“O Emperor Adai, son of the great Celestial Wolf! I am honored to behold your holy visage. Our men, all two hundred thousand of them, are in position. Please give us your orders!”
On the northern shore of the great river stood Sansei Castle, which served as a base of operations for Gen’s southern campaign. Though it was midnight, the old general’s voice was so loud as he gave his report that it echoed through the spacious meeting room. All of the generals and commanders—veterans with countless battles’ worth of experience under their belts—lowered their heads in respect. Still, the air was thick with their excitement and bloodlust.
It had been three years since I, Adai Dada, emperor of Gen, personally stood on a battlefield and I had taken a warship to get here. A strong sense of satisfaction welled up inside me as I leaned back in my throne. In my hand I held a tribute that my new vassal state had offered me: a cup made of gold, its surface so polished that I could see my own long white hair and dark eyes reflected in it.
Seven years ago the crown passed to me and at the age of fifteen, I ascended the throne as the emperor of Gen. My appearance was barely changed from that day; my features remained as soft as a young maiden’s and my body was slender and petite. I could wield neither sword nor bow, nor even ride a horse. Under normal circumstances I would be a target of scorn—the Gen Empire valued individual strength and military might above all else. Even so, everyone gathered in the room had nothing but fear and respect for their emperor. They knew that none of them had a chance of winning against me.
I crossed my legs and held up a hand. “Lift your head and take a seat. I am glad that all of you are raring to fight. However, in this invasion there is no need for haste.” The generals looked at me in confusion. No matter what battle I took command of, I had always made sure that we ended things as quickly as possible and, ever since my first battle at fifteen, I had never lost. I signaled for the child soldier attending me to pour me some kumis—a light, fermented milk—and then continued, “Our men and horses are tired from the long voyage across the river. Until reinforcements arrive, let us take this time to relax and recuperate.”
The people of my country originated from the great plains in the north. In the past, the land had been known as En. I could not fault my soldiers or my horses for being fatigued after sailing here, for such large bodies of water were not a common fixture in Gen. Our plan was to use the vast fleet of convoy ships we’d built in the northeast—an area that even Ei’s spies could not infiltrate—and take advantage of the strong northern wind to traverse the Grand Canal. It worked too, as it was clear that we’d taken the Chou army off guard. As well, we’d blocked off the mouth of the river with yet another convoy, so it would be hard for them to move their troops along the water.
“I am most grateful for the consideration you show our troops, Your Imperial Majesty,” the general said as he bowed his head low. “However...” And yet he did not voice the rest of his thoughts, remaining silent instead.
I drank half my cup of kumis and finished his words for him. “‘However if we do not hurry, then that irritating pest, Chou Tairan, will return from that city of ungrateful fools.’ Is that what you wanted to say?”
“Yes, Your Imperial Majesty.”
Seven years ago, knowing that he did not have much longer to live, my father in this life led his final military expedition to try and invade Keiyou. It ended in failure, thwarted by the Ei’s greatest general, Chou Tairan. The man was a highly skilled fighter who was able to duel the Crimson Wolf to a standstill. I had nothing but praise for his talent as a commander as well; if anyone other than my father had been his opponent, then his vicious pursuit would have routed our army as we retreated.
If only Chou Tairan did not exist, then we would have long since claimed the lands past the great river. Rinkei would have fallen. The ungrateful snakes hiding inside its walls—those who betrayed us, their allies, and claimed our territory in the following confusion—would have been forced to surrender. Barring the age of the gods, when the old peach tree of Routou was said to have been planted, it would have been the first time since the days of the Tou Empire—the first time in a thousand years—that the lands were unified under a single flag yet again. If only Chou Tairan did not exist, then the previous emperor of Gen might not have died in a fit of rage.
Over the course of countless skirmishes these past seven years, Chou Tairan had dealt a significant amount of damage to my army. He was a difficult opponent to face on the battlefield and I doubted that it would be easy to defeat him.
He was, however, nothing compared to Eihou.
I disguised the prick of pain I felt at the thought of him by draining my kumis before I said, “Do not fear. I’ve already put a plan into motion. He won’t be able to leave that den of snakes anytime soon. We will have plenty of time to achieve our goals.”
The men around me murmured excitedly; they were all well aware of Tairan’s strength. I rested my elbow upon the arm of my throne. On the map before me, Chou Tairan, symbolized with pieces that resembled a general and his men, was placed over Rinkei. As I stared down at it, I smirked.
“I assume you all wish to know why Chou Tairan will not be able to return,” I said. “It’s been over fifty years since my grandfather forced our enemies south of the river, to the land once known as Sai. However, fifty years is not enough time for a person to change.” My generals did not seem to understand what I was trying to say. The ones who were good at strategizing had either been left behind in the capital or were on their way to our new vassal state. None of them were present. “Chou Tairan is a peerless general—one who will be spoken of for generations to come. However...”
No matter the day and age, there would always be people who despised the strong and the noble. That fool, Ou Eifuu, was a good example. I grimaced at the thought and signaled for my attendant to pour me another cup of kumis.
“However, Chou Tairan has made himself an enemy of those in his capital who wish to offer us tribute in exchange for peace. I’ve already told them that if Chou Tairan wins against us then there would be no room for any treaties. He has sworn fealty to the false emperor of the south and so, until they’ve come to some sort of agreement—an agreement that will never come—I doubt he and his handpicked troops will be able to return to the river anytime soon. On the off chance that he does return, he will only be endangering his own political standing.”
The generals bowed their heads low once again. “We are impressed at your shrewd strategies, Your Imperial Majesty!”
“Enough. I’ve no need for praise. This plan is naught but child’s play.” I drained my second cup of kumis and looked down at the elaborate tactical map on the table. “Raigen” was the name of the enemy leader stationed at the southern shore. I searched through my memories for a moment before I clapped my hands. “Ah, this is the old man who charged into my predecessor’s base camp all by himself. What a strange, but unwelcome, twist of fate. He is deeply loyal to the Chou family and won’t easily give up his absent master’s castle. Attacking him will cause an unnecessary number of casualties for us.”
I could feel my generals staring at me, giving me their full attention so as not to miss anything. I was still unused to my position as the emperor, but acting was second nature to me and I knew perfectly well how to command.
“A general mustn’t let his subordinates see fear. He has to radiate confidence. That’s all you need to do, Eifuu.”
My lips quirked in a smile. After I placed my empty cup into my attendant’s hands, I stood. “Our only task is to rest our soldiers and horses as we wait for the Three Wolves to return from routing the barbarians in the north.” From my scabbard, engraved with a large old peach tree, I drew my dagger and stabbed it into the tactical map, right over Keiyou. “My loyal subject, Crimson Wolf Nguyen Gui, will take care of everything else.”
“Victory to Emperor Adai! Long live the empire!” my generals roared as one.
I smiled and nodded, showing my appreciation for their fervor. It had taken me three years to get here and there were no holes in my plan. I’d had help, of course; Nguyen had even sacrificed his honor and reputation for my sake. We had more than enough men, as well as plenty of ways to transport troops and supplies. I shot a glance at my attendant and he, understanding my unspoken command, handed out golden cups of kumis to my generals.
There was no need to worry. We’d won the moment Seitou surrendered to us. If we looked at the grand scheme of things, it mattered little whether or not we conquered Keiyou at this point. Nguyen knew that very well and...
I paused, suddenly reminded of a letter that he had sent me. In it, my loyal general had mentioned Chou Tairan’s daughter. In the same way that a tiger’s cub was still a tiger, she was not to be underestimated. However, I was confident Nguyen would be able to destroy her. She was young, immature, and inexperienced. Kou Eihou, his Heavenly Swords in hand, was the only person I knew who had been born a full-fledged tiger.
I plastered a smile on my face and looked around at my generals. “Men, drink well tonight and keep your strength up. Let us enjoy the show that the Crimson Wolf shall put on for us.”