As dawn breaks over the liberated city of An'alm, the air vibrates with a sense of triumph. The rebels, weary but victorious, make their way back, their figures silhouetted against the rising sun. The sounds of their horses' hooves and the clinking of their armours and weapons announce their return. Snow dust rises in their wake, mingling with the morning mist.

At the city's edge, Gankou stands tall, a youthful figure exuding an infectious energy. His eyes, sharp and full of mischief, scan the horizon eagerly. As the rebels draw closer, his posture straightens, and a grin spreads across his face. His attire, a mix of Yohazatz warrior's garb and elements of local fashion, reflects his unique position as a guardian of An'alm and a young leader.

The first to crest the hill is Linh, his fiery red hair unmistakable even from a distance. The sight of him spurs Gankou into action. He raises his arm in a salute.

Linh's eyes light up at the sight of his old friend. Without a moment's hesitation, he urges his horse forward, leaping from the saddle as he nears Gankou. The two friends collide in a joyful embrace, Linh's momentum almost knocking them both off balance. Their laughter rings out, a stark contrast to the grim battles they've fought.

"Linh! You did it!" Gankou's voice is full of admiration, his hands gripping Linh's shoulders as if to ensure his friend is really there.

"Of course, who do you think I am?" Linh replies, his tone warm and proud. His eyes dart around, taking in the state of An'alm and the people who acclaim the warriors.

Linh and Gankou have been partners in mischief since they were children, and now their latest and greatest prank is rebelling against the oppressive Moukopl regime.

As the rest of Linh's squad arrives, bringing with them the spoils of their recent campaign—new weapons and soldiers who have been turned into allies—the mood in An'alm shifts from one of mere survival to one of burgeoning hope. The new recruits, once enemies, now walk warily among the rebels.

Gankou, ever the social chameleon, moves among them with ease, his charm breaking down barriers and turning strangers into comrades. He introduces himself with a grin, making quick work of the tension that lingers in the air. His presence is a balm, soothing the fears of the new arrivals and reinforcing the unity of their cause.

Linh watches Gankou with a fond smile, his heart swelling with a mix of pride and affection. In this moment, surrounded by allies old and new, he feels a deep sense of fulfillment.

Ghuba, having also been part of the victorious expedition, approaches with his horse, his presence commanding and severe. He surveys the jubilant scene before him, his gaze settling on Linh and Gankou with a critical eye.

"Before you feast on your victory, help move all the weapons into the barracks," Ghuba's voice is stern, leaving no room for argument.

Gankou straightens up, saluting his father playfully. "Yes, father."

As Ghuba turns to organize the other men, Gankou leans closer to Linh, his voice dropping to a more personal tone. "By the way, your sister asked to see you when you got back."

Linh's face lights up with a mixture of gratitude and anticipation. " Thanks for letting me know. And I guess I'll be skipping the carrying this time." He laughs, clapping Gankou on the shoulder before sprinting off through the bustling streets of An'alm.

The city comes alive around him, the people cheering and calling out his name. Linh waves back, laughing with the joy of shared victory. He moves quickly, navigating the lively throngs with ease, his red hair a beacon of triumph.

As he enters a quieter district, the noise of celebration fades into the background. The modest houses here are a stark contrast to the chaos of the main streets. Linh slows his pace, his steps more measured as he approaches a small, unassuming home.

Inside, the room is bathed in soft light. A young woman with vibrant red hair sits on a simple bed, her hands resting gently in her lap. Her eyes, closed against the world, are framed by dark spots that spread across her face and neck. The spots mar her otherwise delicate features, creating a haunting contrast.

"Is that you, Gankou?" Her voice is soft, tinged with uncertainty.

"It is Linh, sister," he replies, stepping closer.

She turns her face toward him, a faint smile touching her lips despite her closed eyes. The illness has stolen her sight, but not her spirit. Her skin, once smooth and youthful, now bears the marks of her struggle, the dark spots spreading like shadows over her fair complexion. Her red hair, so similar to Linh's, cascades over her shoulders.

Linh’s sister, Mihin, tilts her head slightly, her lips curving into a gentle smile. "You're back early, brother. That must mean your campaign was a great success."

Linh's laughter is soft, almost musical. "You know me too well, sister." He then asks, his tone tender, "Have you taken your medicine today?"

"Yes, I have," Mihin replies, her voice steady and reassuring.

Linh sits beside her on the bed, his fingers gently threading through her fiery red hair. "Why did you wish to speak with me?"

Mihin's smile widens, a warm, affectionate light in her sightless eyes. "Do I need a reason to see my brother?"

Linh chuckles, his heart swelling with love for his sister. "Of course not." He pauses, then asks, "Would you like to eat something special to celebrate the liberation of our provinces?"

Mihin's face lights up at the suggestion. "I would love some meat," she says, her tone filled with eager anticipation.

"Then we shall have a feast," Linh declares, his voice brimming with excitement. "We will make the greatest feast An'alm has ever seen."

Mihin laughs, a joyful sound that fills the modest room with warmth. "That sounds wonderful."

As they sit together, Linh feels a profound sense of peace and fulfillment. The battle won, the people freed, and his sister by his side—these are the moments he fights for. In this quiet, tender moment, amidst the echoes of their triumph and the soft glow of hope for the future, they find solace in each other's presence.

The city of An'alm is ablaze with celebration, the air filled with the sounds of laughter, music, and clinking cups. The streets, lined with tables laden with food, are a tapestry of joyous faces and dancing figures. The scent of roasted meats and savory stews mingles with the sweetness of baked goods, tantalizing the senses. Lanterns, strung across buildings, cast a warm, golden glow that bathes the revelers in a magical light.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

In the midst of the festivity, Linh fulfills his promise to Mihin. He presents her with a plate of hare meat and rice noodles, meticulously prepared and arranged. The smell of the dish, rich and inviting, brings a smile to her face.

"Here you go, sister," Linh says, placing the plate in her hands.

"Thank you, brother," Mihin responds, her fingers delicately exploring the contours of the food before she takes a bite. She eats slowly, savoring each mouthful, her smile growing with every taste.

Linh watches her, his heart swelling with happiness at her enjoyment. Suddenly, Gankou bursts into their quiet moment, his presence a whirlwind of energy.

"Well, if it isn't the hero and his lovely sister!" Gankou exclaims, draping an arm over Linh's shoulder. "Enjoying the feast, Mihin’an?"

Mihin nods, her smile widening. "I am, Gankou. Thank you."

Gankou grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You know, Linh, I've been telling everyone how you fought like a demon out there. But I'm starting to think Mihin’an here is the real hero, keeping your spirits up."

Linh laughs, nudging Gankou playfully. "Oh, really? And what stories have you been spinning this time?"

Gankou winks at Mihin, his tone teasing. "Only the best ones, of course. Like how you single-handedly defeated an entire regiment with just a glare."

Mihin giggles, her cheeks flushing with color. "That sounds like quite a tale, Gankou."

"And it's all true," Gankou insists, his voice filled with mock seriousness. He leans closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "But between us, Mihin’an, you look gorgeous when you make such a face."

Mihin blushes deeply, her laughter a mix of shyness and delight.

Linh rolls his eyes, though his smile remains. "Alright, that's enough flirting with my sister. Don't you have anyone else to charm tonight?"

Gankou laughs, giving Linh a playful shove. "What can I say? I have a talent for brightening people's days.”

As the night wears on, Gankou leans in close to Linh, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. "Hey, Linh, how about we leave Mihin’an with my father and have some fun with the girls?"

Linh gives Gankou a sidelong glance, then looks over at Mihin. Her serene smile meets his gaze. He knows she enjoys his company, but he also sees her understanding.

Linh clears his throat softly. "Sister, would you be alright staying with Ghuba for a bit?"

Mihin's smile remains, though it falters slightly at the edges. "Of course, Linh. I'll be fine. Go have some fun." Her voice, while kind, carries that trace of unspoken longing and disappointment.

With a nod, Linh stands up and makes his way over to Ghuba, who is overseeing the festivities with a watchful eye. "Commander Ghuba," Linh says respectfully, "could you look after my sister for a little while?"

Ghuba looks from Linh to Mihin, then back to Linh. His stern expression softens just a touch. "Very well. But you and Gankou, try not to cause too much mischief."

Linh bows slightly, a playful smile on his lips. "Thank you, sir. We'll be on our best behavior."

Ghuba raises an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "I doubt that, but go on then."

Linh returns to Mihin. "I'll be back soon, I promise."

As Linh and Gankou head off into the night, the laughter and music of the feast fading behind them, Gankou claps his friend on the back. "Let's make the most of this celebration!"

Gankou and Linh spend the night immersed in a whirlwind of mischief, their antics reminiscent of their younger days when they earned the title "troublemakers of An'alm" from the now-deceased official of Bos, Doxi. They dart through the bustling streets, stealing sweet treats from unsuspecting vendors, leaving behind only the echoes of their laughter. They commandeer a musician's flute, composing absurdly humorous songs that leave their impromptu audience in stitches. Next, they "borrow" a farmer's cart and take it for a joyride through the city streets, narrowly avoiding collisions and leaving a trail of upturned barrels and scattered produce in their wake. The indignant shouts of vendors and farmers only add to their glee as they ditch the cart and disappear into the alleys.

As the night deepens, they find themselves climbing the city's watchtower, their steps unsteady from the alcohol coursing through their veins. Once at the top, they peer down at the unsuspecting passersby below. With a wicked grin, Gankou unbuttons his trousers, and Linh follows suit, both laughing uproariously as they relieve themselves over the edge, the shocked cries from below only fueling their amusement.

"Hey, you scoundrels! Stop that!" a voice shouts from the street, but the boys are too far gone in their hilarity, clutching their sides as they howl with laughter until their bellies ache.

Eventually, they collapse onto the ledge of the tower, their breath coming in ragged gasps between chuckles. The cool night air sobers them slightly, and they lapse into a more contemplative mood, gazing out over the moonlit cityscape.

"Remember when we stole Doxi's ceremonial robes and replaced them with rags?" Gankou asks, his voice thick with nostalgia.

Linh laughs, nodding. "He was furious. Sent the whole city guard after us."

The mention of Doxi brings a sober tone to their conversation. Gankou's expression grows serious as he looks at Linh. "Things have changed so much, Linh. From causing trouble in the market to leading a rebellion. Do you really think you can rule the world, Linh?"

Linh laughs softly, the sound tinged with a blend of confidence and humility. He gazes at the horizon, the weight of his dreams reflected in his eyes. "To conquer the world, Gankou, one must first conquer the hearts of its people; for empires built on ashes crumble, but those forged in fire stand eternal. To claim the title of world conqueror is but a banner, a beacon for the weary to follow. True conquest is not in ruling the mist, but in igniting the flames. In truth, my dream is not to rule the world, but to offer it back to the people, so they might rule themselves."

Gankou looks at Linh, his eyes reflecting a mix of admiration and skepticism. He leans back against the ledge, the cool stone grounding him as he processes Linh's words. "That's a lofty dream, Linh. But do you really think people are ready for that? To rule themselves?"

Linh turns to face his friend, his expression resolute. "They may not be ready now, but they will be. They need someone to show them it's possible, to offer them the chance to seize their own destiny."

Gankou chuckles softly, shaking his head. "You always did have a way with words. Maybe you're right. Maybe they just need the right spark to light the way."

Linh smiles, his expression both wistful and determined. "And together, we'll ignite a small but powerful spark; a spark that will set the world ablaze.”

They sit in silence for a moment, the weight of their conversation settling around them like a cloak.

"Set the world ablaze." Linh echoes softly, his voice carrying a promise that he intends to keep.

In the outskirts of Pezijil, nestled within the imperial city, Sima of the Western Bureau diligently works through the stacks of documents cluttering his office. The air is thick with the scent of ink and parchment, a testament to the ceaseless flow of bureaucracy that defines his existence.

The sudden entrance of a young eunuch disrupts the stillness. Lipu, his assistant, bows quickly, the urgency in his movement betraying the gravity of the news he brings.

"Master Sima," Lipu begins, his voice tinged with anxiety, "the unrest in the Bos region is not quelling. They have gained control of most forts in the area."

Sima shakes his head, frustration etching deep lines on his face. "The emperor's focus is elsewhere, Lipu. With the ongoing war in the north, the Bos rebellion is deemed a lesser threat."

Lipu hesitates, then adds, "A soldier has been sent to the emperor with a letter from the rebels, Master."

Sima's demeanor shifts instantly. He stands abruptly, eyes wide with urgency. "Where is he?"

Lipu bows again, his voice steady despite the tension. "An audience is being granted right now."

Without another word, Sima grabs his belongings and rushes out, his steps echoing through the corridors as he makes his way to the White Golden Palace. Inside, the grandeur of the palace is as overwhelming as ever, but today it feels even more oppressive.

Yile of the Eastern Bureau is already there, his fan concealing a smirk that Sima can sense even without seeing. Yile's eyes gleam with hidden amusement as he speaks. "Sima, how is your assistant Lipu faring? Is he still as good at speaking as he is at listening?"

Sima ignores the taunt, his focus unwavering as he takes his place. In the center of the vast hall, a soldier is prostrated, his forehead pressed to the cold marble floor. Behind a delicate veil, the silhouette of the emperor looms, an enigmatic presence that commands absolute authority.

An elderly eunuch stands beside the emperor, his voice clear and deliberate as he reads the letter aloud. "The Tiger is freed from his cage and headed for the Heavens."

The proclamation hangs in the air, a pregnant silence filling the palace. Sima feels the weight of each word, the implication of rebellion and uprising.

Finally, the emperor's voice cuts through the silence, resolute and unwavering. "Set them ablaze."

The three words ripple through the hall, their meaning unmistakable. Sima's heart pounds as the decree is made.

Sima glances at Yile, whose smirk is now fully visible, his fan closed with a sharp snap. The room's atmosphere is charged with tension, the fate of the Bos region sealed by the emperor's decree.