As the council began this day, I began to feel hope for the savages. A modicum of civility seemed in order. The discussion actually seemed to be a discussion, instead of a fight. Alas, my hope was dashed by the time the sun rose to its highest. Tribesmen began singing of terror, accusing each other of mental incapacity, and small skirmishes broke out on multiple occasions between members. The day seemed to prolong itself with unrelenting ruthlessness. Members began to quiet themselves as they grew bored with the council, and once again, a few here and there departed for lengths of time to go for a ride on their steeds. Curiously, just as the sun was about to set, and Shinzei Khan was to end the council, a brief flame of debate lit itself, until it was finally extinguished by Shinzei in order to end the council. He turned to me, requesting a recitation of the tribseman who gathered the most suspicion as an infiltrator. I informed him it was a man by the name of Beefy. Shinzei ordered him to be restrained. Beefy was forced into a submissive stance, his neck exposed to the temporary leader of the camp. Shinzei unsheathed his scimitar, and, wielding it with both hands, brought it with such force that Beefy's head was rendered clean from his neck, and sent rolling. Shinzei sent me back to my tent for the night. I hoped that this might finally be put to a stop. Though I had two apparently dedicated guards, I was growing increasingly agitated at the continued death...
-- The Record of Zhang Qian
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