Somewhere on the Northwest Frontier of the Zhou Empire…
A cold wind swept in from across the steppe. Above the encampment the red and black banners of the Zhou Army stirred and snapped in the gathering dusk. Not far from the well ordered lines of tents, crows descended to feast upon the carnage of a still fresh battlefield. Another great victory for the man they called The Young Dragon, The Bastard Tyrant, The Usurper… Zhou Xiaolong.
The soldiers celebrated their victory around the cookfires of the camp, making merry with wine and song, it was no different in their commanders’ pavilion.
The remains of a meal lay strewn across the table, the half gnawed bones of a suckling pig carcass still being picked over by the men sat around it, just as other scavengers pecked at the bodies outside. The air was heady with smoke from torches and braziers, their light the only thing keeping the tent from darkness. Somewhere underfoot a dog circled the assembled guests, nuzzling at the legs at each in turn for a scrap of the feast above.
Ignored by the soldiers, the hound’s begging went unanswered, until it made its way around to the young man lounging at the head of the table. He was tall and strong, still half dressed in his armour despite the late hour, with an unruly mane of black hair streaming unconstrained down his back. The torchlight picked out the pale scars than ran across on his handsome face, his dark eyes glinting like shards of obsidian.
Absent-mindedly the young man petted the dog’s head, tossing the animal a rib from his own plate, before returning to the letter he held in his other hand.
“News from the capital?”
The question came from the man sat to his right. They were of a similar age and appearance, both tall and dark haired. Though the man to right was paler, and his hair straight and fine where the other’s was wild and untamed. The way they held themselves could not be more different, either, while the man reading the letter lounged with a casual arrogance, the other sat straight in his chair, looking by far the most prim and proper of their company.
“Nothing new, my advisors want me to marry.” His tone was low and he spoke slowly, but nonetheless the conversation began to die down as soon as the man at the head of the table spoke, it was clear that he held sway over all the others here.
“Zhen Min?” Came another question from further down the table. The letter reader murmured assent in response.
“Him and Wen Tao, the Grand Chancellor sends a list of worthy noble ladies he thinks would make an acceptable Empress. As well as some foreign princesses that may prove valuable alliances.”
“Hmm… better than wedding a traitor I guess.” The next speaker was the man to his left, broad and brawny, with light brown hair and an easy smile. He drained a glass of sweet plum wine as he made the quip.
“You do the Grand Secretary a disservice Commander Hu.” Came a rebuke from further down the table. “A match with a noble family of known rebel supporters would do much to pacify the situation in the provinces.”
“Bah! Give me the men and I can pacify any province in the Empire, nobles be damned!” Another solider chimed in with a bash of his fist to the table, he was a giant of man, skin criss-crossed with numerous scars, a black leather patch where his right eye should have been. “Your Highness should take a peasant to be your Empress, rub it those nobles face that the old order is over, we’re in charge now!”
“I’m in charge now, you mean, good General.” The Emperor, Zhou Xiaolong, shot the general a dangerous glance, but a thin smile was playing at the corners of his lips. “But it is an intriguing idea… my ministers have plenty of ideas as to who my Empress should be, but what do my loyal war hounds say?”
At first silence hung over the gathering, the soldiers not exactly sure at what to do with the permission they had just been granted to pick over the personal life of their fearsome and ruthless leader. Then one by one, they all began to speak, with increasing intensity, until a flood of wildly differing opinions had been unleashed and small arguments were breaking out down the length of the table.
“Meaning no disrespect, but there’s more value to be had in a noble match than a common. Turn a foe into an ally, gain another pillar of support, more troops to swell your armies.”
“A foreign alliance is clearly the best course, secure our borders, allow us to turn our forces inward to put a stop to the rebels once and for all.”
“Common or noble, this is your wife we’re talking about, so she has to be beautiful above all else!”
“Beauty is more than skin deep, a true partner for life comes from your compatibility. Find someone who speaks to your soul!”
“You need strong sons, take a woman with good hips!”
“You know… I do have a sister...”
After a several minutes of chaos, the Emperor raised his hand to silence the arguing. There was a savage gleam to his black eyes, half amused, but still with a hint of a roiling anger hidden somewhere deep inside.
“So as I understand it, my Empress should be a common noble from a great house who fought against me in the rebellion, but who’s family is still powerful. She should also be a foreign princess, exceedingly beautiful, the mirror of my own soul, and have excellent child bearing hips. Oh and she should also be Kang’s sister.” He scoffed derisively. “Does that about cover it? Now tell me where can I find a woman like that?”
Silence was the only answer from the other end of the table. These were all men who knew the moods of the Emperor intimately, and few dared raise their head above the parapet of what appeared to be the opening salvo of Xiaolong’s infamously bad temper. His personal and family life had always been an excessively treacherous topic to bring up around the Young Dragon.
One man however seemed largely unperturbed by this turn of events. Commander Hu, captain of the Imperial Guard, just continued to sit there with an easy smile, pouring himself a fresh glass of wine.
“Why not just send for them all?” He asked casually with a shrug of his broad shoulders.
“A harem? You know how I feel about concubines.” The tension in the pavilion could be cut with a knife. Xiaolong’s tone was now low and dangerous, he had balled up one of his fists atop the table and had fixed the commander with a steely gaze as he leant forwards in his seat.
“I didn’t say marrying them all, just send for them. It’ll gets the eunuch and Wen off your back, decide which, if any, you actually want later. Send the rest back.” Hu just sipped at his wine, barely paying the Emperor any notice. Xiaolong just stared at him for a moment, before slumping back in his chair to his former reclined position. Quiet conversation uneasily began again at the far end of the table.
“You know, that’s not the worst idea I’ve heard you come up with Hu.”
The Emperor went back to read the letter again, his free hand slid beneath the table and he ruffled the head of his favourite dog once more.
