"Your Majesty, it's said that the soldiers on the battlefield are running low on arrows," a breathless royal official from the military burst into Queen Genie's office.
Genie looked up sharply, surprise flashing in her eyes.
"Are there any other sources for arrows besides the ones in storage? We need them as soon as possible," she asked urgently.
The official nodded.
"There's a renowned master craftsman who specializes in military-grade arrows. With your permission, I can order him to produce additional, especially strong arrows immediately."
"Yes, please. Do it at once," Genie commanded without hesitation.
The official bowed deeply.
"Yes, Your Majesty," he said and quickly exited the room.
In the bowels of the palace workshop, Tanan furrowed his brow as the palace official handed him the urgent order.
"So, 2,000 arrows. All must be of the highest quality, specially reinforced for battle," the official said gravely. "Is it possible to complete this within a day?"
Tanan sighed, uncertain. The deadline was tight, and the process meticulous.
"It won't be easy," he admitted, weighing the impossibility.
Just then, San-gi stepped forward from the yard, where he had been shaping arrowheads.
"Master, let me help. We can finish faster if we work together," he offered eagerly.
Tanan shook his head, hesitant.
"These are special arrows. They require precise craftsmanship at every stage. It's not something that can be rushed."
San-gi's eyes gleamed with determination.
"That's exactly why I've spent months training under you—to learn this very craft. Please, give me this chance to prove myself. This is for the Hana Kingdom. We owe it to our people to do everything we can to win."
Tanan and the official exchanged skeptical glances.
"Aren't you from Ash?" Tanan asked quietly, raising an eyebrow. "Why are you so determined that Hana should win?"
San-gi chuckled softly, a hint of warmth in his voice.
"I told you—I have good friends here. Not just anyone, but very important ones."
Tanan's gaze softened as a memory stirred. Of course—San-gi's ties to Minister Jade and even the Queen were well known.
"Are you absolutely sure you can handle this?" Tanan asked, folding his arms with a serious look. "These arrows must be made with the utmost precision—no room for error."
San-gi's eyes shone with fierce determination.
"I will make the finest arrows the warriors of Hana have ever seen!" he declared loudly, his voice ringing with conviction.
From dawn until the dead of night, the two worked tirelessly in the workshop. The rhythmic tapping of hammer against metal echoed through the halls as San-gi and Tanan devoted every ounce of energy to crafting the 2,000 special arrows. At first, Tanan doubted the apprentice's bold claim, but as he watched San-gi's speed, skill, and meticulous attention to detail, his disbelief gave way to genuine astonishment.
By midnight, the specially designed arrows were completed and carefully packaged for delivery to the court.
Later, in the tranquil garden of the Queen's pavilion, Queen Genie received news from the royal official who had placed the order.
"So the arrows have been sent?" she asked, her voice laced with hope.
"Yes, Your Majesty. Just in time. They are already on their way to the battlefield."
Genie's face brightened with relief and joy.
"That's wonderful news. But how did one craftsman manage such a feat so quickly?"
The official chuckled, a knowing smile crossing his lips.
"It wasn't just one. The master worked alongside a young apprentice."
Queen Genie's eyes sparkled with gratitude.
"I see. Then both deserve to be rewarded once this battle is over. They've done a great service for our kingdom. Thank you."
Three long days had passed since the Ash Kingdom's sudden assault. Fierce battles had raged across the borderlands, each moment soaked in tension and sacrifice. And now, at last, a message arrived at the palace—clear and triumphant. All Ash forces had been driven back, the border secured, and victory was ours.
The news spread like wildfire, drawing ministers and officials from every corner to the Grand Assembly Hall. The air buzzed with a rare excitement, the kind that only comes after surviving a storm.
Queen Genie sat gracefully upon the royal throne, a bright smile lighting her face as whispers filled the hall. The special forces—heroes of the frontline—were about to return home.
Just then, the massive doors swung open with a resonant creak. A hush fell over the room.
"Your Majesty," announced a steady voice, "Deputy Commander Danjin returned from the battlefield. The special forces have all arrived."
Queen Genie's heart quickened as the deputy commander stepped forward, followed by a wave of soldiers filling the palace courtyard, their armor still bearing the dust of war but their eyes shining with relief and pride.
"You have all worked so hard," Queen Genie said, her voice steady but filled with warmth. "I offer my deepest gratitude to every soldier and minister who risked their lives to defend the Kingdom of Hana."
At her words, a powerful chorus rose—ministers and soldiers alike raising their voices in unison, their loyalty ringing clear through the hall. The kingdom had faced its darkest hour—and together, they had emerged victorious.
As her words echoed softly through the hall, Queen Genie's eyes darted anxiously across the returning soldiers, searching desperately for a familiar figure. Yet, no sign of him emerged among the ranks.
'Where is Jade?'
The deputy commander's expression darkened, and after a heavy pause, he spoke again with a grave tone.
"Your Majesty… I regret to inform you that Minister Jade could not return with us."
Queen Genie's heart stumbled as a cold weight settling deep in her chest.
"Danjin… what do you mean by that? Jade did not come back?"
"Your Majesty," the deputy commander continued, his voice thick with regret, "while defending the front lines against the Ash Kingdom's forces, Minister Jade sustained severe injuries. Due to the seriousness of his wounds, he remained in a border village to receive medical treatment and could not accompany us on the journey back. I am deeply sorry for failing to bring him home safely."
Lowering his head in shame, the deputy commander's words hung heavily in the air.
A shadow of worry clouded Queen Genie's face, but she forced herself to stay composed. After a brief moment, she nodded slowly, the strength of a queen steadying her voice.
"I see… Thank you, Danjin, for leading the special forces back safely."
The deputy commander's voice trembled, on the verge of tears.
"It is all thanks to Minister Jade. He fortified our border defenses long before the Ash Kingdom's attack. Because of his preparations, we managed to repel their forces without suffering significant losses. But… he was gravely wounded."
A heavy silence fell over the hall until Han Son spoke softly but firmly.
"Your Majesty, he played a pivotal role in averting what might have become a national crisis. He risked his very life to protect the Kingdom. His courage and sacrifice must be honored."
Queen Genie met the minister's gaze and nodded with quiet resolve.
"I agree. I had intended to travel personally to the border region, to comfort the people and oversee restoration efforts. While there, I will publicly recognize Minister Jade's service and I will escort him back to the palace myself."
Her heart ached with a mix of worry and hope as she silently prayed, over and over again, for his recovery.
'Jade… please, come back safely…'
That night, clad in a deep blue military uniform, Queen Genie slipped silently over the back wall of the royal chamber.
Only four trusted souls within the palace knew of the hidden trail winding through the forest behind the royal quarters.
She moved swiftly along the narrow path, the crisp night air biting at her skin. When she reached the edge of a moonlit field, she stopped.
Across the open space, leaves twirled in the cold wind like restless spirits. Standing there, waiting, was Do-han—her old martial arts teacher.
Though his hair had long since turned silver, and decades had etched lines across his face, the dignified bearing of Hana's greatest warrior still clung to him. He bowed deeply as she approached.
"Your Majesty," he said with quiet reverence, "you came again under cover of night."
Genie adjusted the quiver slung over her shoulder and drew an arrow from it, holding it steady in her right hand.
Their eyes locked, the space between them alive with unspoken determination.
The wind rustled louder through the trees—whoosh, whoosh—carrying the tension like a living thing.
"Try to hit the deeply grooved part of that pine tree over there," Do-han instructed calmly, his voice steady as steel.
Do-han's weathered hand rose slowly, his finger tracing a line toward a distant pine tree standing tall across the open field, its bark deeply grooved by decades of wind and rain.
Queen Genie shifted her stance, raising an arrow to rest just below her chest with steady hands. Her left hand held the shaft firm, while her right pulled back the bowstring, fingers taut like a coiled spring. Her sharp eyes fixed on the narrow groove carved deep into the pine's bark—her intended target.
But the swaying leaves danced incessantly before her sight, fluttering like restless spirits in the chilly night air, obscuring the groove again and again.
Noticing the brief flicker of hesitation, Do-han allowed himself a faint, knowing smile.
"The rustling leaves cloud your vision, don't they?" he said softly, voice gravelly with age yet warm with encouragement. "In battle, Your Majesty, you will face far greater obstacles than a mere breeze and leaves. Noise, chaos, shadows — distractions that test every fiber of your will." He paused, then added, "As your teacher in both sword and bow, I can say this without hesitation: you possess a natural talent for archery. What you lack is strength — the power to steady your arms against the draw — and sharper focus, the ability to pierce through the storm of distractions and place your arrow exactly where it must land."
Taking those words deeply into her heart, Genie inhaled a steadying breath. She tightened her grip, her arms a taut bow themselves as she pulled the string farther back. The muscles in her forearms quivered, but she held firm, the world narrowing to the thin groove on the bark.
Then—snap.
Her fingers released, and the arrow sang through the night with a whispering hiss.