Chinua stood stiffly inside Batukhan's study, beside Bastsaikhan. Her gaze was fixed on Batukhan's nimble fingers as they methodically flipped through the delicate pages of her journal. The silence stretched, heavy and expectant, broken only by the rustle of paper. As she endured the agonizing wait for him to finish the last entry, her eyes darted periodically to a flickering shadow on the wall, its form swaying hypnotically with the dance of the candlelight.
After what felt like an eternity, but was more than an hour, Batukhan finally closed the journal with a soft thud and placed it carefully beside the small, unassuming box containing Reza's documents. His eyes, now grave and piercing, lifted to meet Chinua's. "In your opinion," he asked, his voice a low rumble, "how likely is it that Umusa Kingdom will side with other kingdoms?"
Chinua's response was immediate, her voice steady. "In my opinion, it is unlikely that Umusa Kingdom will side with other kingdoms. As we have seen, their kingdom is uniquely vulnerable to invasion by other kingdoms. Therefore, other kingdoms are reluctant to forge alliances with Umusa, fearing the obligation of providing aid when needed. Hmagol, however, needs to maintain a strong friendship with Umusa and needs to send aid in times of need. I respectfully request that Your Majesty provide more support along the border regions of Umusa and Hmagol."
Batukhan's brow furrowed slightly. "Your reason?" he pressed.
Chinua explained, her voice now laden with a grim seriousness. "After the battle in Hosha City, I understand why Zasra, Biyla, including Tanggolia, have long sought to occupy Umusa. Once Umusa falls, they will immediately turn on us. Zasra attacking from the east, Biyla from the southeast, and Tanggolia from the south. Furthermore, if those three attack in concert, I believe Payapasa Kingdom will likely attack us directly from the east, too. Should that happen, the third brother Mönkhbat will not be able to hold Lao-Da Pass."
Bastsaikhan interjected, his voice laced with concern, "If Lao-Da Pass is lost, Tanggolia will take over our southern border. And the citizens there, being descendants of the Tanggolian people, may well welcome it." He looked from Chinua to Batukhan, a troubled expression on his face. "I have received many accounts of unfair treatment of citizens in the South over the years, particularly in the Southwest region. However, I cannot personally vouch for their accuracy, as I have no solid evidence."
Chinua met Bastsaikhan's gaze, the old woman's words echoing in her mind. "Speaking of which," she said, her voice tinged with a quiet indignation, "on our way back, I witnessed firsthand how other Magoli treated those of Tanggolian descent or with Tanggolian surnames. This leads me to ask: how reliable are the government officials in the Southwest? If they treated everyone as a citizen of Hmagol without prejudice, those who are expected to betray us once Tanggolian soldiers arrive would be the very ones to take up arms and fight alongside us. But so far, everything I've heard and seen suggests the opposite. Therefore, if our southern border were attacked, it's likely that more than half the southern population would not aid our soldiers or defend our territory. It's time for change in the South."
Bastsaikhan sighed, shaking his head. "Chinua," he said softly, "it's easier said than done. This idea has been buried deep in people's minds."
"The roots are buried deeper," Chinua countered, turning to face Bastsaikhan, her eyes alight with conviction, "but with the right tools, they can be uprooted." She then addressed Batukhan more directly, her voice imbued with passionate sincerity. "A good king does not solely listen to his ministers; he must also hear his people before making decisions. On my way back, I encountered many southerners fleeing the floods from the southwest. I learned from these citizens that those with surnames not considered typically Magoli received no government assistance whatsoever. They even claimed this was codified law."
Batukhan's fist slammed down on the table, the sharp crack echoing through the room. "Outrageous!" he thundered, his face flushing with anger.
Chinua continued, undeterred. "One of my subordinates reminded me that no matter how clear the emperor's orders were," she said, her voice steady despite the King's outburst, "he was still thousands of miles away. And I believe he is right. How could one fear a wolf if they had only heard stories but never faced one?"
Bastsaikhan's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Is this why you decided to accompany the eldest princess to Zhugow City?" he asked.
Chinua replied, her voice firm with resolve, "I wanted to see with my own eyes whether those whom father entrusted with the citizens' welfare actually abide by his orders and the Supreme Law of Hmagol."
Batukhan nodded, his anger slowly subsiding into a quiet determination. "Bastsaikhan," he commanded, "while Chinua is in the southwest, send a trusted group of soldiers to provide more support to that region." He looked at Chinua and Bastsaikhan, a slight, rare smile gracing his lips. "Here, I have you. In the west, Chimgee. North, Dzhambul. East, Chinua." He sighed, the smile fading, replaced by a weariness in his eyes. "And in the south, Mönkhbat. I am glad to have such children helping me protect Hmagol." He rose from his seat and walked towards them. "It's getting late. You two should go and rest now." He turned to Bastsaikhan. "Tomorrow is the wedding of the eldest princess and Prince Geming. As Crown Prince and the eldest, you must remain until the ceremony ends." Then, looking at Chinua, he thought of Geming's likely discomfort. "As for you," he said, a hint of kindness in his voice, "I need you to deliver a gift to the training camp for me. And I've also prepared a gift for you to take to Mönkhbat and his family." He gently patted them both on the shoulders. "Remember," he said, his voice low and serious, "a single sword bends easily. Five strong swords together? Impossible to bend."
Chinua pushed Bastsaikhan in his wheelchair, guiding him slowly out of Batukhan's study and into the serene quiet of his courtyard. Servants trailed discreetly behind them as they passed beneath the exquisite lanterns that hung like glowing jewels from the ceiling.
"These are beautiful," Chinua murmured, her gaze drawn upward.
Bastsaikhan looked up at the intricate lanterns, a pang of realization striking him. Chinua had reached the age to consider starting a family. Yet, she was so consumed by the welfare of the kingdom, and he felt a profound sadness, a sense that she was squandering her youth. Guilt gnawed at him; he knew a flower bloomed only once, and once its time passed, no matter its past beauty, it could no longer attract suitors. He sighed, the sound heavy with unspoken regret. "Is Chinua angry?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Chinua turned, a puzzled frown on her face. "Angry at what?"
Bastsaikhan's voice was tinged with a quiet sorrow. "Angry that the bride tomorrow morning is not Chinua. You've reached the age to consider starting a family, but because of me, you've had to take on responsibilities that were not originally yours." He sighed again, the weight of his guilt pressing down. "As far as I know, when Prince Geming came to propose, the intended princess was Chinua."
Chinua's lips curved into a gentle, knowing smile. "What are you thinking, elder brother?" she asked, her voice soft and reassuring. "I admire Prince Geming's intelligence, yes, but it's purely friendship. If I were ever to seriously consider marriage, the man would be Khunbish and no one else. He is the one you chose for me." A complex expression crossed her face—a sigh paired with a soft smile, a hint of bittersweet acceptance. "And believe me," she added, her voice dropping to a near whisper, "I never saw taking on those duties as depriving you of anything."
Chinua brought the wheelchair to a halt, then took the few steps to kneel before Bastsaikhan. She gently took his hands in hers, looking up into his face, her eyes glistening. "Oh, my dear brother," she said softly, her voice thick with emotion, "Please, never think that way again. I know what I'm doing. And if it ever comes down to choosing between love and family? I choose family. Always." She rested her head on his hands, a gesture of profound love. "I can always find a husband. But I will never find another brother like you. I will fight for you, protect you, and never let anyone look down on you because we were born from the same mother's womb. No one's blood flows closer to my own, in every single vein, than yours."
Bastsaikhan's hand trembled as he gently stroked Chinua's head. His voice was thick with emotion, barely a whisper, as he confessed guiltily, "You are indeed God's special gift to me." Tears streamed down his cheeks, his heart overflowing with a gratitude so immense it stole his breath. "Thank you, Chinua."
Qara stood on the other side of the hall, a silent observer to the tender scene unfolding before her. As she watched the children talk and cry quietly, a wave of profound sadness washed over her. She knew, deep down, that treating Chinua as nothing more than her son's legs was a deep-seated prejudice, a cruel expectation. Yet, simultaneously, she felt an undeniable, fierce pride swell within her for all that Chinua had achieved, for the remarkable woman she had become.
"Let's go back," Qara said, her voice quiet but firm. She turned and walked away, Gan and ten maids trailing silently behind her.
Early in the morning, amidst the joyous cacophony of music and celebration echoing from the royal wedding in the capital, Chinua, accompanied by eight of her loyal men and a hundred soldiers, was already on the move. They were delivering wine and food to the main training camp on the outskirts of Ntshua-Ntu City.
"I don't understand!" Drystan complained, his voice grumbling. "Shouldn't we be in the palace eating with everyone? Why do we have to send food to some soldiers we don't even know?"
Hye replied, a knowing smile playing on his lips, "This is called a good deed. Suppose you are one of the soldiers still training, far from the city. From such a distance, you can see the fireworks blooming in the sky tonight. How would you feel?"
"Me?" Drystan scoffed, "I'd rather sit around a small campfire with my brothers, a bowl of wine and a roasted chicken leg in hand, than sit in the throne hall listening to all those false compliments."
Chinua looked at Drystan, a wry smile touching her lips. "Believe me," she said, her voice light, "the food in the throne hall is not as delicious as the food we roast over an open fire, and the conversations between those ministers are also super boring."
"You can say that because it's your home," Drystan retorted, a playful challenge in his tone.
Chinua turned to Drystan, her voice dropping to a low, serious tone. "Believe me, Drystan," she said, her eyes holding a deeper understanding, "I have seen enough. I understand that this is not real. It is just a pretense."
"Drystan," Zhi said thoughtfully, "no matter how delicious the food is, if the people you eat with don't really care about you, then the food will have no taste."
Chinua, ever practical, offered, "If you really want to taste the food, I will ask the royal chef to cook it for you."
"Fine... Fine..." Drystan conceded, throwing up his hands in mock surrender.
Khawn, his curiosity piqued, asked, "Chinua, why were you late this morning?"
"I went out to run some errands this morning," Chinua replied, her answer deliberately vague.
"What kind of errands?" Khawn pressed, undeterred.
Chinua smiled, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "I gave the three thousand pieces of gold I had obtained to a metalsmith to make gold plates."
Drystan's eyes widened in disbelief. "All three thousand pieces?"
"Yes..." Chinua confirmed, her gaze distant, "I asked the metalsmith to melt them down and turn them into three thousand sixty-four gold plates."
"Why?" Khawn asked, his confusion evident.
Chinua did not discuss the decision with Hye, yet Hye understood her intentions, nonetheless. The number Chinua just mentioned was exactly the number of soldiers who had gone to Hosha City. While not all of them returned from the battle, he was grateful that Chinua even considered this tribute for those who had lost their lives under her command.
"It's so generous of you to even consider the deceased," Hye said, a genuine smile spreading across his face.
Chinua turned to look at Hye, who was riding comfortably beside her. "Dead or not," Chinua said, her voice firm and unwavering, "they are my soldiers."
Hye's lips curved into a teasing smile. "I suppose I get one too?" he asked lightly.
Chinua returned his smile, a warmth in her eyes. "Everyone gets one," she confirmed, "including me."
Hye let out a hearty laugh. Behind them, Naskh frowned in confusion at Jeet, who shrugged, while Drystan and Khawn exchanged puzzled glances, none of them quite following the cryptic conversation between Chinua and Hye.
"I don't understand," Khawn finally admitted, his brow furrowed.
Chinua, a playful smile still lingering on her lips, explained, "The gold plates? I'll give them to you in three days."
Jeet frowned. "Three days? But in two days we leave with the princess for Zhugow City."
"You'll get your gold plate before then," Chinua assured him.
Drystan crossed his arms, impatience creeping into his voice. "Honestly," he said, "I don't like speculation. Just tell us."
Zhi sighed dramatically. "What's unclear?" he asked, exasperated. "She's having gold plates made. That's it. No hidden secret."
Khawn just spread his hands in confusion. "But... I still don't get it."
Khunbish looked at their bewildered faces, a patient smile on his lips. "Okay," he said, taking pity on their lack of understanding. "That gold was the three thousand coins Chinua got from the victory in Hosha City. She didn't keep it. She had a metalsmith melt it and make three thousand sixty-four gold plates, each with a soldier's name on it. She'll give you yours before we leave for Zhugow City."
"So, even the soldiers who died in battle, everyone has a gold plate as a commemoration," Zhi added, nodding slowly.
Naskh, Jeet, Drystan, and Khawn exchanged glances, then their faces slowly cleared as understanding dawned. They finally understood the poignant purpose of the gold plates.
Chinua looked at the backs of the soldiers chatting boisterously in front and behind her, a profound sense of kinship warming her heart. She muttered happily to herself, "Since we are destined to be brothers, why must we share the same womb." With a joyous burst of energy, she spurred her horse forward, leaving them momentarily behind. Then she looked back, her voice ringing out with cheerful challenge, "The last person to reach the gate owes the winner three coins!" A moment of startled silence, then a chorus of cheers and answering shouts rose up from the group, as they eagerly spurred their own horses to catch up.