Wrap-Up (5)
Giving Liu Tan's shoulder a parting pat, I said, almost offhandedly, "Well, my work here is done. Time I was heading back to Luoyang."
"Is that so..."
Relief spread across Liu Tan's face at my words.
He had certainly earned the respite. Hounded from above by a terrifying superior, and from below by unruly local magnates forever stirring up trouble — if that wasn't the sorrow of middle management, what was?
...I felt for him, truly. But some things simply had to be said.
"Ah, and just in case..."
Letting the words trail for a moment, I looked Liu Tan dead in the eye. "I trust you won't be harboring any... other ambitions here in Yi Province."
"I-I would never dream of such a thing, General."
"Then that's all I needed to hear."
Warning delivered — conduct yourself wisely — I rose to my feet.
The long journey to claim the vast province of Yi had finally come to an end.
...If Yi Province had taken this much out of me, how long would Gangdong or Hebei take? Just how much territory still lay beyond my reach?
You Province, ruled by Gongsun Zan. Jizhou, ruled by Yuan Shao. Yanzhou, ruled by Cao Cao. And beyond those, Xuzhou, Ye Province, Qingzhou, Yangzhou, and Jiaozhou, held by a motley assortment of lesser players...
Hold on.
There was still a long, long road ahead, wasn't there?
Realizing that I had claimed barely half of the realm's thirteen provinces, I let out a long sigh. I supposed I could at least console myself with having pacified the entire western half of China.
Like Han Xin in the days of the Chu–Han contention, I might have to seize several provinces at a stroke in one grand campaign. But that would take better than a year, and I seriously doubted Her Majesty would tolerate going that long without setting eyes on me.
Naturally, my worries only deepened.
'You and I are already as one, are we not?'
The silver-haired woman who had pulled me into a fierce embrace and murmured those honeyed words. Not the Hero of Chaos, but the capable minister of a well-ordered age — she had smiled at me, sly and knowing.
'Let's see... Yanzhou, Qingzhou, and Xuzhou ought to be quite enough, don't you think?'
'What is that supposed to mean?'
'Heh. Playing innocent when you know perfectly well what I mean?'
Cao Cao's tone had been playfully sly as she needled me. 'I must say, I don't dislike that side of you.'
...
She truly was relentless in the way she pressed close. There was no distance left to close — so why did she keep throwing herself at me like this?
If Cao Cao hadn't been lying, it meant Yanzhou — the very heart of the realm — and Xuzhou, heaped with every manner of wealth, could be taken without a single arrow loosed. And as a bonus, we might well pick up the parts of Ye Province and Qingzhou she had already sunk her claws into.
...Just imagining it made my mouth water.
Tao Qian, the current master of Xuzhou, could never defeat Cao Cao. If he'd had it in him, he would have driven her out of the slice of Xuzhou she'd already seized long ago. But seeing as he'd failed to dislodge her once she'd dug in, it seemed he was fated to lose, just as in the original history.
As for Gangdong, the land was riddled with untamed wilderness and the Shanyue Tribe ran wild through its mountains, but the conquest itself wouldn't be so difficult. The moment we crossed the Yangtze, we'd smash everything that fought us and roll forward with irresistible momentum. Naval warfare was covered too, with Zhou Yu busily building up our fleet, so no problems there.
Which meant all that remained, in the end, was Hebei.
...
Gongsun Zan in You Province, and Yuan Shao in Jizhou. In the original history, Gongsun Zan had been a foul-tempered northern thug, while Yuan Shao was a heartless schemer who would coldly cast aside her own flesh and blood for power and legitimacy. Asked whether I could get along with people like that, I'd honestly have to tilt my head.
The only one with any real possibility was probably Yuan Shao. Our acquaintance had been fleeting, but we had at least exchanged words...
Compared to her, Gongsun Zan was a lost cause. I'd seen his face exactly once, atop the gates of Hulao Pass, and ever since I had made a point of doing only the things guaranteed to earn his hatred. He'd nearly died once for mouthing off to Lü Bu, and after that I'd sent Liu Bei to blindside him, then gone on to shelter Liu Yu — the very man Gongsun Zan had clashed with at every turn.
It would be a small miracle if a man of Gongsun Zan's rotten temperament didn't already count me among his mortal enemies. Judging by that thuggish streak, if I rashly sent an envoy, the poor fellow's head might well come home alone in a box.
Killing an envoy was as good as declaring to the world that you intended to practice no diplomacy whatsoever — a hermit's declaration — but Gongsun Zan wasn't the sort to think that far ahead. I hadn't taken to calling him a thug for nothing. Cross his mood, and he would kill first and weigh the consequences after, whoever you happened to be.
In the original history, he had withered away to his death over his diplomatic failures. Given time, he would wall himself off and slowly rot into ruin all on his own.
...
Yuan Shao. Was she my ally, or my enemy? She looked far too busy contending with Gongsun Zan for me to poke at her just yet, but it was a knot that would have to be untied someday.
Once Gongsun Zan, locked in his struggle with Yuan Shao, decided victory was beyond him, he would seal himself inside the Yijing Tower. Burrowed into that colossal fortress, he would hold Yuan Shao at bay for at least three years. And by the time those three years were up, I would have claimed most of the realm — so the matter would settle itself, one way or another.
Unless the northern tribes — unnaturally quiet of late — went mad and came swarming in, I could safely assume nothing major would happen. And here I was, working myself up over hypotheticals of my own invention.
The Xiongnu had only recently led twenty thousand horse archers into Bing Province, so a lull from them was nothing to wonder at. ...Twenty thousand, mind — the real problem was that if those bastards ever got dead serious about mustering every fighting man they had, they could bring several times that number. A people among whom every last soul was a warrior — a genuinely terrifying thing.
And yet things were quiet to a truly strange degree. What on earth were the Xianbei and the Wuhuan playing at, that for years on end they hadn't so much as shown their faces in Bing Province and were sitting meekly in the north? ...Could it be that the Wuhuan and Xianbei — once known under the single name of Donghu — were fusing back into one people?
Nah, surely not. Short of a leader of transcendent genius appearing, no such thing would come to pass — and no one in the tribal camps of this era fit the bill. At best there was Tadun, and even he never managed to break past the Kingdom of Wei's many fronts; he ended up harpooned outright. For a man leading the nomads — a warrior race to the marrow — that was the sum total of his achievements.
And what manner of figure must Cao Cao have been, to hold back even that?
A real, real long shot — but what if someone did arise who could bind the northern tribes together? If that day ever came, only one recourse would remain to me: praying to the heavens, please, please invade as late as you possibly can.
I doubted even a Han united under one banner could stand against such a tide — and right now that Han lay torn into strips. But rushing headlong into unification would only multiply the bloodshed. This was a moment to live by the old adage: the more urgent the road, the wider the detour.
...
...Still, it was all just a what-if. I glanced once at Seo Yeo, standing guard at my side, then started walking. It was truly time to return to Luoyang.
"You're late."
That was the greeting that awaited me when, after the long march, I finally returned to Luoyang.
"Leaving your wife to wait at home, dreaming of you waking and sleeping, while you go gallivanting across the realm — truly, what a dreadful husband you are."
Every word from Her Majesty the Empress drove into my chest like a dagger. What was this frosty feeling, exactly? Having gained a fair appreciation for how a card sharp feels when the game turns out to be rigged against him, I bowed and offered my courtesies.
"I am without excuse. Even with ten mouths, I would have nothing to say..."
"Enough."
Before my apology was even finished, the Empress cut me off flatly. "Do you think We summoned you here to listen to such things?"
...?
What now? It seemed Her Majesty wanted something from me. I turned my mind over desperately, but finding no answer, I lowered my head.
"My abilities fall short; I dare not presume to fathom Your Majesty's will."
"Hmm... Then I suppose We shall simply have to explain it Ourselves."
Having, as usual, dismissed every soul in attendance, the Empress spoke in a calm, even voice. "General-in-Chief, for the days to come, you shall remain at Our side."
"...Your Majesty?"
"Have you not neglected your duties as Gukseo while tending to affairs beyond these walls? Is it not now time to attend to them?"
As though it were the most natural thing in the world, the Empress declared her intent to use the full weight of her power to monopolize me for days on end. Already carrying a debt on my conscience, I was in no position to refuse.
"This is an imperial command. Do not even think of refusing."
With every escape route sealed shut, only one course of action remained to me. "...What choice would I have, Your Majesty?"
"Good. Then what shall we begin with?"
The Empress, who had been putting on a solemn front, broke into a bright grin the instant I accepted. But begin with what, exactly? Did she mean that time spent with me mattered more than the remaining business of state?
One way or another, it looked as though the next several days would be spent firmly in Her Majesty's clutches.