"Why have they still not arrived?!"
A commander's voice rang through the encampment, sharp enough to cut through the winter air. Conversations died instantly, boots crunching against snow as heads turned toward the central camp.
"Did we prepare ourselves for nothing?"
It had been five nights.
Five nights since the Mongol army was meant to arrive, five nights since soldiers had slept with weapons beside them, since morale-raising speeches were shouted into the cold, since fear and anticipation had been stoked until it burned like a fever. And yet… nothing.
No horns.
No scouts.
No shadows on the horizon.
Had all of this truly been for nothing?
Renshu stepped forward, his voice firm but measured. "There is no reason to believe we made a mistake. According to our calculations, the Mongol army should have reached us long ago. There was sufficient evidence, confirmed reports, of a large troop advancing toward Shanxi."
"It looks more like they want us to retreat," Wei Fang replied coldly. "To waste our resources and morale."
A murmur rippled through the gathered commanders.
"I propose," he continued, "that we go see them ourselves."
"That's far too risky—"
"Yes," Wei Fang interrupted, his tone sharp. "It is. But we have no better option. The snow has swallowed the terrain. If they intended to attack with smaller units, we would have seen signs by now. And we are already prepared for battle." His lips curled faintly. "So let there be one."
I watched him closely then.
His eyes were… wrong.
Not wild, not fearful, not even calculating in the way I expected. They were dull, dark, empty, as though something essential had long since burned out. Yet beneath that emptiness, I sensed urgency. A restrained impatience.
"General Renshu," Wei Fang said as he turned to leave, "I suggest you give my proposal serious consideration."
Renshu didn't answer immediately.
He looked nervous, far too nervous.
It struck me then, despite his rank, despite the respect he commanded, this was likely his first true battlefield. Not drills. Not political maneuvering. Real war.
And I—
I needed to go.
I needed to see whether the poison had worked. Whether the calculations, the sleepless nights, the careful measurements had all meant something, or whether they had been wasted entirely.
I couldn't remain behind like a crippled observer.
Which meant… riding a horse.
Back at the palace, the pain had been unbearable but manageable. Here, in the brutal cold, my leg felt like dead weight. Each attempt sent a sharp, frostbitten ache through my bones.
I hated it.
I hated being weak.
---
"What are you doing?"
The voice came from the side, sudden and cold enough to make me flinch.
Renshu.
I hadn't even noticed him approach.
"Shouldn't you be planning?" I asked before I could stop myself.
"I could ask you the same." His gaze dropped to the horse, then to my leg. "What exactly do you think you're doing?"
"I—" I steadied myself. "I thought I should practice riding. If we travel north, I didn't want to be a burden."
"Who said you would be going?" he snapped. "Look at you, your leg is barely holding together. You look like you'll fall at any moment. I won't allow it. The entire area will become a battlefield."
He turned away.
I couldn't let him leave.
"Renshu—wait."
I forced myself down from the horse alone. Pain shot through my knee, sharp enough to blur my vision, but I bit it back. He was too distracted to notice, or so I hoped.
"I have to go," I said. "I know the poison. I know their weaknesses. If I'm there—"
"Enough about battles."
"No." My voice hardened. "Listen to me. If I'm there, we can end it quickly."
He paused.
"They won't suffer," I continued. "The poison will already be weakening them. We can give them a swift death instead of letting our soldiers hack at them for hours. Isn't that better?"
Silence stretched between us.
I could almost see the conflict in his expression.
"You're doing this for them?" he asked quietly. "I thought you felt no remorse."
"I know that you do," I replied. "So let me do this... for you."
His eyes widened.
He looked away, jaw tight, before finally nodding. "Fine. You can come."
Relief washed through me as he went away.
Until—
"You seem rather happy," a familiar voice drawled, "for someone about to witness the deaths of many."
Wei Fang.
I hadn't noticed him either.
"I need to confirm whether the plan succeeded," I replied carefully. "I invested a great deal of thought into it."
"So you have no moral objections?" he pressed. "Did you ever witness war back in Bharat?"
I thought for a second as I decided to only answer the second question.
"No, sir. Only stories."
"And poisoning?" His smile sharpened. "No hesitation there either?"
I froze, only for a moment.
"The Mongols would not hesitate to kill us," I said evenly. "Why should we hesitate to survive?"
For a split second, something flashed in his eyes.
Then that awful smile returned.
Yet, even though his eyes spoke of darkness, I felt as if he was the only one I could tell all this to. The truth.
"EVERYONE PREPARE FOR BATTLE!"
The shout tore through the camp like thunder.
Wei Fang leaned closer. "Good luck, Aryan."
---
Riding was agony.
The soldiers were encased in heavy armor, their movements confident and practiced. I rode among them without protection, unarmed, unarmored, useless in a fight.
Humiliating.
The cold air burned my lungs. Every breath sent a sharp ache through my chest, and I couldn't suppress the occasional cough.
"Do you think the poison paralyzed them?" Rong Xu asked quietly.
"I doubt that's the cause," I replied.
It could have been. But I wouldn't say it aloud. Not when he still didn't know how much I'd truly poured into the river.
Hours passed.
The sky darkened.
My leg screamed for rest.
Just as I considered asking to stop, a scent reached me.
Faint.
Metallic.
Blood.