Chapter 3

3

G

eneral Zhang Da stood over what remained of the corpse. A grisly sight, and one of several that were becoming more frequent. Who or what could have done this to a person? Dismemberment was one thing, but this was something wholly gruesome.

He absently tightened his grip on his spear. The long-shafted weapon ended with a crescent moon-shaped blade on one end, and a straight, sharp end on the other. A deadly heirloom, passed down from his legendary ancestor till finally finding its way into his powerful grasp.

A soldier came beside him and bowed low. “General Zhang Da, no one in the vicinity has seen anything. None have heard a sound.”

Zhang Da grunted. Each murder had been the same. Gruesome and savage, and without a single witness. His first thought had been assassins, but he’d quickly dismissed that idea. One sent assassins to murder prominent figures, leaders. And they tended to be quick and efficient. This person, and every one prior, had been regular citizens whose deaths—while tragic—would not have a large scale consequence.

And the brutality.

He clutched his spear even tighter. “Hmph.”

The soldier waited silently for instructions. It was times like this when Zhang Da would like more than anything to flee the lives of men and make his own life in the hills, away from the blood and war.

After the End of Technology, China had transitioned into a feudal land once more. The once singular ruling government had shattered, and the shards had landed across the countries and grown into what was now Ba Guo, the Eight Kingdoms.

In comparison to the ancient histories, the conflicts had not lasted nearly as long, for the people had wanted,

demanded

, peace. Before the lands could further descend into the chaos that seemed inevitable, Zhuge Ming, descendant of Zhuge Liang, emerged. Like his revered ancestor, Zhuge Ming had been an unparalleled strategist and had advised Liu Deng, the emperor of the land once again known as Shu Han. Under his guidance, Liu Deng had brought relative peace back to the land of Ba Guo. But now this.

Zhang Da narrowed his eyes at the grisly scene.

Never in our history has anything like this happened. What times come for us?

“Send a messenger to Emperor Liu Xiang,” he ordered. “I would speak with him at his pleasure, but convey the urgency of the matter.”

“Sir!” the soldier gave a precise bow and departed. Zhang Da inclined his head in return. Unlike his legendary—and often brutal—ancestor, Zhang Da treated his soldiers with kindness. He was firm. Some would even call him hard, but he was fair, and he was respectful of his soldiers.

Zhang Da sighed. The Three Brothers and the legendary strategist. Zhang Da was versed in history, especially the history prior to the Age of Technology. Who would have thought that the hermit Zhuge Liang had actually fathered a child and secured a line that would extend centuries later? And here they all were: Zhang Da, descendant of Zhang Fei. Liu Xiang, descendant of Liu Bei. Guan Xi, descendant of Guan Gong, and Zhuge Xiaoyin, descendant of Zhuge Liang. The descendants of the Three Sworn Brothers and the Strategist, separated by fewer than a hundred miles in any direction. Surely the fates had foreseen troubles to come, for what other reason would the four of them have been born in the same time and proximity? The general thought it more than coincidence that all of them happened to be more versed and practiced in the combat and strategy than any previous generation, save their legendary ancestors.

Zhang Da’s own father had been a calligraphy instructor. Not surprising, as his family line had all been possessed of some above average skill at the art. But Zhang Da had immediately taken to the spear. Liu Xiang had taken to the straight swords, Guan Xi was the fiercest warrior in her province, and Zhuge Xiaoyin was a master strategist coveted by all of the kingdoms of Ba Guo.

Immersed in his thoughts, Zhang Da found himself standing before the steps of Shu Han palace. He didn’t have to wait long, for it was common knowledge that General Zhang Da and Emperor Liu Xiang were as close as brothers. They would follow the proper protocol, of course, but any word from Da would be met in a timely manner by Xiang. More fodder for whispers about the times to come.

Zhang Da grunted under his breath. Not since the time of the Three Kingdoms, had the families of Zhang, Liu, and Guan, been so close, and superstitious though the general populace might be, most knew the history as well.

A messenger came scurrying down to find the general waiting at the base of the steps. He offered a trembling low bow. “My apologies for your wait, General. I was just given the order to present you—”

“Be at ease,” Zhang interrupted. He indicated for the man to escort him. Once inside, the messenger saw him to one of Emperor Xiang’s personal attendants, who led him to Xiang’s private patio. After his lavish introduction—much to Zhang’s exasperation—he stepped out onto the large patio to join his childhood friend. Liu Xiang stood on the patio with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing at the gardens beyond.

“Xiao Fu,” the emperor said in his soft voice. “Please bring tea for myself and my honored guest.”

“It will be brought directly, your majesty.” The attendant bowed low and departed.

Zhang Da waited till the door was closed. “Do you ever tire of the grand titles and reverence?”

“The man or woman who comes to enjoy power should immediately divorce themselves from it, lest their soul be consumed by it.” Liu Xiang turned to face the general. His features were somewhat delicate, but with a hint of a hard edge. His hands, as calloused as Zhang’s, were thick from a form of strike training known as Heavy Hands. Nearly as tall as Zhang Da himself, the emperor towered over most men, his solid yet slim frame contrasting with Da’s more heavily muscled body.

“I doubt your urgency involves a philosophical discussion about the nature of power and the people who wield it,” Xiang continued.

Zhang Da started to speak, then stopped at the sound of three gentle knocks on the patio door. A servant entered and arranged a tray of tea, serving two small cups and departing without a sound. The door closed once again, Zhang leveled his gaze on Xiang.

Liu Xiang read the general’s face and sighed. “There has been another one.”

“Worse than the last,” Zhang confirmed. “The attacks are growing more frequent, as you know from my reports. Something is brewing and we must extinguish the fire beneath it before the entire kingdom is engulfed.”

“Of course, my friend. But how? I’ve increased the city guard three times. No matter how many patrols are posted, the attacks still happen. I’ve ordered all to remain in their homes after dark, and still someone ventures out. The once safe streets of my beloved city are now a fearsome place after sunset.”

Zhang Da’s features darkened. “Perhaps the accident involving that farm was not so easily forgiven as we thought?”

Liu Xiang frowned at the reminder. “I’d like to think that accidental fire wouldn’t have led to this.”

“Emperor Qian is slow to forgive and even slower to forget,” Zhang replied.

“That fire had been an accident and the drunken soldiers involved were punished accordingly,” Liu Xiang said.

“They destroyed acres of land and burned down a farmer’s barn.” Zhang shrugged. “Qian was incensed.”

Liu Xian’s brow creased into a deep frown. “If Qian still holds this against me, there is more to this situation. I had the farmer’s crops replanted, his home rebuilt, all of his losses replaced. What more could I have done?”

“Nothing, in my mind,” Zhang answered. “But we both know the temperament of Qian.”

Xian let out a heavy sigh. “Indeed. But I still struggle to believe even Qian would result to acts this extreme.”

Zhang grunted. “Perhaps we will not openly suspect him, but we shouldn’t rule him out, either.”

Xiang nodded. “I struggle to find logic in these attacks, my friend. Rash and temperamental though he may be, I do not believe Qian Hua would respond in such a cowardly way. This reeks of provocation.”

“You sound like the lady Zhuge Xiaoyin,” Da replied, only half teasing.

Liu Xiang grinned. “I would gladly accept that compliment, were there even a shred of truth to it. We must solve this gruesome riddle before it spreads to the lands of shorter tempers and swift actors. The world needs no more warlords, my friend.”

Zhang crossed his arms and looked out beyond the balcony, wading back into the discomfort of his memory. “And bringing our discussion back to the current dilemma?”

“Try to find some semblance of a pattern,” Xiang replied. “Anything.” He held up a hand, forestalling the coming argument. “I know you have done this already, but we must exhaust every avenue.”

Zhang watched him turn away, then stop, as he seemed to come to a decision.

“I’m of a mind that time is closing in on us, Da. You spoke of the Strategist, and indeed she has come to mind frequently since more of these murders have happened. I’ve a feeling more is at play here than we understand. It’s time to enlist her counsel. Send messengers to the lord of the land of Guan that I would speak with Guan Xi. And send messengers to seek out Xiaoyin in the mountains.”

Zhang Da raised his eyebrows at that. “You would openly call us all together?” Zhang Da didn’t know whether to be excited or alarmed. “Should we not meet in secret, my lord? From all over the eight kingdoms people call us the Three Sworn and the Strategist. The whispers will only grow louder that a trying age is upon us.”

“They will, yes. And perhaps the time has arrived that we can no longer deny what we are.” Xiang went back to the balcony rail and rested his hands on the smooth worked stone.

“Whether the people know of our meeting or not, they will suspect, and they will wait. It may well be true that the renewed relations between our families are a sign. What that sign is, we don’t yet know, but I would not sit and wait, speculating alone while some enemy sews chaos. Call to Guan Xi and Zhuge Xiaoyin, and let the people take comfort, not fear, that there will indeed be a council of The Three Sworn and The Strategist.”