The group of twenty civilians, their faces gaunt with fatigue, trudged along the dusty road toward the distant spires of Zaoging. A mix of old men, women, and children, they carried nothing but their scant belongings and the desperate hope of refuge. The morning sun beat down on their backs, and the only sound was the shuffling of their feet on the hard earth, a monotonous rhythm that promised safety just over the horizon. Then, the rhythmic beat was broken by a different sound—a low thud of hooves against the ground, growing louder with every passing second. Around a bend in the road, the Magoli soldiers appeared, a wall of steel and muscle, their arrows pointing directly at the vulnerable and unarmed people standing before them.
Long quickly pushed Chong's wife and the two children behind him, his body a shield against the looming threat. The two men who strode towards them were not the Magoli warriors he expected. They were tall and broad-shouldered, their features sharp and unfamiliar, and Long's mind raced to place them. If he had to guess, he would say they were of Arkmeric descent. A moment of confusion washed over him; he couldn't understand why the Arkmeric, a people who had long been isolated from the rest of the kingdoms, would suddenly be working alongside the Magoli. It was a jarring and unexpected alliance that signaled a far greater danger than he had initially feared.
The moment the two men's eyes fell upon them; a chilling silence descended upon the group. The elders, who had seen their share of horrors, felt a primal dread colder than any winter wind. The children, previously chattering and fidgeting, went completely still, their wide, frightened eyes fixed on the approaching figures. It wasn't their weapons that terrified them; it was the quiet, predatory calm in their stance, the way their presence seemed to suck all warmth and hope from the air. Long could see the fear in Chong's wife as she clutched her children to her chest, her knuckles white and her face drained of color. These were not the brutal but predictable Magoli; they were something new and profoundly unsettling, a force whose very stillness was more frightening than any roar of battle.
"Where are you going?" Naksh's question was quiet, yet it echoed with a terrifying finality.
The old man's shoulders slumped, and he took a shaky breath, his gaze dropping to the ground as if the very sight of the man before him was too much to bear.
"We... we were told that Zoaging is safe," he whispered, his voice barely a tremor. "The city walls... the gates. They are strong. We have heard that the Magoli do not dare to attack it." His words were a desperate, raw plea, not just for an answer, but for an understanding that their flight was one born of pure desperation. Around him, the other civilians simply stared at Naksh, their silence a heavier response than any words could be.
Jeet dropped to one knee and took Chong's daughter's hand in his. With a smile that didn't reach his eyes, he said, "Look at this." He stared at the piece of white cloth tied around her wrist. "Who tied this on you, sweetheart?"
Eight-year-old Chong's daughter knew of the danger they were in. Her voice was soft, trembling with a frightening tininess as she answered, "My father... He said it's a protection charm that will keep us safe."
Jeet let out a soft, unsettling chuckle and lightly patted Chong's daughter on the head. He stood and walked over to Naksh, whispering a few words to him before taking his place at his side.
"You can continue on your journey," Naksh said. His voice was smooth but held a cold edge. "I hope the city walls of Zaoging are as strong as the rumors say."
As the twenty civilians began to move again, their steps hesitant and filled with a fragile hope, Long tried to guide them around the two Arkmeric men, Naksh and Jeet, hoping to slip past them unnoticed. But Naksh's voice, low and sharp, cut through the tense silence, "Where are you going?"
Long didn't answer, instead quickening his pace. In a flash, Jeet blocked his path, a silent, menacing wall of a man. Long, fueled by a desperate need to protect the others, lunged forward, and the three men were instantly locked in a brutal, silent struggle. Long fought with a ferocity born of desperation, but the combined strength and skill of the two brothers were too much. He was overwhelmed, a searing pain exploding in his side as he was brought to his knees. Within moments, the Magoli soldiers, who had been watching from a distance, swarmed forward and secured him, his hands bound tightly behind his back. The hope that had flickered in the civilians' eyes was extinguished, replaced by a cold, numbing despair as they watched their only defender taken captive.
Naksh turned to the horrified civilians, a cold, unsettling smile spreading across his face. "What are you still waiting for?" he asked, his voice now a low, mocking invitation. "Keep on walking."
From the ground, with his hands bound, Long lifted his head and looked at the faces of the people he had tried to protect. "Go," he said, the word a strained whisper. "You go." Without a second thought, the twenty civilians broke into a frantic shuffle, their fear overriding any sense of guilt as they hurried away, leaving Long to face his fate alone. As the sound of their footsteps faded into the distance, Long looked up at the two brothers, a look of grim defiance on his face. "Do what you have to do," he said, his voice flat and resolute. "I am not talking."
Jeet's smile was not one of mirth, but of cold, absolute certainty, a chilling expression that held a promise far worse than a simple threat. "We don't torture," he said, his voice as smooth as polished stone, "but if there is information we want, we have our way of getting that information."
Long met Jeet's gaze, his face a mask of defiance, but a cold dread twisted in his gut. The words themselves were a paradox; they weren't a promise of pain, but of an unendurable violation, a method that preyed on something deeper than flesh and bone. The unspoken meaning hung in the air between them: they would not break his body, but they would find a way to break his will, to pry loose the secrets buried within his mind, no matter the cost to his soul.
Heavy footsteps echoed from a distance as Chinua and her subordinates ate breakfast. The door to the small room suddenly swung open, revealing none other than Chenghiz, his fist angrily clenched. He stormed inside and slammed his fist on the table, making the dishes clink and rattle violently against one another.
"You let your strategist enter the enemy military camp!" Chenghiz bellowed, his voice echoing in the small room. He looked down at Chinua with furious eyes. "Do you realize how much military information he'll give our enemy?"
Khunbish immediately stood up and shoved Chenghiz away from the table. "Captain," Khunbish warned, his voice low and dangerous. "You will watch your words when speaking to Her Highness."
Chenghiz scoffed with indifference. "I don't care about her royal position. If she compromises our military, she will get no respect from me."
Chinua wiped her hands on the side of her pants, then rose from her chair to meet Chenghiz's furious gaze. "I'm glad you're this angry, Captain Chenghiz," she said in a calm voice. "I'm glad to have a soldier so loyal to the Hmagol army, but Hye's departure has nothing to do with our military's outcome."
Chenghiz pointed an accusatory finger at her. "Then why did you let him leave?"
"Hye isn't a soldier," Chinua replied. "He's a friend who helped me in a time of need. He's his own person, and he's free to do as he pleases."
Arban and Bolor burst through the door, grabbing Chenghiz's arms.
"Captain," Bolor said, trying to pull him back. "Let's calm down. We're all on the same side here."
Chenghiz, teeth clenched, only stared at Chinua. "On the same side?" he spat, pointing a finger at her. "She wouldn't have sent her strategist to the enemy if we were on the same side!"
Chinua's soft scoff was filled with disdain. "And what makes you so sure that this 'strategist' of mine would give away our plans?"
"Because he's a Ginmiao!" Chenghiz snarled, his teeth clenched in fury.
Chinua slowly walked toward Chenghiz, her eyes fixed on his. The soft chuckle that had been on her lips vanished, replaced by a strong, authoritative voice. "I don't care what you think you know, and I don't care what you've been told. I know this man, and I know the kind of person he is. We've been through too much together, faced too many impossible odds, for me to ever believe he would do such a thing. You can lay out all the evidence you want, but none of it changes the fact that I would stake my own life on his honor without a second thought. My trust in him isn't something that can be broken by a rumor or a misunderstanding; it's a foundation that's been built over years, and it is absolute." She then poked Chenghiz's left chest with her finger. "That foundation was built here, not on the gossip of others."
Chinua took two steps back toward the table, giving Chenghiz a moment to gather himself. "So, Captain, you don't need to worry about whether my strategist will betray us," she said, looking up to meet Chenghiz and the others' gazes. "You should be more worried about the rules I have set."
"As I've already mentioned, my rules are absolute. Anyone who breaks them will be subject to military punishment, even if that individual is General Batzorig himself."
"Hmph!" Chenghiz retorted angrily, storming out of the room with Arban and Bolor.
Zhi approached Chinua. "He's going to be a problem," he said quietly. "Why did you let Hye go to the enemy camp?"
"I made a bet with him," Chinua answered flatly.
"What was the bet?" Khunbish asked.
Chinua let out a long breath. "He bet that he could convince the citizens of Nue-Li City to surrender peacefully. If he's right, we promised not to search the homes of any civilian who displays a white cloth on their door."
"What if he is unable to convince them?" Khunbish asked.
"Then we will follow our normal military rules on homes without the white cloth," Chinua replied. "However, my three rules are still absolute for all of our soldiers."
"Chinua, this puts us at a huge disadvantage," Khunbish said worriedly. "What if soldiers pretend to surrender and strike at a critical moment? It will be nearly impossible for us to prevent."
Chinua sighed, walked back to the table, and sat down in her chair. "It's a risk I am willing to take," she said.
Khunbish quickly made his way to her. "But why?" he asked.
"This is the promise I made to Hye," Chinua said. "For his allegiance, I swore to never harm surrendering soldiers or civilians." She looked at her subordinates. "I agree with his reasoning. You don't need to leave soldiers behind to protect conquered land if the citizens are willing to give it up voluntarily."
Zhi sat across from Chinua. "What are your plans after taking Nue-Li City?" he asked.
"I will leave that to Hye," Chinua said simply.
Khunbish leaned forward, confused. "What do you mean by that?"
"This is Hye's hometown," Chinua explained. "This is the place he swore he would never return to, and yet he worked so hard to convince me to use his theory here."
"What do you think he will do once Nue-Li City is taken?" Zhi asked.
"Hye would most likely want this to be a neutral zone between Hmagol and Gimsong," Chinua said. "If that is his idea, I will support him."
"Even if you agree, His Majesty might not," Khenbish countered.
Chinua let out a long breath. "So many lives have been lost for this small city. Creating a neutral zone would benefit both kingdoms in the long run, and it might even begin to mend the long-standing hatred between us."
Zhi picked up the bowl of mare milk from the table. "Chinua's thinking is unlike any I've ever seen," he said before raising the bowl to his lips and taking a slow sip.
Chinua looked at the door. "Sleep well tonight, my friends," she said quietly. "Because tomorrow, our sleepless nights begin."