The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence as Dzhambul, Lixin, Chai, and Lia walked through the front door of Mayor Dae's residence. All eyes in the hall, both Magoli and Ginmiao, were drawn to Dzhambul's presence, which seemed to fill the space with cold, unyielding authority. The lively chatter and laughter of moments before were completely gone, replaced by a palpable tension that settled over everyone. Dzhambul's arrival was not just an interruption; it was a brutal reminder that the delicate balance of the celebration was now over.
Dzhambul's gaze swept across the room, and he found that those seated at the tables were no other than Chinua's most trusted soldiers. The anger in his eyes rose as he saw the Ginmiao, the very people they had just conquered, sitting and chatting freely with his own men. To him, this wasn't a sign of peace, but a dangerous display of weakness and a breach of military decorum. The sight of the two groups mingling so casually was a direct affront to the brutal hierarchy of conquest he believed in.
Dzhambul walked straight to Chinua, closing the distance between them until he stood face to face with her. His eyes, cold and filled with a silent fury, looked her up and down in a slow, insulting appraisal. "Did you know what to do after a city is captured?" he said, his lips curved into a cruel sneer. His voice, though low, was a direct and public challenge to her authority, a pointed question that accused her of being a naive and incompetent leader.
Chinua knew that sooner or later, she would have to face Dzhambul. She met his condescending sneer with a steady, unflinching gaze. "I know exactly what I need to do after a city is captured," she said, her voice firm and calm. "But my method of the aftermath might be different than yours." Her words were a direct challenge, a cool defiance that signaled her refusal to be intimidated or to follow the traditional brutal path of conquest. She was not only asserting her knowledge, but her right to choose a different way.
Dzhambul scoffed, the sound a low, contemptuous rasp that cut through the silence. His eyes shifted from Chinua to stare coldly at the people sitting in the room. His voice, low and sharp, was filled with disdain as he said, "With such a weak approach as yours, no wonder these Ginmiao roam freely." It was a direct and public insult, a clear statement that he viewed her lenient methods as a dangerous sign of incompetence and a grave threat to their military's authority.
Hye, who sat next to Chinua, slowly rose from his seat. He took his place beside her, and with a cold, hard look, his anger met Dzhambul's disdainful glare. "But Chinua," he said, his voice a quiet challenge that commanded the room's attention, "your weak approach has earned you respect among not just your men, but your enemy. Your weak approach took days to capture the city that it took others' strong approach years to get to her front door." The left corner of Hye's lip curved up into a final, contemptuous sneer. He had not only defended Chinua but had publicly humiliated Dzhambul, cementing his place as Chinua's most loyal and dangerous protector.
Lia took two steps forward said angry, "To disrespect a commander and chief will punish by military law. Didn't the Eastern General teach you that?"
Hye chuckled and let out a weary sigh, shaking his head. He looked up at Lia with a mocking smile on his face, his eyes filled with a tired irony. "Oh, I don't know," he said, the words a dismissal of the entire conversation. The smile tightened into a sardonic smirk. "As I am a civilian and not a soldier." He was drawing a clear, bitter line between his past and his present, a stinging reminder of his role. "Besides, I was talking to Chinua and no one else."
Lia's face hardened, his teeth gritted in a show of pure frustration. "Then I suggest you better know when it's your turn to speak," he said, his voice low and sharp with a clear threat. It was a vicious jab at Hye's civilian status, a cruel reminder that his authority was gone. His words were not just a warning; they were a vicious sign that he, and many others, would not tolerate Hye or any civilians who challenged their authority.
A quick smirk escaped Hye's lips. He stared at Dzhambul with an intensity so chilling it was as if he could, he would stretch out his hands and dig out Dzhambul's heart to see if it was even made of flesh. "Like I said," he stated, his voice now a quiet, dangerous whisper, "I was talking to Chinua and no one else, so I don't need anyone's permission to speak." His words were a final, brutal dismissal, a clear line drawn in the sand. He was not only challenging Dzhambul's authority but declaring that Dzhambul himself was irrelevant to the bond he shared with Chinua.
Dzhambul's anger flared, his voice becoming a low, dangerous growl. "If you dare to speak another word out of your dirty mouth, I will order the soldier to cut off your tongue and feed it to you." It was a clear, brutal ultimatum. With those words, he gave Hye an unmistakable line—the consequence of crossing it would be deadly.
He turned his back on Hye and faced Chinua. With a chilling calm that was far more menacing than his earlier rage, he asked, "Where are the captured soldiers?"
Chinua met his gaze without flinching. "They are currently being held in the prison."
Dzhambul's lips curled into a disdainful smile. "Do you know that we don't keep prisoners, especially Ginmiao?" His question was a cutting rebuke, a stark reminder of their army's brutal tradition and a direct challenge to her soft-handed methods. "Any Ginmiao soldiers captured are to be executed outside of the city to worship our deceased soldiers, that's the Northern Military law." He was not just giving a command but justifying it with the weight of ancient tradition, a chilling counterpoint to Chinua's more lenient approach.
"I don't know that there's a difference between northern, eastern, southern, or western rules when it comes to enemy captured or civilian," Chinua said, her gaze steady as it met Dzhambul's. "The rules of law that apply to such a situation state that enemy prisoners of war are not to be harmed as long as they surrender willingly." She held his stare without blinking. "Therefore, I'm not sure what exactly the second royal brother is referring to, since I have been following the rules of law that were set by our ancestors." She was not only defending her actions but also subtly accusing him of disrespecting their own traditions.
"The rules of the north are not to be broken!" Dzhambul roared, his face flushed with a furious rage he couldn't contain.
A profound silence filled the room. Chinua paused, her expression unreadable, and then her gaze met Dzhambul's. "May I ask, which rule did I break?" Her question was quiet, but it was a direct challenge that made his fury seem like a child's tantrum.
Staring at Chinua, Lixin knew that the people standing before them was no ordinary general, but masterful strategists. He recognized that a war of words was a war they could not win. He gently grabbed Dzhambul's left wrist, his touch a silent plea for restraint, and pulled him back.
"Your Highness, I know that you are displeased when you see this," Lixin said, his voice a low, placating tone. He pulled Dzhambul's hand, subtly urging him to step back. "But please remember that we are here to congratulate Her Highness on her victory." His words were a cool, logical reminder, a desperate attempt to de-escalate the tension and steer Dzhambul away from a foolish public confrontation with the very general who had successfully defeated their shared enemy.
Chinua gave both Dzhambul and Lixin a cold, knowing smile, understanding that Lixin's words were merely a diplomatic shield for a hostile visit. "I thank the royal brother for taking the time from guarding the Northern Military Camp to come and congratulate me and my soldiers for the takeover of Nue-Li City," she said, her voice filled with a biting sarcasm. "But I think my soldiers and I, with General Batzorig's help, would make the transition go smoothly without the second brother having to worry about it." Her words were a brilliant double-edged sword, acknowledging their presence while simultaneously dismissing their authority and revealing their true intentions.
Dzhambul slowly exhaled through his nose, a visible effort to release the rage that had consumed him. "So, you really plan to make Nue-Li City a neutral zone for both Hmagol and Gimsong?" he asked, his voice now cold and calculating.
"Yes," Chinua replied without hesitation. "I believe only this can avoid further bloodshed between the two kingdoms. Also, it's a great strategy to keep the Ginmiao beyond our border." She was presenting her plan not as a compassionate act, but as a clever military maneuver, speaking in a language of strategy and control that Dzhambul could understand.
Dzhambul scoffed at what he saw as Chinua's foolishness. "Your foolishness will not get you far. You are a disgrace to the Mongke ancestors," he said, his voice laced with disdain.
Hye's simmering anger finally boiled over. He had held his tongue for so long, and he knew that if he let this moment pass, he might never have another opportunity to speak out against the cruelty he had witnessed for years. "So, should Chinua be as cruel as you?" Hye's voice was low and filled with a cold rage. "Killing surrendered soldiers and raping their women in front of them?" His anger rose with each word, his voice trembling with the weight of his memory. "Burning innocent civilians alive and boiling children, forcing their parents to eat them!" He looked directly into Dzhambul's eyes, his own a blazing inferno of fury. "Devil... you are truly a devil in human skin..."
Dzhambul's hand shot up, his right arm swinging with all the force of his fury. He intended to land a vicious slap on Hye's face, but in a blur of movement, Chinua pushed Hye away. The sound was sickening—the metal knuckle on Dzhambul's glove slammed across Chinua's face with a dull thud.
The sudden violence shattered the tense silence of the room. Chinua's men, who had been sitting and silently witnessing the confrontation, instantly jumped to their feet. Their hands went to their weapons, their faces a mask of righteous fury. They stood poised and ready to launch at Dzhambul, their loyalty to their general outweighing any fear of his rank or the consequences of their actions.
Seeing their general threatened, the few soldiers Dzhambul brought with him quickly entered the room. Their spears and swords were ready, and they stood poised to attack if Chinua's men made a move. The hall became a frozen tableau of a standoff, with each side's loyal soldiers ready to spill blood for their leader.
Chinua, with a calm that defied the circumstances, raised her right hand, signaling her men to stop. She looked at Dzhambul, her voice as steady as her gaze despite the throbbing pain on her face. "Second royal brother, Hye is one of my men, and I am capable of punishing him on my own," she said, her voice laced with a cool, dangerous authority. "There is no need for the second royal brother to personally teach him." It was a bold declaration that she, and she alone, held authority over her soldiers and their actions.
Dzhambul looked at Lixin, who subtly shook his head. The message was clear: today was not the day to face Chinua. Inside the city walls, everyone, including the former enemy, was on her side.
He let out a slow sigh of defeat and turned his back on Chinua. He took three steps, stopped, and turned his head to look back at her one last time. His voice, now low and venomous, was laced with contempt. "No wonder others disrespect you," Dzhambul said. "I see now why. You even let your own men step all over you and dare to speak on your behalf. Go home, Chinua, and be a princess like the other princesses. The battlefield is not for someone like you or your female soldiers." With those cruel and dismissive words, he stripped her of her authority and identity, attempting to reduce her to nothing more than a woman in a man's world.