Cleaning Up (1)
The proclamation Zhuge Liang had written spread across the realm almost overnight.
It was composed in simple characters so that even commoners who could barely read might puzzle through it, and its contents, summed up briefly, went something like this:
Under the authority of the state, workers are hereby recruited to raise chickens and ducks on a professional basis.
…Though I did wonder whether the common folk would even recognize words like "authority of the state" or "professional basis." Well, my little strategists must have thought it all through.
Several months still remained before the locust disaster the immortal had prophesied, and the plan was to breed ducks and chickens in massive numbers during that window.
Chickens and ducks lay clutch after clutch of eggs, you see. Set your mind to multiplying them, and the count balloons to absurd proportions.
Both birds take roughly half a year to reach full maturity — meaning that at the precise moment autumn draws near, they would become a dependable army(?) to face down the locusts.
And what of the ducks left over once every battle was done?
Hm. Turning them into delicious meat wouldn't be a bad option, but I had other plans for these ducks.
I intended to send them off to Gangdong to farm there in an environmentally friendly way.
I've mentioned this before, but the Gangdong region has a climate wonderfully suited for growing plants.
Which means two harvests a year — possibly even three.
In slightly more technical terms, would that be called double-cropping or triple-cropping?
At any rate, the more you farm, the more pests inevitably swarm in and wreak havoc on the crops, which is precisely why I planned to deploy the duck army to Gangdong as a preventive measure.
Besides, bird droppings make excellent fertilizer — a tremendous boon to farming. Two birds with one stone, wouldn't you say?
So I would put the duck army to work like that, and if the locust disaster ever struck again in the future, I'd deploy them there for a proper war and…
Saying it out loud like this makes it sound like a joke, which makes it all the funnier that it's actually feasible.
Elite soldiers(?) who help with farming in peacetime and hurl themselves into war(?) the moment it breaks out.
Ah, this would deserve to be called a tuntian system and lose nothing for it.
Even if things didn't go according to my plans and problems arose, it wouldn't matter.
That would simply be the time to throw a meat feast.
"Meat…"
Even Lü Bu, sitting beside me right now, was drooling at the thought of the future.
Duck would probably be on the menu tonight.
I smiled at the adorable sight and slowly began sketching out my plans for the future. All I had to settle were the urgent matters — figuring out how to use the people who'd volunteer after reading the proclamation, and procuring the staggering quantity of eggs needed to multiply the livestock.
"My lord! Urgent news!"
"Hm?"
Urgent news? What could that possibly be about?
Wondering what could possibly demand attention right now, I turned to look at the messenger who had abruptly appeared before me.
The messenger, breathless with haste, spoke at once.
"The Imperial Guard has arrived!"
"……."
At the news that the elite soldiers sworn to protect the imperial family had reached Hebei, I momentarily found myself at a loss for words.
I held my silence for a moment before finally forcing out a question.
"…Has Her Majesty issued an imperial decree?"
"She has! The Guard says it is a matter of the utmost urgency…"
A matter of the utmost urgency?
Had a rebellion broken out near the capital or something?
That seemed impossible, though…
Sili Province, where the Han capital of Luoyang sat, was ground the Emperor's authority touched directly. Unless the nation had gone thoroughly to ruin, no one dared harbor treasonous thoughts there — and even if some foolhardy soul had, his plot would have long since been exposed, his neck swinging from a lamppost in the marketplace.
…Still, one could never be too sure.
A time-transcending Mongol Empire had launched a sudden invasion, an immortal had prophesied a natural disaster, and now — if something even stranger happened on top of all that, I figured I could take it in stride.
Having relayed the information, the messenger nodded quickly.
"Understood. I'll hear them out. Bring the Guard to me."
"At once!"
Not long after the messenger departed with that answer, the Imperial Guard appeared.
Befitting the unit entrusted with protecting the most exalted person under heaven, they were elite soldiers clad in armor that glittered brilliantly.
…Is "glittering" perhaps a bit cheap a word for a Grand General to use?
Then let me revise it to "resplendent." If Sima Yi or Zhuge Liang knew what I was thinking right now, they'd surely scold me to mind my dignity.
At any rate, the soldier whose armor gleamed with dazzling light adopted a courteous posture the moment he saw me.
I addressed the Imperial Guard before me first.
"So. Her Majesty has issued a decree?"
"She has."
At my question, the guard drew a single sheet of luxurious-looking paper from inside his breastplate.
"Though I myself cannot read its contents, Her Majesty said it is a most urgent matter and bade me deliver this letter as quickly as possible."
"Hmm…"
When you put it that way, it starts to feel ominous.
"Here you are."
"…Right."
Lü Bu snatched the letter from the messenger's respectfully offered hands and brought it to me in an instant.
With my health deteriorating lately, Lü Bu had taken to preemptively eliminating any situation in which I might come to harm.
Knowing the current situation alone, the mini Lü Bus inside her head were probably having a conversation like this:
'Jeong Reung is planning to go receive the letter himself?'
'What?! What if he missteps and falls over while he's at it!'
'He's a weakling as it is…!'
'Wh-what if that guy's an assassin disguised as an Imperial Guard…?'
And then the mini Lü Bus, having spiraled into endless negative thinking, would cry out with one voice:
───Absolutely not!!
Thinking about it this way is pretty funny, actually.
I've explained it in a somewhat ridiculous fashion, but the point is that Lü Bu is currently hyper-sensitive about my personal safety.
"……."
Seo Yeo goes without saying.
Before my injury, she rarely drew her weapon unless things got serious, but now the mere approach of a stranger would draw out a monstrous killing aura.
Thanks to that, my trips out into the streets had dwindled lately.
Frankly, it was mortifying to watch a few faint-hearted commoners unknowingly close the distance with her, then freeze up and tremble in terror.
All of this stemmed fundamentally from my poor condition, so as long as I kept suffering the aftereffects, correcting the two of them' erratic behavior was a distant prospect.
And honestly, they weren't the only two acting strangely.
'How have you been feeling lately? Are you all right?'
'I'm fine.'
'Don't lie to me.'
'I told you, I'm really fine.'
'I said stop lying, didn't I?'
'…If you're not going to believe me, why do you even bother asking?'
That was Sima Yi, flatly declaring every answer a lie, as though my responses were predetermined.
'D-do you know about this?'
'Know about what?'
'They say if you light lots of candles around you and offer up a sincere prayer to the heavens, your lifespan increases!'
'…It would probably fail in my case.'
'Nekkeh?!'
That was Pang Tong, bringing up the life-extension ritual that Wei Yan famously knocked over in Romance of the Three Kingdoms.
'…….'
'What the — where did she vanish to this time?'
And there was Zhuge Liang too, slipping away like smoke the moment I took my eyes off her — did she actually learn the art of teleportation or something?
With increasingly bizarre situations erupting around me by the day, boredom was never an option.
Whether that was something to be grateful for, I couldn't say.
"…Ahem."
I cut off my wandering thoughts and unfolded the letter the Imperial Guard had handed over without further deliberation.
This was the fine paper still reserved for those in high office, since each sheet had to be made by hand — and upon it was written something very short and very forceful.
How long do you intend to wander about the countryside while your wife and child wait at home?
Your duties are finished by now, so return at once.
I fell silent for a moment as I read.
The handwriting in the letter was beautiful enough to befit the seat of Emperor, yet here and there I could make out characters where the brush had pressed too hard, the ink blooming dark and heavy across the page.
"……."
Turns out there was yet another person here exhibiting unusual symptoms.
Come to think of it, things had been a madhouse lately with one locust crisis after another.
"…I really have been away in the north too long."
I carefully tucked the letter — unmistakably crammed to the brim with every feeling she'd been suppressing — into my breastplate.
If she saw me treat a letter written by Her Majesty's own hand carelessly, she would surely be hurt.
I spoke to the Imperial Guard, who still wore a stiff, impassive expression.
"Very well. As Her Majesty commands, I shall return to Luoyang before long."
"Yes. I shall convey your answer to Her Majesty."
Having finished his errand, the guard wasted no time on rest — he mounted his horse at once and urged it into motion.
Watching him go, Lü Bu tilted her head.
"What's chasing him, I wonder? Why's he in such a rush?"
"…Hard to say."
Then again, maybe he genuinely was being chased.
After all, being hounded by Her Majesty the Emperor to deliver word as fast as humanly possible counts as being chased too, doesn't it?
Unless he truly wanted to be thrown into confinement, he'd better get back as quickly as he possibly could.