The winter wind howled outside, nudging the heavy window drapes and sending a sharp chill through the cracks of the wooden frame. Inside the warm military conference room, Chinua, Hye, and Haitao sat around a large wooden map table, studying the territorial lines. The door swung open, and Khunbish walked in, accompanied by Khenbish and three soldiers carrying wooden trays of hot lunch.
"The Nuazas River will freeze solid from December through March," Haitao said, tapping his finger against the parchment map. "If Payapasa intends to launch a counter-invasion, these months will be their prime opportunity."
"Then we will ensure that opportunity never comes," Hye said smoothly. Reaching into a side box, he picked up miniature wooden models of catapults and automated multi-arrow ballistas, placing them directly along the riverbank on the map.
"During these next two months, we need to ensure that the fifty yards of ice closest to our riverbank remain fragile," Chinua instructed, leaning over the table. "We will have our men cut holes and create hidden fractures in the sheet. If they attempt to march across, the sound of splintering ice will serve as our invasion drum."
"And what if it isn't an army, but fleeing civilians?" Khunbish asked, looking up from the food trays.
Chinua turned her gaze toward Hye, expecting a quick solution.
Hye raised his hands defensively, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Hey, don't look at me like that—I haven't thought that far ahead yet."
"Let us hope they do not cross," Chinua said, her tone softening. "But if they do come, surrendering willingly at our doorstep, we will not turn them away. This city was once their home, after all." She nodded approvingly toward the map. "You've constructed a solid plan."
"Chinua!"
Timicin's booming voice echoed from the hallway outside. Seconds later, he burst through the door, sending clumps of wet mud flying from his heavy boots across the floor.
"What are you looking so happy about?" Khenbish asked, wiping a spot of mud off his sleeve with a chuckle.
"Hey guys!" Timicin shouted, his face practically glowing with excitement. "Qinru gave birth last night! Erkhtenger was born fat and healthy!" He burst into a loud, booming laugh. "Both mother and son are completely safe!"
A wave of genuine joy washed through the room as congratulations and laughter broke out among the commanders. But after a few moments, Chinua and the others noticed the sudden, dramatic slump in Timicin's shoulders, his bright expression collapsing into a glum, miserable pout.
"Hey, what's with that face?" Chinua asked, raising an eyebrow.
Timicin let out a heavy, suffering sigh and turned his eyes toward Haitao. "General... I... I would like to request one month of leave."
"For what?" Haitao asked, taking a sip of his warm mare's milk.
"I am getting married in a few days," Timicin grumbled, sounding like a man sentenced to the gallows.
The room fell dead silent for a fraction of a second before the entire war council exploded into a roar of uncontrollable laughter.
"Hey! Cut it out!" Timicin yelled, his face flushing bright red. "It isn't funny! If it wasn't for my father threatening to drop dead on the spot, I would never have agreed to this!"
His desperate protest did nothing to help his case—the group only laughed harder, Khunbish leaning against the table for support.
"After all these years of stubborn refusal, swearing you would rather die than pick up lice and plant them in your hair," Chinua wheezed, breaking into unrestrained laughter as she pointed a finger straight at him, "you finally... you finally picked up the lice and planted them in your hair!"
After a good round of laughter and teasing, Chinua patted Timicin lightly on the shoulder, still chuckling under her breath.
"I might not be able to attend your wedding in person, but I will make sure the King sends a grand gift in my name," Chinua said, her smile warm. "In fact... General Haitao, as his commander, I think you should take Och, Chaghatai, Erden, and Terbish with you to attend the wedding. After all, we were the original group recruited by you. I will have General Bilguun stay behind to help hold the line. Take your unit leaders and enjoy three months of well-deserved leave."
Haitao hesitated, looking toward the map table. "But Chinua... what about the Paayasians?"
"If they planned to launch a winter attack, they would have shown signs by now," Chinua reassured him smoothly. "Besides, with thousands of his own civilians stranded along the riverbanks, Es Ke wouldn't dare march an army over them. If he does, he becomes an even bigger disgrace in the eyes of his own people."
"General," Khunbish added with a nod, "you deserve this rest more than anyone else."
"She's right," Hye said. "If anything, urgent comes up, we will send word immediately."
"And besides," Chinua said with a subtle grin, "I still have Azad and the Salran Bandits backing me up if I need extra muscle."
Haitao let out a breath and smiled. "I'll go tell the boys. I am sure they will be thrilled to hear the news." He stood, bowed respectfully, and left the conference room alongside a beaming, if slightly embarrassed, Timicin.
"Congratulations on the wedding!"
Zhi's deep voice echoed from the hallway outside. A moment later, the legendary spearman stepped through the doorway, taking a seat across the table from Chinua.
"Did you just run into Timicin?" Chinua asked.
"I did," Zhi replied. His expression quickly darkened as he looked directly at Chinua and Hye. "Chinua... the prisoners in the lower cells are falling ill. Some of the sickness might be contagious."
Hye's playful mood vanished in an instant, replaced by deep concern. "That is bad. That is likely the true reason Es Ke refused to let the fleeing refugees into his capital in the first place." He turned his sharp gaze onto Zhi. "Have our medics conducted an assessment yet?"
"Yes, our doctors have already inspected the cells," Zhi said. "And... there is something else."
"Go on," Chinua said, leaning forward.
"Yongyee is ready to pledge his allegiance to you," Zhi revealed.
Chinua raised an eyebrow. "On what grounds?"
"He swears to bleed and die for Hmagol, so long as his children are given a secure future," Zhi explained, his voice softening with quiet empathy as he reflected on his own past choices. "And it isn't just him. All two thousand prisoners whom Es Ke abandoned want the exact same thing. They are asking if you would be willing to take back the fleeing refugees across the river who wish to return home."
"Taking all of them back at once is impossible," Hye cut in sharply, his mind instantly calculating the logistics. "With winter setting in, there will not be enough food to feed our garrison and thousands of refugees without direct intervention from the royal court."
"So... are we just going to leave them to freeze and starve on the riverbanks?" Zhi asked, looking between the two strategists.
"That isn't what Hye means," Chinua said, her mind racing as she worked through the options. "We have the physical space to shelter them, but we lack the food supplies... unless..."
Hye let out a heavy, solemn sigh, finishing her thought. "Unless our soldiers are willing to share their own rations with the families of their enemies."
Late that night, inside Chinua's sleeping quarters, Khunbish walked in carrying a steaming wooden basin. He set it down gently beside her bed and looked over at Chinua, who was still sitting at her desk, her eyes fixed on the heavy ledger of the garrison's food rations.
"Khunbish," Chinua said quietly, without looking up from the pages. "Would you be willing to cut your daily rations in half?"
"If you ask it of me, Chinua, I have no objections," Khunbish replied without a moment's hesitation.
Chinua looked up, a soft, appreciative smile touching her lips as she patted the open ledger. "Then you won't mind being the first person to sign your name."
Khunbish walked over to the desk, took the brush, and firmly wrote his name at the top of the record book.
"Chinua... an army marches on its stomach," Khunbish said gently, looking down at her. "Convincing the entire garrison to give up half their food will be a nearly impossible task." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Perhaps it is time for you to return to Ntsua-Ntu. His Majesty wanted no land border with Payapasa, and now he has it. If you go to the royal court in person, His Majesty might consider increasing our supply shipments."
"What you say makes sense," Chinua admitted, resting her elbow on the table and leaning her cheek against her hand. Her fingers began to tap a slow, rhythmic beat against the wood as her mind raced through the tactical possibilities. "However, General Haitao and his officers are leaving for the capital in two days. If I leave right after them, the Paayasians will notice. When a general abandons the front line, the soldiers lose their fighting spirit—and our enemies will see it as an invitation to strike."
Her rhythmic tapping continued to echo softly in the quiet room until her hand suddenly went still.
She looked up at Khunbish, her eyes sharp. "Khunbish... does the Nuazas River have fish?"
Khunbish blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question. "That... I do not know, Chinua. But I can find out tomorrow morning. Or... if you need an answer right now, the local prisoners would be the best people to ask."
"Fair enough," Chinua said, standing up from her desk and pulling her heavy winter cloak over her shoulders. "Follow me. We're going to the dungeons."
Walking down the silent, desolate road with Khunbish at her side, Chinua watched their long shadows stretching across the snow. A sudden, heavy sadness washed over her heart.
She held a grand vision—a dream of a peaceful tomorrow, free of war, for herself and the people of Hmagol. But it felt as though that very vision had closed so many doors for the people closest to her. Some had fallen on bloody battlefields, others had given their lives purely to shield her, and those who survived remained bound to her side, refusing to seek their own happiness.
Losing Drystan, Od, and Muunokhoi had forced her to rethink everything. On the battlefield, they were brothers-in-arms bound by a fierce oath to lay down their lives for one another. But that sacrifice should end when the clashing of swords stopped. Her brothers deserved real lives beyond their duty to the kingdom. She could not bear the thought of another brother dying without ever knowing the warmth of a family of his own.
"How many years has it been, Khunbish?" she asked softly into the quiet air.
"Twenty years, Chinua," Khunbish answered smoothly.
"Twenty years already..." Chinua murmured, a wistful smile touching her lips. She came to a halt and turned to face him under the pale moonlight. "Khunbish... isn't it about time you considered starting a family of your own?" She let out a gentle sigh. "Even Khenbish has settled down and started a family, and he is so much younger than you."
Khunbish looked down at her, his expression steady. "And what about Chinua?"
Chinua met his gaze without flinching. "I made a sacred promise to the late King. I swore I would stand as Hmagol's Eastern Pillar. For the rest of my days, my life belongs to protecting these borders."
Khunbish's eyes softened, but his jaw remained set with absolute resolve. "I, too, made a promise. For the rest of my life, I will stand beside Chinua and protect her... until my very last breath."
Chinua shook her head softly, an affectionate, helpless smile breaking through her melancholy.
"You and Hye... you are truly the two most stubborn men I have ever met in my life."
With a quiet sigh, she turned and continued walking toward the prison, as light, delicate snowflakes began to swirl slowly down from the dark night sky.