Retribution (1)
"Your Highness!!"
"...What is it."
A man sat in solemn dignity upon the throne. The pose itself — chin propped on one hand, every line of him straining to project a monarch's aloof majesty — would have coaxed laughter out of anyone standing beside him, or left a loyal servant of the Han with a distinctly sour feeling in his chest.
The government office he had claimed for a palace was closer to humble than refined or grand, with spots here and there visibly crying out for repair, and the rustic country all around made a mockery of the crowned man's pomp. For one who had bestowed upon himself the grandiose title of King Who Pacifies Han, his dwelling — his "palace" — was shabby and pitiably meager.
Even so, Song Jian, self-styled King Who Pacifies Han, labored never to forget the dignity befitting a king.
"I asked what the matter was."
"Han Sui's army is marching on us! Their force numbers nearly ten thousand!!"
At the scout's report, the court Song Jian had gathered about himself — civil and military officials alike — went white and began to murmur.
"Hmph. Just as that person said."
Song Jian did not so much as blink at the news that a ten-thousand-strong host was bearing down on him. If anything, he wore the buoyant smile of a man to whom the inevitable had finally arrived.
"This is total war! Muster the entire army and prepare to hold!!"
At his call to arms, one of the officers hurried forward to dissuade him.
"My lord! The enemy are Liangzhou soldiers, famed far and wide for their ferocity in—"
Wham!! "Hurk!!"
Clad in beaded crown and ceremonial robes, Song Jian swung a rough fist wholly unbefitting a king and sent the officer sprawling. His face burning scarlet, he spat molten fury at the man who had dared address him as "my lord."
"Call me 'my lord' one more time... and I will carve your tongue into ribbons with a blade!!"
"F-forgive me, Your Highness."
"Good."
Only when the terrified officer had re-addressed him as "Your Highness" did Song Jian at last wear the look of a satisfied man.
"Chancellor, how many men can we field?"
"Yes, my— that is, Your Highness. Scrape together every soul we have, and we come to roughly five thousand."
The chancellor, too, had nearly called him "my lord" out of pure habit, and had swerved to "Your Highness" for fear of catching a fist.
"That will be enough. Let this treacherous terrain serve as our shield, and if we hold until that person's reinforcements arrive, our chances are more than fair."
"And you trust that person?"
"Of course. Did they not send an envoy and swear a pact with Us?"
With a crooked smile, Song Jian recalled the one who had proposed the alliance in the first place.
"We sealed the bargain on the condition that they aid us in return for our raiding Han Sui's domain and carrying off his people. Surely they will keep their end."
But the man called chancellor remembered it all too vividly.
A woman's message, ordering him to plunder the people of Han Sui's domain as a military provocation. Comply, and they would turn a blind eye to his usurping a crown and founding a nation; refuse, and they would drive a great host upon Fuhan County, smash it to rubble, and kill every soul within — Song Jian included.
He remembered his lord's figure: cowed half out of his wits by the white-haired envoy's silky words and bone-chilling threats, he had bowed to them — then dressed that submission up as a "pact."
Or perhaps, the chancellor thought, his master had simply been played — tangled helplessly in the teasing of that foxlike, seductive woman's tongue.
"The enemy's main strength is cavalry trained on the Liangzhou plains, but with hardly a stretch of flat ground to be found here, they cannot bring that strength to bear and have been forced to come at us as infantry!!"
Song Jian was a soldier of sorts himself, a man who had marched to war in his day, and he possessed enough command in him to lead a body of troops. Brandishing their advantageous terrain and the drilled discipline of their soldiers, he breathed courage back into the despondent officers.
"A battle we can certainly win!! Grand General!!"
With that, Song Jian summoned Wang Guo, a former warlord-general who had only recently surrendered to him.
"Yes, Your Highness."
A native of Longxi Commandery, Wang Guo possessed respectable talent for command and war alike — enough, alongside Song Jian, to lead the officers gathered here. When the great rebellion that had swept Liang Province finally died down, he — guilty of killing an official of the court and with nowhere left to run — had come to pledge himself to Song Jian. Recognizing the man's talent, Song Jian had raised him to Grand General.
"You will command the right army and occupy the summit of the mountain to our right! I myself shall lead the left army and garrison the heights as well!!"
The plan was to first tuck their forces away in the high ground, read the enemy's movements, then rain down boulders and arrows — layering defense upon defense until their position was impregnable.
"Yes! I shall carry out Your Highness's command!!"
To any eye that did not know better, this was a loyal minister and his king, steeling themselves with grim resolve for a battlefield upon which their nation's very survival hung in the balance. Had Han Yeong witnessed the scene, he might well have muttered, A couple of traitors, posturing like that. Pathetic.
"Follow me!!"
Wang Guo marched off toward the camp to marshal his officers and men, while Song Jian instructed the civil officials to take stock of the grain and forage.
"Hmph. Dogs who groveled to the Han, every one of them..."
With the ministers withdrawn and the hall empty, Song Jian curled his lip and spat scorn at Han Sui and every other warlord who had bent the knee to the Han court. He, too, had once been a Liangzhou warlord — but where the others had hurled themselves into reckless rebellion to drive out the Han, he had judged it far wiser to seize one small county and play at king. Look at the Liangzhou warlords who had led the uprising a year ago, Beigong Boyu chief among them: defeated and executed by men who were practically their own kin. By comparison, his road had been pure foresight. Or so he told himself.
Here, a man could crown himself without consequence. There was no economic prize worth the claiming, and the court's authority never reached this far. Nor, from a military standpoint, was there anything worth the cost of conquest — which was why no warlord ever came marching with an army in tow. With the power struggles in the Central Plains raging as fiercely as they were, no one had attention to spare for a backwater frontier.
No — if anything, a certain warlord had even come forward, promising to withhold all attack and to sponsor his formal recognition as king, so long as he accepted their proposal.
"With their backing besides, a nobody like Han Sui is nothing at all."
Groundless arrogance overflowed from Song Jian like a cup run brimming.
"...Now that I think of it, they say Ma Teng's daughter is famed as the finest beauty in all of Liang Province. Once she is captured, she will make a perfectly fitting concubine."
Steeped in vanity-soaked dreams to the very last, Song Jian wished long life to the kingdom he had built — may it greet an age of peace and endure a thousand years.
Our army, having ridden hard all the way from Jincheng, pitched camp beside the Yellow River as it wound past Fuhan County. Before us the great river flowed, and beyond it opened a gorge with a deep valley cleft through its heart.
Taking it in, I murmured, "A gorge, huh..."
Mountain ridges wrapped around Fuhan County from the four o'clock position all the way around to eleven, and to the north, too, every path was walled off in rock except for the single gorge leading down to the Yellow River. Short of this one corridor, there was nothing to march through but mountains. Even a casual glance said as much: a place tailor-made for ambush and defense.
...Annoying.
Had the bastard not abducted our own people, we would never have needed to drag ourselves into this craggy hell, and irritation at the self-proclaimed king came welling up all the same. Back in my old life, I had stumbled across a record of him styling himself king and laughed it off as a footnote. Never once did I imagine the day would come when I would be the one dealing with him. Though, if we're being pedantic, being reborn into the world of the Three Kingdoms in the first place was hardly something I'd planned either...
That place, after all, was the one that had held out for a full month against the first-string officers of Cao Cao's army — and against Zhang Ji, a man who had made his name in both administration and strategy. Yet the histories never spelled out how they had finally cracked Fuhan, and so our own approach remained a fog I couldn't see through.
Unless we had trebuchets... How am I supposed to pry them off that high ground? Build earthen ramps and shove them up the slopes?
Nor could we do to them what was done to Ma Su — that mountaineering fool who had disregarded Zhuge Liang's words and pitched his camp atop a mountain — encircling the heights to sever their supply lines down to the last drop of drinking water. The ridgelines all linked organically, one range flowing into the next, and a ring of iron around terrain like that was beyond any army. True, we could grind them down at the cost of our soldiers' lives, but the butcher's bill would be steep. I had no intention of squandering men drilled with blood and sweat on ground that offered no real advantage — and I was still turning the problem over when—
"My lord, the council hour is upon us — the strategist is asking for you."
Pang De had approached through my brooding to tell me the meeting was ready.
"Is it? Let's go."
I prayed that Fa Zheng had come up with some way through.
Stepping into the command tent alongside Pang De, I found the generals already gathered, Fa Zheng at their head.
"I will lead the vanguard. Just give me three thousand men."
"No — I will lead it!! Two thousand will suffice!!"
I had barely crossed the threshold before Ma Wan and Cheng Yi were squabbling over which of them would take the point.
"You have arrived, my lord."
Fa Zheng rose and bowed at my entrance. I returned the courtesy, then swept my gaze around the tent; finding one face conspicuously absent, I asked her.
"Where's Ma Chao?"
"She said sitting still was dulling her, and rode out with a handful of soldiers to patrol the perimeter."
"Is that so?"
With Ma Chao's skills, there was nothing to worry about, so I spared the matter little concern.
"So — have you thought of anything?"
It was a question meant for Fa Zheng, whom I had begged before we even arrived to devise a stratagem that would spare as many lives as possible — but a different general seized the moment to answer first.
"The enemy is few. Give me the vanguard and I will take their heads myself!!"
"No!! I will—!!"
"I was not asking either of you."
Cut off mid-charge, the two boar-headed generals sank back into their seats, glaring their resentment.
Their naked hunger for glory drew frowns from Yan Xing and Pang De alike.
"I do have one scheme in mind... but there is something I require."
"Which is?"
Fa Zheng held my gaze, dead serious, and asked,
"My lord... might you, by any chance, be carrying a rather deep war chest?"
...Huh?
A war chest? What on earth does she need one of those for?
Fa Zheng's question had flown in from so far out of left field that all I could do was stand there, gaping.