on his own.

The old horse knows the way, and the young man also takes it for granted, and will let it go after a little scolding.

The night slowly fell, and the hazy sky with the unfinished snow and the dim white of the earth began to blend together. The path chosen by the old horse seemed to be effective, and the young man couldn't help but feel relieved.

He relaxed, tied the reins around his waist, put his hands in his cuffs, leaned his upper body slightly forward, looked around briefly and then closed his eyes.

In winter, the wind in the northern part of the Caspian Sea gradually became stronger at night, and it was bone-chilling, but the boy didn't care at all.

I don’t know how long it took, but the old horse suddenly started bumping more and more.

The young man felt a chill in his heart.

"Wolga Marsh!"

The Volga Swamp is a swamp formed by the overflow of the Volga River about a few dozen miles northwest of Astrakhan City. It would be fine if it were the middle of winter, but it is only early winter now, so I don’t know about the large and small puddles.

There is no such thing as jelly.

"Why didn't you think of this section when you ran out?"

However, he finally managed to escape. Even if there was Tamin Chagan Nur (Hell Wetland, the Mongolian name for the Volga Swamp) standing in front of him, he could not stop his determination to continue running, because there was still more than a hundred miles to go.

Arrive at Vitlyanka, where the winter royal tent of the Torgut tribe is located on the west bank of the Volga River.

Lao Ma seemed to realize that the road ahead was dangerous, and his speed became busier and busier.

But relying on more than 20 years of experience, it avoided one puddle after another that was only covered with a thin layer of ice, which made the young man slowly relax again.

He squinted his eyes again.

The night became darker and darker, and the earth was silent, except for the howling cold wind that occasionally flashed by his ears.

If there were no accidents, he would be able to reach Vitlyanka in the early morning...

"Plop!"

As soon as the word "accident" appeared in the mind of the half-awake young man, the accident came immediately!

The mottled old horse miscalculated.

According to its experience, it would be harmless as long as it ran along the high ground, but what it didn't expect was that in this vast swamp, in addition to dotted puddles, there were also Cossack cat winter grounds!

Those are the dens dotted in the swamp used for catching mink!

As the Russians gained almost complete control of the vicinity of Astrakhan, and almost all of Siberia, they completely gave up on mink hunting grounds like Taminchagan Nur, close to the Ob and Yenisei rivers near the Arctic Circle

The nearby swamp tundra has minks with high-quality fur, and there are more foxes, which are easier to catch. Why waste time and effort to go to Volga?

As a result, each nest gradually turned into a highland puddle!

This is a large puddle. It was originally covered with a row of wood. When the herdsmen and mink hunters arrived, they took away the wood to start a fire, so it became a big puddle!

The Cossacks dug a deep hole in the ground. As dust and withered grass accumulated over time, it turned into a puddle that was half sewage and half silt.

"Hiss..."

After a period of unwilling whining, the old horse completely sank in, and at the same time threw the young man on the horse off.

A bone-chilling chill and a deepening fear instantly enveloped everyone.

However, although it was a "big" puddle, it was not very large after all. The coldness inspired the young man to have a sense of clarity, and he began to struggle to use his old horse to move outside the puddle.

People living on the prairie are no strangers to swamps, and it is not uncommon to see people, cattle, and sheep trapped in them. The young man used the teachings he had received since childhood to endure the dizzying chill and slowly approached the land...

..

At this moment, a sound that was very different from the sound of the wind made him stop.

Fire!

A small patch of fire!

As the fire continued to approach, the sound of horse hoofbeats could be heard faintly, and the young man felt completely despaired at the sight.

Cossacks!

Cossacks, only the tall and majestic Don hippopotamus of Cossacks can make such a sound in winter!

After giving up all thoughts, his body and mind completely relaxed, and the extreme chill made him completely faint.

"It was a miscalculation. It turned out that the hateful Cossacks had discovered me a long time ago. Rather than being captured by them and taken back to Astrakhan, it would be better to end it here."

The last glimmer of clarity at the mourning platform made him truly despair. It was a feeling of death, frustration, and fear intertwined.

"Black Room!"

With the appearance of the last word and the cold light of the Cossack Chasik saber flashing in the night, he completely lost consciousness.

......

"Black room..."

When he woke up again, he was already in a real dark room.

In all provincial cities of the Russians, the Kremlin will be built. At first, it was the garrison of the Cossack army, and later it gradually became the garrison of the government, churches, and the new army. It is also the so-called "inner city".

Different from the white outer city walls, the Kremlin city walls are made of large fired red-brown bricks. The buildings inside are also magnificent and beautiful, most of which are the Assumption Cathedral or the Holy Trinity Cathedral.

The center is surrounded by government agencies, official residences, and opera houses.

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The outer city became the residence of Cossacks, merchants, and small landowners.

Underneath the Cathedral of the Assumption, the most dazzling building in the Kremlin, is the dark room that makes young people shudder.

The Black Room was originally used to imprison heretics or criminal priests. However, as Russia grew stronger and its territory became more vast, the monasteries near the Arctic Circle became the new place of detention for these people, and the Black Room

The house slowly evolved into a place where die-hard heretics were imprisoned.

The cold marble floor and endless darkness plunged the young man into a trembling fear.

But now he can no longer think normally.

Dizziness and coldness enveloped him. This dizziness was not caused by the cold, but by the high fever. His whole body was soaked after falling into the swamp, and now he is still wearing the wet and cold winter coat.

Slowly, he seemed to feel comfortable.

In fact, it was an illusion. The extreme high fever made him unable to feel the chill, but the increasingly intense dizziness made him slowly lose consciousness...

"Huntaiji..."

At this moment, a voice came from the depths of darkness.

The word "huntaiji" made him sober up a little.

"I am the eldest son of the current Great Khan of Torgut, Dunrob Lashi. I was named Huntaiji when I was born. When I was ten years old, I came to Astrakhan as a hostage. I was accompanied by Chu, the son of Huiteji.

Hu'er, Dulbert Xiaotaiji Bayar, and the wet nurse Saren'erji who has been serving me since I grew up"

"I ran away secretly. Chu Hu'er, Bayar, and Saren Eji are also involved, and they are probably imprisoned too..."

"Eji..."

The last bit of consciousness supported him and the person he called out was not Saren Eji, but his own Eji, who was far away in the Volga River, that is, the Eji of Vitlyangka in the winter camp on the west bank of the Ezil River in their own mouth.<

/p>

He had already struggled to sit up from the cold floor. After shouting Eji, he fell down again with a "bang".

An extremely majestic young man ran over to help him, but it was of no avail. The young man's last trace of consciousness disappeared, and endless darkness completely enveloped him...

"Wha..."

There seemed to be a slight noise in the dark room, and then a strange sight appeared.

There was not even an oil lamp, and the dark room that had always been dark suddenly lit up!

At this time, three people appeared next to the young man. In addition to the majestic young man just now, there was also a fair-faced young man, and a Mongolian woman about forty years old, with anxious eyes.

They thought it was the Russians who were coming down. Although they were a little scared, the sudden appearance of light still relaxed their original sad and fearful mood.
To be continued...