The sun beat down on the traveling party as they made their way west, back to Ntsua-Ntu City. Chinua led the way, accompanied by her eight subordinates, including Hye, who rode in Misheel's carriage. The two hundred and twenty-three imperial guards under her command formed a formidable escort, augmented by Misheel's contingent of one hundred soldiers. Inside the spacious carriage, Hye and Misheel sat facing each other, with six mysterious boxes occupying the space behind them. Misheel, having noticed Hye's uncharacteristic silence that morning, couldn't help but be curious about their contents.
"May I ask, what are the six boxes at the back of the carriage?" Misheel inquired.
Hye calmly set down his book, met Misheel's gaze, and replied, "Those boxes are full of dry leaves."
"Leaves? Why are you carrying leaves back to Ntsua-Ntu City?" Misheel asked, puzzled.
"Femi, the female doctor in Hosha City, gave them to me," Hye explained. "They are used to calm people and help them sleep better."
"What are you going to do with them?" Misheel pressed.
Hye smiled subtly. "Of course, I will sell them."
Misheel chuckled. "I heard from Timicin that you are not only a great advisor, but also a great war strategist. Are you willing to serve in the palace? I believe that with your qualifications and Chinua's help, you can hold an important position in the palace."
Hye scoffed, an indifferent expression on his face. "I will not bend the knee for any king, especially your king."
Misheel, observing Hye's sudden gloom and negative demeanor, realized he might have overstepped by suggesting service in the royal court.
"It's just a thought," Misheel said with a disarming smile. "You can choose not to serve the royal court."
"Minister Misheel!" a soldier's voice called from outside the carriage window as he rode past.
Misheel quickly lifted the curtain. "What's wrong?" he asked.
"There was a small group of about forty civilians, men, women, and children walking in front of us," the soldier reported.
Misheel sighed, a flicker of sadness in his eyes. "They must be people fleeing from the southwest." He turned to the soldier. "Do not disturb them and assure the civilians that we are just royal officials passing by. In addition, give them food, water, and blankets."
"Yes, Minister Misheel," the soldier replied, quickly riding away.
Hye looked at Misheel, a thoughtful expression on his face. He had met many Hmagoli ministers before, but from the way Misheel spoke to the soldier, he could tell that this was a man with genuine compassion for ordinary citizens.
"Why should we give them food? There are still two days left until we arrive in the capital?" Hye asked.
Misheel's smile was heavy with sorrow. "That's why we are giving away our food and blankets, because we only have two days left to reach the capital. We could survive a day without food and a night without blankets before returning home, but who knows how many days these civilians have been hungry and how many nights they have been cold."
Hye looked at Misheel, a new understanding dawning on him. "Now I finally understand where Timicin's attitude comes from."
"You are stationed in the east and you went to war," Misheel said, "so you might not hear about the flooding in the southwest of Hmagol."
"What is your king's plan for this?" Hye inquired.
"At the moment, His Majesty is still dealing with a highly contagious disease in northwest Hmagol," Misheel replied.
Hye rolled his eyes at Misheel. "So, will your king abandon the southwest? I heard that most of the civilians living in the southwest are descendants of Tanggolian."
"The southwest of Hmagol is not abandoned," Misheel protested, his voice firm, "but the King has not yet had a good plan to solve this problem. When the flood just happened, he had already sent aid, but you may already know that such help is only a temporary solution. Once the food is exhausted, the people will suffer again."
Just as Misheel finished speaking, the carriage suddenly lurched to a halt.
"What's going on?" Misheel exclaimed, quickly pushing aside the door curtain.
"My Lord, there are people blocking our way," the driver announced.
Hye and Misheel stepped out of the carriage, discovering that there were far more civilians than the soldier had initially reported.
"Where did all these people come from?" Misheel muttered under his breath.
Hye noticed two distinct groups of people traveling on the same road. The first group was larger, composed mostly of men; the second was smaller, with more elderly individuals, women, and children.
"Why are you blocking the road?" Chinua asked, approaching the people in front of the carriage.
"Please share some food with us," pleaded a woman, clutching a baby in her arms and carrying a toddler on her back.
Chinua looked down at the woman. "Minister Misheel ordered the soldiers to give you some food, water, and blankets."
"Chinua," Hye said, gesturing towards the first group of people, less than thirty yards away.
Chinua saw a group of young men distributing food to this first group of civilians.
"They are handing out food, water, and blankets over there; why don't you go get some?" Chinua asked.
An old woman stepped forward, grabbing the young mother's arm. "Daughter-in-law, step away... don't block their way. They are Magoli, so they are likely to help their own people." She quickly pulled the young mother to the side of the road.
The young mothers standing on the roadside slowly moved aside.
"Whatever they don't need," the old woman added, her voice low, "we can pick it up later."
Chinua dismounted her horse and walked with the others towards the women by the roadside. "This grandmother, why do you say that?" Chinua asked. Her directness caused the two women to instinctively take a few steps back.
The old woman's voice trembled, her chattering teeth barely allowing her to speak. "Dear sir, please forgive us if we had misspoken." She quickly fumbled in her belt, producing two copper coins, and offered them to Chinua.
Chinua gently pushed the old woman's hand away. "I'm just asking for clarification because I don't understand why you said that," she explained.
The old woman slowly retracted her hand, seemingly concluding that her two copper coins were insufficient to appease the Magoli soldier. She said politely, "Is what I said wrong?" She looked at Chinua expectantly.
"I just don't understand your last sentence," Chinua clarified. "Is there any hidden meaning?"
"My words don't have any hidden meaning," the old woman insisted.
A loud, harsh voice from a distance suddenly diverted Chinua's attention from the old woman and the young mother.
She looked up and saw a young man striding towards the second group of people, carrying a sack.
"Here!" The young man sneered, throwing a bag onto the ground. "Don't go around saying that we Magoli don't share any food with you. Ptooey." He spat at the people standing on the roadside, his face contorted in disgust. "Outcast... you are not even Magoli. How come you live in Hmagol..." he complained, slowly walking towards the first group of people.
"Mama, look... bread," a little boy with ragged clothes and thin limbs cried out, running forward and eagerly snatching the dirty bread from the ground with a joyful smile.
The young man's contemptuous action enraged Chinua. Her heart pounded with fury. The thought that her soldiers had sacrificed their lives so that scumbags like him could live a peaceful life in Hmagol made her blood boil.
In a fit of pure, unadulterated anger, Chinua yanked the dirty piece of bread from the boy's hand and rushed towards the young man.
She grabbed his hair, yanked his head back, and violently stuffed the dirty piece of bread into his mouth. Then, grabbing his shirt with both hands, she effortlessly lifted him and threw him to the ground.
The incident happened so fast that the young man didn't even have time to react. One moment he was walking, the next he was sprawling on the ground. He struggled for a moment before he could breathe freely, coughing and sputtering. After spitting the dirty bread out of his mouth, he tried to point at Chinua, only to realize he couldn't lift his arm higher due to the sharp, excruciating pain in his ribcage. He tried twice to speak, but only a low grunt escaped his lips.
Seeing their friend knocked down, ten young men rushed towards him. One of them reached his fallen companion and asked, "Are you alright?" as he helped him to his feet.
The young man groaned, then forced out, "He... I think... he... he broke my rib." He groaned again, wincing in pain.
Chinua scoffed, her voice dripping with disdain. "A broken rib is a better punishment than a missing head."
Another man, his face contorted in anger, pointed at Chinua. "You outcast! Do you know the punishment for hurting a true blood Magoli?"
"Oh, I don't know," Chinua said through gritted teeth, her eyes blazing. "Why don't you tell me?"
"Harming a true blood Magoli will land you in jail, that's the law," the man declared.
Chinua laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. "I've never heard of a law like this," she said, her voice laced with fury.
"In the Hmagol constitution, it is written that all people living in Hmagol are Magoli, no matter where their ancestors came from, or which surnames they choose to use," Hye stated, his arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips as he looked at the uneducated young men. "I want to know which constitution you read this law from?"
"Do you think you can defeat us if you know a little martial art? Huh?" Another man sneered threateningly, walking aggressively forward with the remaining young people.
A silly expression appeared on Hye's face, quickly replaced by a smirk. "A little skill?" He turned to look at Chinua, teasing, his lips curved down slightly. "He is laughing at your fighting ability. This scum makes me question whether it is worth risking our lives to let him live a peaceful life in Hmagol."
He chuckled, his gaze sweeping over the twenty people confronting Chinua and him.
"Honestly, if I were you, I'd get down on my knees and surrender right now. I wouldn't threaten, especially her."
Chinua stared at the men, her voice cold. "You have not answered his question yet?"
"Yeah, you haven't answered his question yet," Naksh added, leading the others forward. He began to crack his knuckles and neck, a menacing sound.
Seeing more and more people approaching them, the Magoli civilians began to retreat, merging with the other group of civilians.
"Listen, guys, we are all Magoli," one of the men yelled, his voice strained. "There is no need to get into conflict over those who have been abandoned. Those outcasts over there are Tanggolian descendants. They happen to live in Hmagol, and therefore they don't deserve anything from the Hmagol government," he said, pointing to the second group of civilians not far away.
Hye scratched his chin thoughtfully. "If historical records are correct, the southwest region of Hmagol originally belonged to Tanggolia and was later conquered by King Batu. In order to show respect for the people who surrendered peacefully, King Batu established the Supreme Law of Hmagol."
He looked at the civilian men. "I read the Supreme Law of Hmagol that was written two hundred years ago, and I did not see the law you mentioned in it. So, I am confused by that law."
Drystan sneered at Hye. "You surely know about everything, even the supreme law. What a nerd?"
Hye looked at Drystan, genuinely amused by his foolishness. "If you're going to serve under a Magoli, you should know their laws," he calmly stated.
"Yes...the government only provides aid to true Magoli with the Magoli surname. If you don't believe me, ask Mayor Orgil," the men insisted.
"So, you mean that the aid sent is only for Magoli citizens with Magoli surnames?" Chinua asked, her voice dangerously quiet.
"That's right," the man replied proudly.
"Who is responsible for delivering aid to the southwest?" Chinua demanded.
Misheel quickly walked to Chinua's side. "It's Minister Enkhjin," he said, his voice low.
Misheel looked up at Chinua. It was clear from Chinua's expression that she was deeply unhappy about this situation, and he himself couldn't understand how such a problem could have arisen.
"But Chinua, this doesn't seem right," he continued, a note of confusion in his voice. "Because I have worked with Minister Enkhjin for many years, and with his righteous attitude, there is no way he would let this happen. There must be some misunderstanding here." He paused, shaking his head. "I can guarantee that Minister Enkhjin will never show such prejudice towards anyone."
Chinua understood the process of delivering supplies, having experienced it herself. She knew that if the person sending the supplies was honest, then the person receiving the supplies was dishonest.
Although Mönkhbat held the title of Southern General, his main responsibility was to protect Da-Lao Pass, and he had no say in political decisions. The final decision was largely made by the southern governor, Gerel.
"There's no misunderstanding," Chinua declared, her voice firm and resolute. "It seems this corruption is so deep-rooted that if we don't root it out, we won't see it." She walked towards the group, her gaze sweeping over the men. "There is no legal provision in the Hmagol constitution that only native Magoli people with the Magoli surname can receive government assistance in times of need. It reads that all citizens living in Hmagol are Magoli. Therefore, any assistance provided by the government must be distributed equally to all those who are suffering during difficult times."
"You heard Chinua," Misheel said, his voice regaining its authority. "Bring those food bags and gather everyone here. I will distribute the food to the people myself." He turned to Chinua. "Chinua, let's take a break and eat something before continuing."
As the soldiers finished preparing lunch, Zhi grabbed a bowl of soup and a piece of meat, looking for a place to sit. He spotted Chinua sitting alone in the distance, observing Misheel and the soldiers distributing food to the fleeing civilians. He grabbed another piece of meat and walked towards her.
Zhi sat next to Chinua, offering her the meat. "You don't have to think too much," Zhi said, his voice gentle. "Such a situation is common in any kingdom. Among a hundred ministers wearing white cloaks, there will always be one or two wearing black cloaks."
Chinua took the meat from Zhi's hand, her expression tinged with sadness. "I have always believed that ministers who serve the imperial court are ministers with compassion and a heart to serve the country. They are those appointed by father. They are all law-abiding and impartial."
Zhi smiled faintly. "You know, there is a sentence in Tanggolian that I like very much."
Chinua turned to look at Zhi. "What is that sentence?" she asked.
Zhi sighed, his gaze sweeping over the people eating. "No matter how clear the emperor's order is, he is still thousands of miles away."
Chinua sighed, her heart heavy. "Very well said," she murmured.