The Road to Kakheti

The sky above was grey and dull, threatening rain, as David and his company rode through sprawling hills that led them to the province of Kakheti. It had been a long journey, the cold biting into their faces, but anticipation kept them going. There had been word going around of unrest brewing in Kakheti, one of Georgia's more far-flung regions, and David knew he needed to take a look for himself.

David rode at the head of the column, eyes scanning the horizon. Next to him, Ivane rode silently, his eyes considerate as always. Behind them, a man of guards followed silently behind, each man loyal and battle-scarred. The tension was palpable, though nobody spoke on it.

"Do you think they will receive us well, my lord?" Ivane finally broke the silence, his voice cutting through the wind.

David looked at him, clenching his jaw. "I do not know. But if we go to them with open hands rather than drawn swords, we might have a better chance."

Ivane nodded, though the lines of worry on his face deepened. "Kakheti has always been difficult to sway. They have their own customs, their own pride."

David gave a small, almost wry smile. "Pride runs deep in all of us, Ivane. We just have to make them see that we are stronger together than apart."

As the track twisted back, they saw that a village nestled down at the foot of the mountains. It was an unassuming little place, with the rough stone houses scattered around a square, smoke trickling out of a few chimneys, and villagers moving here and there, attending to their affairs, but there was a feel underlying it all—an unease, a tension that even the cold could not mask.

David was the first to dismount, his boots splashing in the wet earth as he led the way into the village center. Ivane followed suit, and soon some of the elderly villagers came closer, their eyes darting from David to his men.

One of them, a grey-bearded man with sharp eyes, stepped forward; his hands were calloused from years of labour, but his posture was stiff and defensive.

"My lord," the elder said, his head bowing slightly, though not in a grovelling manner. "We did not expect the king to make his way to such an inhospitable place."

David held his eyes steady—cool but firm. "I came to see my people. And I came because I have heard disturbing things.

The elder shifted on his feet, exchanging a glance with the others. "There is unrest, yes. But it is not against you, my king. It is. fear of what is to come. Fear of war. Fear of losing what little we have left."

David nodded slowly, looking around at the faces of villagers collecting around them now. "I understand. Yet we cannot afford to let these fears be faced separately. Divided Georgia cannot stand at this time of threats from every direction."

The elder hesitated before speaking in a still-low voice, "There are whispers, my lord—that nobles at Kakheti do not have loyalty, that they think they can rule without your hand guiding them."

Ivane's eyes narrowed at that, and he stepped forward. "The nobles owe their loyalty to the king. If they defy that, they defy the crown itself."

David raised a hand, signalling Ivane to hold back. "We do not come here to accuse or condemn," David said, his voice steady but firm. "We come to find a solution. Tell me, elder, what do your people need?"

The old man seemed to take the question in surprise and looked backward to the others, it seemed, before answering. "We need protection. We need to know we are not forgotten. The raids from the east have grown worse, and our fields barely yield enough to feed us through the winter."

The scowl softened, and David nodded. "You will not be forgotten. I swear it. But I need the nobles' support of Kakheti to secure the kingdom. If they do not stand with us, then they stand against us."

A murmur ran through the villagers, the fear in their eyes apparent. The elder's shoulders sagged slightly as he let out a sigh. "You speak truth, my king. But the nobles. They are proud men. It will not be easy to win them over."

David's eyes hardened. "If they will not listen to reason, then I will remind them what it means to defy the crown."

Ivane nodded in approval, but the raised hand of David stayed with him. "However," he went on, "I would rather it not come to that. The strength of Georgia comes in unity, not in blood. I will speak with the nobles myself. Perhaps they shall see this is not the time for pride, but survival."

The elder seemed to weigh his words well before he nodded. "All right, my king. I pray they will hear them."

As David began to turn and go his way, there was a darting forward from among the people by a small boy, clutching something in the centre of a piece of cloth. The face was dirty, the clothes worn, but in the eyes shone a bright hope.

"My lord!" he said, panting as he reached David's side. "Please, my father. He says you are the only hope for us. Take this. a token of our village. A blessing for your journey."

The boy looked up at David, who squatted down to his level and took the bundle with a soft smile. He unwrapped the cloth to show a lowly carved wooden lion, the symbol of strength and bravery in Georgian culture.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice touched by the gesture. "Tell your father I will not forget this kindness."

The boy beamed, and David stood, clutching the carving in his hand. As he mounted his horse, Ivane joined him once more, his face contemplative.

"The people believe in you, David," Ivan said quietly. "But belief alone will not win over the nobles."

David looked over the village below, the weight of his responsibilities heavy on his shoulders. "I know. But I'll show them I'm not just a war king; I'm a people's king.

The wind began to pick up, and it brought the rumble of thunder over the mountains. David's eyes set hard as they resumed their journey to Kakheti, with the future of Georgia in the balance.