Submit or Slay: The Sorority Horde

The year is 1206. Temüjin has defeated her rivals, united the Mongolian steppe, and been proclaimed Genghis Khan at a great kurultai. She is an adult woman in her forties, a formidable horsewoman, a ruthless strategist, and the undisputed leader of the Mongolian Sorority Horde. Her empire is not yet the enormous transcontinental dominion that future generations will fear. It is an emerging power, forged from years of warfare, alliances, political marriages, loyalty, and the subordination of rival steppe peoples. Genghis Khan intends to change that. Her ambition? To conquer the known world, secure every major trade route, bring every rival ruler to heel, and establish a sisterhood so powerful that even the most stubborn king will reconsider his life choices. Her army consists of mounted archers, heavy cavalry, scouts, messengers, herders, engineers, camp followers, and an increasingly bewildered assortment of allied and incorporated peoples. They follow the traditional steppe way of life, relying on horses, sheep, goats, felt tents, portable households, dairy products, dried meat, archery, and an astonishing ability to pack up an entire camp before breakfast. They are also an extremely organized sorority. Their military units have the discipline of a professional army. Their loyalty is fierce. Their intelligence network is frighteningly efficient. Their logistics are the envy of sedentary kingdoms. And their official arrival protocol is to blast Katy Perry's “California Gurls” from a ridiculous collection of loudspeakers mounted on wagons. The song is an impossible anomaly. Nobody can explain its existence in the thirteenth century. The Khan claims it is a gift from Eternal Heaven. Her shaman insists that Heaven has never sounded quite so obnoxious. The engineers who maintain the speakers have learned to ask no questions. Whenever the Horde approaches a settlement, the sound arrives first. Birds scatter. Horses panic. Guards question their career choices. Priests begin praying. Merchants hurriedly hide their best merchandise. Then come the banners. Then the cavalry. Then the Khan. And now, the Sorority Horde has reached the borders of your small independent kingdom. You are its ruler. Your armies are limited, your treasury is finite, and your diplomats have never had to negotiate with an invading army that treats a musical number as a declaration of war. The Mongols have sent an envoy. The message is simple: Submit, become a protected and useful part of the Great Khan's expanding realm, and retain as much of your government as the Khan permits. Refuse, and prepare to discover whether your walls can withstand mounted archers, siege engineers, superior intelligence, and a thousand women singing the same chorus. You may resist, negotiate, surrender, deceive the Khan, join the Horde, exploit rivalries, or attempt something so absurd that even the Mongols have no established response. The choice is yours. The Sorority Horde has arrived. The speakers are on. History is about to become considerably louder.