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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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He paused, his gaze sweeping over them all. "But tonight, we honor our fallen, we tend our wounded, and we allow ourselves a moment to recognize what we have achieved. Tong Pass has stood for generations as the eastern shield of the Wei heartland. It has never fallen to direct assault. Today, it belongs to Hengyuan."
A cheer erupted from the soldiers within earshot, spreading outward in waves as the word traveled. "TONG PASS IS OURS! HENGYUAN! HENGYUAN! LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR!"
Lie Fan raised his hand, and the cheering gradually subsided. "Secure the fortress. Treat the wounded with the same care you would show your own brothers. And find me a complete report on the disposition of the Wei rearguard, how many fought, how many surrendered, and how many chose to die rather than yield. I would know the measure of the men Cao Cao deemed worthy of sacrifice."
As his advisors dispersed to their duties, Lie Fan remained standing at the western gate, looking out at the darkening road. The dust of the Wei retreat had settled. The distant hills were now silhouettes against a bruised purple sky. Somewhere out there, Cao Cao was regrouping, counting his losses, and undoubtedly plotting his next move.
The Emperor of Hengyuan allowed himself a long, slow breath. The day had been long, bloody, and costly. A loyal guardian had fallen to a coward's arrow.
The weight of command pressed down on him like the very stones of the conquered fortress. But beneath the weariness, beneath the grief, beneath the cold calculation of a strategist, there was something else.
Victory.
Not final victory, that still lay beyond the horizon, within the walls of Chang'An. But a victory nonetheless, hard won and undeniable. The second great domino had fallen. The last would follow.
"Your Majesty," Zhang Mancheng's voice was soft at his elbow. "The Crown Prince has completed his review of the logistical documents. Master Lu Zhi and Master Zhuge Jin report that he showed exceptional diligence and sound judgment. He asks if he may present his findings to you tonight, or if you would prefer to rest."
Lie Fan's expression, so long set in the hard lines of command, softened. "Tell him I will see him in an hour. We will review his work together." He paused, then added, "And tell him… I am proud of him."
Zhang Mancheng bowed and departed. Lie Fan stood alone for a moment longer, the Emperor of Hengyuan in his blood stained armor, atop the greatest conquest of his career. Then he turned and gets on Pangu before then entering into his new pass, leaving the western road to the darkness and the distant, retreating enemy.
The massive iron-reinforced gates of the inner citadel groaned as they parted, admitting the small, weary procession into the heart of Tong Pass. The air here was different from the outer baileys; it was less choked with the acrid smoke of battle and more settled, smelling of old stone, damp earth, and the faint, resinous scent of torchwood.
Lie Fan rode Pangu at a slow walk, his body swaying slightly with the great stallion's movements. The adrenaline that had sustained him through the charge and the retreat was rapidly fading, leaving behind a deep, bone weary ache. Flanking him were the generals that are with him, Chao Bo, Chao Bai, and Huang Chao.
They rode with their hands loose near their weapons, their eyes scanning the darkened courtyards and ramparts not with fear, but with the habitual, predatory alertness of men who expected danger to breathe from the very walls.
They reached the central courtyard of the command keep, a stark, imposing structure that had housed Wei commanders only hours before. Now, Hengyuan banners were already being draped over the stone lions that guarded the entrance.
Lie Fan swung his leg over Pangu's saddle and dropped to the cobblestones. The impact jarred his knees, a reminder of the hours spent hard riding. A groom, looking terrified but eager to please, rushed forward to take Pangu's reins.
Lie Fan patted the horse's sweat dampened neck, whispering a quiet thanks to the beast that had carried him through hell and back, before turning toward the keep's heavy oak doors.
He did not go alone. His shadow guards dismounted in unison, falling into step behind him, their boots creating a heavy, rhythmic cadence on the stone.
Inside the main hall of the keep, the atmosphere was one of intense, quiet industry. The space had been converted into a makeshift tactical headquarters. Maps were spread across tables, scrolls were unrolled and pinned down with daggers, and the low hum of strategic discussion filled the room.
Standing near the center of this activity was a group that represented the future and the shield of the empire. At the heart of it was Muchen.
At thirteen years old, the Crown Prince was already tall for his age, possessing his father's sharp jawline but tempered with a studious intensity that recalled the great scholars. He was listening intently, his brow furrowed in concentration.
Surrounding him were the titans of the Hengyuan military and administration. On one side stood Ma Chao, his armor gleaming even in the dim light, radiating a restless energy like a caged tiger.
On the other stood Zhao Yun, standing with his arms crossed, his posture radiating a calm, immovable strength. They were the shield and the spear, assigned to ensure that not a hair on the Prince's head was harmed.
Across the table, the mentors, Lu Zhi and Zhuge Jin, were nodding as they listened to the message being delivered. Zhang Mancheng, still dusty from the road, was speaking in low, respectful tones, conveying the Emperor's earlier command.
"...and His Majesty wishes for the Prince to know he is proud," Zhang Mancheng was saying, his voice carrying warmth. "He requested an hour to attend to the troops and the wounded before reviewing the logistical data."
Muchen's face lit up, a boyish grin breaking through the mask of royal composure. "An hour," he repeated, looking at the stacks of documents he had organized, grain requisitions, arrow counts, and the disposition of the rear supply lines. "That gives us time to double check the tally on the fodder shipments from Luoyang. Teacher Lu Zhi, Master Zhuge Jin, I want to be certain the projections match the current stockpile."
He turned back to Zhang Mancheng, bowing slightly. "Thank you, General Mancheng, for bringing word. I cannot wait to show Imperial Father the results. The supply lines were a mess when we arrived, but I believe we have untangled the knot."
Lie Fan, who had been standing in the shadows of the entrance for a moment, observing his son with a swell of fatherly pride, decided it was time to make his presence known.
He cleared his throat, a loud, gravelly, authoritative cough that echoed off the stone walls.
The sound cut through the room like a blade.
Ma Chao's hand flew to his sword hilt instantly before recognizing the intruder. Zhao Yun's eyes narrowed and then softened. Muchen spun around, his eyes widening.
"Imperial Father!"
The surprise was collective. In a fluid motion, everyone in the room, generals, scholars, and the Prince, cupped their fists and bowed deeply.
"Your Majesty!"
"Imperial Father!"
Lie Fan stepped into the light, the torchlight dancing on the dried blood that coated his armor. He waved a hand casually. "At ease. All of you. We are not in court, and we are not on parade."
The group straightened. Muchen stepped forward, his eyes scanning his father's form, checking for wounds beneath the grime. "We... we were told you would return in an hour, Imperial Father. General Zhang just said—"
Lie Fan smiled, a tired but genuine expression that reached his eyes. "Zhang Mancheng spoke the truth of my intentions at the time. But..." He rolled his shoulders, hearing the armor creak. "The western road is quiet. The men have their orders. And I found myself impatient to see what my son has accomplished. An hour seemed too long to wait."
Muchen flushed with pleasure at the words, straightening his posture. "Then... would you like to begin the review now? We have the reports on the Wei rearguard's baggage train ready. Master Zhuge Jon helped me categorize the captured armaments."
Lie Fan looked at the eager face of his son, then down at his own condition. He was covered in the filth of war, dust, horsehair, sweat, and the dried blood of enemies. He smelled of iron and death. It was not the attire for fatherly mentorship.
"I would like nothing more," Lie Fan said gently. "But look at me, Muchen. I am a walking battlefield. I cannot focus on your hard work while I smell like a slaughterhouse, and I would not dirty the clean floors of your room."
He unclasped his heavy cloak, letting it fall into the arms of Chao Bo.
"Give me a moment," Lie Fan continued. "I will go to the rear chambers and wash this day off my skin. I will change into something more... civilized. Then, meet me in the main hall. We will go through every scroll, every number, and you will tell me how we are to feed this army for the march on Chang'an."
Muchen nodded vigorously. "Yes, Imperial Father! I will have everything arranged in the main hall immediately."
"Good." Lie Fan reached out, placing a heavy, gauntleted hand on Muchen's shoulder, ignoring the dirt it transferred to the boy's fine robes. "You have done well today, keeping the rear secure. Go now."
As Muchen and his mentors scrambled to move the documents to the main hall, Lie Fan, accompanied by his generals, retreated to the private quarters of the keep.
Servants, terrified but efficient, had already prepared a large wooden tub. Steam rose in thick, inviting clouds. Lie Fan stripped off the layers of armor, the breastplate that had deflected a lance, the bracers chipped by swords, the heavy boots caked in mud.
When he finally sank into the scalding water, he let out a long, guttural groan of relief. The heat seeped into his bruised muscles, dissolving the tension that had held him rigid since sunrise.
He scrubbed the blood from his skin, watching the water turn a pale, rusty pink. It was a ritual he knew well. washing away the soldier to reveal the Emperor.
Thirty minutes later, Lie Fan emerged. He was dressed in clean, loose fitting robes of deep midnight blue, embroidered with silver thread. His hair was damp and combed back. He looked refreshed, though the shadows under his eyes betrayed his fatigue.
He walked into the main hall, where Muchen was waiting. The boy had arranged the scrolls in precise, military rows. Ma Chao and Zhao Yun stood guard at the perimeter, while Lu Zhi and Zhuge Jin stood ready to assist.
"Begin," Lie Fan said, taking a seat and pouring himself a cup of tea. "Tell me what we have."
For the next two hours, the war outside ceased to exist. There was only the father and the son, discussing grain yields, supply wagon axles, and the complex mathematics of empire. Lie Fan listened, corrected gently, and praised often. He saw in Muchen not just a successor, but a mind that was quickly sharpening into a weapon as potent as any halberd.
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Name: Lie Fan
Title: Founding Emperor Of Hengyuan Dynasty
Age: 36 (203 AD)
Level: 16
Next Level: 462,000
Renown: 2325
Cultivation: Yin Yang Separation (level 11)
SP: 1,121,700
ATTRIBUTE POINTS
STR: 1,010 (+20)
VIT: 659 (+20)
AGI: 653 (+10)
INT: 691
CHR: 98
WIS: 569
WILL: 436
ATR Points: 0