Five Kingdoms

by T. A. Miles

  They all attended to one another, always after the Empress. That Song Bin Ce had received her turn at once meant that the Empress would be retiring at a more appropriate hour than she had as of late. When she stepped out of the bath, her peers wrapped her in the proper layers for a night’s rest, and she proceeded through the chamber afterward, to the furthest end of the vast palace room. A brief stair led her to a doorway marked by relief work of Cheng Yu and Mei Qiao’s union, and into the bedchamber of their empress. Several of the other handmaidens were within the room already, occupying various beds spaced aesthetically throughout the room, large enough to accommodate several girls each. The canopied bed of the Empress was as large, but would only ever hold the Empress. Even if she were to marry, this would not be her wedding bed.

  And it was with that thought that Song Bin Ce approached the open curtains of the centermost bed, its entire frame carved with figures of various spirits and elementals meant to guide and protect her during her dreams. She knelt while she bowed to the beautiful girl draped in layers of the Moon Goddess’ pale blue and green tones, her hair brushed down as she preferred it for sleep. Rising to sit herself upon the edge of the bed, she looked upon the face of Song Lu’s sister and could barely see past the girl. She was a woman, yes, but still so young. Of course, she had hopes for marriage. Song Bin Ce had been no different at her age, anticipating union with Sheng Fan’s prince. The difference between them was that by Song Da-Xiao’s age, Song Bin Ce had already been betrothed.

  “You went to see your father,” the Empress presumed, her eyes more interested in the pattern of her bedding than the return of her senior handmaiden.

  “Yes,” Song Bin Ce replied, and it was no lie. She had gone to the Palace of the Prefect in the outer city, immediately following her brief meeting with Xu Liang. And on that mental note, she decided to flatter the Empress’ interest, for the sake of avoiding the hurt a miserable man such as Han Quan would press upon her with lies. “You seem distracted, Empress. Could it be with thoughts of love?”

  Song Da-Xiao looked up, her pale petal lips parting to respond. It was in that gesture—that young hesitation—that Song Bin Ce was revisited by the younger sister the Empress had once been to her. “Willow,” the Empress called her, reverting to the title of endearment she had given Song Bin Ce when she was just five, and Song Bin Ce’s marriage to her brother was new. “Xu Liang brought a letter from the governor of Ying.”

  Song Bin Ce nodded. “Yes, I remember him presenting it in court.”

  “I have not shared its contents with him yet,” the Empress admitted.

  The information was cause to hesitate, and Song Bin Ce did. “It must be very important.” It occurred to her quite suddenly that Han Quan might not have stopped at her in his hunt for betrayers. He might well have persuaded one of the more naïve younger handmaidens. For that reason, she said, “After you’ve slept, you’ll be prepared for his advice on whatever the matter is.”

  The Empress lowered her gaze to the bedding once again and Song Bin Ce thought about retreating to allow her to take her rest, but the words of her young ruler stopped her. “Xiang Wu suggested marriage.”

  Song Bin Ce could only frown, concerned by the information. She glanced around to locate each of the other handmaidens in the room—all in sight appeared to be occupied in pre-bed reading or games—then asked, “To whom?” She knew it would not have been the governor himself. His wife was yet living and in good health. He did have a young son, however, though Song Bin Ce did not think him old enough yet for marriage. A betrothal would still be possible, and that would mean Xiang Wu’s plan—whatever it was—would be one he expected to grow to fruition over the course of five or six years.

  “He suggested Xu Liang,” Song Da-Xiao said quietly, and with a look of hope juxtaposed against one of sadness. “The Ying Governor has mentioned this before…that a marriage between myself and my tutor would solidify the strength and balance of the Empire. It has been said by some that he is more qualified than the first Song Emperor and more devoted to the land.”

  Song Bin Ce was quick to insert when the Empress paused for breath. “And in some ways, he may be. There is no one in Sheng Fan who denies the brilliance of Lord Xu Liang, or his commitment. I believe his commitment is first to you, Empress.”

  She had to stop herself before she went in a direction that might appear dissuasion that could be wrongly translated. She knew, however, that both her husband and father-in-law would have opposed the idea, even though both greatly admired the Imperial Tutor. She also strongly suspected that Xu Liang would advise against it. He had been opposed to any marriage for Song Da-Xiao. It was simply too risky. The Song were under attack, and they could ask for no greater defender than Xu Liang. His goal was to restore them to the security and glory of the days of Song Dai and Song Bao. The dynasty was still so young. It pained Song Bin Ce to think that it would end abruptly, after all Song Bao and Song Lu—and Xu Liang—had worked to build.

  “I understand Xu Liang’s commitment,” Song Da-Xiao eventually said, and again her tone of expression was mixed. “He works tirelessly, so that I may safely guide the people, in honor of my father and my brother, and all of my ancestors. When we began the sequestering, I was afraid that it might somehow be the end, but then we joined through meditation…and I’ve never felt closer to him. I could feel his spirit, Willow. It was beautiful.”

  The Empress spoke with the articulation of a bred leader, and with the aspiration of a lovelorn young woman. It made Song Bin Ce want to hold her close, and comfort her as if she were a mere child again. Simultaneously, it inspired the desire to celebrate her transition from childhood to womanhood, to become the support Song Da-Xiao should have had in her mother or a sister. The Empress had lost both figures, one when she was too young to realize the loss and the other when her brother was brutally taken from her as well. Song Bin Ce would always love her as a sister, but their relationship was now of Empress and handmaiden. It was closer than if Song Bin Ce had returned—or been returned—to her father, but it was not the same. The Empress was reaching for a relationship that she could have, and keep…and that could keep her safe as well. And in that role, she could see only Xu Liang.

  And in this matter, though it grieved her to know that the Empress would yet be denied her vision of safety, comfort, and love, Song Bin Ce could only cast her hope to Xu Liang, that he would continue to advise against marriage, to anyone.

  The day had been long, but when the world moved as swiftly as a river current, one had to become as steadfast as the tortoise. Though he had not overcome the shock of the assault that had taken place within the Temple of Divine Tranquility, Xu Liang had moved his thoughts from it and toward the matter of Xun’s defiance. Jiao Ren accompanied him to the Hall of Military Glory, neither of them speaking much since parting ways with Haung Shang-san. Somehow the silence did not seem to slow the journey from the west court to the south court. It also did not allow his mind the freedom of movement it usually did. He suspected the hour had simply pressed too late, and he had not yet fully recovered from the strain of his travels.

  After securing their horses to stone posts rimming the wide path in front of the hall, Xu Liang and Jiao Ren proceeded to the stairs and up toward the broad structure at the top. It’s blue and red wood framing gleamed in the lantern light, and beneath a round, bright moon. Other officers of the Empress’ military were also making their way up to the hall. Some of them had been loitering out of doors, their forms skewing the perceived dimensions of the railing in the illuminated darkness. It was upon noticing the arrival of Xu Liang, that all of them began to file into the hall. Those whose paths Xu Liang crossed exchanged formal greetings with him.

  The massive doors to the hall were open to receive the men attending the night’s meeting, exposing a corridor the height of two floors, which extended the length of the structure. It was wide enough to accommodate a line of forty soldiers
standing shoulder to shoulder. Banners of the Blue Dragon and of the sun dominated the walls to either side while down the middle of the passage were rows of bronze tiger statues leading toward a rendition of the god Cheng Yu, also cast in bronze. His armored form was stretched to wield a depiction of the Spear of Heaven in one hand while in the other he held a sun.

  Cheng Yu occupied the center of the passage, to either side of him were open doorways to the east and west chambers of the hall. The east was for ceremony, the west for conference. To the south of the building lay the training yards and the west barracks. To the north was the Pavilion of Military Valor and the Chamber of Military Affairs. Had the meeting been with Yuo Shang alone, Xu Liang would have gone to the latter, or even to the Supreme General’s home.

  He and Jiao Ren entered the conference room alongside others. Stools occupied much of the floor area. Along the wall were shorter banners displaying various emblems of rank and of the Empire, as well as scrolls upon which had been written significant verses from heroes and scholars of the past, who had known much success during their careers or who were famous for their deeds. Weapons racks were lined along each wall, but the north, which was the direction of command and the head of the chamber. Amid the racks was the occasional urn filled with rolled maps. Shelving beside them offered manuals of war. A table at the head of the room rested beneath a mural of a scene of battle from the first, and most ancient, era of the Celestial Calendar, something that had only been brought back into use in the last century. Under the new Celestial Calendar Sheng Fan was currently in a summer cycle, a season overseen by Cheng Yu. Xu Liang did not believe it was a coincidence that they were also entering an era of war.

  There had been many factors that ultimately led to his quest for the swords. Among them had been the forewarning of an oracle visited by Song Bao himself, who had expressed deep concern for a series of important deaths that would occur at the ebbing of spring and with the first wave of summer. Eras of change were often marked by three fates. As it turned out, two leaders were lost at the end of the recent spring cycle of the Celestial Calendar and one at the start of the summer cycle: Song Bao, Song Lu, and Ha Sheng. Huang Shang-san had already been in support of the expedition. After those events, he urged strenuously in favor of the search for the Swords.

  The Swords were in Sheng Fan now. What roles would they take in what was to come? Xu Liang feared the debate would be ongoing if he did not learn quickly what their specific use might be.

  The officers present gathered at the north wall. Yuo Shang stood before the table, a man of proud stance. His gray hair was gathered high, his hairline framing a face that was weathered and stoic. He, Xu Liang, and Jiao Ren greeted one another with respect. As well, the Cavalier General, Tian Qin, was present and joined the formal exchange. The general responsible for the offense maneuvers of the Empress’ army was a man nearer to Xu Liang’s age with features comparable to an eagle. His hair was held in a high, cropped tail that provided the illusion of a crest at a glance. His brow line peaked in such a way that his expression constantly appeared sharp and that he himself always appeared alert and prepared to take action. Conversely, his tone of voice tended even and considered. His fame as a leader of men on the battlefield was pronounced. It was not Xu Liang’s intention to request his leadership at Fa Leng—what should have been a simpler process in its beginnings—but if Wen Xiu was struggling, then it must have been far worse even than it was when Xu Liang had last received a report.

  “Imperial Tactician,” Yuo Shang began. “We’re here on the topic of Fa Leng, as you know.”

  Xu Liang nodded. “I’m aware that our troops are struggling. And I have my orders to join them. I will devise a successful strategy before my departure from the Imperial City. I will request that Tian Qi head the reinforcements, so that our victory may be swift and efficient.”

  Tian Qi bowed in reply to the informal assignment, making it known that he had no qualms with such a plan.

  “I agree that General Tian Qi is a wise choice,” Yuo Shang said. “I will make my recommendations of further unit leaders.”

  Xu Liang accepted that without argument. Of the other officers present during this meeting, there was not one he would hesitate to send into battle. He would rely on the Supreme General’s assessments of their various strengths, that they might be effectively placed in his strategy.

  “And what of Xun’s governor?” Tian Qi presented. “I feel that he will not take defeat quietly.”

  Yuo Shang summarized his opinion. “He’s an obstinate child.”

  “It will not be a simple task defeating him,” Xu Liang let them know. “Though obstinate, he is intelligent.”

  “I am among those who believe that there are none who surpass you in intellect, Imperial Tactician,” said Tian Qi.

  Xu Liang bowed his head humbly. He would not underestimate Ha Ming-jin. “Once Fa Leng is defended, I will suggest the Empress send an envoy to discuss his grievances and to remind him of his obligations to the Empire.”

  “Such tactics didn’t work with Ha Sheng,” Yuo Shang reminded. “And he was far easier to reason with than his spoiled son.”

  “Be that as it may, we will use policy over soldiers,” Xu Liang said. “We must avoid war, if we are able. I fear there is a greater underlying threat.”

  Yuo Shang’s features tightened. He surveyed the others in the room before his gaze settled on those standing nearest him.

  Xu Liang steeled himself internally.

  The Supreme General took a step forward, toward Xu Liang and managed only the merest of nods before speaking. “With all the respect owed to your office, your talent, and your deeds, Imperial Tactician, I fear I must state what’s been on my mind concerning your beast of the ages.”

  Xu Liang offered no retreat in the face of such challenge. He remained in place, and held his face level. He said calmly, “In one way or another, the Dragon Chaos has manifested on the plane of men. Emperor Song Bao foresaw the possibility of it. The fates of Song Bao, Song Lu, and of Ha Sheng—whose son currently contributes to internal discord—have not gone unnoticed, or ignored.”

  “I am not a man of omens and luck,” Yuo Shang said. “The skirmishes among the kingdoms is about greed and ambition. Rebellion should be swiftly quashed and each of the governors relieved of their positions and responsibilities.”

  Murmurs of agreement stirred among the others. A glance about the room showed Xu Liang that some were not committed to this way of thinking.

  “I am not fond of the Five Kingdoms Resolution myself,” Xu Liang reminded. “But we must be able to tell a swift stroke from a hasty grip. Revoking title and privilege would sooner provoke officers who are already malcontent. Each of the governors are men with support within their own kingdoms, and elsewhere. A response that is too aggressive would leave us with enemies on all sides.”

  “If revocation is done, then it must be systematic,” someone suggested.

  Xu Liang glanced over his shoulder in the man’s direction, but said to Yuo Shang, “Revocation is not the Empress’ priority.”

  “Nor are the artifacts you carried back to the Empire,” the Supreme General pointed out. “And in the hands of barbarians!”

  When the elder’s voice raised, both Jiao Ren and Tian Qi tensed.

  Since Xu Liang was not known for physical retaliation for words spoken against him, he assumed that it was on his behalf that the Fortress and Cavalier Generals prepared to take action. It was not difficult to see that Yuo Shang was offended by this topic, but it was clear now that he had done a fair amount of speaking out on the matter lately, if not through the duration of Xu Liang’s absence from the court.

  Xu Liang noted that the level of the elder’s offense was potentially to violence, and ensured with his tone that it would not be tolerated. “It is on behalf of the Empress, and by the command of the Empress that the Swords were located and returned
.”

  “They have already desecrated the land of our ancestors,” Yuo Shang argued, insistent on making the argument about the bearers, over the Blades themselves. “We cannot trust them to wield a weapon on behalf of an empress they don’t obey and gods they don’t know!”

  “They do know them!” Xu Liang enforced, recalling too clearly the conversations he had heard and overheard regarding the various faiths of his companions from the west. And knowing too well the presence of one of their gods. “My experience with them is evidence that everyone in this world knows—and is known—by the same gods.”

  “Preposterous!” Yuo Shang declared. While he bristled further, Tian Qi put an arm in front of him.

  Xu Liang continued. “That the Swords traveled so far from Sheng Fan tells us that we are not meant to face this threat alone, and that this threat is not against Sheng Fan exclusively.”

  “If we were to believe that,” came the voice of Han Quan, “then would we find ourselves next defending foreign lands? Fighting for the benefit of barbarian leaders?”

  Xu Liang looked over his shoulder at the Chancellor. “Perhaps,” he began to say, and knew immediately that such a suggestion would be taken as revolutionary and blasphemous. It would have been taken wrongly. For that reason, he expounded. “Perhaps we will find that there is a danger that threatens all of the lands of Dryth equally, and that such a threat will demand that each nation work equally to defeat it.”

  From the entrance of the conference hall, the Chancellor bowed. Afterward, he said, “A dragon that magnificent in scale could only be Chaos. It may be time to concede that many scholars have spent far too much time on such a legend. To consider it this far is neither logical nor beneficial, therefore the study is a luxury…a frivolity, one could say.”

  Xu Liang found himself too weary to tolerate his elder’s method of challenge. He was beginning to think it was fear speaking, over wisdom. Just as the Supreme General’s near physical response to the subject was inspired by fear—fear of what existed outside of the sphere of Sheng Fan. The sphere of Sheng Fan was only one body in the Jade Emperor’s eternal realm. If there could be only one lesson taken from his travels, it would be that. In truth, there were too many to count. All he could do was present his findings and his theories to the Empress. She would decide the course of action, and they could only abide by her decree. If Xu Liang’s actions had been premature, the Heavens would know and by the Mandate, so would the Empress. He would carry on until she commanded he do otherwise.