Chapter 15: Trust, That Most Wonderful Thing

Sunrise

Across the Han River galloped Yue Ying's platoon of White Riders, having only just arrived in Chengdu after their final push to drive the Yoma out of Yi. The White Riders were her elite cavalry, their phenomenal skill capable of defending against even the Imperial Lancers of the Wei Kingdom. But what a blunder they had made, that they did not foresee Miria and Flora's defeat at Hanzhong! News of the two newly promoted warriors' rout at the hands of Wei had reached Chengdu earlier at midnight. Roused from a deep sleep in the early hours of the morning, she quickly left her husband's bedside and rode northeast with the White Riders who remained awake and on patrol outside her quarters. "Hyah!" cried Yue Ying, urging her horse onward. Her heart pounded in her ears as she and her retinue hastened to Hanzhong plateau. She hoped to the gods that they had at least survived. If any of them had been slain…

She would never forgive herself.

"Grand General!" cried one of the Riders, pointing straight ahead. They were approaching the plateau that had witnessed a ferocious ambush the afternoon before, and the stench of corpses was overpowering despite the fresh morning dew that lingered in the air.

"Pass the hill!" she said. "They must have been fighting at the head of the army." They galloped past the sea of cold Shu and Wei soldiers and towards the zenith of the high hill. Yue Ying's eyes widened as she caught her first glimpse of the five Claymores. "What… what happened?" she whispered, staring at a large but slowly melting encasement of ice that trapped their bodies within. Their faces were stretched apart, their silver eyes wide in momentary fear. What exactly had happened, Yue Ying was unsure, but her imperative priority was to free them from their winter prison. Deducing that they had been only trapped in the ice the day before, she leaped off her horse and activated her weapon, Jade Moon.

"Stay still," she mumbled, her feeble humour failing to ease her worry.

Jade Moon's blade clicked, and in several deft, expertly executed strokes, she hacked apart the ice, splintering its cold grip on her Claymore comrades. Her blade just barely brushed past Helen's nose. She severed the ice that held Miria's leg, the flat of her weapon brushing lightly along Number Six's thigh. And with a final cut at Clare's arm, the already weakened prison of ice shattered completely, and like dolls without support, the blonde women slumped onto the morning grass, barely conscious, their bodies twitching only enough for her to know that they had not died just yet. Their faces could finally move, and they groaned softly as they shivered uncontrollably, the overnight imprisonment having taken its toll.

"Grand… General…" came a sweet, melodious, but fatigued voice.

"Flora!" cried Yue Ying, her eyes falling on her ally's limp form. She rushed to her side, gently lifting her and propping her head on her lap. The cold water from Flora's soaked, wavy hair quickly seeped into her skirt. Her entire body was drenched, and Yue Ying hugged her wet body, desperate to share some of her warmth with her. "My Lance Marshal," she whispered frantically, her lips and nose brushing along her dripping face, "you are safe now."

"Cao Cao… defeated us. His atmospheric… mastery of ice," moaned Flora, shivering with frostbite. Her chrome eyes were mournful. "Was… too powerful. But… left us. Please… help my comrades."

"Take them back to Chengdu," commanded Yue Ying, beckoning forth the White Riders, and they moved to hoist the weakened Claymores on their steeds. "I'm sorry," she whispered, turning back to Flora and stroking her hair comfortingly. Calmly, she pressed her warm hands on the weakened Claymore's chest, returning a small degree of heat to her shaking form. Flora squirmed slightly at the gentle, rousing touch. "There is no need to move. Leave the rest to me," smiled the Chinese lady. "We will pull back immediately."

Flora gave a comforted sigh as Yue Ying hoisted her on her shoulder. "You… are taking… us home?"

The supreme commander of the Shu Army smiled. "Yes. I won't let you suffer like this again. You have done very well. Now, come. Let us return home."

*

Evening, Chengdu, Shu barracks. Yue Ying's quarters

Flora slept dreamlessly while Yue Ying watched over her, her deep brown eyes thoughtful as she observed the foreign woman who followed her directives so faithfully. She did not make a noise, as if she did not wish to impose as a guest even in sleep.

How could she not be at least somewhat suspicious of Yue Ying and her people? The Shu leader had never encountered a soldier with such a pure heart. What was her home like – were all the military warriors of the Isles women? Yue Ying began to wonder what Flora felt about her standing as the supreme commander of Liu Bei's army. It was not common for women to assume high stations of command in the Middle Kingdom, and to have advanced to the rank of Grand General of the Han was, for her, an unsurpassed honour.

But it seemed that female soldiers were the norm in their homeland. It must have been a painful burden. And yet she did not let it break her…

She felt a compassionate tear sliding slowly down her cheek. Shocked at her sudden surge of emotion, the Grand General quickly wiped at her eyes with a gloved hand.

What in Heaven's name prompted me for that?

Flora slowly opened her eyes. "My Lady," she mumbled, "please do not concern yourself with me. I feel so ashamed for failing you and Lord Liu Bei. For you to be caring for me like so… I cannot…"

Yue Ying nodded, her smile returning again. "You're not so pale now. Thank the heavens. Do not say a word anymore about your shame, for you shouldn't feel ashamed at all." She drew closer, readjusting the blankets over the newly appointed Lance Marshal. "It is I who should apologize. My tactical oversight is unforgivable."

"I do not understand," whispered Flora. "I do not understand the Organization. Miss Miria had expressed doubts about their true intentions earlier, but I was fearful of making erroneous judgements. But before Cao Cao's blizzard froze my body and mind in place…" her eyes kissed Yue Ying's. "I felt an almost… apologetic Yoki flowing from Galatea. But it was not a regretful aura. It was more of an aura that urged us to reflect on our current position in Shu."

"From what Miria and Clare have told us… I believe our struggle has become more complicated than a tripartite war between three Kingdoms," agreed Yue Ying. "Perhaps Isley and that girl Priscilla might be able to give us some answers."

Flora nodded. "But… I am not sure if we are strong enough to defeat them."

An uncomfortable silence descended upon them. Changing the subject, Yue Ying guided the foreign woman to a sitting position. "When they come, we'll be ready for them. In the meantime, do you miss your home, my soldier?" she asked.

Flora shook her head. "There is little worth in calling the Continent home, Lady Huang. Children live in the shadow of Yoma disguised as loving mothers and fathers. Young women with no future are captured by an Organization of cruel men who offer only one alternative: a future of endless war and suffering." Her eyes clouded over. "We live a lie, and I do not know how to break free."

"A rare display of cynicism from you," smiled Yue Ying, placing a comforting hand on her. "I must confess that I welcome that."

"Why so?" mumbled Flora, her alabaster cheeks blushing at the Chinese woman's touch.

"Because I'm reminded that you're but a human woman like me. That… you're not some divine spirit sent to protect our realm." She nodded bashfully. "Yes… you're really that beautiful, sister."

"I cannot possibly resemble a divinity of any sort!" protested Flora, suppressing a laugh. "And besides…" she turned her head away. "I… I'm a half-Yoma too. I am less of a human than you. I will always be less – "

Yue Ying shook her head. "That is not true! Your body, no matter how corrupted, cannot extinguish your human spirit within. Even if you were the most grotesque monster in China, it would not change your heart – the heart of Flora. At least… that is my belief. Certainly, the nature of these Awakened Beings has shaken it in the past few weeks. But you – no. You are courageous, intelligent, and selfless. I am ashamed that I have asked so much of you during your time here. If possible, I would like to return the favour somehow. Someday, when all this is over."

Flora's eyes were wide in reverent amazement. "You are too kind to me."

"I admire you, Lance Marshal," whispered the Grand General, her lips flushing slightly. "You are what we would call a true warrior. A human being who knows… which fight is the one that's worth her struggle. So if anything, know that in Shu, you will always be supported. There is always a home for you here, alongside our men and me."

She suddenly looked down, her cheeks reddening. "What am I doing? I have coddled you enough. You must be so embarrassed." She rose from her chair. "I will have my guards prepare a warm bowl of soup for you, just in case you wake up hungry. The forest gets chilly in the early morning." She gently laid Flora back into a horizontal position and pulled the blankets over her. The Claymore blinked in surprise and disappointed realization that the Grand General was preparing to depart. Yue Ying did not seem to notice, and offered a final smile. "If there is anything you need, I will be in my husband's quarters." And with that, she blew out the candle by her bedside and quietly retired from the room.

Flora suddenly felt rather cold. It was as if it wasn't the candle that had provided the barracks' warmth, but Yue Ying herself.

She wished her commander would stay with her. Just a little longer.

*

Xuchang

Cao Cao's heart was heavy, for he knew that he had hurt his beloved's feelings. His actions at Hanzhong were not his fault, and he did not need to convince himself of that. He had been forced to defeat that Miria and her band of Shu partisans. He knew they were not evil women – if Galatea had spoken on their behalf, then they clearly couldn't be. Of course, his harsh character would not allow him to show any weakness of mercy in the midst of battle. If only they had not marched so foolishly on Wei territory. Belligerents, no matter how noble, were still belligerents.

Nevertheless…

Galatea's face was as noble and brave as ever, but her eyes betrayed her uncertain heart – a compassionate heart that worried and pined for the fate of her comrades, the Claymores whom they had so coldheartedly routed. So when they returned to the palace, his request for forgiveness was swift and sincere. He held her naked body close as they lay on his bed, his sorry whispers soothing away her anxiety and her guilt. His hands were swift and veritably professional in their reassurance, and his deep voice was reasoned and uplifting. He was almost doting and fatherly in the sanctuary that he offered. It was all that he could do… for he had no other apology except that of a protective, accepting embrace.

For her part, she beamed and sighed in obedience, appreciating his comfort. For the remainder of the cold evening, she returned his love with the same warm, mind-blowing enthusiasm that he enjoyed every night they spent together. She confessed herself to him once again, reaffirming her loyalty and devotion. She belonged to him paradoxically as an equal and as a servant, and that was the fundamental reality of their relationship. No matter what happened between them, she would never violate their sacred contract. Not even for the sake of old associations.

She was his, and their lovemaking was all the more gratifying because of it.

"Surely you understand," he said softly, his lips pressing tightly on hers. His fingers lightly brushed aside her fair tresses, and he gazed at her in genuine affection. "Surely you, of all people… of all women… would understand me."

"I understand," she affirmed, breathless with desire. She liked it when he enjoyed her on his imperial bed. There was so much room, so much space to struggle around on. There was so much space for him to master her. Her nails dug tightly into his back as he pressed himself into her aggressively. She had spread her legs around him so he could thrust harder, unimpeded by any pretence of restraint. She did not lift her eyes off of him, gritting her teeth and yelling in vociferous pleasure as he stroked her from within her womanhood. She arched her back, wrapping her legs around him, swearing in rapture as he ravished every fibre of her being. She trembled amidst his blankets and cushions, craving for more of his supremacy. "That's why I want you. Because I understand you."

She drank in his hunter's scent, and he reveled in her smell of flowers from the Continent, that faraway land. He had once sworn that she would never feel lonely again. He did not want the events at Hanzhong to change that. He ran his fingers through her golden hair, and their hearts thumped, deafening their own sighs. "You will be loved," he declared, looking into her eyes. "You will be understood."

"I already know you love me," she moaned in gratitude, closing her eyes. The pleasure was too great, so great that she could not meet his gaze for long, lest she come too quickly, and end up too exhausted to please him any further. Of course, he didn't seem to care. "I also love you, my Lord. But if I didn't understand you, I could never surrender to you."

"Yes. Only we can truly understand one another," he growled excitedly, as she screamed in climax, tensing for just several moments, before slumping weakly into his steadfast embrace. She was an imperious lady – a difficult one to coax and to please. But as they became one, losing themselves in the throes of another orgasm, he realized that his love for her was totally unique, something retained only for a woman of her calibre.

She was breathless and exhausted with ecstasy. He found that fact irresistible. He grinned down at her, his demonic eyes shining with satisfaction at the sight of her pale, delectable body.

She was a handful, but a most precious handful.

Galatea panted, her fingers pulling his head closer to her face. She nestled close to him, bodies united, and their lips, nose and tongues caressing one another's. "You… were going all-out, weren't you?" she whispered, her voice like that of an astonished young lass's.

"Are you still angry at me for hurting your friends?"

"I was never angry with you," she smirked, her fingers brushing at her hair arrogantly. "Do what you will. You will never find the heart to disobey me."

And so she talked and laughed awhile with him, as a woman of her high standards would do, before falling asleep in his arms.

*

The following morning in Chengdu courtyard, Flora joined her troops for breakfast, lining up with them to receive her rations. On their part, they all paid smiling respects to her, acknowledging her as their brave and beautiful commander. Many invited her to join them at their table, hoping they would be graced with the honour of eating with their very first foreign officer. She returned their sincere courtesy respectfully, although her heart was slightly despondent.

I am confused. Life seems so much simpler when you remain in your own homeland. She sipped at the rice porridge that the cook had served for her as she walked away. She did not understand why her heart ached so, despite the kindness Yue Ying had shown her the night before. She did not wish for her downheartedness to affect the otherwise jovial mood of her men, and so she moved to sit alone on one of the smaller benches.

Perhaps she was merely tired.

She had not yet sat down when a courageous, youthful voice stopped her. "What's wrong, Lance Marshal?" She turned to see a relatively tall man, decked in resplendent, lean silver armour that emphasized his chiselled, strong body. A long cloth, resembling a half-cape, draped over his left shoulder. His long black hair was styled in a ponytail, and a shining, ornate circlet enclosed his forehead. His eyes were bright, naïve, as if he did not know the meaning of deceit or cowardice.

She could not help noticing that he was extremely handsome.

He bowed before her, apologizing for interrupting her business. "You look a bit unhappy."

Flora blinked. How did he know her rank? Did he know her name, too? "I am sorry for giving the impression of discontent." She did her best to return his smile. "I am merely feeling a bit dispirited. But you will probably tell me that it is foolish to dwell for too long on such an emotion, and I agree. May I have your name, fellow officer?"

"Oh, my apologies, my Lady! My name is Zhao Yun. But you can call me Zilong too," he laughed. "I apologize for the circumstances that prevented our good fortune of meeting until now. I see that I've found you in low morale. Perhaps I may be able to leave you in slightly higher spirits?"

"Oh, do not worry for me, noble Zilong," mumbled Flora. "I pray that you will not judge me by what you've seen this gloomy morning. Please let me find you again, when I have found the strength to overcome my own weaknesses."

"Please don't talk like that," he said, smiling and graciously acknowledging her state of affairs. "I won't presume to understand. But remember that Lord Liu Bei has based our Kingdom on trust and friendship. No burden – of whatever kind – needs to be borne alone."

Despite herself, Flora smiled. "It is as if you all say the same thing to visitors."

Zhao Yun blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"I'm sorry, Zilong. Lady Huang told me something very similar the night before. And I am all the more perplexed at why I am not jumping for joy after her most encouraging words. But you… you also believe your Grand General's words. You believe in Lord Liu Bei's vision."

"Of course!" Zhao Yun bowed again. "I won't presume to bother you anymore – but if you need me, don't hesitate to ask. We are comrades. It will always be so between those who fight to restore the Han.

"Farewell for now – I look forward to fighting by your side," he said, giving a friendly and somewhat self-deprecating salute, before striding away to join a group of young footmen who were playing dice near the benches.

She looked down. Her heart was still downcast as she returned to her rice porridge. The congee, however, did begin to taste slightly better.

Trust… that most wonderful possibility…