Outside the city walls, the road was a landscape of churned earth and thick, clinging mud. Days of relentless rain combined with the heavy traffic of a retreating army and a mass of refugees had turned the once-clear dirt path into a swampy mess. The ground was scarred with deep ruts from the wheels of supply carts and the countless footprints of soldiers and civilians. It was a miserable path, slick and treacherous, with heavy boots sinking into the muck with every weary step. This was a road of chaos and hardship, a testament to the brutal realities of war.
Inside the city gates, the roads were starkly different but just as telling. The main thoroughfares were paved with ancient cobblestones, many of them cracked and uneven, but they were largely free of the heavy mud that plagued the outside. Despite the neglect of a city long under siege, these streets bore the signs of daily use—the smooth polish of countless feet and wheels. However, in the "haunted ground" on the city's outskirts, the paths reverted to a state of decay. Here, the ground was a filthy mix of mud and debris, and the old stone roads were consumed by black and green moss that grew in every crack and crevice, making them slick and treacherous. This was a road of history and decay, a silent witness to a forgotten past.
At the break of dawn, the soldiers from the early morning shift came to rest. Their boots were heavy with mud from the previous day's rain, sticking to the soles with every step. With tired, sleep-deprived bodies, they dragged themselves across the open field toward the kitchenette area, queuing up for their morning meal before they could finally rest.
Inside the warm consult room, the air was thick with unspoken tension. Chinua sat with her eight men and Haitao, facing Batzorig and his five captains. A table, laden with food placed there by kitchen soldiers, sat between the two groups. It was a strange sight—a gathering of two rival military factions, now sharing a meal in silence.
The room was silent as they began to eat, the only sounds being the clinking of wooden spoons against bowls. They were all waiting for Dzhambul to arrive for the morning meeting, but as they finished their meal, there was still no sign of him. With a quiet sigh, Chinua decided to go ahead and get the meeting started.
"General," Chinua said, looking directly at Batzorig. "As you might already know, I guaranteed safe passage for the Ginmiao civilians fleeing Zaoging."
"Captain Chenghiz had already mentioned," Batzorig said meeting her gaze.
"What do you think?" Chinua asked, seeking his oppinion.
Chinua knew that as the main general of the mission, she did not need to seek Batzorig's opinion on the matter. However, she also knew that Batzorig was a general of many generations and had fought in countless battles even before she was born. It did not matter that they now stood on opposite sides of a political divide; she would always hold the greatest respect for him, as he was considered one of the greatest generals of Hmagol.
Batzorig paused, his gaze thoughtful as he looked at Chinua. "From a military standpoint, it is a great risk, Chinua. We don't know who among them are spies, and even the loyal ones will strain our already limited resources. This city was not built to house two armies, let alone a population of refugees."
He leaned forward, his voice low and serious. "My concern, Chinua, is not with your compassion. My concern is with the safety of this city and the morale of our own soldiers. An open gate can be seen as a sign of weakness."
"A sign of weakness from who?" Hye said, meeting Batzorig's gaze directly. "How could a couple of hundred women, children, and elders make the great Northern soldiers look weak in the eyes of others? If this is truly what you believe, then it means you are doubting the ability and skills of your own soldiers."
Bolor slammed his hand on the table in front of him, the loud report echoing in the tense room. His furious face, a mask of unbridled rage, stared daggers at Hye who sat calmly across from him.
"I have had enough of your insults!" Bolor roared, his voice shaking the small room as he knocked the plate of food off the table. "It doesn't matter how good of a strategist you may be, or how much you have earned the trust of your general. Your insults toward us will no longer be tolerated."
Bolor stood up and turned his angry face toward Chinua, making sure she understood the depth of his fury. "General," he said, his voice a low growl. "From now on, if you are going to have him in your meetings, there is no need for me to attend. I refuse to be in the same room as him. Furthermore, I believe that not just me, but many others also refuse to share a room with him." He gave Hye a final, cold stare, nodded at Batzorig, and then left the room.
Chenghiz quickly chased out after Bolor. Moments later, Jochi stood up and politely excused himself from the meeting, citing back pain as his reason. The truth, however, was that he, too, refused to stay and listen to any words that came out of Hye's mouth.
Chinua watched the last of Batzorig's captains leave the room. She turned her attention to General Batzorig and Dawa, who remained in their seats, their faces grim. With a quiet sense of finality, Chinua dismissed the remaining men.
"General Batzorig," she said, her voice clear and calm. "Given the outcome of this meeting, there is nothing left to discuss. Please attend to your soldiers and the refugees. The meeting is adjourned." Without waiting for a reply, she stood up and left the room.
After Chinua left the meeting, she made her way to her private quarters. She sat at her desk, sighing and rubbing her temples, the weight of the failed meeting pressing down on her. A moment later, Hye walked in and stood before her.
"Why did you leave so suddenly?" Hye asked.
Chinua looked up at him, her expression a mix of weariness and frustration. "There's no reason for any further discussion when the conversation has already turned sour," she said. "Why? Why is it that you always gouge at their wounds?"
Hye scoffed, his voice firm and his back ramrod straight, showing no sign of regret for his words or actions. "Because I want to continue reminding them," he said, "that the wounds they left on others will always come back to haunt them."
"Hye," Chinua said, her voice firm. "Sometimes, the continuous reopening of old wounds is not always the most logical idea. Some wounds are meant to be left to heal."
Chinua paused for a moment, letting her words hang in the air. She watched as they soaked into Hye, the firm resolve on his face slowly giving way to a flicker of something new—a quiet understanding.
"It's a short live victory, because as soon as those wounds are opened, the person who gets hurt the most will not be those whom you want to remind of the pain they caused to others," Chinua said, her voice soft but filled with a quiet conviction, "but instead, you are the one that is being reminded of that pain."
Chinua stood up and walked to the window, staring out into the open field. "I want you to go to Batzorig's camp and apologize to Captains Bolor, Jochi, and Chenghiz."
Hye's jaw tightened. "Apologize for what?" he said, his voice laced with indignation. "For speaking the truth? For defending your honor? They are our enemies. They look down on you, on me, on all of us. They don't deserve an apology."
Chinua turned to face him, her expression soft but firm. "Why do we label each other enemies when the true enemies are still out there, somewhere in the darkness or hiding in the shadows?" she asked. "We're on the same team now. We're defending the same city, with the same soldiers."
"I don't consider them part of our team," Hye said stubbornly, still holding a grudge against the past events. "I want to remind them that what they've done in the past is coming back to bite them in the open. Therefore, I will not apologize."
Chinua took a step closer to him, her voice dropping to a low, pleading whisper. "I am not asking you to do this for them. I'm asking you to do it for yourself. I'm asking you to forgive them not because they deserve it, but because you need to let go. You are drowning yourself in the river of past events, and it is blocking your view of the future."
"They have humiliated us at every turn," Hye said, his eyes filled with a flash of old anger. "How can I just forget the past?"
"The past is not what defines you," Chinua replied, her voice filled with a powerful conviction. "Who you are now is what matters. You are my advisor, my friend, and a great strategist. Your purpose is not to punish them for their past sins but to lead them to a better future. Please, do this one thing for me."
Hye looked at Chinua's pleading face, a deep sigh escaping his lips. He knew she was right. He had to trust her and let go of the past. He gave her a single, sharp nod.
"I will do it," he said, his voice quiet. He let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping as the last of his defiance left him. "Not for them or for myself, but... for you."