The high-domed ceilings of the Hmagol royal court loomed above, their shadows swallowing the pale light of the morning. An air thick with tension hung over the chamber as King Batukhan sat upon his throne, his face a mask of stone. Arrayed before him were his most trusted advisors: the sharp-witted political minister Misheel, the cunning minister of intelligence Esen, and the stoic military minister Tarkhan. The fate of Nue-Li City, and the countless lives within its walls, rested on the words about to be spoken.
"Your Majesty," Minister Tarkhan began, his voice laced with disdain. "With all due respect to the general, the request is absurd. The Eastern General captured Nue-Li, not for us to turn it into some kind of sanctuary city, but for us to secure our northern border. It is a vital asset, a strategic point to hold against further incursions."
Esen, his face stern, stood forward. "With all due respect, Tarkhan the request is anything but absurd. The Eastern General saw an opportunity to win the hearts of the Ginmiao populace. By offering them safety, we show them that their own leaders abandoned them, while the Hmagol show mercy. It is not a sanctuary; it is a statement. A long-term strategic move."
"A statement of weakness, you mean!" Tarkhan scoffed, his voice rising. "Our armies are tired, our resources are strained, and you want us to feed and protect an entire city of civilians? Where is the advantage in that? That city should be given to Prince Dzhambul as his new headquarters. He is the Northern General, and he needs a fortress to command his new army, not a city full of mouths to feed."
"A fortress without loyalty is just a heap of stone!" Esen retorted, his calm demeanor beginning to crack. "The Eastern General has brought us a gift more valuable than any citadel: the trust of the very people we seek to rule! You would throw that away for some short-sighted political gain? You speak only of the Prince's needs, not the kingdom's!"
"And you speak of foolish sentimentality!" Tarkhan's face was flushed with anger. "This isn't a nursery, Esen! It is a war! Prince Dzhambul's command is paramount, and his authority must be absolute. The people of Nue-Li can either serve our cause or get out of the way!"
Minister Misheel stepped between them, a placid look on his face. "Calm yourselves, gentlemen. Tarkhan is right that the Prince's position is a critical one. However, Esen is also correct that we must consider the hearts of the people we are fighting for. Nue-Li City is crumbling from within. Perhaps a symbolic gesture, a compromise of some kind..."
"There is no compromise!" Tarkhan spat. "We either take the city for our own, or we throw it away for a whim! What is your counsel, Your Majesty?" Tarkhan looked to King Batukhan, the silence now heavy with expectation.
Batukhan opened his eyes and swept his gaze across the room. He knew in his heart that most of the ministers before him favored Dzhambul, for they believed a woman, no matter how capable, could not sit on the throne. He let out a heavy sigh, and a moment of selfishness surged through him as he wished with all his might that Chinua were a prince. He knew that if she were, the ministers would be singing her praises. But because she was a princess, and because her success would only solidify the claim of his disabled son, Prince Bastsaikhan, they distanced themselves from her and did not support her fight for equal rights.
He also knew that what he was about to say were words many in the room longed to hear. He took a long, steadying breath. For him, a person's worth was never measured by their gender or their royal blood. He judged an individual only by their potential and their capabilities. He knew with a certainty that none of the ministers standing before him could ever bring themselves to endure the most difficult tests that they so eagerly wanted to put Chinua through. She was a woman of iron will, and he would not see her broken by their envy.
He sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of his thoughts. With the help of Tong, Batukhan slowly rose from his throne and, one deliberate step at a time, walked down the small set of stairs to stand on the same level as his ministers. His presence, now so close, commanded their full and undivided attention.
"Over the years," he addressed his ministers, his voice echoing in the silent hall, "we have witnessed the Eastern General's capabilities. For decades, we have lost countless soldiers over Nue-Li City, only to have it reclaimed by the Ginmiao. This back-and-forth fighting must come to an end."
His gaze held each of them in turn. "This time, the Eastern General captured Nue-Li with the least amount of life lost than any other general before her. Therefore, we have decided that Nue-Li will be her reward. Whether the city becomes a territory of the Hmagol or a sanctuary city that belongs to the people, as she requested, the choice is entirely hers."
A stunned silence fell over the court. The ministers were visibly taken aback, their faces a mix of disbelief and incredulous shock. A low murmur spread among them, and several of the more traditional advisors shook their heads in open disagreement.
"Your Majesty," a voice finally sounded, bold enough to defy the king's will. "This breaks with all traditional norms." The words hung in the air, a direct challenge to the king's authority and a stark reminder that in this court, custom was often held above capability.
"I am afraid that if His Majesty gives a city as a reward to Her Highness, this will not look good on us," one minister said, his voice laced with concern for their reputation.
"It will show that His Majesty has no capable princes and will make our kingdom look weak in the eyes of others," another added, his words a thinly veiled attack on the royal family's male heirs. The insults hung in the air, transforming the formal council into a battleground of bitter political rivalries.
These were the exact words Batukhan had already expected to hear from his ministers. He knew their arguments were not born of genuine concern for the kingdom's reputation but from their own political ambitions and adherence to outdated traditions. His mind was already made up; he believed with unwavering certainty that Chinua had earned every reward equal to that of his princes.
"Many of you look down on the Fourth Princess, claiming that a princess should not be on the battlefield, as it will make our kingdom look bad," Batukhan said, his eyes sharp as he stared down at the ministers standing before him. His voice was firm and loud with the power of a true ruler. "And yet, my princess has shed sweat and blood just like any Magoli warrior before her."
"Many of you doubted her capabilities, claiming she could never achieve victory. And yet, when Hosha City called for our help, none of you were willing to step forward and lead our soldiers to defend our alliance and their city. You strongly believed it was a lost cause, and yet, my princess came out victorious."
He turned his gaze to another group of ministers. "Many of you claimed Salran Hill would never submit to us. And yet, my princess had them bend their knees, turning an unlawful bandit force into a capable military wall that now defends our eastern border."
"None of you," his voice grew stronger, "refused to go down south to investigate the corruption within our kingdom, fearing you would offend those who are involved. And yet, my princess..." He began to cough violently, the harsh sound echoing through the silence of the court. The ministers stood motionless, their eyes lowered, knowing exactly where his words were heading.
After his cough subsided, he stared into the eyes of the men before him, a fire of absolute authority burning in his gaze. "The reason that every one of us could sleep soundly at night was because of her and the army who had closed the final gap by stationing their troops on our eastern border," he said, his voice now a powerful and undeniable force. "I can guarantee you that the reason those kingdoms bordering our eastern flank did not invade us was not because of the capabilities of those who judged her, but because of the general she has become. I can guarantee you that when they heard her name, they were weakening to their knees, just as you are weakening in your thoughts when you hear of her victories and success."
"Now, tell me," Batukhan said, his voice firm and final. "A warrior who has completed every single test you challenged her to and who has bravely fought every difficult war thrown her way... simply because she is a female general, does she not qualify to receive the same reward as a man?"
The question hung in the air; a sword of absolute authority held over their heads. Not a single minister dared to meet his gaze. There was no reply, no whispered dissent, only a heavy, defeated silence.
Batukhan scoffed, a dry, bitter sound. "If she were your daughter," he said, his voice dropping to a sharp whisper. "I am sure you would be very proud of her and her achievements, and for that, she shall not be loved and rewarded any less than your son. Because I can tell you, as a father, I am very proud of my princess's achievements. And I can guarantee you that the parents of every female and male soldier that follows her into battle are also very proud of their children."
"The new era has already begun, and you failed to see it," he said, his voice now a final, echoing judgment. "My fourth princess, Chinua, has proven with every one of her victories that a new era is here. She has shown that a general's worth is not measured by their gender but by their capabilities. She did not ask for a change in tradition; she forged one with her own blood and sweat. Her victories at Hosha City and Salran Hill, and now her wise capture of Nue-Li, are proof that the old ways are dying. From this day forward, every soldier will be judged on a single measure: their achievements and their potential. The loyalty and success you find so threatening will now be the very foundation of our army and our kingdom. There will be no more bias."
Every minister in the room was taken aback. The king's words had cut through their political ambitions and struck a deeply personal chord. They, too, had daughters of their own, and the image of their girls fighting and bleeding for the kingdom's cause was a powerful one. Though they had disagreed with Batukhan in countless political areas, in that moment, they knew that if Chinua were their daughter, they would also be deeply and undeniably proud of her achievements.
The ministers defeated and humbled, with a slight bow and in a forced unison, they spoke the words of surrender. "Your Majesty is wise!" they said, their voices echoing in the sudden silence of the court.