The night passed in quiet stillness, yielding at last to a brilliant morning sun. Bright, golden light spilled across the valley, turning the frozen expanse into a blinding sea of glinting diamonds. But the light brought no warmth. To those who survived in the harsh north, heavy snow meant merciful weather; a clear, sunny sky meant a deadly plunge in temperature. The air froze where it stood, and the bitter wind sweeping past the Magoli archers on the watchtowers cut across their exposed skin like sharp corn leaves.
Crests of frost had already gathered on Siqi's brows and eyelashes as he stood through the long night, waiting for his shift to end. He glanced toward the corner of the watchtower, finding Khair sleeping peacefully against the timber post. The crisp, crunchy sound of boots stepping through snow approached the base of the tower.
"Siqi!" a soldier called out from below. "Breakfast!"
The voice jolted Khair awake. She looked up at Siqi, letting out a soft yawn as she stretched her arms. "Why didn't you wake me?" she asked, slowly standing up to shake off the cold.
"You looked peaceful, so I didn't bother," Siqi replied quietly. "The replacement watch is here. Let's go get breakfast." He grabbed his spear and began climbing down the rope ladder.
Shortly after, Khair followed him down.
"Siqi, due to the heavy snow, the relief team hasn't arrived yet," the soldier noted as he prepared to go up. "We'll have to wait until they get here."
"Thanks," Siqi said as the replacement guards hauled themselves up the ladder. Turning to Khair, he added, "Let's grab breakfast and get some rest while we wait for the others."
Waking to the early morning sun, Möndör found the inside of the tent surprisingly cozy despite the brutal winter air outside. Resting on thick furs with the morning rays streaming through the canvas, warmed by the embers of the small firepit, the chill of the night had completely vanished.
Möndör woke up but refused to open his lazy eyes immediately. He stretched out a hand, searching for warmth beside him, only to find the space long since gone cold. He already knew Siqi had left in the middle of the night for watch duty, but habits like these were carved into his memory, and he often reached out without thinking.
Sitting up, he stretched his long arms and let out a wide yawn before finally opening his tired eyes. He pulled on his boots and layered his clothing, only then realizing his heavy fur cloak was gone—given away to the girl he had pulled from the river the day before. Looking around, he spotted one of Siqi's heavy fur cloaks resting neatly at the foot of the bedroll. A faint smile touched Möndör's lips, realizing Siqi must have laid it out for him knowing his own was gone.
Draping the fur cloak over his broad shoulders, he stepped out into the biting morning wind. Nearby, the Paayasian prisoners were already awake, cooking breakfast over open flames as they prepared to head back to the city.
Möndör walked slowly past the tents, his eyes drifting toward a distant group of Magoli soldiers sitting together over their morning meal. A sharp smirk crossed his face, knowing full well that none of those men particularly cared for his company. Looking to his left, he saw the Paayasian captives gathered around their fires.
Smirking to himself, Möndör decided he would rather share breakfast with the prisoners who feared him than the so-called brothers-in-arms who disliked him.
"Young captain," one of the guards said, clearly wondering if Möndör had wandered over here by mistake.
Möndör stopped in front of the two soldiers, his expression dropping into a cold stare. "Have you had breakfast, soldiers?"
"We're waiting for the shift change," one replied.
"Go eat," Möndör ordered without looking at them. "I'll watch the post."
"But regulations state there must be two men stationed here," the soldier protested, glancing nervously at Möndör's winter-cold expression.
"Do you have a brain?" Möndör asked flatly. "It's freezing in the middle of winter. Where do you expect half-clothed prisoners to run off to? Besides—" He locked eyes with the two men. "Are you questioning my ability to guard prisoners?"
"No, Young Captain Möndör!" the soldiers stammered quickly. Exchanging an anxious look, they turned on their heels and hurried off toward the other Magoli troops gathered ten tents away.
Möndör watched them go until a soft voice behind him broke the quiet.
"Young captain," Nou whispered. Refusing to look directly at the man who had saved her, she kept her eyes downcast, her small hands extending forward to offer two freshly grilled fish. "These are for you."
Möndör looked down at the young girl, who barely stood chest-high to him. Wrapped around her shoulders was his own heavy fur cloak.
"So," he said, taking the fish from her hands. "You're the girl from yesterday."
"Thank you for saving me," Nou said, finally gathering the courage to look up at him. "When we get back to the city, I'll wash your cloak and send it back to you."
"Keep it," Möndör replied. "I have plenty back home." Taking in her petite frame, she reminded him vividly of Odsar. A faint, fond smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he reached out to gently pat Nou's head. "You're such a tiny little thing, just like Odsar."
"Od-sar?" Nou murmured, biting down on her lower lip.
"My little sister, she's in Pojin Village," Möndör said, his expression softening. "Around your age—maybe a little younger. I'm sure she'd like you if you two were friends."
"And would this sister of you befriend someone like me? A Paayasian?"
"Of course," Möndör scoffed softly. He took two steps closer, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "As long as you bring her candy, she'll take you as her best friend."
Nou let out a soft chuckle. "Then she must be much younger than me."
Möndör stepped back, giving her head another gentle rub. "Your smile is beautiful. You should smile more often."
"Captain."
Siqi's cold, measured voice cut through the air. Möndör instantly jerked his hand back, spinning around to find Siqi and Khair standing a short distance away.
"Si-qi..." Möndör muttered.
"Young captain," Khair chimed in politely, though her eyes were sharp. "May I remind you that no matter where you are, you must uphold General Chinua's code of conduct."
Möndör rolled his eyes, taking a couple of strides toward Khair to look down at her. "Tell me, soldier, which code of conduct did I just break?" he asked coldly.
"She just reminded you," Siqi said, shifting his piercing gaze from Khair to Nou. "So next time, keep your hands to yourself instead of wandering onto others." With that, he turned and walked away, Khair quickly falling into step behind him.
Nou watched them go, looking up at Möndör with a bewildered blink. "It doesn't seem like they like you very much, does it?"
"They don't," Möndör admitted dryly.
"Is it because you're Arkemeric and not Magoli?" Nou asked.
Möndör shook his head. "Nah. It's because those men think they their unit leader should be Chinua's young captain instead of me."
Nou looked up at him with a bright smile. "Well, I think you're a great young captain."
"Nou!" Yongyee's voice boomed from across the camp.
"Young Captain," Nou said quickly, clutching the cloak tighter. "My father is calling me. I'll wash your cloak and return it soon!" She turned and scurried back toward the small firepit where the prisoners were gathered.
Möndör looked down at the fish in his hand, then glanced over at where Siqi had just taken a seat for his breakfast. When their eyes met across the camp, Möndör suddenly felt the morning air grow a few degrees colder.
As breakfast drew to a close, the rhythmic thunder of approaching hooves echoed toward the riverbank, signaling the arrival of the relief unit. The soldiers who had finished eating quickly cleared their wooden bowls and began gathering their equipment.
"Young Captain Möndör," the middle-aged relief leader called out, dismounting his warhorse and walking briskly toward him. "I'm glad to find you still here."
"What's happened?" Möndör asked, his eyes scanning the new arrivals.
"Chinua requires your presence back in Ngabo City today," the unit leader reported. "Also, Sir Khunbish sent word—he wants the sixty orphans transferred directly to his care."
"Understood. Thank you," Möndör replied smoothly, his gaze drifting past the officer to the supply line trailing behind the horses. "Did you and your men bring provisions?"
"Yes, sir. Enough for the entire outpost."
"As you know, we have sixty-two children traveling back with us," Möndör said, his voice dropping into a practical, commanding tone. "Once your men unload the provisions, leave the three heavy supply wagons behind for us."
The unit leader nodded without hesitation. "Of course, Captain. We have no use for them at the outpost anyway."
"My thanks," Möndör said, a faint, brief smile breaking across his stern face.
Within hours, the column was assembled. Siqi and his unit took up their flank positions, preparing to lead the three hundred prisoners and sixty-two children on the long march home.
The journey back to Ngabo was a long, silent procession carving through the deep snowdrifts of the glittering valley.
At the head of the column rode Möndör and Siqi, their warhorses walking flank to flank. To any onlooker, they were merely two disciplined officers of the Hmagol army conducting a successful transport—their postures erect, their eyes scanning the blinding white horizons. But beneath the stoic quiet, an unspoken understanding rested between them, warm and secure against the biting northern frost.
Behind the lead riders rolled the three heavy supply wagons, their wooden wheels crunching loudly through the packed ice. Inside, shielded from the stinging wind by thick felt canvas and piles of wool blankets, the sixty-two orphans huddled together. For the first time in months, the children were warm, their bellies full of hot broth, their soft laughter occasionally peeking through the flaps as young Mong pointed out distant mountain spires to his sister.
Walking beside the center wagon was Yongyee. His crude pine staff had been replaced by a sturdy walking stick, his foot shackles removed by Möndör's order before they departed the riverbank. On his shoulders sat Mong, his hands wrapped snugly around her father's neck, bundled tightly inside Möndör's heavy fur cloak.
Flanking the column, Siqi's unit—including Khair and Nachin—kept a vigilant watch. Behind them marched the three hundred Paayasian prisoners. They moved not as beaten captives dragged in chains, but as a disciplined force walking beside their captain, their heads held high in the sharp winter air.
As the sun began its slow descent, painting the snow-capped peaks of Ngabo in shades of crimson and violet, the massive wooden gates of Ngabo City swung open. Standing at the threshold, flanked by guards, Khunbish waited to receive the orphans, while Chinua's banners fluttered proudly against the evening sky.
Yongyee paused at the threshold of the city, looking up at the high stone walls. He felt no shame, no lingering bitterness for the kingdom he had left behind. Glancing back at his loyal men and down at his children, he took a deep, steady breath, stepping through the gates into a new dawn.