Night descended, drawing its dark veil across the land. The rain-soaked earth exhaled mist, and the roads glistened beneath the pale lantern-light of the royal escort. Hooves struck against mud and stone in tireless rhythm, as Queen Genie pressed onward with her guard through the drenched wilderness.
"Your Majesty," Jade called from behind, her voice steady yet hushed against the moan of the wind. "By dawn, we shall reach the mountain fortress."
Genie's gaze did not waver, fixed ahead into the darkness. Her cloak clung to her shoulders, heavy with rain, but her posture remained unbent.
"So… it is upon us at last," she murmured, her tone neither weary nor afraid.
"Are you prepared, Majesty?" Jade asked.
Genie turned her head slightly, and in the flickering light of the escort's torches, her eyes glimmered like steel under moonlight.
"Yes. We can delay no longer. Neither our people, nor the palace, will suffer the threat at their hands again."
Beside her, Deputy Commander Danjin urged his horse closer. His voice was cautious, tinged with the burden of foresight.
"Your Majesty… if they reject our words, if they choose violence instead—what then?"
"They will not," Genie answered, firm as stone. "They know full well who will prevail should they gamble upon war."
Jade bowed low from his saddle.
"As you say, Majesty. But if their demands are… too great? If they seek the impossible?"
Genie's reply was swift, her voice cutting through the night like a blade.
"Then we refuse. Our duty is one. To guard the realm and its people. Any demand that threatens that shall never be accepted."
"Yes, Your Majesty!" the escort cried, voices resonating in the stillness of the night.
Yet within her heart, Genie knew the truth—this would not be easily won. The path of words was narrow, and the shadow of bloodshed loomed close. But no one desired peace more than she. Even those who called themselves bandits… They were Hana-born. Her people lost astray. If she could guide them back, she would.
She lifted her voice once more, calm yet resolute.
"Their paths of escape are already severed. By now they gather like wolves within their den, awaiting our arrival. Not once have we crossed a raiding party upon the road."
Jade and Danjin exchanged brief glances and nodded. The Queen's insight was unerring.
Genie's eyes, fierce and unyielding, pierced the shadows.
"They await us, as we await them. In the end, they crave negotiation as much as we. We must hold fast to our purpose—only then shall the dawn favor us."
The night wind carried her words, and in the darkness of the drenched roads, the Queen of Hana rode on, like a solitary flame leading her people through the storm.
Meanwhile, far from the rain-soaked roads where the Queen pressed onward, a single lantern flickered in the hushed corridors of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. The vast palace lay in slumber, yet within one chamber, Moonsen remained awake, his brush forgotten beside stacks of worn records.
His eyes scanned line after line, each page recounting raids, burnt villages, vanished caravans. With each account, his brow furrowed deeper. The storm outside rattled the paper windows, yet Moonsen heard nothing but the beating of his own heart.
'Perhaps… Within these pages lies some thread. Something that may serve Her Majesty.'
Then suddenly—his hand stilled. His eyes widened, breath catching in his throat.
"The current head of the bandits… Teel… he was not… the fisherman's son?"
The words faltered upon his lips. His mind reeled, struck with a realization sharp as lightning cleaving the sky. He pushed back his chair, the wooden legs scraping against stone.
"The dismissal records!"
Moonsen bolted from the chamber, a lantern swinging wildly in his grasp. His robes swept the floor as he raced through the silent corridors, past pillars that cast long, wavering shadows. The echo of his hurried steps broke the stillness of the night.
At last, he flung open the heavy doors of the First Archives. The scent of old parchment and dust greeted him, the shelves looming like ancient guardians. He rushed forward, fingers trailing across the spines of scrolls and ledgers.
"It should be here… somewhere…!"
His voice, low and desperate, trembled with urgency. His hands darted from shelf to shelf until, at last, they froze. A single record, tucked within a forgotten alcove.
Moonsen seized it, unrolling the parchment with trembling fingers. His eyes raced over the faded ink, and then—he saw.
"This is it…" His voice was a whisper, heavy with awe and dread alike. His eyes gleamed, reflecting the lantern flame. "I must bring this to Her Majesty at once!"
Clutching the record tightly against his chest, Moonsen turned and ran. His footsteps echoed down the endless stone halls, carrying with them a secret that could alter the fate of the kingdom.
Dawn broke at last. The weary night receded, and the first rays of the sun spilled across the heavens, dyeing the clouds in crimson and gold. From the drenched plains of the south, Queen Genie and her escort raised their eyes to behold the towering mountain range, its peaks piercing the sky like a wall of shadow and flame.
"Your Majesty," Jade said, her voice hushed in awe, pointing toward the distant summits. "There it is… the bandits' fortress."
Genie's gaze lingered upon the mountains, their ridges stark and unyielding against the dawn. Slowly, she turned toward Deputy Commander Danjin.
"Send word at once to their chieftain. Tell him the Queen of Hana has come."
Jade bowed low.
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
At his command, ten mounted warriors broke away, their steeds galloping across the valley floor, hooves striking sparks from stone. They bore banners of the royal crest, fluttering against the dawn wind, until they vanished into the shadow of the mountain paths.
Genie remained still, watching their departure. The rising sun set her features aglow, but her expression was solemn, carved with the gravity of her burden.
Beside her, Jade's voice was soft, filled with quiet concern.
"Your Majesty… this will not be an easy path."
Genie's eyes, unwavering, never left the mountain peaks. Her words were low, yet resolute, carrying the weight of a sovereign's oath.
"It is because the path is not easy… that I must be the one to walk it."
The wind stirred, carrying her voice into the vastness of the valley, as though even the mountains themselves paused to listen.
At the first light of dawn, when the mist still clung like a silken veil to the jagged ridges of the mountain, Teel, the feared leader of the mountain bandits, lifted his battle-axe high above his head. The pale rays of the sun glinted off the iron blade, casting a fleeting, blood-red shimmer upon the rocks.
Thud!
With a single, merciless swing, Teel struck down the wild beast they had ensnared the night before. The animal split beneath his blow, and the crimson tide spattered across his face, dripping down like a dark river upon his hardened skin. He did not flinch.
From the steep path below, a figure came tearing up the slope, breath ragged, heart pounding. It was Manny, the youngest of Teel's men, his robes soaked in dew and his hair plastered to his forehead.
"Boss!" he cried, voice quivering like a bamboo reed in the wind.
Teel, blood still dripping from his brow and cheeks, turned his head slowly. His eyes, dark and unyielding as mountain stone, fixed upon Manny.
Manny gasped, struggling for words. "Boss…!"
"What is it?" Teel demanded, his voice low, as though the mountain itself hushed to hear him.
"T-the Queen… she's… here…!" Manny stammered, fear tangling his tongue.
Teel's axe slipped from his calloused hands and struck the stone with a sharp, echoing thunk, yet he did not flinch. He did not even blink.
"She… is coming up here herself?" he asked, voice steady, yet carrying the weight of a challenge that could shake kingdoms.
Manny shook his head violently, panic clouding his features. "N-no… only one of her men… climbing… just one…"
Teel's lips curled into a slow, chilling smirk, as cold as the mountain wind cutting through the pines.
"Then hear this," he said, his tone carrying the authority of a warlord unbound by crown or decree. "Tell the Queen herself that if she wishes to face me, she must climb this mountain with her own hands. Only then will I meet her."
Manny's eyes widened to the size of full moons. To command the sovereign of the realm to ascend the perilous cliffs himself—it was unheard of. His knees trembled beneath him; for a moment, he felt the weight of history press down, as if the mountains themselves bore witness to the audacity of Teel's words.
Whether he noticed Manny's trembling or not, Teel stooped and casually lifted a bow that lay upon the dew-damp ground. The wood felt familiar in his calloused hands, as if it were an extension of his own arm.
With deliberate grace, he notched an arrow, drew the string taut, and let his gaze wander across the distant clearing. There, a rabbit darted through the tall grass, unaware of the predator who had set his sights upon it.
Teel's eyes blazed like molten iron. The bowstring sang as he drew it back.
"B-boss? Th-the Queen—" Manny's voice cracked.
Teel's brow furrowed, casting a shadow over his dark, piercing eyes. Manny, sensing the storm in his leader's gaze, shut his mouth as if the very air had been stolen from him.
In a low, measured voice that carried the weight of mountains and bloodshed, Teel spoke.
"I do not repeat myself. If she wishes to confront me. The Queen must come herself."