A low murmur of voices trailed behind her, the hushed anxieties of the people she left behind. Chinua, already on horseback, cast her gaze once more at the imposing city wall that loomed against the morning sky. She reined in her horse, stopping it just beyond the city's gate, to take one last, lingering look at Batsaikhan. He was a solitary figure in his wheelchair, his eyes fixed on her. A tender smile touched Chinua's lips. She pressed her right hand to her left chest, a gesture of deep respect and affection, and bowed her head slowly to her elder brother. Then, with a decisive flick of her whip, she urged her horse forward, its hooves drumming a swift rhythm as she and her two personal guards galloped out of the city, leaving the capital behind.
From his vantage point, Batsaikhan watched as Chinua and her two bodyguards gradually faded into the shimmering morning horizon, until they were no more than distant specks. He slowly turned his wheelchair, a soft whir of wheels, to find Queen Qara standing silently behind him.
"Is she truly gone?" Qara's voice was a soft whisper, tinged with a familiar weariness.
"Yes, Mother, Chinua is gone," Batsaikhan replied, meeting his mother's gaze, a quiet plea in his eyes. "Mother, please don't blame me."
Qara bent down, her movements graceful, until she was eye-level with her son. Her hand reached out, patting his head with a feather-light touch. "I will never blame you," she promised, her smile a gentle reassurance as she straightened. "The smartest people don't walk on their own legs; they walk using the legs of others." Her eyes, ancient and wise, briefly met Batsaikhan's. "Remember that."
Chinua eased her horse into a slower pace as they entered the vast expanse of the prairie, where the tall grass swayed like emerald waves. She lifted her face, inhaling deeply, drawing in the crisp, fresh air that tasted of freedom. Turning to her right, she addressed Khunbish. "Khunbish, you've been to the North Camp before. How many days will it take us to reach the training camp?"
Khunbish, ever practical, responded, "It will take ten days. The small village of Ntoo is just ahead. Does Princess Chinua wish to stay there?"
"Why?" Chinua asked, a curious arch to her brow.
Khenbish interjected, "Anyone traveling from the capital to the northern city typically stops at Ntoo before pushing on to Nta-tshua."
"Nta-tshua?" Chinua mused, her voice alight with interest. "I want to see that city for myself. I've only read and heard what people say." She sighed, a wistful sound. "Seeing it with my own eyes is always better than hearing it a hundred times."
Khunbish inquired, "Would two days be enough for Princess Chinua to look around?"
"I'd like to stay a little longer, if possible," Chinua pressed.
Khenbish's expression tightened slightly. "Stay a little longer, and we'll be late for the recruit's opening ceremony."
Chinua turned to him, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "Why do you always love to be against me?"
Khenbish returned her smile, a hint of long-suffering fondness in his eyes. "I like being punctual."
Chinua scoffed playfully. "Punctual? You'd rather be nosy." With a renewed flick of her whip, she shouted, "Cha... let's race to Ntoo!"
"Chinua, don't rush out!" Khunbish cried, his brow furrowing with concern. "There are a lot of bandits on this road!" He spurred his horse, hurrying to catch up with the already speeding Chinua.
Khenbish quickly joined the chase, the three riders thundering across the open steppe.
Chinua abruptly reined in her horse on a low hill, her gaze sweeping over the scene below: four men locked in a brutal struggle with a lone figure. Khunbish and Khenbish pulled up beside her, their horses snorting softly.
"Let's go see what those people are doing down there," Chinua suggested, her voice laced with curiosity.
Khenbish reached out, his hand firmly gripping Chinua's arm. He pointed to the tattered flags clutched by the fighting men. "Chinua, these are bandits. They don't usually steal from locals or poor travelers. They typically prey on wealthy merchants."
"Sometimes, they're just creating an attractive opportunity," Khunbish added, his voice low and cautious. "We have to approach carefully."
Chinua dismounted, her movements fluid, as did Khunbish and Khenbish. She began to walk slowly down the hill, leading her horse. "I'd love to know how these bandits work," she mused aloud.
Khenbish shook his head. "Know your enemy and know yourself, and you will not be afraid in a hundred battles."
Chinua turned, raising her brows in surprise at Khenbish. "How do you know that?"
"Because Princess Chinua is going to kill these bandits," Khenbish stated simply, a glint in his eye.
Chinua, Khunbish, and Khenbish stood a short distance from the five men, who continued their furious, theatrical battle.
"Who do you think will win?" Khunbish asked.
"I don't know," Khenbish replied, his gaze still fixed on the scene.
They both turned to Chinua, a silent question in their eyes. "How about you?"
"None of them will win," Chinua declared, a faint smirk playing on her lips.
"Why do you say that?" Khenbish asked, genuinely puzzled.
"Obviously, they're pretending," Chinua said, her tone dismissive.
"How do you know?" Khunbish pressed.
"Don't just look, listen," Chinua instructed, her gaze sweeping between her two guards. "Every time they were about to punch or kick, they muttered loudly, as if telling their target what was coming. Sometimes eyes can give you false information, so we need both eyes and ears to make the final judgment." She sighed, a sound of mild exasperation. "What a waste of skill." She tightened her grip on her horse's rope and began to walk away, putting a considerable distance between herself and the staged fight.
A desperate cry echoed across the prairie. "Help me!"
Chinua glanced back at the battered man, then continued walking past them. From his pale skin, blond hair, and striking hazel eyes, Chinua instantly recognized him as an Alhu from Alohul, a country far to the north.
"Hey, are you just walking past without helping?" Drystan shouted again, his voice raw. One of the bandits delivered a brutal punch to Drystan's stomach, sending him stumbling back before he crumpled to the ground.
Chinua paused her horse. "A wise person will not go looking for trouble," she said, her voice even, devoid of emotion. She resumed walking away from Drystan and the bandits.
Suddenly, Drystan lunged, snatching an axe from one of the bandits and hurling it with surprising force toward Chinua. Khunbish, a blur of motion, drew his sword with his left hand, splitting the axe cleanly in two mid-air. The two damaged halves clattered to the ground just two feet from Chinua's face. Khenbish swiftly moved, positioning himself protectively beside Chinua.
Khunbish advanced, his sword leveled directly at Drystan. Drystan scrambled to his feet, pulling two more axes from his belt with practiced ease.
With an axe in each hand, Drystan scoffed at Khunbish, a manic grin spreading across his face. "Come on, man, show me what you've got! Ha ha ha!"
Khunbish swung his sword, its force sending Drystan staggering back several steps. The other five bandits, galvanized by Drystan's defiance, drew their own axes and surged forward to attack Khunbish, forcing Khenbish to rush to his aid.
Chinua grabbed her bow from the horse's back, expertly drawing an arrow. She nocked the arrow, aimed it precisely at one of the bandit's legs, and released it with lightning speed.
The arrow twirled through the air for a short distance, sinking deep into the back of the bandit's calf. A swift scream tore from his throat as the arrow pierced his flesh, and he collapsed to his knees.
Chinua wasted no time. She snatched another arrow, fitting it to her bow, and aimed at a bandit who was raising his axe to strike Khunbish's back. The arrow found its mark, piercing the robber's right arm. Without pausing, Chinua pulled and fired yet another arrow, this one striking the same bandit's outer right thigh, then penetrating his inner thigh. The bandit crashed to the ground, utterly incapacitated.
The remaining two bandits spun around, their eyes fixed on Chinua, and charged. But they halted abruptly, twenty yards away, as Chinua's next arrow was already aimed squarely at them. They exchanged a wary glance, then, as if by unspoken signal, both bandits sprinted towards Chinua from opposite directions.
Chinua quickly fired an arrow at the bandit charging from her left. It struck him in the neck, and he fell immediately. As the other bandit, axe in hand, closed in, Chinua expertly used her bow to block his swing. Her right hand, moving with terrifying speed, drew the dagger from the scabbard at her side. She swiftly wrapped the bowstring around the bandit's right wrist, pulled it taut, and snapped it. The sharp bowstring sliced deeply into the bandit's flesh. Without hesitation, Chinua plunged her dagger into the left side of his neck. He sank slowly to his knees, then crumpled.
Chinua grabbed her bloodied bow, drew another arrow from the quiver on her horse's side, and aimed it unflinchingly at Drystan. "Hey, bandit!" she shouted, her voice ringing clear.
Just as Khenbish delivered the final, fatal stab to the last bandit's stomach, Drystan, seeing his comrades fall, swiftly retreated from Khunbish. Khunbish and Khenbish slowly backed up, their swords ready, to stand protectively at Chinua's side.
Chinua's voice was cold, precise. "Move and die."
Drystan glared at Chinua, then at the two dead men lying just a few feet away. A sneer twisted his lips. "Who the hell are you, lady?"
"You're truly a talented person," Chinua observed, her voice calm. "Why choose to be a bandit?"
Drystan chuckled, a dry, bitter sound. "It's not like I have other options."
"Everyone has options," Chinua countered, her gaze unwavering. "It's up to you which ones you choose." She fixed him with a sharp look. "Hey, Alhu, if you want to live, don't commit crimes in Hmagol."
Drystan was a man who knew no fear of death. Even when staring it in the face, his pride would not falter. He sneered, "What if I do? What are you going to do, Magoli?" He smirked, challenging her.
Chinua met his stare, slowly loosening her bowstring, her eyes never leaving Drystan. He didn't even blink as Chinua's arrow zipped past him, missing by mere inches. Chinua then lowered her bow, hanging it back on a hook in her saddle.
"Because when I return from my trip," Chinua declared, her voice holding an ominous promise, "I'm going to pick out all the bad grains in our rice bucket and feed them to the chickens." Her gaze hardened as she looked at Drystan. "Alhu, what's your name?"
Drystan chuckled, a light, mocking sound. "I don't know why you keep referring to me as an Alhu. I've never been to that part of the country and know nothing about it." He paused, his gaze meeting hers. "What's your name?"
Chinua smoothly mounted her horse, looking down at him. "Tell me yours, and you'll know mine."
"Drystan," he stated simply.
Chinua smiled, a subtle, almost taunting curve of her lips. "You won't be worthy of my name until you're no longer a bandit." With that, she wheeled her horse and rode away from Drystan.
Drystan stood watching, as the three figures, mounted on their horses, rode into the setting sun. He cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting after them, "Magoli! If I have eyes on someone, that person can't get away!" A smirk played on his lips. "You're one hell of a Magoli!"