For a long moment, neither moved.
The torches sputtered in the silence, their smoke curling like ghosts above the stone ceiling. Teel did not look away—but in the still depths of her gaze, he felt a tremor he had not expected.
'In her eyes…'
A flicker of unease rippled through him. For in those clear, unyielding eyes, he saw not the frailty of a court-raised maiden, but the steady flame of a ruler—strength that no scar or blade could erase.
At last, her voice came, calm yet ringing with quiet authority.
"My wish is simple. Dissolve the band of brigands you lead, and live henceforth as subjects of Hana."
Her words, firm as iron, reverberated through the cavern.
Teel's lips twisted into incredulity, and suddenly laughter burst from him, harsh and disbelieving, echoing against the stone walls. Yet the queen's face did not so much as twitch; she sat in her seat as if carved of jade, serenity unmoved by his scorn.
"Do you truly believe I would accept such terms?" he sneered.
"That," she replied evenly, "depends entirely on your choice. But know this—whether you choose or not, the tyranny of your band will no longer be tolerated."
The smile faded from Teel's scarred face, replaced by a shadow that deepened across his features. His voice grew low, like a growl before the strike of a beast.
"You mean the queen herself will disband my men?"
Her reply came sharp as a blade's edge.
"Yes. If you will not obey, then that is what I shall do."
His rage surged to the crown of his head. That a girl who had once been a sheltered princess, barely seated on her throne, would now dare to unmake the kingdom he had forged in blood and fire—it was an insult beyond bearing.
His harsh voice thundered through the chamber, rattling the very air.
"And if I do not permit it?"
Queen Genie's eyes hardened, her tone as cold and merciless as winter steel.
"Your permission is of no consequence. I am the sovereign of this land. Your consent was never required."
Grinding his teeth, Teel spat his words like venom.
"Then the next step Your Majesty desires—tell me, is it war? A war within Hana's own borders?"
Queen Genie's head tilted ever so slightly. She answered with a serenity that mocked his fury.
"No. I have no time for war with you. If I wished, I could crush your band here and now."
Her voice was almost languid, but the weight beneath it was undeniable.
Teel's eyes flared. A dangerous light flashed within them as his fist came crashing down upon the table. The sound cracked through the chamber like thunder.
In the same instant, Jade surged to his feet. His sword rang free of its scabbard with a sharp cry of steel, its blade glinting cold fire in the torchlight as he leveled it at Teel's throat.
"How dare you behave so before Her Majesty!"
The torchlight caught the trembling edge of the blade, its reflection dancing upon Teel's scarred face. Yet before blood could spill, Queen Genie's voice cut across the tension.
"Put away your sword, Jade."
"But, Your Majesty—"
"No." Her tone was firm, unwavering. "We did not come here to fight."
Slowly, deliberately, she rose. The sweep of her robes stirred the dust upon the floor, her presence filling the chamber with a gravity that pulled all eyes to her.
Face to face, she stood before Teel, her gaze unblinking.
"We came to give you the chance to live as subjects of Hana."
Teel's glare burned back at her, wild and defiant.
"A chance? To live as subjects?" His voice was heavy with scorn, but the edge beneath it wavered.
"Yes." Her words flowed calm and measured, yet carried the finality of judgment. "That is what I can offer you. I will overlook all the crimes your band has committed—if you obey the court and return to where you belong."
For the first time, Teel's hardened eyes faltered. A flicker of uncertainty, so brief it might have been mistaken for the shifting of shadows, passed across them.
The silence that followed was thick, pressing against every chest in the chamber. Even the torches seemed to burn lower, waiting for his reply.
'Does she know of my past?' The thought struck Teel like a blade pressed against his throat.
Queen Genie's voice was steady, unhurried, yet each word carried the weight of truth.
"I know well that you hold a grudge against the court, for what befell your father."
Jade stiffened, his eyes widening in shock.
'He bears a grudge against the court?'
His gaze darted to Teel. For the first time, the brigand leader's fierce mask wavered, his scarred face twisting with confusion and disbelief.
Genie went on, her voice quiet yet piercing as an arrow loosed at dawn.
"During my father's reign, your father—the former Minister of the Ministry of Land—was unjustly dismissed and exiled. I know this."
At the name, Teel's glare darkened, heavy with fury and grief long buried. Shadows of old wounds rose to the surface, etched in every line of his face.
"And I know, too, how you lived afterward," she said.
That was too much. His voice broke out, trembling with rage, his chest heaving like a beast cornered.
"Do not speak so lightly! What could a pampered princess, raised like a flower in a glass palace, possibly know of my life?"
His roar filled the chamber, shaking its very silence. Yet Queen Genie did not so much as flinch.
"You are right," she answered evenly. "I cannot presume to know all that you endured. But you are still my subject, and so are the men you lead. As your queen, I wish to repay the wounds dealt to you by the court's mistakes—even now."
The words hung in the air like a vow sworn before Heaven itself.
Jade's heart jolted, his breath caught in his throat.
'Your Majesty… I never imagined…'
Even Teel faltered before her sincerity. His shoulders, once rigid with defiance, seemed to stiffen and waver all at once, as though her words pressed upon him more heavily than any drawn sword.
Queen Genie did not relent. Her voice, steady and solemn, carried the weight of judgment and grace alike.
"So here is my offer. I will seek out and punish every official complicit in your father's unjust death. I will not pursue the crimes your band has committed. I will see that you and your men are given land and livelihood—a place where you may live without theft or blood. Your own village, if you so wish. What do you say to my proposal?"
Teel's lips pressed tight, a storm gathering behind his scarred face. His eyes wavered like the flame of a torch caught in the wind.
At last, he spoke, his voice thick, roughened by years of rage and grief.
"And if I accept… what of my father, who died dishonored? What of my family, who perished in misery? What of the life I have lived, consumed with vengeance against the court? Do you think this will make it right?"
His words, flung into the dim chamber, were less defiance than anguish—the cry of a wound too long left to fester.
Genie slowly shook her head. Her gaze did not waver.
"No. Nothing can undo those losses. No promise of mine can restore your father, nor erase the misery that has shaped your years. I know it is no compensation."
She took a single step forward, her presence steady as stone, yet her voice softened, clear as a bell in the stillness.
"That is why I came here in person—not with soldiers, nor with threats, but with my own word. To offer what has never before been given. For the wounds inflicted by the court, for the life stolen from you, I apologize to you myself—as the sovereign of Hana."
The words rang in the torchlight as though sanctified. They were not empty decrees, but a confession, heavy with the dignity of a ruler who bore her nation upon her shoulders.
Teel's hardened eyes trembled. For the first time, the mask of the brigand chief cracked, and the scar upon his face seemed not a mark of ferocity, but of sorrow long endured.
The sky of early March spread vast and blue, as if brushed by the hand of heaven. Queen Genie tightened her hold upon the reins, her white steed descending the winding mountain path with a grace as measured as her breath.
Behind her, Jade, Danjin, and thirty armored warriors followed in solemn procession, their horses' hooves striking the stony trail like muffled drums. The crisp mountain air carried the faint scent of thawing earth, mingling with the clang of steel at their sides.
Danjin, the deputy commander, his mind still reeling from the parley, urged his horse forward until he rode just behind the queen. His voice, tinged with incredulity, broke the hush of the march.
"Your Majesty," he said, bowing his head as he spoke, "how did you so deftly turn the tide of these negotiations?"