Another vignette, because why not? 
Западные ворота
Урумчи, провинция Синьцзян
Весна, 1933 Н.Э.
西門
烏魯木齊市，新疆省
春天，公元1933年
West Gate
Urumqi, Xinjiang Province
Spring, 1933 C.E.
Urumqi, China's western gateway. Since the time of the silk road, the city had long been a crossroads for civilizations, East and West. The homeland of the Uighurs and other Turks, the region had been a Chinese dominion since the Manchu invasion. Now, it is once again a contested battlefront, split between three opposing sides. It is in this backdrop, between the warlord cronies of Jin Shuren, the Hui Chinese patriots under Ma Zhongying, and the rebels of the East Turkestan Republic that men of fortune roam, and one man intends to place his wager, as the Kuomintang's 36th Division marches on Urumqi.
Approaching the West Gate cautiously, the Hui troops felt nervous at the eerie silence. While their reputation as fearless fighters precede them, they too were human, and not immune to pressure. With secret directives from Nanjing to take out the rogue warlord, the Hui prepare to storm the city itself. However, as the distant dust cloud began to settle, they could see a cordon of pale-faced Russians – remnants of the defeated White army in exile – guarding the pass. A lone man with long brown hair appeared to be waiting, sitting on a barricade with a white flag over his shoulders as he watched the Hui approach.[1]
“Identify yourself,” barked a commander in Chinese, stepping to the fore, “state your name, rank and unit!”
Planting the flag on the ground, the lad appeared undaunted by the rifles pointed at him. Speaking to the troopers with glee, he declared, “Colonel Temur, son of Jamsaran. I come bearing good news~! Let me speak with your superiors! I am sure he will be elated to know this.”
Looking confused as the men began to exchange bewildered glares, the commander demanded, “what news do you speak of! What do you wish to speak to our commander of!?”
Licking his lips in anticipation, the lad boasted in delight, “tell him Jin Shuren is in our custody. At least... what's left of him. Tell him we are willing to negotiate terms for an alliance. If successful, none of you would need to shed blood taking a city from an errant warlord. I am sure you have worse enemies to deal with than a petty king like myself~."
Eyeing the strange figure, it was hard for Ma Shiming to trust his word. His speech was riddled with theatrics, and if what he said was true, then how trustworthy can he be, having offed his own superior without a care?
Regardless, he was not about to give up the chance to spare him men fruitless fighting. Holding his hand up for the troops to stand down, he stated in a neutral tone, “I will speak to my superior of this. In the meantime, I trust you will keep your word on this truce.”
Waving his hand for his own men to lower their weapons, the smug officer answered, “of course~. If you need food and water, I am more than happy to accommodate. After all, it is the host's job to entertain the guests~.”
The Hui commander could barely hide his misgivings. He felt sure that this was some sort of trap. And yet, part of him could not let go of this opportunity. Only time would tell if this 'Temur' could be trusted.
Government Office
Urumqi, Xinjiang Province
Spring, 1933 C.E.
Stepping into the office that once hosted Jin Shuren, Ma Zhongying appeared unimpressed by modest decor of the warlord's den. For the absolute ruler of a remote province ostentably part of the Chinese republic, Jin's room lacked the opulence of a feudal lord's mansion, certainly not the least in a place like Xinjiang. Regardless, the office's new occupant wasted no time raiding the alcohol from the cabinets. Though, in a rare display of wisdom, he took to the warlord's old tea set instead, likely in deference to the guest's Muslim background.
“You came a long way, general,” the brown-haired host remarked to the stern Hui, “I took it you are under orders to expel the communist sympathizer from his mouse hole?”
“Jin Shuren's loyalty to the Nanjing government has proven lacking, General Temur,” the man stated coldly, “since you are so gracious in welcoming my troops, I assume yours would not.”
“Yes, well,” Temur answered coyly, downing his tea, “I am never a fan of communists, in case you haven't guessed. My father was kicked out of Mongolia by them. I, for one, have no intention of serving Moscow's interests, and I wasn't about to let the brave exiles of the Tsarist resistance do the same~.”
“I see...” Ma said, still unable to guess his exact motives, “then I suppose you're here to bargain? If you want, I'd be happy to relay a recommendation to the capital for your appointment as governor. I just need some proof of your loyalties. After all, you're...”
“A Mongol,” crooned the devious lad, “yes, I do notice. People like me can be a liability, especially when the Japs could agitate my kind against the unified republic. But if it is proof you want, I'll be happy to oblige,” he added, handing an envelope to him. As the general took the letter out of the unsealed missive, his eyes widened a bit in shock. The writing was in dark brown, almost organic in appearance, and a faint, eerie smell of rust on the stains. He did not think that the man would go that far, but there was something seriously off about the letter, and its author.
“Blood,” Ma blurted, in a rare display of bewilderment, “what are you?...”
“Just a simple public servant, my good man,” Temur chimed with a smirk, “if you would leave the administration to me, you can head on to fight your little war however you want, with ample compensation. Of course, I'd appreciate it if you don't go around pissing off the locals. Makes my job a lot harder. After all, it took a lot for me to convince the folks here I'm going to be a different man. Neither Turk nor Hui nor Han. Do we have an understanding?”
Had it been someone else, the stern warlord might have simply made the letter vanish and remove him. It would have cost a bit of bloodshed, but he was not about to give up the chance to claim a huge chunk of land in his name. On the other hand, there was something... dreaded about this man. Just looking at him gave him the chills. It was as if an air of bloodlust was oozing around him, he highly suspected he had plans to dispose of him if he tried to be funny.
Restraining himself as he took a moment to wipe the sweat beads off his forehead, Ma simply stated, “I... appreciate the help. I take it you'll guarantee provisions for my men.”
“If you stop burning my villages, I'd be able to,” Temur replied gingerly, a hint of sarcasm in his sharp tongue, “I'm sure, together, we'll drive out the Soviet swine and their toadies out of Chinese soil. What do you say~?”
As the new boss raised his hand for a shake, Ma could not help but hesitate. Should he dare go after him? Just how strong was his own garrison and support against him? After a brief pause, the general's hand extended slowly. Grasping on, the warlords finally shook, as Temur flashed a ginger smile.
“I look forward to working with you~,” Temur bid him farewell, “I'll send you out.”
“It's fine,” Ma replied, holding his hand up, standing up from his seat, “I look forward to working with you too.”
As the general walked out, every emotion that had pent up inside was starting to show on his formerly serious face. For the first time in a while, he felt daunted. It was like being in a lion's den, and he nearly cracked at shaking its paw.
“What is he,” he whispered to himself, as he and his waiting aides finally departed the building, “it's like I'm seeing the wrath of God.”
Little did he suspect how true his statement was. Temur's sheer force of personality was not just for show. It ran with his family...
Watching the entourage depart from his window, Temur himself breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment, he was worried the warlord would take the opportunity to arrest him. After all, his coup against Jin was hardly smooth sailing. His earlier plans to oust Colonel Pappengut ran aground as he realized the apathy of the White Guards to Soviet influence. He seethed at the thought of collaboration with Stalin, but no amount of suggestion was enough to motivate them. Even Pappengut, a hardline anti-Soviet himself, remained ignorant of the dangers, having aligned himself too closely with a pro-Soviet regime. It was thus to his great fortune that the colonel got into a little accident, choking on some nuts at tea.[2] Even he questioned the divine intervention at hand, grinning from end to end under his aloof appearance. Of course, he himself knew better than to be elated too early. It cost him a fair few men trying to subdue Jin's Manchurian troops in the dead of night, though the man was easier to secure. Regardless, he knew how to appeal to the feelings of the men - many of whom were volunteered by Jin when he held their families hostage.[3] Temur was reluctant to release the families from prison, but however two-timing he was, he knew better than to anger his own men. He did not want to end up like the man he disposed of.
“That was dangerous,” he mused, “if he had known I need time to reorganize from the coup, he might have taken me down himself. I'm going to need to be fast...”
But Jamsarangiin Temur was about to get everything he wanted. Land, an army, and official, if fleeting support from a distant suzerain... He was going to accomplish what his father could not.
Nikolai Romanovich von Ungern-Sternberg was going to be emperor.
Cast:
OOC Notes:
Западные ворота
Урумчи, провинция Синьцзян
Весна, 1933 Н.Э.
西門
烏魯木齊市，新疆省
春天，公元1933年
West Gate
Urumqi, Xinjiang Province
Spring, 1933 C.E.
Urumqi, China's western gateway. Since the time of the silk road, the city had long been a crossroads for civilizations, East and West. The homeland of the Uighurs and other Turks, the region had been a Chinese dominion since the Manchu invasion. Now, it is once again a contested battlefront, split between three opposing sides. It is in this backdrop, between the warlord cronies of Jin Shuren, the Hui Chinese patriots under Ma Zhongying, and the rebels of the East Turkestan Republic that men of fortune roam, and one man intends to place his wager, as the Kuomintang's 36th Division marches on Urumqi.
Approaching the West Gate cautiously, the Hui troops felt nervous at the eerie silence. While their reputation as fearless fighters precede them, they too were human, and not immune to pressure. With secret directives from Nanjing to take out the rogue warlord, the Hui prepare to storm the city itself. However, as the distant dust cloud began to settle, they could see a cordon of pale-faced Russians – remnants of the defeated White army in exile – guarding the pass. A lone man with long brown hair appeared to be waiting, sitting on a barricade with a white flag over his shoulders as he watched the Hui approach.[1]
“Identify yourself,” barked a commander in Chinese, stepping to the fore, “state your name, rank and unit!”
Planting the flag on the ground, the lad appeared undaunted by the rifles pointed at him. Speaking to the troopers with glee, he declared, “Colonel Temur, son of Jamsaran. I come bearing good news~! Let me speak with your superiors! I am sure he will be elated to know this.”
Looking confused as the men began to exchange bewildered glares, the commander demanded, “what news do you speak of! What do you wish to speak to our commander of!?”
Licking his lips in anticipation, the lad boasted in delight, “tell him Jin Shuren is in our custody. At least... what's left of him. Tell him we are willing to negotiate terms for an alliance. If successful, none of you would need to shed blood taking a city from an errant warlord. I am sure you have worse enemies to deal with than a petty king like myself~."
Eyeing the strange figure, it was hard for Ma Shiming to trust his word. His speech was riddled with theatrics, and if what he said was true, then how trustworthy can he be, having offed his own superior without a care?
Regardless, he was not about to give up the chance to spare him men fruitless fighting. Holding his hand up for the troops to stand down, he stated in a neutral tone, “I will speak to my superior of this. In the meantime, I trust you will keep your word on this truce.”
Waving his hand for his own men to lower their weapons, the smug officer answered, “of course~. If you need food and water, I am more than happy to accommodate. After all, it is the host's job to entertain the guests~.”
The Hui commander could barely hide his misgivings. He felt sure that this was some sort of trap. And yet, part of him could not let go of this opportunity. Only time would tell if this 'Temur' could be trusted.
__________________________________
Government Office
Urumqi, Xinjiang Province
Spring, 1933 C.E.
Stepping into the office that once hosted Jin Shuren, Ma Zhongying appeared unimpressed by modest decor of the warlord's den. For the absolute ruler of a remote province ostentably part of the Chinese republic, Jin's room lacked the opulence of a feudal lord's mansion, certainly not the least in a place like Xinjiang. Regardless, the office's new occupant wasted no time raiding the alcohol from the cabinets. Though, in a rare display of wisdom, he took to the warlord's old tea set instead, likely in deference to the guest's Muslim background.
“You came a long way, general,” the brown-haired host remarked to the stern Hui, “I took it you are under orders to expel the communist sympathizer from his mouse hole?”
“Jin Shuren's loyalty to the Nanjing government has proven lacking, General Temur,” the man stated coldly, “since you are so gracious in welcoming my troops, I assume yours would not.”
“Yes, well,” Temur answered coyly, downing his tea, “I am never a fan of communists, in case you haven't guessed. My father was kicked out of Mongolia by them. I, for one, have no intention of serving Moscow's interests, and I wasn't about to let the brave exiles of the Tsarist resistance do the same~.”
“I see...” Ma said, still unable to guess his exact motives, “then I suppose you're here to bargain? If you want, I'd be happy to relay a recommendation to the capital for your appointment as governor. I just need some proof of your loyalties. After all, you're...”
“A Mongol,” crooned the devious lad, “yes, I do notice. People like me can be a liability, especially when the Japs could agitate my kind against the unified republic. But if it is proof you want, I'll be happy to oblige,” he added, handing an envelope to him. As the general took the letter out of the unsealed missive, his eyes widened a bit in shock. The writing was in dark brown, almost organic in appearance, and a faint, eerie smell of rust on the stains. He did not think that the man would go that far, but there was something seriously off about the letter, and its author.
“Blood,” Ma blurted, in a rare display of bewilderment, “what are you?...”
“Just a simple public servant, my good man,” Temur chimed with a smirk, “if you would leave the administration to me, you can head on to fight your little war however you want, with ample compensation. Of course, I'd appreciate it if you don't go around pissing off the locals. Makes my job a lot harder. After all, it took a lot for me to convince the folks here I'm going to be a different man. Neither Turk nor Hui nor Han. Do we have an understanding?”
Had it been someone else, the stern warlord might have simply made the letter vanish and remove him. It would have cost a bit of bloodshed, but he was not about to give up the chance to claim a huge chunk of land in his name. On the other hand, there was something... dreaded about this man. Just looking at him gave him the chills. It was as if an air of bloodlust was oozing around him, he highly suspected he had plans to dispose of him if he tried to be funny.
Restraining himself as he took a moment to wipe the sweat beads off his forehead, Ma simply stated, “I... appreciate the help. I take it you'll guarantee provisions for my men.”
“If you stop burning my villages, I'd be able to,” Temur replied gingerly, a hint of sarcasm in his sharp tongue, “I'm sure, together, we'll drive out the Soviet swine and their toadies out of Chinese soil. What do you say~?”
As the new boss raised his hand for a shake, Ma could not help but hesitate. Should he dare go after him? Just how strong was his own garrison and support against him? After a brief pause, the general's hand extended slowly. Grasping on, the warlords finally shook, as Temur flashed a ginger smile.
“I look forward to working with you~,” Temur bid him farewell, “I'll send you out.”
“It's fine,” Ma replied, holding his hand up, standing up from his seat, “I look forward to working with you too.”
As the general walked out, every emotion that had pent up inside was starting to show on his formerly serious face. For the first time in a while, he felt daunted. It was like being in a lion's den, and he nearly cracked at shaking its paw.
“What is he,” he whispered to himself, as he and his waiting aides finally departed the building, “it's like I'm seeing the wrath of God.”
Little did he suspect how true his statement was. Temur's sheer force of personality was not just for show. It ran with his family...
Watching the entourage depart from his window, Temur himself breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment, he was worried the warlord would take the opportunity to arrest him. After all, his coup against Jin was hardly smooth sailing. His earlier plans to oust Colonel Pappengut ran aground as he realized the apathy of the White Guards to Soviet influence. He seethed at the thought of collaboration with Stalin, but no amount of suggestion was enough to motivate them. Even Pappengut, a hardline anti-Soviet himself, remained ignorant of the dangers, having aligned himself too closely with a pro-Soviet regime. It was thus to his great fortune that the colonel got into a little accident, choking on some nuts at tea.[2] Even he questioned the divine intervention at hand, grinning from end to end under his aloof appearance. Of course, he himself knew better than to be elated too early. It cost him a fair few men trying to subdue Jin's Manchurian troops in the dead of night, though the man was easier to secure. Regardless, he knew how to appeal to the feelings of the men - many of whom were volunteered by Jin when he held their families hostage.[3] Temur was reluctant to release the families from prison, but however two-timing he was, he knew better than to anger his own men. He did not want to end up like the man he disposed of.
“That was dangerous,” he mused, “if he had known I need time to reorganize from the coup, he might have taken me down himself. I'm going to need to be fast...”
But Jamsarangiin Temur was about to get everything he wanted. Land, an army, and official, if fleeting support from a distant suzerain... He was going to accomplish what his father could not.
Nikolai Romanovich von Ungern-Sternberg was going to be emperor.
Cast:
OOC Notes:
- OTL's First Battle of Urumqi in the spring of 1933, not to be mistaken for a subsequent Second Battle of Urumqi in the winter of 1933-1934. ITTL, there is no battle.
- IOTL, Pappengut was shot dead at the end of the year by Sheng Shicai under Moscow's orders, due to his anti-Soviet stance. Here... who knows?
- Warlords and Muslims in Chinese Central Asia: A Political History of Republican Sinkiang, p100
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