Loose Ends (2)
Dilu. A horse said to bring death to its own master.
Whenever anyone spoke of a cursed steed, this was the first name to surface — and its story was always told as a window into exactly who Liu Bei was. The famous tale of an ill-omened beast, notorious for killing its masters, saving Liu Bei's life instead. Where any ordinary soul would have trembled at the superstition, she stood unbowed — composure and ambition in equal measure.
Back when Liu Bei had taken refuge under Liu Biao, Kuai Yue and Cai Mao — wary of the newcomer — moved to kill her at a banquet. With her uncanny instincts, she slipped away under the pretense of visiting the privy, but before long the pursuers were on her heels, and she was driven at last to a dead end: a raging current ahead, Cai Mao's cavalry behind. Liu Bei leapt into the river with Dilu, and the horse — bearing her on its back — covered an impossible distance in a single burst, saving her life at the very last.
Everyone who heard the tale of Dilu took something different from it. Some said it explained why talents flocked to Liu Bei; others read it as her spirit overpowering the horse's, transforming an ill-omened beast into a peerless mount.
At any rate, the moment Lü Bu uttered the word Dilu, the air around us froze solid.
"I take my horses seriously, you know. I can tell most of them apart at a glance."
Now I understood why she was so worked up. They had called it a peace offering, and I'd wondered what it was — but of course anyone would rage after receiving a gift that amounted to take this and hurry up and die.
It was a sneer, plain and simple: don't tell me you actually believe that nonsense?
And yet, strange to say — mocked by Yuan Shu I most certainly was, but no anger came. Ah. So that was why.
"You've provoked us this openly, so I take it you came prepared to die?"
"W-wait! I swear I knew nothing of this!"
Yuan Shu's envoy blurted out his defense in a panic at the sight of Lü Bu, who looked ready to swing the Sky Piercer Halberd at any moment.
But Lü Bu paid whatever he said no mind, closing the distance step by step.
"Sooner or later I'll send that bastard Yuan Shu to keep you company, so play nice—"
"Lü Bu."
At my voice, she stopped dead mid-stride.
"...What?"
"I'm fine. Stand down."
"...Fine."
She must have heard some decision in my voice, because she leveled one last resentful glare at the envoy before withdrawing.
"Tsk. Lucky you."
The moment she stepped back, the envoy's ashen face brightened as if the sun had broken through.
He turned to me, words tumbling out.
"Thank you! That was a hair's breadth from disaster—!"
"I didn't spare you so I could hear your gratitude."
At my flat reply, he could only stare at me, his Adam's apple bobbing.
"Then... what exactly are your intentions...?"
He asked cautiously, plainly aware that the moment I changed my mind, his head would leave his shoulders.
"Just see that the General of the Rear... no, that Yuan Shu receives my reply."
There was no longer any need for courtesy, so I corrected the title and beckoned to Seo Yeo at my side, asking for a blank letter.
True to form, she produced exactly what I wanted without so much as a blink.
"There."
I scrawled a few brief words, then tossed the letter carelessly his way.
The envoy lunged as if he might topple over, barely catching it midair.
"Be careful not to lose it. And tell him no reply is necessary."
"Y-yes, my lord!"
"And tell him I'll take good care of his gift."
The envoy was still answering in a stiff, strangled voice, so I added one more thing.
"Now hurry along. My girls are giving you looks that could kill."
"...Thank you!"
The instant the words left my mouth, he fled the scene at a pace that suggested he'd been waiting his whole life for permission.
He hadn't quite had the nerve to actually run, it seemed. Pride really is a curious thing.
Not long after Yuan Shu's envoy withdrew, the other officers who'd been watching the spectacle drifted away as well.
Then Lü Bu came up to me.
"What are you thinking?"
"What do you mean, what am I thinking?"
I put on my most innocent, puzzled face.
"That! That's Dilu!"
"It is. Dilu."
I nodded along, and Lü Bu looked at me as though she'd been forced to choke down dozens of sweet potatoes whole, her face scrunched so tight with frustration she might burst.
"You're not actually thinking of riding it, are you?!"
"Aw, come on. Would I do that?"
"You've got exactly the face of someone who would!"
"It's all in your head."
Seriously. Why on earth would I ride Dilu?
The steed I already rode ranked comfortably among the finest in the land; I felt no particular itch for another. Given how often I found myself in situations on the battlefield where, without Seo Yeo, I'd have been in mortal danger, the people around me had bent over backward to match me with the finest mount they could find. The thinking being, presumably, that if the worst ever happened, at least I'd be able to run for my life.
And this was, after all, a world where things like sorcery genuinely existed — it wouldn't have been strange in the least if that Dilu really did kill its rider.
Would its original master, Liu Bei, be pleased to have it back, I wondered?
"Anyway, if you even think about riding it, I'll kill that horse on the spot!"
"Doesn't the usual move involve breaking my legs so I can't ride anything?"
"Why would I do something that would break my own heart!"
Good grief. And there she went again, landing a clean hit straight to the heart.
It wasn't that Seo Yeo would never let it go — no, it was simply that her own feelings would be hurt. So this was what they called a romantic?
Normally she blushed at the slightest thing, yet only ever at moments like this did she turn so bold.
"I'm just going to feed it and raise it well, that's all."
"...So it's basically a collector's item?"
"Exactly."
Judging by Lü Bu's reaction, the moment I climbed into the saddle for fun, Dilu would likely depart this world on the spot.
Seo Yeo, for her part, had been studying Dilu with a distinctly ominous look for some time now — so no, she wasn't joking either.
I turned to her.
"Seo Yeo?"
"Yes."
"You're not thinking anything strange, are you?"
"I am not."
She absolutely was.
Seo Yeo's bar for what counted as "strange" sat a long way from any normal person's, so I tried a different question.
"Are you, by any chance, thinking that Dilu needs to be... disposed of?"
"I am."
I knew it.
Seo Yeo never once lied to me, so whatever I asked, she answered with perfect honesty.
"Don't do anything until I say so."
"...Understood."
Hmm. How was I to correct that line of thinking?
Perhaps it would be simplest to give the horse to Liu Bei when the chance arose. Yes, that seemed best.
And Yuan Shu, meanwhile, would spend the rest of his days kicking himself for letting a horse like that slip through his fingers, living out his own personal tragedy.
Just picturing it was delightful.
Word was that cursed steeds like Dilu were seldom properly cared for, so at the very least, until it found a new master, I would see to it that it never went hungry. Even now the creature was oddly gaunt — clearly it had never known a kind hand.
"I'm sure it'll come in handy someday."
"...I don't know about that."
For all my optimism, Lü Bu couldn't quite shake her misgivings.
After the coalition disbanded, Yuan Shu had withdrawn to his stronghold, where he now waited for one thing only: his envoy's return.
"Heh heh. I do look forward to seeing what face he makes."
A refined provocation, worthy of a man of his standing. At first he had considered sending it to that woman Yuan Shao, but even a cursed horse was too fine to waste on that lowborn bitch.
If she flew into a rage and tore around shrieking, that would be entertainment enough. Nothing in this world delighted him quite so much as watching someone he despised lose their composure.
It would please him just as much if, unable to contain her fury, she put his envoy to the sword. That would hand him yet another stick with which to mock Jeong Reung, after all.
He had deliberately sent a man whose death would cost him nothing, so there was no loss either way.
Just as Yuan Shu was savoring his unpleasant little chuckle, word arrived that the envoy had returned.
Yuan Shu received him wearing the benevolent smile of a sage and spoke.
"Well then? How did that Bing Province bumpkin react upon receiving my gift?"
"Well... he merely tossed a letter at me and sent me on my way."
Yuan Shu found it odd, the strangely timid air about his envoy.
"Hm? He didn't even rage?"
"He did not."
"Tsk."
So a provocation of this caliber didn't so much as make the man blink.
No matter. He had never cared for Dilu in the first place; parting with the beast cost him nothing.
What use was a horse burdened with an omen of death? Keeping it would only have squandered good provisions.
Yuan Shu's face soured as he spoke.
"Fine. Hand over that letter, then."
"As you command."
No doubt it would hold Jeong Reung's reaction to his little gambit.
Writing always betrayed the writer's heart in the moment it was put to paper.
However composed a face the man kept, concealing his true feelings even in ink was next to impossible.
"Let's see what we have here."
Smiling, Yuan Shu unfolded the neatly creased letter and read.
Yuan Shu went rigid, frozen mid-read, and the envoy's puzzlement deepened.
At length, his arms beginning to quake, Yuan Shu spoke in a low voice.
"...Leave."
"My lord?"
"I said out!"
"Y-yes, my lord!"
The envoy bolted at Yuan Shu's sudden eruption.
Envoy or no envoy, Yuan Shu's eyes stayed nailed to the letter from Jeong Reung.
Had he not said it himself, just now — that writing always carried the writer's state of mind?
He had. And the letter in his hands held exactly one emotion.
—How utterly childish of you.
A single line.
The letter Jeong Reung had sent contained nothing but scorn — mockery, laughing in Yuan Shu's face.
Unable to contain his fury a moment longer, Yuan Shu hurled the letter to the floor.