The lamp was burning low on the table by the window, and Toqoqan was with the senior attendant in the next room, sleeping. The summer heat had not left the residency entirely, and the married couple in their room felt the sweat build up through their bare bodies.

Saran had her back against the mattress. Her eyes flickered from the ceiling to Batu, beside her.

Her voice came in a low whisper, "He feeds every two hours through the night, sometimes less. I was told that’s expected and I should adapt to it."

Her eyes returned to the ceiling.

"He’s a smart boy. I’m sure sometimes he just fakes it to get my attention."

Batu heard in silence for a moment, "I’ll write things down for the months ahead, rules to follow."

"More rules," Saran rolled her eyes. "What do they cover?"

He adjusted his body in the mattress, "Multiple topics. For example, only breast milk only for the first year. No mare’s milk, no honey-cloth, nothing from the attendants regardless of what they say about tradition. If he isn’t gaining weight properly or he won’t feed, the response is to nurse him more, not to change the milk."

He paused. "If he has a fever, don’t wrap him tight. Unwrap him and nurse him more frequently, with cool water at the forehead. The fever needs to leave the body, not be kept in it."

Saran raised a brow, "That’s the opposite of what the physician would do."

"He has been taught wrong. Tell him the rule stands."

She shifted slightly against the bedding.

"Sleeping?"

"On his back, never his stomach."

"That’s also uncommon."

"It is."

She was quiet for a moment, considering the new rules.

"Are there more?"

Batu seemed to take a while further to remember them, "Be careful of summer dehydration in case he doesn’t feed for more than a few hours. And there are traditional remedies the physician may reach for on specific complaints. Some of them are harmful, I’ll name each one."

Saran finally couldn’t hold back and laughed, "You know, most men return from a campaign talk about silver, plunder, women."

"Would you rather hear about any of that." Batu said.

"Not really."

She said it without displeasure.

"Have these new rules written by morning and I’ll take them to everyone concerned."

Batu nodded, simply and calm. The room was quiet for a moment, with only their heavy breathing spreading through the air.

Then he moved onto the next topic, "I’ll announce him as heir before the Rus campaign opens next spring. Nothing needs to happen formally before that."

"Mm." 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

She stretched her arms in the mattress, "There were two administrative disputes that went above Khulgen’s authority while you were gone."

Her voice had the tone she used for briefings, direct and without performance. "A craftsman enrolled in the materials credit program withheld his agreed contribution to the relay supply. He claimed the rate was too low. I pressured him until he caved and paid his dues."

"Very well."

"The second was a Bashkir clan."

She continued calmly, "Their submission came two months past the window with no prior contact. I applied the penalty clause, one year of reduced allocation status."

"Well done."

"Yes, yes, praise me more." she rolled her eyes playfully.

She paused. "The Tükel trade route had a records issue on the third shipment that needed a decision from you. I made the call. And then Toqoqan arrived."

Batu said, "What was the labor like?"

"It was long."

She exhaled, as if the memory itself was exhausting. "It went through the whole night and into the next morning. In the end, everything went well. Probably because of your rules."

There was no comment from Batu about them. She let it pass, and focused back on the topics that interested her.

"Right, the captives you sent from Volga Bulgaria."

Saran raised her body slightly, enough to look at him. "The first craftsmen groups have already arrived."

"There’s more to come in the next days. How was their assimilation into Sarai?"

She nodded slightly. "I sent the craftsmen to the workshop district under supervised conditions. They work under a master-servant contract for the first period, their work accountable to the city’s records. After eight seasons of documented production, they’re eligible for the craftsman credit."

She stated this rather than thinking through it. "The general labor force goes to the construction work, to build up the city as it expands."

"What conditions?"

She continued, "Five years of continuous registered service, a permanent household built to the city standard, and a written contribution record, meaning the city’s records show they added materially to Sarai’s growth and not just worked their time."

Batu considered it for a few seconds, "The five-year clock starts at first registration, not arrival."

"I had it at arrival. Why registration?"

He explained, "For symbolism. They are captives from a destroyed city, and still are so during their arrival. During registration, we can infer the idea they are now workers in a new land."

She thought about this for a moment.

"Fair enough. It won’t do much immediately but might influence them in the long run."

She stretched her arms again, randomly touching his chest, "The Bulgar metalworkers make bronze in a style I haven’t seen in this market. I was asked recently by two different women in the residential quarter whether the Bulgar smiths would be setting up near the main stall row, both of them within one day."

She paused.

"Sarai’s character is about to change in ways that have nothing to do with administration."

Batu nodded, "That was the intention."

Saran rolled her eyes. She let the silence reign for a few seconds, then moved over to straddle Batu, "I heard every other Jochid prince had new concubines added to their households. At minimum one woman from the campaign."

She said it in a low, warm whisper.

"You apparently didn’t. So if there are going to be more heirs, all of that work falls to me."

Batu replied simply, "It’s suited you well enough so far."

"It has." she purred.

Saran glanced at the low glow of the lamp on the table and then at Batu.

"Are there any more rules," she whispered, "or are we done with the administrative talk?

He put his hands on her waist.

She settled toward him, the lamp kept burning, and neither of them said anything more.