In Zaoging City, the war room in the main city keep was a grim tableau of stress and uncertainty. General Xue, his face etched with worry, traced a line on a large, unrolled map while Mao and Konn stood on either side of the table, their gazes fixed on a strategy that was unraveling before their eyes. Outside, the new siege engines pounded against the city walls, the jarring rhythm of the attack echoing through the stone corridors. They had prepared for an assault from an unknown army, but this renewed attack was different, its nature and origin a phantom menace that frayed their already thin nerves.
Just as Xue began to speak, the heavy oak doors were thrown open. Xang rushed in, his uniform disheveled and his face pale. His chest heaved as he fought for breath. "General!" he shouted, his voice cracking with urgency. "We have a new problem. The people... they want to leave Zaoging. They are demanding that we open the gate."
"What? Why?" Mao asked, his face twisting into a pained grimace.
"They said they'd rather die a quick death than a slow death inside this city," Xang said, looking down. "Those who want to leave are the ones who can no longer feed themselves."
A heavy sigh escaped Xue's lips as he stood up, the weight of the moment settling on his shoulders. "I predicted this problem would arrive," he said with a heavy heart, "but I never thought it would be so soon."
"Father," Konn asked, his voice low. "What do you suggest?"
Xue looked down at the map and then up at his three captains. "I suppose it said that the general conquering Nue-Li does not kill those who surrendered," he said, his voice quiet.
Xang nodded in confirmation.
Xue sighed, a heavy sound that filled the room. "Then open the gate, captain."
"General!" all three captains said in unison, their voices sharp with alarm.
"They have already made up their minds, so what is the point of keeping them here?" Xue said sadly. "The city is going to fall at any moment; it's only a matter of time before the unknown army decides to attack us. Opening the gate would give those who want to flee a sliver of hope." He looked at his three captains, his gaze firm. "Pass my order. The southern gate of Zaoging will be open now until dawn tomorrow. The gate will close exactly at the first sun rays."
Xang let out a heavy sigh, turned, and walked out of the room.
Xue turned to Mao and said, "Captain, I heard from those who fled Nue-Li that if you tie a white piece of cloth to your wrist, the Hmagol soldiers won't harm you. It's their symbol of surrender."
Mao's eyes widened, his confusion clear. "General, I don't follow your words."
Xue sighed and gently patted Mao's shoulder. "I heard your wife just gave birth four days ago. If what the fleeing people of Nue-Li said is true, you should take your family there."
"General, I will do no such thing!" Mao said, his voice firm with defiance. "I will fight with you here, and I will die here if I must."
"You're missing my point," Xue said, his voice soft. "You can escort your family there, and if it's truly as safe as they said, you can come back and let the people here leave before death comes knocking on their front door." He gently patted the side of Mao's upper arm. "Captain, this perhaps might be my last order for you."
Mao looked down sadly, then looked up at Xue, his eyes moist with tears. "I will not fail you," he said, and with that, he turned and left the room.
Xue turned to Konn. "Son..." he began, but Konn interrupted him.
"I will not leave," Konn said firmly. "I have already ordered ten soldiers to escort my sisters and their families to Nue-Li if they wish to go."
Xue let out a soft chuckle and sighed.
In Nue-Li City, inside her command tent, the air was heavy with the scent of old canvas and strategic maps. Chinua sat hunched over a sturdy wooden table, her head resting heavily on her propped left hand, eyes closed. The faint glow of a flickering oil lamp cast long shadows across her weary face. Her right hand lay flat on the table, its fingers drumming a restless, almost imperceptible rhythm against the worn wood—a silent testament to the whirlwind of thoughts and anxieties that churned beneath her calm exterior. Every tap, every beat of her fingers, was a measure of the time that stretched between the last report and the expected arrival of news from Ntsua-Ntu. The silence of the tent was punctuated only by that soft, persistent drumming, and the distant, muffled sounds of her camp.
Khunbish lifted the heavy canvas blocking the tent doorway and stepped inside, a tray of food in his hands. With his left hand, he gently nudged a stack of documents aside, clearing a space on the table before setting down the two dishes. He stared down at Chinua's face and found that the corner of her mouth was still bruised from Dzhambul's hit, but the color had softened, turning from a mottled dark green to a fading yellowish hue.
Seeing that Chinua's eyes were still closed, Khunbish grabbed a stool and placed it before the table, seating himself directly across from her.
"There's still no news from Ntsua-Ntu," he said softly, confirming the silence that weighed on her. He then reached for the food, picked up a piece of meat, and stretched his arm out, holding it patiently toward Chinua's mouth.
With a weary sigh, Chinua's lips parted slightly, and she accepted the piece of meat. She began to chew slowly, her eyes still closed. After she swallowed, she finally opened her eyes, her head still resting on her hand. Her gaze, though tired, was now focused. She reached for another piece of meat, her fingers now steady as she continued to eat on her own.
"Khunbish," Chinua said, chewing slowly. "Sometimes no news is good news. But sometimes, I wonder if what I'm doing is the right option."
"Are you doubting yourself?" Khunbish asked, his voice soft.
"I don't doubt my own judgment," she said, finally looking at him. Her eyes were wide and alert, but her heart felt heavy, as if she were carrying a great weight on her shoulders. "I doubt the judgment of others."
"What's the matter?" he asked, sensing the turmoil beneath her calm facade.
"For the past two days, I've felt like something is bothering me, but I can't pinpoint it," she confessed. "I should be happy that we captured Nue-Li and that none of the people here have retaliated, but... somehow I can't find myself to be happy like everyone else."
"You have to deal with so many things at once," Khunbish said, his voice softening. "From the disagreement with the Second Prince to Captain Jochi's punishment, and now the Ginmiao here. With so much happening in such a short time, it's no wonder you feel that way."
He looked at Chinua and continued, a soft smile on his face. "But Chinua, you don't have to worry about it. I'm sure the news we're waiting for will be a good one. His Majesty will see your good intention, and your suggestion of bringing peace to this part of the land will be something that he agrees on. After all, it was you who conquered Nue-Li with the least amount of life lost."
Chinua looked up at him and let out a soft chuckle, a weary sigh following immediately after. "You mean to say it was all Hye's idea and the bravery of the soldiers that captured this city, not mine alone," she said, her voice a quiet murmur.
"Why do you give yourself such little credit?" Khunbish said, his brow furrowing slightly. "Without you, Hye would never have agreed to help plan the fall of Nue-Li. Without you, the Ginmiao in Nue-Li would all be executed. And, without you as the bridge between Hye's brilliant mind and the strength of the Hmagol army, these two forces could never have agreed to join hands."
"No, it's not giving myself too little credit," Chinua replied, her voice filled with a quiet reverence. "Hye should take most of the credit. This is a place he hated and never wanted to return to, and yet he helped me conquer it. He helped me win a city that was a source of great pain for him, and to repay him, I must agree to his terms. Nue-Li City has to be a neutral city that belongs to the people, just as he requested."
"And I believe that His Majesty will agree," Khunbish said, his voice firm and reassuring.
Meanwhile, the rain began to scatter as Siqi rode his horse through the empty streets of Nue-Li, the darkening clouds already blocking the afternoon sun. He wiped the rain from his eyes, clearing the occasional drops that blurred his vision. His horse galloped out of the southern gate, heading straight for their military camp on the far side of the city. After riding past several rows of tents, he halted his horse, jumped off swiftly, and ran toward Chinua's command tent.
Outside, the sky tore open with a thundering roar, and a cold rain began to pour down in sheets. The quiet conversation was shattered as the tent flap was violently thrown open. A soaked and frantic Siqi burst inside, his chest heaving.
"Chinua!" he gasped, rain dripping from his hair and clothes. "There are a lot of fleeing Ginmiao from Zaoging! They're standing outside the northern gate. Captains Jeet and Naskh are waiting for your orders—they need to know if we should open the gates or not."