Late in the evening, after the simple wedding dinner and the departure of the Bayarmaa family's important guests, Yul sat alone in the pavilion by the pond. He slowly sipped rice wine, his gaze distant, watching as maids and servants diligently cleared the backyard, removing empty dishes from the tables.
He looked up at the bright full moon, its silver light spilling across the pond, then down at his left wrist, tracing the intricate pattern of the string bracelet there. A heavy sigh escaped him, a sound laden with a quiet resignation. "She should know the news by now..." he murmured to himself, his voice barely a whisper in the night. He lifted the jar to his lips, continuing to drink, the wine offering little solace.
After appeasing Kazan and Madame Bayarmaa, who were still visibly distraught by Yul's impromptu marriage to an "old woman," Abrafo walked out of the guest room. He came to the backyard and watched Yul drink alone in the pavilion for a while, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. The entire situation felt overwhelming, and he certainly hadn't wanted to be here tonight. But the Bayarmaa family had been good friends for many years, and he felt it was his responsibility to offer help and a shoulder to friends in need.
A maid returned, carrying an unopened jar of wine. Abrafo took the jar, swiftly opened the lid, and walked slowly, deliberately, towards the pavilion.
As he approached, Abrafo raised his jar in a mock salute. "I drink to you," he declared, his voice a mix of admiration and wry sympathy, "and praise you as the bravest person in Tanzang Kingdom. For the good of this kingdom, you are willing to sacrifice your love, your youth, and your reputation. If it were me, I wouldn't marry that... that mage either." He lightly touched his jar to Yul's. Then, a genuine sigh escaped him. "Aw… I truly feel for your parents, especially your mother. She was still weeping when I left the guest hall."
"I toast to you for being brave enough to join me," Yul replied, lifting his jar to Abrafo, a faint, weary smile touching his lips. "My mother will get over it sooner or later."
Abrafo chuckled, shaking his head. "I don't think so, not unless you have a second wife. A young second wife..."
"I told her I wanted to be in the army, and she cried too," Yul said, a hint of his usual good humor returning. He took a sip of his wine, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. "She begged me not to join, but I stubbornly refused and joined the palace guard. She cried for three days and refused to talk to me for two months, but eventually, she gave in." He looked pointedly at Abrafo, his expression growing serious. "Mage Hajime will be with us on this journey; we don't know how long we'll be together. I suggest you change the way you treat her."
Abrafo raised an eyebrow, then shook his head with another chuckle, a hint of genuine amusement in his eyes. "You're such a good husband…" he teased, patting Yul's left shoulder. "You're already protecting your wife. That old hag must have done something truly good in her previous life to make someone like you her husband in this life. Well... Although we are not good friends, our fathers have been friends for many years. As a palace guard, I will also give your old wife some courtesy." He glanced at Yul's now-gloomy expression, a quick cringe at his own insensitive joke. He cleared his throat. "What about Abeba?"
"What about her?" Yul asked, his voice flat, his gaze returning to the bracelet.
"I know you have a crush on my little cousin," Abrafo said gently, pointing to Yul's left wrist. "Otherwise, you wouldn't keep this."
"She gave it to me as a birthday present last year," Yul replied, his fingers absently tracing the string.
Abrafo's expression softened. "Are you going to see her? I mean, not tonight, because it's your wedding dinner, but maybe tomorrow or the day after. I heard my aunt say she's been crying since she heard your married news to that old… Mage Hajime," he quickly corrected himself, clearing his throat again. "My aunt said she hasn't eaten anything today."
Yul sighed, the weight of his decision settling heavily on his shoulders. "I don't know what to say to her. Seeing her will only deepen each other's grief. I also don't want her to wait for me and ruin her youth. I knelt in front of the monuments of the previous Kings and swore to protect this kingdom with my life. I am ready to sacrifice my life for our Kingdom."
Abrafo tried to lighten the mood. "Your wife is a mage, there's nothing to worry about."
"What do you mean?" Yul asked, looking at him skeptically.
"When she's with you or walking around, you just have to tell her to use his magic and turn her into a beautiful young woman," Abrafo suggested, a sly grin forming. "When you're going to sleep with her, tell him to use his spell. She can use her magic and turn her into an attractive woman."
Yul stared at Abrafo for a moment, then a sad, knowing smile touched his lips. "You misunderstood her. The reason he revealed who she really is, is because she wanted someone to love her for who she is. That's why she walked into the palace as she is." He offered a genuine, more hopeful smile to Abrafo. "How long we'll be together on this journey, no one knows. From now on, I'm counting on you to protect me and put my life in your hands. I'll do the same for you. How about we start out as friends?"
Abrafo looked up at the moon, then back at Yul, a more thoughtful expression on his face. "True," he conceded. "Who knows what dangers we shall face together. My friend, I also entrust my life to you." He paused, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "You'll need to be very drunk to sleep with that old hag. I'm sorry, your wife."
After Hajime finished his meal, he sat alone at the table, patiently waiting for Yul. He gazed at the flickering candle, its tiny flame dancing in the still air, his thoughts drifting to what the goddess had revealed to him. He rose, walked to the dressing table, and sat down on the stool. With a shimmering ripple, he suddenly changed back to his original appearance—the young man with silver hair. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, a wistful smile playing on his lips. Hajime had learned from his conversations with the goddess that the only way for him to leave Tanzang was to help Jawara and his soldiers retrieve the white dragon tail.
Hajime looked at the person in front of him, his reflection, and murmured, "Life is not fair. Why should we suffer because of other people's mistakes?" He smiled at the reflection, a hint of defiance in his eyes. "Let's not give up. Let's get out of here together, okay?"
Just then, the door opened, and Hajime, still staring at his reflection, quickly transformed back into the wrinkled old woman. Yul entered, closing the door awkwardly behind him, his gaze avoiding Hajime's. Hajime sat on the stool, observing Yul with a knowing, almost mischievous glint in his eyes. Yul went to the table and sat down, picking up a small bottle of rice wine and drinking without looking at Hajime.
After draining the small bottle, Yul finally looked at Hajime, a wave of self-pity washing over him. So many young men his age had married young and beautiful wives. He didn't need a stunning wife to brag to his friends, but he had a genuinely hard time accepting that his wife was the same age as his great-grandmother. A deep regret settled in his stomach, souring the wine he'd just consumed. He stood up, taking two shaky steps towards the bed, but the stimulation of the alcohol, combined with his emotional turmoil, made him slowly lose his balance and collapse onto the floor in front of the bed.
"Honey... get up," Hajime called out, his voice now a surprisingly clear, youthful tenor, completely devoid of the old woman's rasp. "I'm too old to help you up." Yul lay motionless, passed out on the floor.
Hajime called several more times, but Yul remained unresponsive. A soft, genuine laugh escaped Hajime's lips, a sound of pure amusement. He looked down at Yul and said, his voice imbued with a playful disdain, "You stupid fool. You really thought I was going to sleep with you? Dream on." Hajime stood up, walked to the bed, took off his shoes, and gracefully jumped onto the mattress, pulling the quilt over himself and falling asleep, leaving Yul snoring softly on the floor.
The next morning, Yul woke up on the floor with a stiff, aching neck. He groaned, slowly pushing himself up, and was startled when he saw Hajime already sitting at the table, sipping tea, his wrinkled old face smiling broadly at him.
Yul quickly checked to see if he was still fully clothed, his hands patting himself down. Finding his clothes still intact, he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice, "I slept on the floor all night?"
Hajime chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "I can't carry you to bed with these old hands, dear. Father said, when you wake up, we'll go to the river and set off."
"Let me change first," Yul mumbled, rubbing his neck.
Hajime smiled flirtatiously at Yul, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "It's a long way, honey. Carry me on your back. The weather is changing, so these old bones ache."
After a quick, tearful goodbye with his mother, Yul, with Hajime on his back, walked towards the pier.
Thousands of soldiers, a sea of anxious faces, were already prepared to set off with Yul and his party.
When Jawara saw Hajime and Yul approach, he greeted them with a forced smile. "Mage Hajime, these are the soldiers who will go with you."
Hajime looked at the vast assembly of soldiers, then back at Jawara, his expression serious. "Your Majesty, I can't take all these people across the Endless River of Sorrow. I can take up to four people."
Jawara's forced smile vanished, his face falling in dismay. "But... you're a mage?" he questioned, his voice barely a whisper of disbelief.
Hajime's voice was firm. "To take this many soldiers across that river, you would need at least four to five hundred powerful mages."
U-ri stepped forward, a deep sigh escaping him as the reality settled. "Your Highness, Mage Hajime is right. How about Palace Guard Yul, Captain Abrafo, Michio, and me?" He paused, his gaze sweeping over the hopeful faces of the assembled troops. "The four of us are better than none."
Jawara knew his options had dwindled to nothing. His shoulders slumped in resignation. "You're right," he conceded, his voice heavy with grim acceptance. "Four people are better than none. Those who cross the Endless River of Sorrow are gone forever."
Hajime turned to the chosen four, his expression unyielding. "Take only what you can carry." He pointed to the three large, ornate boxes filled with silver and gold leaves. "Take those three boxes. We need a lot of money."
After the four men efficiently repacked their belongings, consolidating their necessities, they walked behind Hajime.
Hajime took out two exquisitely carved wooden eagles. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the two eagles into the air. To the collective gasps of the onlookers, the two wooden eagles slowly transformed, growing in size until they became two massive, living eagles, their wings beating powerfully as they soared majestically above the sky.
People were utterly shocked by Hajime's raw display of magic; when the two colossal eagles landed with soft thuds, the crowd around them instinctively backed away, murmuring in terrified awe.
"Your old hag is extraordinary," Abrafo teased, a wide, amazed grin spreading across his face as he patted Yul on the shoulder. He bent down and efficiently tied the two boxes of valuables onto the eagle Hajime was sitting on. He looked up at Hajime, a mixture of disbelief and genuine curiosity in his eyes. "Are you sure this will hold us?"
Hajime, perched comfortably on the eagle, replied, his voice dry, "You have to protect me. If I die in the air, then everyone will fall and die."
Abrafo laughed, a sharp, disbelieving sound. "Are you kidding me?"
"No," Hajime said, his voice flat, devoid of humor. "My spirit and power are connected to the item. If I die, they die. If they get hurt, then I get hurt. You have to protect me." His eyes held a serious, unwavering gaze.
Hajime, U-ri, and Michio watched patiently as Yul and Abrafo said their final goodbyes to their families, the emotional weight of the departure hanging heavy in the air. After Yul and Abrafo finished their tearful farewells, they climbed swiftly onto the two eagles.
With powerful beats of their immense wings, the two eagles fluttered, then soared into the sky, cutting through the morning air, and began their perilous journey, swiftly crossing the dark expanse of the Endless River of Sorrow.
Jawara and the thousands of people stood transfixed, watching until the two eagles disappeared completely over the distant horizon.
Jawara sighed, a deep, mournful sound, the weight of his kingdom's future pressing down on him. "Good luck, my soldiers," he whispered, his voice carried away by the wind.