Chapter 19: Family

Evening. Chengdu Forest

She hated this uniform of hers. This dull, grey uniform that so often reminded her of Hilda. Logically speaking, it was good that she remembered her every waking minute, every time her fingers gripped the handle of her sword. But frankly, she was somewhat tired of it. But she could not forget the pain that accompanied the memories of their trials together, and the dishonour she suffered towards the end of her tragic life. That was all she needed to hate the Organization. That was all she needed to serve the Shu Kingdom… anyone else except those despicable creatures, far more contemptible than even that monster Ophelia.

Her foray into China was easily the most peculiar mission she had ever been assigned. She could only trust in the words of Zhuge Liang and have faith in his strategies to eradicate the Yoma. She did wonder, however, why it was necessary to involve herself in this civil war. From an outsider's perspective, no matter how she tried to look at it, the conflict seemed little more than three states struggling for political domination. Surely they all had to put this behind them if they were to survive the threat of the Awakened Beings? The recent failed campaign into Hanzhong had not helped, either. She hated to admit it, but Galatea did have a point.

"Hello, Miss Miria. It's a beautiful night, is it not?"

Miria turned at Flora's angelic voice. "Yes." She paused. "What are you doing out here so late?"

"I was merely practicing my Windcutter. And… reflecting, in a manner," replied the other, her large eyes shining. "It seems that tensions are at breaking point between Wu and Shu. I foresee that something terrible is about to transpire. While I do not wish to fight Wu's people, we will still be honour-bound to stand by Shu's side, to continue to protect our assigned Kingdom from the Yoma. Of course, it is difficult to avoid sectarian struggle when our clients refuse to disengage from it."

"I question the merit of this civil war too." She plonked her sword into the ground. "I've never involved myself in such a large-scale conflict, after all. It's confusing, to say the least."

Her hand suddenly returned to her Claymore, her eyebrow rising. "Are you sure no one was following you?"

Flora blinked, nodding in realization. "We are not alone," she acknowledged, her body warming at a powerful aura that suffused the midnight woodlands. But it was as if its owner had not bothered to hide it from them. The aura was not concealed, and hopefully, that meant that the newcomer did not intend any harm.

"Good evening, Lance Marshal, Plains General. I didn't expect to see you here, too," came a young and gallant voice. Flora blinked in surprise. Her intuition was correct: it was merely Zhao Yun. The Shu warrior had emerged from the darkness of the forest, his hand clutching his spear, the renowned Dragon Spike. Beads of sweat dripped down his smooth face. "By lucky coincidence, I overheard your voices. You had been training here, too? That makes three of us."

"Two, I'm afraid," corrected Miria. "I'm only out here for a walk. You're the General of Tiger's Might, aren't you? Flora told me she was touched by your kindness and thoughtfulness. I'm not surprised," she continued, ignoring the uncomfortable blushes from Flora and the youthful warrior. "You're Liu Bei's most prized fighter, yes? Kongming told me about how you defeated fifty of Cao Cao's officers at Chang Ban and rescued Liu Bei's son from the heart of his Ninth Division's camp."

Zhao Yun rubbed the bottom of his nose sheepishly. He admired how casually Miria spoke of his commanders, as if she thought of herself as their equal. "That was a long time ago. But I'm ashamed that I still know little about you."

She nodded, taking the hint. "I am known as Phantom Miria in my homeland. We were originally assigned to a city called Pieta in preparation for a so-called Northern Campaign, but before we could secure any manner of victory, all Hell broke loose on the Continent. I've told Kongming," she added. "I've told him much about my suspicions of the Organization, and the reasons for the Yoma's presence in China. Something went wrong in Sutafu. I knew it was so because we were abruptly assigned a new mission. And it was to station ourselves in a distant nation called China."

Zhao Yun blinked, looking slightly clueless. Flora put a hand to her mouth, stifling a quiet laugh. "None of us know the complete picture behind this just yet," she said. "We cannot assume Master Zilong knows much more, either."

He nodded. "I merely serve Lord Liu Bei with everything I have to protect the common citizens from the rampant suffering these wars have caused. It's true that I'm ignorant of many things concerning the Yoma. But they're here and murdering innocent people. That's all I need to know to act."

He looked back at them. "It's a good night, isn't it?" He raised Dragon Spike.

"I would request you to spar with me."

The two women stared at him in surprise.

"Any particular reason for such a sudden proposal?" asked Miria.

"To learn from each other as fighters, of course," said the youth. "As the three of us are already here, I think it would be productive to test one another's skills, comrade-to-comrade." He smiled. "We'll keep it clean, of course."

Flora and Miria glanced at each other. Flora wondered why she was hesitating. Zhao Yun was a chivalrous and unassuming man, and it seemed that behind those kind eyes was the soul of an indomitable, worthy contender. Why, then, this apprehension?

Miria was not so timid. Shrugging, the senior of the two silver-eyed women lifted her Claymore from the ground. "Truth be told, I was thinking of challenging you, too. It seems I've been pre-empted. Then I'll attack you within the bounds of reason. I trust you'll do the same."

"You have my word," agreed Zhao Yun.

Flora moved to protest. "Master Zilong – "

Miria raised her sword in a classical grip, her blade tip pointing towards the forest canopy. He bent his knees slightly and pointed his weapon at her. He pursed his lips in calm and collected concentration as Miria moved and slashed downwards from her left. He simply rolled forward and thrust forward on one knee, his speartip shooting past her face. Her eyes momentarily widened. He was fast – superhumanly fast. He swung his longer weapon, almost hurling her aside had she not rolled backward. But his range was impressive – he lunged, giving his thrust an even longer reach, and it almost nicked into her arm. Miria spun and slashed horizontally. He did likewise with Dragon Spike, and cut a light gash across her top, exposing part of her midsection to the cool evening breeze.

Her eyes flashed yellow. "You're pretty good, Zilong," she whispered. With no further warning, she winked out of existence.

"An already impressive display of strength," smiled Zhao Yun. "You've earned my respect." He turned around and blocked her strike from behind, his spear rattling. Her eyes widened at his superb intuition and reflexes. He had met her Phantom Mirage with an extraordinary speed of his own! He dashed forward, poking and stabbing at her hasty guard from every possible direction. When she attempted to create another illusion, switching to his left, he planted his spear into the ground and swung upwards via a twisting swing, kicking her out of the air and sending her crashing to the ground. He recovered his weapon and lunged, smacking the flat of his speartip against her hand, hoping to knock it away. But Miria did not let him seal an early victory, and she disappeared once again, this time cutting at him from above. His eyes narrowed and he flipped back as she landed, holding up his spear cautiously. They continued circling each other, their passionate eyes meeting and holding.

Flora's hand floated towards her sword. Should I help? But will he be strong enough to fight off the two of us?

His left greave twisted, and he dashed forward, his spell of linear jabs failing to break through Miria's defence. He suddenly attacked with the pommel of his spear by swinging it against her upwards, and although she blocked, the impact still caught her under the blade, hurling her up into the air. She gasped as Zhao Yun leaped up to her level and brought his spear down, preparing to smash her ten feet into the ground. But at the last moment, he relented, and he merely descended by her side, letting her land on her feet shakily. Slightly rattled, she counterattacked rashly. He calmly parried her somewhat frantic retaliation, conceding little to no ground as their weapons tussled against each other.

Perhaps I should step in now.

Flora moved to join the fray, half-heartedly slashing her sword at Zhao Yun's legs. He jumped up and landed on the flat of her blade, propelling himself upwards into the air, spinning in several revolutions before hurtling to the ground like a meteor and slamming the entirety of his weapon into the grass. Miria and Flora staggered back from the miniature earthquake, but Flora recovered quickly by tapping into a small portion of her Yoki reserves. Eyes focusing, her Windcutter tore through several trees and nearly sent Zhao Yun careening away, but he managed to parry them for the most part before a small cut was drawn on his lean cheek. Slipping and racing past the flurry of her attacks, he caught Flora's outstretched foot with his weapon's end and swept her. She landed on her back, gritting her teeth to brace the impact. He turned to face Miria even as Flora scrambled up, but the Phantom had reappeared, her face an inch from his. At a closer range, his spear was at a disadvantage –

With difficulty, he sidestepped the powerful thrust of her greatsword, keeping a keen eye on Flora's arm. She initiated her attack, and the Windcutter tore through the air, inflicting a slight denture on his silver armour. He leaped away, spinning his spear in continuous revolutions, deflecting every remaining cut that she could hurl at him. Leaves from the canopy were cut to shreds in their exchange, and it was only when he slammed his spear into the ground again that she fell back, her yellow eyes flickering briefly.

He gave a grim smile. She was surprisingly tenacious.

Flora attempted to break through his defence again with a final, galvanized attack. He resisted, trapping her moving sword with one expertly executed thrust. His methods were meticulous, allowing for no recovery, no counterattack. Her eyes widened as Dragon Spike flew towards her shoulder. Although she knew that he intentionally aimed his spear there rather than her head, she braced herself nevertheless. It would be a jarring impact.

Thud.

It never reached her. Zhao Yun slumped as the flat of Miria's blade finally struck him in the back of the head. Through her Phantom Mirage, she had swung her weapon into his skull like a club. He staggered, his eyes dazed, confused and seeing stars. Before he could even hold his spear steadily to face Miria, Flora swept him off his feet with a sword swing from below. He let out a shocked cry, slamming onto the ground and releasing Dragon Spike.

Listening to her instincts, Flora dived onto his prone form, trapping him. He blinked in confusion, pinned to the forest grass, his torso sandwiched in between her thighs. He offered a short-lived struggle, but the realization that they had bested him through teamwork – and a degree of luck – dawned on him, pacifying him and dispelling his will to resist. "I… I lose," he recognized pantingly, his shining gauntlets holding her legs tightly, as if he wanted to assure her that he no longer intended to fight her.

She breathed heavily as she clutched at his breastplate. Her silver eyes glimmered. "Impressive," she praised quietly.

"You're better," he laughed sportingly, looking up at her perspiring, blushing face. "I'll have to concede this one to you and Lady Miria."

Miria slumped on the ground, the yellow in her eyes dissolving. "I can't believe I exerted myself like this even in a spar," she exclaimed, planting her sword into the soil. "What exactly are you?"

Flora smiled down at the Shu warrior. "You are very strong indeed. To be able to tire two of us silver-eyed warriors in a relatively trivial contest… I fear your true power in the midst of a serious conflict."

He laughed again. "I don't deserve such praise at all. Rather, I must thank my ladies for one of the most exhilarating training sessions I've had the privilege of enjoying." For several moments he continued to smile up at her, until he suddenly spoke again. "…Excuse me… Lady Flora?" he prompted awkwardly. "I've already acknowledged defeat."

"I'm sorry," she said breathlessly, scrambling off him and rising. He staggered back up, still slightly woozy from Miria's brutal strike. He smiled clumsily at Flora's uncomfortable blush. "We must remain vigilant against your tricks," she asserted hastily. "Who knows what you might try next with that spear of yours?"

Steadying himself, he bowed low before them. "That's true. You really do have a warrior's instinct, don't you? I'm sorry I held you back this late. Thank you for teaching me so much in one night."

He gave a playful wink. "Neither my spear nor my spirit have broken. Now that I know your strength, I won't be holding back so charitably next time."

With that, he diffidently backed away, before turning to retrieve Dragon Spike and disappearing into the forest.

The evening was once again tranquil, almost silent.

The two sweaty, sleepy women looked at one another.

"He's yours," blurted Miria. She shuffled and sat against her Claymore. "What a difficult young man to keep up with."

Flora smiled, wiping her damp forehead with her hand.

Somehow, she didn't mind that.

*

Xuchang, Palace Plaza

"Thank your for your contribution, Lady Galatea," said Zhang Liao, giving a short bow as the dusk drill with her elite Men-At-Arms concluded. "It is late. Please rest, I'll take over from here."

She nodded. "Good night, Wenyuan." Her mind was racing as she turned her back on her saluting battalions and strolled back up the palace steps. The ten thousand crack troops that raised their hands in respectful appreciation were strong, brawny men, and while their skills with the newly forged Claymore swords were slightly elementary, very soon the entirety of the Wei infantry would be empowered to pre-empt any offensive by the Yoma. Many of the army commanders, like Zhang Liao, had expressed their gratitude for her tactical advice, and she was admittedly pleased to be of help.

She should have been happy with the rapid progress they made. But despite these encouraging developments, her thoughts remained bound to her King's most recent revelations, the disclosures of his knowledge of an alien, malevolent presence in the Middle Kingdom. He had given her a most remarkable recount of his bygone days, when he and the King of Shu had once fought side-by-side as compatriots. More importantly, his recollection had revealed the veritable certainty that Isley himself was in China, and perhaps conducting his minions' movements from some esoteric, secretive base of operations.

She had not told anyone of Cao Cao's disclosure. It was a secret that he had entrusted to her alone.

At least for now, she felt more confident on what was needed to the chaos: firstly, to somehow end this tripartite conflict between the Three Kingdoms before confronting the prime Abyssal One, and then to corner him, root him out, and obliterate him. The vast armies, logistics and coffers of Wei would be most beneficial in this enterprise. When she served under the far stingier Organization, it was as if they wanted her to fall short of resources and teammates. It felt good to never suffer from such setbacks again.

Her shift for tonight's military games was complete, and all that was required of her was to return to Cao Cao's sanctuary. Although her stomach was rumbling from the need for at least a meagre dinner, she took a deliberate detour around the royal grounds; she enjoyed exploring more of the palace if time permitted her to do so. She had lived in Xuchang for a very long time now; the servants had grown used to her whimsical adventures. But today, she would discover someone whose escapades were even more capricious than her own.

She had passed by the inner gallery when the soft moaning of a young woman and the hushed murmurs of a man reached her ears. She smirked almost involuntarily. Surely this place couldn't be more decadent than it already was? Her vain curiosity piqued, she stepped to the left of a wooden pillar that she had been about to pass by to reach the doorway. Turning to peep nosily, she shrouded her Yoki in the rare possibility that whoever was enjoying themselves beyond the sanctum's veil were familiar with Yoki or chi.

She silently praised herself for such foresight.

Her eyes had fallen upon Cao Pi, who was grasping at a woman supporting herself on one of the sanctum pillars. The Prince? she thought in bemusement. Not having bothered or cared to undress, he enfolded his arms around a most alluring beauty: a raven-haired, pale, Chinese belle, unmistakably aroused and clutching her partner's shoulders in craving. And that's Lady Zhen, I assume, thought Galatea wryly, watching them squirming and writhing against the pillar. Clothed in a patterned, strapless dress that exposed her slender legs, Zhen Luo had her back pressed tightly as the Prince tore at the fabric that hid her full, rounded breasts and her womanhood. His tongue travelled down her neck, enticing her with promises of an irresistible experience. She purred in response, demanding that he please her as pledged. And the Prince's eyes glinted, his hands increasing in their momentum, his legs bracing for what was rapidly becoming an exercise of sexual callisthenics.

Not bad, kid, admitted Galatea to herself, as Cao Cao's son ravished the Princess with no hint of fatigue, a thin bead of sweat the only proof that he was exerting any effort at all. But his voice was totally self-assured, his face, wholly arrogant. It was as if he knew he was the only man who could ever please Zhen Ji.

His body was quite energetic, dynamic, and their lovemaking was noticeably vibrant. And without further ado, they began to thrash about with abandon, unaware of the Tigress Guard's hidden gaze. A mere minute seemed to drag on for hours, with pleasure that lasted an eternity. As much as she disdained the Prince, God-Eye could not help breathing in admiration. He was exploratory, courageous, polished, refined – and he was rebellious, entertaining his woman in the very cloister of the palace. They were as discreet in their loveplay as she was in watching them, but neither did they seem to fear any passing glance of servants, eunuchs, or concubines.

It would be wonderful Cao Cao would love her like that, too.

It was a hurried and rushed undertaking between the couple, but such haste only seemed to strengthen the passion. Galatea felt her heart beating louder as Zhen Luo's mews also rose in pitch, and the noblewoman looked particularly gorgeous when she gritted her teeth in climax, moaning hoarse words of praise as her husband reached the zenith of his performance. Galatea watched with rapt fascination at the couple slumping down against the pillar, murmuring words of love in each other's ears. Cao Pi sat on the ground, cradling Zhen Ji like the Princess she was, his arrogant eyes unexpectedly tender. She snuggled closer, her legs moving sensuously, as if curious to see if he wanted more. Still oblivious to an observing presence, they kissed, their hushed conversation inaudible to Galatea.

All of a sudden, her mouth felt dry. Discreetly and invisibly, she slipped away from the sighing royal couple, unable to hold back a broad smile.

You really are your father's son.

*

Cao Cao stood over a wide table in his study, his gloved fingers completing the final calligraphic stroke on his manuscript with his favourite brush. He stepped back proudly, admiring his painstaking creation. It had been a long time since he had written such a comprehensive treatise. The light tingling of metal greaves became audible, and he turned around eagerly. "My tigress," he invited. "Come, browse through my opus magnum. It is called Essentials of the Art of War. It could even become useful in our research into Isley's whereabouts – "

His bodyguard grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him against the wall, scattering his paper scrolls across the wooden floor. He grunted in surprise and annoyance, but fell into stunned silence as she kissed him devotedly. He wanted to glare at her in disapproval, but could not stop his eyes closing for a moment. She pushed herself close, forbidding him from even catching his breath. "Your son is an adventurous one. I'd say in some ways he is even more daring than you, my Lord."

I am your favourite, am I not? Won't you take me on an adventure beyond your bedrooms, too?

He could not believe it. She was trembling and impatient; her renewed desire was exploding into frenzy. He did not know what had inspired her to such passion, but he found such excitement quite stirring. "Just what has my boy been telling you?" he asked, feigning disapproval. "Or have you been trying to learn something from my daughter-in-law?"

What game was he trying to play? "Neither," she said, flustered. "I… I… " She lowered her head. She could not bring herself to tell him what she had seen – the Prince and Princess fornicating on the imperial premises. But the sheer novelty those two had achieved! Rebellious Galatea sought a taste of such ingenious profanity too… with the man she loved.

But he didn't seem as interested – or if he did, he did not show it. Even as they exchanged tender mouthfuls, she grunted in frustration, although she was still unable to hold back the kisses she had planned for him. "Fine, then," she groused crossly. "If you insist on your dreary correctness, I will say nothing more."

He smiled indulgently, unable to conceal his sympathy any longer. He cupped her cheek in his hand, staring at her silver pools.

"I will not deny you."

At his reassurance, she brightened considerably. Too impatient to undress, she kneeled, lowering herself to meet his waist, her hand wandering down his chest, and then to his midsection, before finally stopping at his groin.

His eyes twinkled. "I suppose my new book can wait."

She looked up at him as he stroked her hair and face. Her fingers stretched yearningly for his hardening steel, maddeningly concealed within those dark trousers.

"I hunger," she declared, licking her lips.

She would very quickly discover, to her utter delight, that he tasted even better than usual that night.