The world was a blur of grey and motion. Rain lashed down, relentless and cold, transforming the empty streets of Nue-Li into slick, dark ribbons reflecting the leaden sky. Thunder rumbled distantly, a low growl swallowed by the drumming deluge. Chinua, Khunbish, Khenbish, Zhi, and Siqi rode hard, their horses' hooves splashing through puddles, sending sprays of water high into the air. Cloaks plastered to their forms, faces grim and set against the driving rain, they galloped through the abandoned thoroughfares. The urgency of Siqi's news propelled them forward, a silent, desperate race against time and an unseen enemy, all heading towards the northern city gate where the fleeing Ginmiao waited in the downpour.
By the time they reached the northern gate of Nue-Li, it was already a scene of controlled chaos. Chenghiz, and Bolor were there, their presence a solid core around which a mix of Eastern and Northern soldiers worked to tighten security. The area was so crowded with their ranks that Chinua and her men had no choice but to dismount, leaving their horses in the rain as they pushed their way through the throng.
The soldiers began to slowly move away, their ranks parting to create a clear path for Chinua and her men. As she approached the top of the stone wall, her eyes fell upon a man standing among the soldiers. Dressed in simple, plain clothes and holding an umbrella against the driving rain, his presence was one of quiet solitude. She did not have to ask for his identity; she already knew the person was no other than Hye.
Chinua walked to Hye's side, and together they stood and observed the scene below. Hundreds of people stood in the pouring rain—a mixture of men, women, and children, young and old—all drenched to the bone. Every single person had a piece of white cloth tied to their wrist, a visible symbol of their surrender and their plea for refuge.
Chinua stood in silent observation, the rhythmic patter of rain against her armor a constant, soft symphony. She noticed the subtle sound her armor made—a faint, metallic clatter—seemed to mimic the chattering teeth of the hundreds of people below. Drenched to the bone and shivering uncontrollably, their collective struggle was a living, visceral counterpoint to her own stillness.
Naksh, Jeet, and the rest of Chinua's captains did not disturb her. They knew that when she was debating a difficult decision within her own head, she needed a moment of quiet contemplation and did not like to be bothered. Therefore, they continued to stand silently in the driving rain, waiting for their general to make a decision.
After a long period of brainstorming, Chinua finally let out a heavy sigh. "I don't have enough room in the city for them," she murmured, turning to look at Hye.
"What about the haunted ground?" Hye said, his eyes still fixed on the people outside the city walls.
"I thought no one wanted to live in that part of the city?" Chinua said, her voice low.
"When people are desperate," Hye said with a thin smile, "they are willing to live among their enemy."
Rushing up the stone stairs, Dae stumbled to a halt before Hye. His chest still heaving, he gasped, "I got your message." He looked over the city wall, and among the hundreds of people below, he saw his own family standing with Chong's. A look of shock and relief washed over his face. "They actually came back," he murmured, a sense of disbelief in his voice.
He took a few steps forward. "Are you not going to open the gate?" He turned around, then realized Chinua was standing beside Hye. His eyes widened, and he stepped forward, his desperation evident. "General, please open the gate," he pleaded, his voice cracking. "You said it yourself, as long as they surrender willingly and hold no threats, you will not harm them!"
"Mayor Dae, we were just discussing where to put them," Hye said, his voice cutting through the tense air. "I suggested the haunted ground of the city."
Dae was taken aback, a wave of relief washing over him. He felt a bit foolish for having so hastily spoken ill against Chinua before he knew the truth.
Chinua let out a soft chuckle, a sound filled with grim understanding. She turned to her left, her gaze meeting Naksh's. With a gentle nod, she gave her silent command.
Naksh's voice sounded, loud enough to overpower the thundering deluge. "Open the gate!"
As the heavy iron gate swung open with a loud creak, Chinua, Hye, Khunbish, Khenbish, and Dae walked down the stone stairs.
"Mayor, what's our current food supply?" Chinua asked, her voice calm and direct.
"When you took over the city, everything was left as it was," Dae replied. "We have enough food for a few hundred more people."
"Good," Chinua said. "For food and shelter, I'll leave that to you."
Dae nodded slowly as he followed Chinua and Hye.
"Khenbish," Chinua ordered, looking to her bodyguard. "You, Khawn, and Drystan will assist Mayor Dae in finding places for the refugees."
Chenghiz, who stood at the foot of the stairs, looked up at Chinua. "General," he said, his voice firm with a clear warning, "allowing these people to enter the city will pose a great threat to our security. I suggest you discuss this matter with General Batzorig before allowing them to enter."
"Besides," Bolor added, stepping forward slightly, "Prince Dzhambul is still here. All difficult matters should be consulted with him before making a final decision."
Hye scoffed, his voice filled with a cold indifference. "Are you doubting Chinua's decision-making?" He deliberately took a step down, placing himself in front of Chinua and the others, physically asserting his loyalty. "Have you forgotten that the person who conquered Nue-Li is Chinua, not General Batzorig, who is still recovering from his wounds?" A slight smile spread across his face as he watched the two Northern captains stare at him with ill-concealed anger. "Nor the Second Prince, who is currently... somewhere. Chinua has every right to make decisions for any matters related to Nue-Li City and its people."
"You two may not know this, but before Chinua makes any decision, she's already weighed the pros and cons," Hye continued, his voice challenging. "Her decision is always the best for both the people and the great Hmagol kingdom."
He took another step down, now face-to-face with the two northern captains. "You may be older than Chinua and perhaps more experienced on the battlefield, but when it comes to humility and the stability of the kingdom, you northern leaders are still below her." The left corner of his lip curved up in a smug grin. "Captains, besides Chinua, which other general entered Nue-Li City without any resistance from the people?"
Hye paused, watching the raindrops fall one by one from the edge of his umbrella, listening to the rhythmic tapping on the fabric. Seeing that the two Northern captains were speechless and unable to challenge him, he stepped aside, letting Chinua take the final step down to face them.
"Captains, thank you for your worries, but the decision has already been made," Chinua said, her voice clear and firm. "You can report this to General Batzorig and Prince Dzhambul. While you're at it, tell General Batzorig to send more soldiers to the far haunted ground of the city to make sure the people have shelter from the rain."
Chenghiz and Bolor knew they would not win a war of words against Hye, whose tongue was as sharp as any blade's edge. Humbled and defeated, they bowed respectfully to Chinua. They quickly left the city walls, taking a few of their soldiers with them as they vanished back into the pouring rain.
The people who first entered through the now-open city gate were Dae's parents and Chong's family. Dae rushed down the stairwell to meet them, his relief evident.
"Madame, your home is still as it was," Dae said, his voice filled with gratitude.
"Thank you," Chong's wife replied, a tear of relief tracing a path down her cheek.
Dae looked back up the stairs at Chinua and Hye, who were still standing on the third step. He turned to Chong's wife with a warm smile and said, "Don't thank me. Thank them. They are the reason we are still here."
"What... what is the fate of my husband?" Chong's wife asked, her voice trembling.
"General Chong is imprisoned with the other soldiers," Dae said gently. "But they are not being tortured and receive no ill treatment."
Chong's wife broke into happy sobs, a wave of profound relief washing over her. Holding her children's hands, they slowly walked away toward the home they had abandoned just days ago.
"General and advisor Hye," Dae said warmly. "I will take my parents back home and begin to prepare food and other necessities for the refugees."
"Khenbish, get Khawn and Drystan, you three take some soldiers to go help Mayor Dae," Chinua said.
"Mmm," Khenbish hummed softly in response.
As he walked past Chinua, she added in a low but firm tone, "Anyone who doesn't follow a military order has no place in the army."
"I understand," Khenbish said, nodding once to confirm he knew exactly what she was referring to. He then walked down to meet Dae and his family.
Dae bowed lightly, showing his gratitude to Chinua and Hye, and he too left with his parents.
After Dae and his parents left, the steady trickle of refugees suddenly stopped. Surprised by the silence, Chinua, Hye, and Khunbish walked to the open gate. They stepped past the threshold, their gazes sweeping over the empty road that stretched into the downpour.
The driving rain seemed to amplify the raw emotion of the scene unfolding before them. As Chinua, Hye, and Khunbish looked out beyond the gate, they saw not an empty road, but scattered groups huddled in the relentless downpour. These were the ones who hadn't entered the city, those who had chosen a different, harder path.
Husbands and sons, their faces etched with grim resolve, were saying their last goodbyes to wives, mothers, and children. There were hurried, tearful embraces, hushed promises, and desperate clutches. A young man, barely more than a boy, clung to his mother for a long moment before gently disengaging, his jaw set. An older man, his hair streaked with grey, kissed his wife's forehead, a silent understanding passing between them. They were handing off bundles, offering final words of comfort, before turning their backs on safety.
They saw men, some still carrying makeshift weapons, adjusting their soaked clothing. Their eyes, though filled with sorrow at leaving their loved ones, held a spark of defiant courage. They were choosing to return to Zaoging, not in hope of victory, but to fight for their home, to buy time, or perhaps simply to face their fate on their own terms. The white cloths on their wrists were gone, replaced by an unspoken pledge to their city. The mournful wails of the departing families mingled with the relentless drumming of the rain, a heartbreaking symphony of sacrifice and desperate hope.
Placing a final kiss on his wife's forehead and gently rubbing the head of his newborn son, Mao pushed his sobbing wife backward toward his mother. With tears in his eyes, he gave her one last, final smile. He looked up at the open gate and saw a figure rushing out with an umbrella toward his wife and his newborn. He knew they were in safe hands now, and with nothing left to worry about, he turned and quickly ran away, catching up with the others heading back toward Zaoging.