Ang gently placed the heavy urn of ashes into Aisha's arms. His gaze was soft, yet brooked no argument. The fire had gone out, but the air still carried the ashen smell of burning. He took a deep breath and spoke slowly. "Go back and take good care of Mother."
Aisha clutched the urn tightly with both hands, her eyes reddening as her voice trembled with tears. "Brother, you need to be careful too. The Northern Barbarians are strong. We only need to hold the fortress; there's no need to rush into battle."
Ang smiled faintly and reached out to ruffle Aisha's hair. His tone was gentle but firm. "Don't worry. I'll be careful."
Aisha looked at her brother's resolute expression and ultimately said nothing more. Hugging the urn, she looked back with every step, her eyes full of reluctance. "Then I'm leaving..." she murmured softly.
Ang remained where he was, watching the railcar carrying her slowly disappear into the distance. Only after it vanished beyond his sight did he look away and turn toward the fortress.
By the time Ang returned to the fortress, night had fallen. In the darkness, the fortress lights illuminated the solemn faces of the soldiers on the walls. Standing high above, he looked into the distance. Low, heavy clouds pressed down from the north, as though a rain of blood might fall at any moment.
He withdrew his gaze and said to the soldier beside him, "Go call Slock."
Before long, Slock strode over, his armor clanking softly with every step. He stopped before Ang, his expression respectful and grave. "My lord."
"Have the Cavalry Regiment prepare. They'll leave the fortress with me." Ang's voice was steady, without the slightest hesitation.
Slock's eyes lit up, and a flash of excitement crossed his face. Dropping