Their bows held ready, armor and quivers snug, and swords strapped to their backs, the three hundred soldiers covered ground swiftly. A steady, muffled thud of jogging boots against the stony path marked their progress around the immense base of Whitefang Peak. Though no words were spoken, a shared intensity hardened their expressions, each man focused on the task. As the broad path gave way to a constricted track, the rhythmic jog faded to a deliberate walk. Without a command, they seamlessly funneled into a single, resolute line, the mountain's steeper, more demanding face now looming before them.
The rhythmic pounding of boots on loose scree abruptly ceased. Here, Whitefang Peak shed its "road" entirely, revealing a sheer, unyielding face. This section was notoriously uninhabitable, a cruel jumble of treacherous rockfalls, jagged cliffs, and unseen crevasses, offering no clear path. The three hundred soldiers, their faces now etched with a mixture of grim resolve and dawning frustration, fanned out, their eyes scanning the unforgiving terrain for any semblance of a viable ascent. The whisper of the wind seemed to mock their efforts as the hours dragged on, each potential route proving impassable or too dangerous. After three grueling hours of fruitless searching, with the mountain's cold indifference pressing in, the heavy sighs of exhaustion became audible. The soldiers, their energy flagging, silently agreed to halt, collapsing onto any relatively flat patch of rock, their bodies aching and their faces drawn with weariness.
A short distance from the huddled masses of resting soldiers, Naksh, Hye, and a few others formed a tight, quiet circle. The crinkle of parchment broke the silence as Naksh unrolled Hye's hand-drawn map. His finger, calloused and steady, traced a perilous section. "This area," he murmured, his voice low but firm, circling the marked section, "is the shortest path up Whitefang Peak. The problem is," his gaze hardened, meeting each of their eyes, "there's no accessible route."
Khenbish's gaze shifted from the intricate lines of the map to the smooth, imposing rock face of Whitefang Peak looming above them. A quiet sigh escaped him. "What about a little further down?" he suggested, his finger moving to a spot roughly two hundred yards from Naksh's circled section.
Drystan shook his head, his face grim. "If we go there," he stated, his voice tight, "it will take us longer to reach Zoaging, and our chances of being spotted will be far greater."
Jeet chimed in, his brows furrowed. "Chinua needs us at the crossroads in two days. A detour would chew up a lot of that time. But if we can't find a way over Whitefang Peak, Chinua's whole plan is dead in the water."
Naksh stared intently at the map, the creases of the parchment mirroring the new lines of worry on his own face. He was about to lead them into uncharted territory. He knew the ground below held no surprises for walking, but the ascent of Whitefang Peak was a terrifying unknown. He had no clue if any traversable routes existed further up. A long moment of silent contemplation passed before he slowly looked to his right.
"How about I take some soldiers, and we climb up first to investigate?" Khawn's voice cut through the tense quiet, his gaze sweeping over the imposing rock face. "This will also give us a visual idea of what's on top of this section of Whitefang Peak."
Drystan nodded, a rare flicker of hope in his eyes. "That sounds like a fantastic idea."
Jeet's voice cut through the lingering tension. "How many soldiers are you taking with you?"
"Two or three," Khawn replied, his tone firm. "We're only scouting ahead. I know for sure there are no enemy soldiers waiting for us on this part of Whitefang Peak, so there's no need to take more than three with me."
Naksh's voice, usually a measured command, boomed across the soldiers resting on their right. "Siqi! Khair! Nachin! Come here!"
The three youngest soldiers, still weary from the march, quickly scrambled to their feet and hurried towards Naksh. "Yes, Captain," Siqi replied, his voice tinged with anticipation.
"You three are setting off with Khawn," Naksh declared, his expression stern but resolute. "Find a way up and over Whitefang Peak to the other side. We need to cross over tonight."
Khawn rose, dusting the dirt from his breeches. He looked at the three young soldiers. "You don't need your packed backpack," he stated, his voice brisk. "But we will need extra rope."
The three young soldiers nodded, understanding the urgency. They quickly retrieved extra rope from their comrades, shedding their heavy packs for others to mind. With coils draped over their shoulders, Khawn and the trio set off, heading towards the section of the peak that remained stubbornly unexplored.
Watching Khawn and the three youngest vanish into the mountain's embrace, Drystan turned to Naksh, a knowing glint in his eye. "Go easy on the kid," he teased, raising a brow. "His father won't take too kindly to you being so hard on him, besides, he's got powerful connections, after all."
Naksh met Drystan's gaze, unflinching. "Precisely because he has powerful connections, he needs to prove himself and endure more than others. Besides, his father is a proud soldier who fully understands the meaning of hard training; everything I teach the young man is for his benefit."
"Tsk..." Drystan frowned. "I already feel pity for anyone who enters your platoon. Your training is quite brutal, even towards the female soldiers."
Naksh met his gaze, unflinching. "Chinua said it herself: in the battlefield there is no male or female, only soldiers."
Drystan scoffed, "Chinua is quite a biased general. When it comes to training, she's as harsh as a butcher, but when it comes to giving gifts, she only picks certain people."
Jeet looked at Drystan, a curious eyebrow raised. "Why do you say that?"
"It's because Chinua is very biased," Drystan replied simply.
"Watch your mouth," Naksh warned, though a faint hint of amusement played on his lips.
Drystan scoffed. "Am I wrong?"
Jeet chuckled, shaking his head. "Come to think of it, Chinua is quite biased. Whenever she returns from her travels, the only people who get presents are always Yingzi and Odsar."
"Speaking of bias," Drystan retorted, turning his attention to Jeet with a raised brow, "you're quite biased yourself. Your brother has four children, and you only bring presents for one."
Jeet grinned, a silly, knowing grimace on his face. "Like Chinua says, whoever's jealous of little girls' presents are donkeys."
On the other side of Whitefang Peak, far from where the main group of soldiers rested, a stark and desolate landscape stretched before Khawn and his three young companions. They relentlessly continued their search, their eyes scanning the imposing rock for any possible route to the summit. After nearly two grueling hours of futile effort at the unyielding foot of the peak, they returned to their starting point, their faces streaked with grime and disappointment. The sheer rock walls had offered no welcome. Khawn turned to the exhausted trio, his voice heavy with the lack of success. "Did any of you see any place that's good enough for us to climb?" he asked, his gaze searching their worn expressions for a flicker of hope.
Siqi shook his head, his face a mask of fatigue. "Where I went," he rasped, "the side of the mountain is solid with no good grips."
Nachin echoed the sentiment, a weariness in his voice. "Me too. The part I checked, the mountain peak curves back toward our side, making it impossible."
"The part I've checked," Khair began, a flicker of something in her eyes, "there's a small gap, about an arm's length wide, but..."
Khawn's gaze sharpened. "But what?" he pressed, sensing a crucial detail.
Khair met his eyes, a heavy resignation settling on her features. "But it's located in between the tallest points of this section of the peak, which means..." Her gaze swept over the three men, the stark reality dawning on them. "We might have to climb for at least several hundred feet."
Khawn looked at the three, then shifted his eyes to Siqi, making a quick decision. "Khair, show us where it is. Siqi, get ready to climb that gap," he commanded, his voice firm.
The gap that Khair pointed out was a mere fissure, a cruel, narrow slit in the mountain's immense face. Khawn craned his neck, his gaze following the vertical fracture, but the top of the peak remained stubbornly out of sight, lost in the hazy distance. A cold knot of nervousness tightened in his gut. This section of Whitefang Peak dwarfed anything they'd ever scaled during their rigorous training in Pojin; it was a climb into the truly unknown.
He looked nervously at Siqi, the unspoken dread of the climb hanging heavy in the air. "Do you think you can make it?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Siqi met his gaze, a quiet resolve in his eyes. "I will make it," he affirmed.
Khawn gently patted Siqi's left shoulder. "Good luck, soldier."
Khawn, Nachin, and Khair watched as Siqi wedged himself into the narrow gap, his body a taut line. With a split-leg position, he began his slow, deliberate ascent, inching his way up the unknown height, disappearing gradually from their sight into the daunting crevice.