The East Military Camp's war room was a jagged, functional box of wood and stone. It consisted of four plain walls, a sturdy roof, a single large wooden chair for Chinua, and five rows of simple, weaved bamboo chairs. There were no luxuries here—no silk tapestries to soften the acoustics, no red carpets to cushion the feet of royalty. It was a room designed for maps and blood, not for comfort.
Sitting inside, waiting with a heavy, restless patience, were the three princes and six envoys of the kingdoms of Buyant, Zhongqui, and Nocho.
They had traveled hundreds of miles across the rugged wasteland to reach Pojin. The news had spread like a wildfire through the southern territories: the Princess of Hmagol was preparing to release her wrath upon Payapasa. They knew the history of the region all too well. Since Zasra had taken part in the invasion of Pojin, it was only a matter of time before Chinua's army swarmed south like a black tide.
Terrified of being conscripted into service by Zasra or Biyla, these small kingdoms had risked everything to reach the mountains. They weren't looking for glory; they were looking for a shield. They hoped to lock in an alliance now, desperate to avoid being forced into a war they neither wanted nor could survive.
The silence in the wooden war room was heavy, broken only by the occasional shift of a silk robe against a bamboo chair. The three princes waited, their patience fraying with every minute that ticked by. To them, the Hmagol Eastern General was not a person, but a collection of terrifying rumors they had gathered like stones on their journey north.
One envoy whispered that she was a mutation of nature—a loyalist warrior with three arms, capable of wielding a shield, a spear, and a bow all at once. Another countered that she was a beauty so radiant that no Magoli woman could compare, a siren who led men to their deaths with a smile. The Prince of Buyant remained silent, staring at the door; he had heard she was a giant in human form, seven feet tall, with a voice that could crack the very stones of the mountain.
Every time the heavy boots of a Magoli soldier crunched past the doorway, nine heads would snap in unison toward the entrance. They peered out, eyes wide with a mixture of dread and curiosity, searching for the woman who stood second only to the legendary Southern General in the hearts of the people.
They were looking for a monster. They were looking for a giant. They had no idea that the "Black Wolf" was something far more dangerous: a woman with a broken heart and a cold, calculating mind.
The tension in the room snapped not with a trumpet blast, but with a weary, booming voice that echoed from the corridor.
"I've told you too many times not to dress like this when you are out in the open with me," Hye's voice rumbled, making the nine men inside bolt upright in their bamboo chairs. "Oh heaven... your clothes are soaked in blood."
"Do you think it's that easy to chop off feet and heads when they are moving to avoid my butcher knife?" Chinua's voice followed, sharp and impatient. "Just—give me your handkerchief."
Inside the room, the princes and envoys frantically wiped sweat from their foreheads. They exchanged panicked glances, their breathing shallow and forced as their eyes locked onto the doorway.
Then, she appeared.
Chinua walked in first, followed closely by the towering figures of Hye and Jeet. The nine visitors stared, paralyzed by indecision. They looked from the massive, battle-hardened men to the smaller figure leading them, unable to reconcile the legends with the reality.
To their utter shock, it was the young soldier dressed plainly in scuffed leather armor who walked straight to the large wooden chair and sat down. The two men—who looked far more like the "leaders" they had imagined—took their places like silent mountain peaks on either side of her.
The person sitting in front of them was not seven feet tall. She did not have three arms. She did not possess the ethereal, fragile beauty of a goddess. She was a normal woman, weathered by the wind and the weight of command. But as she looked at them, they saw it—a pair of fierce, obsidian eyes that mirrored the late King Batukhan.
They realized then that the rumors were wrong. She wasn't a monster of myth; she was a woman who could easily be mistaken for a common soldier, a warrior who feared no war, and the second most powerful hand in all of Hmagol.
The silence in the room returned, thick and suffocating. The envoys and the princes remained frozen, their eyes darting between the plain wooden chair and the dark, wet stains on Chinua's leather armor. They feared that a single misplaced word would send them straight to her chopping board.
"Don't mind her looking like this," Hye suddenly broke the awkward silence, his voice a warm rumble that didn't quite mask the coldness of his words. "She was just chopping chicken. You see—" Hye chuckled, though there was no humor in his eyes. "We have a lot of soldiers to feed and not enough people to do the cooking. As you may all have heard, most of our villagers who normally cook for us were murdered."
The mention of the massacre hit the room like a physical blow.
Ozu, the envoy of Zhongqiu, was the first to find his feet. "General," he said, his voice forced into a precarious calm. "This is the second prince of Zhongqiu, Prince Kaarm."
Tuul, the envoy of Buyant, stood up next alongside Gaaki. "This is our crown prince, Gaaki of the Buyant Kingdom." His voice was soft, but the clatter of his teeth was audible in the quiet room.
Finally, the third group spoke. "We are from the kingdom of Nocho," Bakasi said. He didn't wait for an envoy to introduce him. He stood tall, his voice steady. "I am the third prince of Nocho, and these are the three who traveled with me."
Chinua shifted her head, her fierce eyes locking onto Bakasi's. He had grabbed her attention. Comparing the other two princes to him was like comparing sheep to a young hound. He was brave—perhaps braver than any royal she had met outside her own borders.
She understood him instantly. They spoke the same language: the language of those who knew that in a world of wolves, you either find a pack, or you become the kill.
"So," Chinua asked, her voice low and dangerous as she leaned back in her plain wooden chair. "What is the reason that the kingdoms of Buyant, Nocho, and Zhongqiu seek my help? I should remind you that currently, I have nothing to offer. We are preparing for war with Payapasa."
She felt a cold resolve tighten in her chest. If Dzhambul dares flee south, she thought, I will chase him all the way to the Skouji kingdom if I must. "If you have political business," she continued aloud, "you should travel to Ntsua-Ntu, not here."
"But the person heading south isn't in Ntsua-Ntu," Bakasi countered, his voice steady despite the tension in the room. "It's you."
"Prince Bakasi!" his old envoy whispered frantically, grabbing his arm. "Please, pay attention to your tone! May I remind you that we are in Hmagol, not Nocho?"
Bakasi pulled his arm away aggressively. "What is there to fear? We aren't here to fight a war with her anyway."
Hye's sudden laughter echoed off the wooden walls, making the visitors fall into a startled silence. He patted Chinua's right shoulder with a grin. "Hey, Chinua... I like this prince."
Hye took three deliberate, heavy steps toward Bakasi. "Your prince is right. Why fear Chinua when you aren't here to fight? Let me guess—you are here for a free pass if Chinua comes down south, is that right?"
"That's right," Bakasi replied, his deep voice holding its ground.
"Then accept Chinua's condition," Hye said simply.
"We can't accept your condition when we don't even know what it is," Bakasi shot back, his defiant attitude unchanged.
"Simple," Hye said, turning to look at Chinua before facing the nine men again. "Chinua wants the location of every major road junction in the Zasra and Biyla kingdoms. If we have that information before we reach Zasra, then consider our deal done." He smiled, but it was the smile of a predator. "The three of you must agree. If even one of you disagrees, the deal is off."
He locked eyes with each of them, one by one. "But if you disagree, remember: arrows and swords have no eyes or ears. Whoever happens to be in the crossfire... Chinua cannot and will not guarantee your safety. If you stay and watch Zasra fight alone, you will stand no chance when they inevitably turn on you. But if you choose to be our allies—"
"If you choose to be our allies," Chinua interrupted, her eyes like flint, "we will protect you. Once the land belongs to Hmagol, as long as you remain our allies, we will not treat you like Zasra and Biyla did. We will not levy heavy taxes on your people."
Hye walked back to stand beside Chinua. "You still have time to think. The decision doesn't have to be tonight; we haven't set foot in Payapasa yet."
He paused, a dark, playful glint in his eyes. "Now, how about dinner?" he chuckled. "We're having chicken feet and heads tonight."