The vast training ground, a sprawling expanse of packed earth, shimmered faintly under the morning sun. Dust, fine and ochre-colored, swirled in lazy eddies with every gust of the cool northern wind. More than two hundred new recruits stood scattered across it, a sea of anxious faces and fresh uniforms. Chinua's eyes quickly scanned the organized chaos, noting the precise formation: ten rigid rows, twenty people deep. She found herself and her two guards in the fifteenth line, the familiar bulk of Khunbish directly in front of her, the steady presence of Khenbish at her back. A low murmur, a nervous hum of anticipation, rippled through the ranks. Moments later, the rhythmic crunch of boots on gravel announced their arrival. General Batzorig, a formidable figure even from a distance, and his ten captains strode purposefully into the training ground, their shadows stretching long behind them in the early light.
Batzorig looked at the recruits. "Everyone here is new," he stated. "I want you to remember that military rules are very strict. Disobeying military law will result in punishment by military law. Because you're new here, you must familiarize yourselves with our rules and regulations. Please take a moment to review them. If you have any questions you don't understand, please ask." He surveyed the new recruits. "In front of you are my ten captains. You may choose your own captain. Each captain can only have twenty recruits. When I count to one hundred, if you haven't chosen one, you'll be assigned to the captain with the fewest recruits."
"I heard that the best captains are Captain Chenghiz and Dawa."
"I heard that Captain Arban is very strict, don't go there."
As soon as Batzorig began counting, everyone surged towards Captains Chenghiz and Dawa.
"Chinua, my last captain was Dawa," Khenbish commented.
"My captain was Chenghiz," Khunbish added.
"They have more than twenty recruits," Chinua observed, looking at a captain sitting on the ground, with no recruits in his line. "Khunbish."
"Yes, Chinua?" Khunbish responded.
"Why didn't anyone choose that captain?" Chinua asked.
"Usually people don't choose him," Khunbish replied, shrugging.
"Why not?" Chinua inquired.
"There are rumors that he's not Magol by blood," Khenbish said, leaning closer. "He's Tanggolian, so people won't choose him."
Chinua declared, "Whatever blood runs in his veins, since he lives in Hmagol, he is a Magoli. He's willing to die to protect the citizens of Hmagol; he deserves the same respect as everyone else." She looked at Khenbish. "What's his name?"
"Captain Haitao Fen," Khenbish supplied.
"Haitao Fen..." Chinua murmured, staring at Haitao for a moment, then walked straight towards him.
Haitao leaned back, arched his body, and closed his eyes to enjoy the evening sun. When a shadow blocked the sun, he opened his eyes and stared at Chinua. He stretched, stood up, and yawned, then noticed not one, but three figures standing before him. Haitao found it amusing that this was the first time someone truly chose him instead of being assigned as a leftover from the other captains. He stood up and faced Chinua, Khenbish, and Khunbish. He smiled and asked, "Are you guys sure you haven't mistaken the line?"
"We are not mistaken the line," Chinua affirmed.
Batzorig counted to one hundred. There were only three people in Haitao's team. With too many recruits in the other captains' lines, the captains walked down their respective rows, picking those they wanted as their subordinates.
Batzorig pointed to Timicin. "You go to that line," he ordered. He gestured towards Haitao.
Timicin stepped forward. "But I have already chosen Captain Dawa, and I don't want to go there," he protested.
"You go there, it's an order," Batzorig commanded firmly.
Timicin trudged reluctantly towards Haitao. Eventually, five more unwelcome recruits, assigned from the other captains, grudgingly joined Timicin. Haitao remained the captain with the fewest recruits, only nine, while the other captains each had their full complement of twenty.
Haitao looked at his nine subordinates. "Go set up your tents," he instructed. "There are nine of you, so you don't need to share tents." He pointed at Timicin and Chinua. "You two are on dinner duty tonight. Remember to get our share of the grain before they close the window, or we'll have no food tonight."
After setting up their tents with the help of Khenbish and Khunbish, Chinua and Timicin headed to the ration distribution room. The soldier at the window asked which unit they were from.
"Captain Haitao's unit," Timicin muttered unhappily.
The soldier at the window said in surprise, "In the past few years, Captain Haitao has had no newcomers." He looked at Timicin. "How many people?"
Timicin frowned, annoyed. "Nine."
The window soldier said, "Nine? That's good." He fetched six pitchers of rice and poured them into the bag in Timicin's hand. "Usually none, or maybe one or two."
Chinua asked the window soldier, "Why?"
"Because no one wants to be his subordinate," the window soldier said. "He can't teach anything except taking his subordinates fishing and sightseeing. Many of the people he trains are idiots, and most importantly, many people don't want to be his subordinates because he isn't a true Magol."
Chinua stated, "He fought for Hmagol, he lives in Hmagol. How can you say he's not a true Magol?" She grabbed the vegetables and the two chickens from the window counter. "Tell me, soldier, what is a true Magol?"
The soldier behind the window became irritable. "A true Magol must be of Magol blood," he snapped.
Chinua said indifferently, "You are wrong. A true Magol is a person who stands on the border of Hmagol and uses their body to protect Hmagol. A true Magol is a person who drives away enemy invaders with their sword." She walked away, carrying the vegetables and the two chickens. "Blood is just red; it doesn't represent who we really are," she called back.
Timicin quickly caught up with Chinua. "Hey," he shouted, "why are you speaking for Captain Haitao? Don't you think it's too much?"
Chinua turned around. "I'm right," she stated. "To be honest, Captain Haitao doesn't have to put up with everyone's gossip, but he chose to ignore it." She stared at Timicin. "Only the wise can surpass the ill words of idiots."
Timicin sneered, his voice frantic, "You should protect your own people, not others!"
"The people who live in Hmagol are all my people!" Chinua said angrily. She looked at Timicin, who was handsomer and smarter than the average Magol. She was disappointed that Timicin, the son of a prominent minister like Minister Misheel, held such a narrow view. She sighed. "To change an opinion without a mental process is the mark of the uneducated." She turned and walked away, leaving Timicin fuming.
Timicin, seething over Chinua's defense of Haitao, hurled the rice bag in his hand at her. Chinua spun, her leg flashing out, and kicked the bag of rice to the ground. White rice grains exploded across the dusty ground. Timicin lunged forward, an angry fist aimed at Chinua. Chinua threw the vegetables aside, blocked Timicin's fist with her left hand, and swung her right hand at his head, still clutching the two dead chickens. Timicin dodged Chinua's attack and quickly seized her waist. He locked his hands tightly around her, beginning to squeeze her waist as hard as he could.
Chinua struggled to break free of Timicin's restraints, but his grip was too tight. She grabbed Timicin's thumb and began to bend it back. With a sharp snort of pain, Timicin loosened his grip on Chinua's waist. Chinua spun quickly, blocking Timicin's kick. She threw herself forward, causing Timicin to lose his balance and fall back to the ground. Chinua rolled over Timicin, wrapping her arms around his neck, locking his neck with her right arm.
Timicin's head was locked tight; he couldn't break free. He knelt on the ground on his hands and knees, trying to grab Chinua's legs. The more he struggled, the tighter Chinua's arm squeeze became. He gasped, his vision blurred, and he couldn't see where Chinua's legs were.
With her arms still tightly clasped around Timicin's neck, Chinua twisted and swayed from side to side amidst the spilled rice grains and vegetables, making Timicin lose his sense of direction.
After waiting for a while, Khunbish saw people rushing towards a large, circled crowd. Khunbish grabbed a man's arm and asked, "What happened over there?"
"I don't know, I just got here," Muunokhoi replied. "Can you help me find where Captain Haitao's recruits are pitching their tents?"
"You can pitch it anywhere here," Khunbish said, gesturing to the open ground around Muunokhoi.
"Thank you, ancestors," Muunokhoi said.
Khenbish stopped another soldier. "What happened over there?" he demanded, a note of urgency in his voice.
"Timicin is fighting that 'sissy' Chinua. Everyone is betting Timicin will win," the man said.
Khenbish stiffened. "Chinua!"
Khunbish and Khenbish surged towards the gathered crowd, pushing their way to the front. They saw Chinua had Timicin in a tight headlock, and they knew she would win the round unless he managed to break free.
The recruits on the sidelines cheered loudly as they watched the impromptu battle between Chinua and Timicin. They quickly formed a circle and started betting on who would win.
"Timicin! Break free!"
"Break his fingers and get out of that locked position!"
Timicin was still trying to figure out how to escape the headlock, but he couldn't believe he was actually losing to a "sissy man." He hadn't thought Chinua was that strong until she expertly locked his head in the position. The more he tried to grab Chinua's leg, the more quickly Chinua shook his hands off. The more Chinua swung him back and forth, the dizzier he became.
"Escape! Come on!"
Timicin managed to grab Chinua by the waist, trying to push her down to the ground. Chinua quickly shifted, springing onto Timicin's back, her legs wrapped around his waist, while her arms remained tightly locked around his neck. Timicin tried to elbow Chinua in the ribs, but he missed, his elbow thudding against the ground. He then started hitting Chinua's left thigh while his right hand tried to free her arm from his neck.
"Come on, man, you can't lose to this 'sissy man!'"
"You're strong, Timicin..."
"Hit him! Hit him! I bet all my monthly income on you, come on!"