Chapter 46: Marquess, Duchess and Queen

Hanzhong banquet hall

Where Flora and Miria had failed, Liu Bei had succeeded. The seizure of Hanzhong and Jieting proved to be a crushing blow to Wei, and Liu Bei at last earned the credence to call himself the King of Hanzhong, a deliberate allusion to Liu Bang, the first Emperor of the Han Dynasty. And with Jieting in Shu hands, the subsequent Northern Expedition could well prove to be the most effective campaign against Cao Cao yet. His five hundred thousand strong force stationed at Wu Zhang now found itself almost forty thousand men short. Having suffered two simultaneous defeats in two different regions, surely enemy morale was at an unprecedented low.

Nothing less than a grand celebration was in order.

Flora had never experienced a Han banquet in her life, and the colours, lights and noise were simply overwhelming. Were she to reflect honestly on that experience, she would be forced to concede that she did not enjoy it, despite the chance for respite and beautifying herself with Shu fashion. Sitting between a resplendent Cynthia and Miria, she raised her golden goblet awkwardly, following the lead of the Chinese commanders who seemed far more jovial and relaxed than the Claymores. Plate after plate of delectable gourmet dishes did little to alleviate her unease. Perhaps only Cynthia managed to match the atmosphere of good cheer, for an (yet again) armoured Zhou Tai sat by her side, silently sipping at a cup of tea as she continued to gush about their marriage plans. She glanced at Helen, who was unsurprisingly inebriated and had been reluctantly propped up by Deneve and Clare.

Zhao Yun was not present. He had separate military affairs to attend to, and his absence was almost painful.

"Come, eat," suggested Miria, pointing at a dish of roast pork with her chopsticks. "Or are you still thinking about Galatea's offer?"

She nodded. "I understand if you are."

Flora shook her head, her hair tied in a gorgeous and attractive ponytail. "I still believe… or perhaps I still desperately hope… that leaving Lady Galatea like that was the most dignified and respectful thing to do."

Miria gave a sad smile. "Your hands hurt when they cut into her, didn't they?"

"Day by day, week by week, we engage in battle after battle, but I still cannot see the end of this journey. It has not assumed a form that I can understand as I am now. In the meantime…" she gazed at her relaxed, open hand. "I must grow stronger… stronger until I can match Lady Galatea in single combat. Only then will I be worthy to play a part in her proposal for unification."

The voice of a courtier interrupted her. "His Majesty is to speak! Silence!"

The hall suddenly quietened down. The Shu officials lowered their utensils and Liu Bei stood and looked outwards at the assembled alliance leaders. The mutters and coughs died away. Jean, Yuma and Tabitha looked intently at the King as he smoothed down his outfit.

"On behalf of the Han, I thank you!" he cried. "It has been a long and difficult road. But the chaos is coming ever so close to fleeing from our sight. A new age is within our reach as we celebrate tonight in Hanzhong Castle, the fortress in which Cao Cao once dwelled as his summer residence. In a few months, we'll launch a new expedition from Jieting against the fabled Central Plains. We will defeat the Wei forces there for expeditions to Xuchang itself!"

Zhuge Liang stood from his chair, and a seated Yue Ying looked up at him curiously. "This humble servant sincerely hopes that His Majesty understands our vast military disadvantage in the face of Wei," he said. "It would be in our interests to end this war as swiftly as possible, before we lose our momentum."

"I take your counsel very seriously, my friend," agreed Liu Bei. "We will organize another expedition as soon as possible. But first, there are several matters we must attend to this very night." He raised a hand. "Lady Flora and Lady Miria. Please step forward."

The Claymores blinked as one. Cynthia looked at Tabitha, who gave a small shrug. Helen whistled. Clare's eyes narrowed. Miria hesitantly stood up, and Flora followed suit. Their Chinese dresses glimmered in the light. "May I ask why…"

"Please come before me," replied Liu Bei.

Looking at each other, the two generals moved past their feast table and slowly bowed before him. He nodded and began to speak again. "For three years, China has struggled under the shadow of the Awakened Beings as well as the civil war. It is my eternal dishonour that I was not present at Chi Bi to join the fight against these monsters that so deviously attacked our Wu allies." He gestured with an open, benevolent hand towards Miria and Flora. "But the warriors of the Continent saved us all! They aided us in destroying the Awakened Beings in western China, and were pivotal in establishing this very Kingdom! They have participated with us through times of feast and times of famine! No matter which battle, they've protected us against the wrath of their homeland's demons, and even now continue to work towards a solution to expelling them from our sacred land. For those who still hold archaic opinions about peoples that populate realms beyond the Middle Kingdom, bear witness! For I, the King of Shu, acknowledge them as warriors of identical merit to our own officers!"

He closed his hands into fists. "They are our sisters-in-arms, and forever welcome here! They have burdened themselves with our suffering. They have made our joy their own. Therefore… our home shall be their home! We shall share their destiny! And… their future shall be that of China's!

"I would request our honoured Wu delegates that the efforts of the Jiangdong Continental warriors are also recognized and celebrated. On my part, in recognition of their invaluable services, those who have joined and led the Shu armies to victory are to be promoted. I hereby confer upon Lance Marshal Flora the rank of Marquess! And Plains General Miria is to be acknowledged, from hereon, as the Duchess of Shu!"

Yue Ying almost spat out the wine in her mouth.

Marquess?

"Are you serious?" muttered Deneve.

Duchess?

"That's our Phantom!" laughed Helen, raising her goblet impertinently. "Bottoms up, people!"

Cynthia put a hand to her mouth, suppressing a squeak of shock. Zhou Tai's eye twitched. Yuma and Tabitha stared at each other, completely bewildered. Clare looked at Deneve, and prompting themselves, they began to clap. It seemed the only right thing to do, after all.

They were not alone. Within a few seconds, applause and good-hearted cheering filled the hall, replacing the astonished silence that had only just pervaded it moments earlier.

"Bottoms up!" reciprocated Helen's Chinese allies, downing their drinks. Helen laughed and grabbed Deneve, throwing herself into the merry moment. Yue Ying's surprised expression relaxed into one of comradely affection, and she took her husband's hand.

"That is all," declared Liu Bei, walking past Flora and Miria. "Do not let me stop you. Celebrate this great victory to our hearts' content!"

"Bring on the dancers!" one of the ministers cried.

"Summon the performers! With haste!" another urged.

"Wine! More wine!"

"Refill the plates!"

All this hurly-burly went unnoticed by Flora and Miria. They stared at nothing as the banquet hall began its festivities in earnest. Even Liu Bei, Zhuge Liang and Yue Ying had discarded their formal façade and joined in the clapping and laughter. But the two Claymores remained rooted to the spot, flabbergasted.

"I… am a Duchess?" said Miria in bewilderment, raising an eyebrow.

"And I… I am a… Marquess?" whispered Flora.

Was it wonderful? Was it burdensome? Or was it simply madness?

We of the Continent… have become… Chinese nobility?

*

Wei Palace Square

News of Galatea's disastrous defeat at Jieting reached the Wei court long before she had even arrived.

She felt rather proud for managing to stagger from the devastated battlefield all the way back to Xuchang… on foot. She had lingered for almost an entire day before daring to crawl back up. The many wounds she had suffered required fortitude and patience to restore. But the next two days would push her constitution's limits to the extreme as she wandered from mountain to highland and from steppe to grassland, following the directions of the stars and the constellations. By the end of it all, her body's still-healing scars were on the verge of reopening. Her head and lip were already bleeding. Her warhorse had died of exhaustion long ago, and she had journeyed alone for an additional week, for several hundred li. The ache in her legs burned with an intensity that was surprising even for a half-Yoma, half-human. Her uniform was cut up and her metal pauldrons cracked beyond repair, and much of her pale skin was visible underneath the grey cloth. She resembled a woman who had struggled valiantly against a rapist, yet ultimately failed.

But her trials were not to end with such indignity.

Nothing could prepare her for the hostility that awaited her at Xuchang.

She never expected to be welcomed with open arms. Ever since her arrival in China three years ago, she had grown used to the intermittent prejudice that characterized the upper classes of the Middle Kingdom. Not even Cao Cao's explicit endorsement of her service as his Tigress Guard affected a major change in anybody save Cao Pi, Xiahou Dun, Zhang Liao and Xu Huang.

But today… today was entirely different. At last, the magnificent city of Xuchang had come into sight. She struggled to maintain her composure as she slowly walked towards the first gate, doing her best to ignore the dirty, sullen glares from the palace courtiers and soldiers outside the main walls. The ministers no longer made way for her as she passed them; they only stared at her icily. Even the sentries did not salute her as she walked through the entrance that led into the palace square. The hostility had been amplified by her defeat at Flora's hands, and now it was tangible. There was neither bowing nor kneeling for the beloved of Cao Cao. One of the eunuchs even had the gall to spit at her feet as she reached the second gate. She, the King's most dependable warrior – she had been reduced to something more contemptible than even the lowliest conscript.

So they already know…

She stumbled unsteadily towards the main complex, her exhausted footsteps unable to drown out the whispers and mutters from those who caught a glimpse of her. Their slurs were hushed, but intentionally audible. "Failure."

"Betrayer of His Majesty's trust."

"A living fiasco of a commander."

"Vile foreigner, undeserving of Wei's hospitality."

"Blonde cretin."

"Unfit imbecile."

"Filthy Continental."

She bit her lip and walked on. But one insult, uttered by one scrawny, slant-eyed minister stood out from all the rest. And for some peculiar reason, it cut deeper than anything else they could have thrown at her.

"Silver-eyed witch."

*

At last, she had managed to flee from the cruel glares and from the crueller abuse. She ascended the palace steps and entered the lavish Throneroom. Her greaves clicked quietly on the rich, velvety rug. Only thirty paces away sat her master, in that familiar dark cobalt and ebony outfit.

What would he say?

Would he send her to the ground with a scornful backhand?

Would he spit in her face?

Or would he banish her from the realm, forbidding her to ever return to his side?

His vampiric eyes narrowed as she approached wearily. She did not even possess the strength to kneel. She was relieved that he did not speak. His gloved hands merely lounged on the royal armrests as silence passed between them.

Finally, she managed to say something, albeit rather jadedly. "Tigress Guard Galatea, reporting in."

He stared at her coldly before replying. "You failed."

She lowered her head bitterly, but her reply was still proud and defiant. "A most astute observation, King Obvious."

After several minutes of glaring at her bleeding form, he raised a scroll that he held in his hand. "The current casualty count has been listed here," echoed his deep voice. "Aside from General Guo Huai and Commander Wang Shuang, let us see what else you've blundered away."

"There is no need. I survived."

He began to read dispassionately. "Not mention losing our fort at Jieting, you lost me twenty thousand, four hundred and thirty five private infantry, ten thousand, one hundred and six Men-At-Arms – "

She shook her head. "But I survived."

"A hundred and ninety six Imperial Lancers, two hundred and forty four lieutenants, six hundred and sixty seven corporals, three hundred and one Central Plains Guardians – "

Galatea stepped forward, her Yoki flaring. "But I survived."

"Two hundred and ninety four crossbowmen, seven hundred and eighty nine elite archers, four hundred and fifty four enforcers – "

"But I lived!" she exploded, dashing away angry tears from her face. She strode up to Cao Cao's throne and struck his hand, flinging away his scroll. It rolled across the floor noiselessly. He blinked at her enraged blow and looked up. She loomed over him, her shoulders and voice trembling. "But I… lived."

He remained impassive. "Is your life worth more than the tens of thousands of casualties we suffered at Jieting?" he challenged.

She gritted her teeth. "Perhaps you should ask yourself that question, you cold-hearted scoundrel. Just how much is my life worth to you?"

At that, the light in Cao Cao's eyes changed.

If anyone else had approached him after having lost close to forty thousand of his men, he would have drawn his sword and beheaded him on the spot. "But you…" he murmured. "Damn you, you immortal woman. Like Nu Wa, you cannot age – you will continue to breathe this beautiful world's air long after I have passed to dust. Yet, bizarrely, it is true that Jieting almost cost you your life."

His voice became an angry hiss as he slowly reached for her. "Aligning your sword to my destiny, to my ambition? What drivel," he reproached angrily, his irises flashing in vehemence. "It is empty talk if you end up dead, is it not? For you to die is the ultimate treason you can commit. It is the definitive sin against me, and the truest act of betrayal possible."

He clenched his jaw tightly. "Your life is worth far more than my own, you beautiful, foolish lass."

"Oh, Mengde," moaned Galatea.

In despair, she threw herself at him and crashed against his body. He felt himself forced against his armrest as they struggled against each other heatedly, angrily, and passionately. Unable to support her sudden weight, he tumbled over his own throne and slammed painfully onto the carpeted ground, taking her with him. Back sore, he grunted in exertion as their lips met feverishly. His fingers tore at her already ripped clothes and she pushed her breasts onto his face, smothering him with them. They closed their eyes, like wild wolves savouring one another's scent. Their relieved sighs matched the tinkling of the chimes near the pavilion. He crushed her to him roughly, and it was nothing short of blissful. It helped her to forget the insults she had suffered.

"The things they've called me," she gasped, as his hands found her waist. The humiliation she had suffered – her trouncing by the Shu-Wu allies, her lonely and agonized journey back to the capital, the scorn heaped upon her by men who spent sheltered lives in the palace – entered his perception like flickers of candlelight shining on calligraphic art. "The disgrace is unbearable."

He kissed her again in consolation. At last he could rest at ease, now that he held this half-demon in his arms once again. "Tell me who affronted you, and I shall put them to death myself."

"No." She returned his affection with a passion akin to her namesake, her slender fingers clutching at his demonic face. They stared into each other's eyes, their mutual obsession almost too much to endure. "I've seen enough death. I do not wish for you to lose any more of your loyal men.

"I merely wish to hide in your bedchamber and have you lick my wounds."

*

She had fallen asleep against him, her head tucked comfortably in his breast. Three hours of exhausting loveplay had passed. He stared absently at the fluttering curtains as he caressed the blonde hair that spilled out across him, and glanced back down when he felt her hands unconsciously gripping him tighter. Her countenance still betrayed exhaustion and regret at having failed him. But no matter how he tried, he still could not rouse his anger against her. He could barely maintain his stern façade when she first returned to the Imperial Throneroom, crushed and dishonoured. She had looked so pathetic, so pitiable. Part of him had burned to leap from his throne and embrace her like a vexed father. But he needed to suppress his lenience, even during moments of paternal sentimentality.

"Had Heaven not been watching over you, your name could have well been on that scroll…" he murmured.

He closed his eyes. Enough was enough. He had come to a resolution, one that he had mulled over for many months. He had hesitated at first, for he was not totally confident in the implications of such a choice. But now, he would follow it through. It would come in the form of a sudden and unanticipated request, but he knew no other way to articulate it.

He could not risk losing her again.

He stroked her cheek gently to rouse her from slumber. "Tigress," he whispered.

"You are so persistent. You know I'm tired." Her mellifluous but drowsy voice was reproachful and slightly insolent – just the way he enjoyed it. She reluctantly stirred, and opened her eyes to look up at him. "Why did you spare my life?" she inquired faintly. "A competent ruler always punishes his subjects in equal measure – no matter who they are. You should have executed me like any other failure of a commander."

Something in his eyes died. "This is why… compassion alone cannot change the world." He smiled bitterly. "This is why I let my compassion die. Although it is evident that I have not entirely succeeded."

"And you never will," she whispered, placing a finger to his lips. "Just what did you wake me up for, Mengde?"

Nothing could have prepared her for what he was about to utter.

And this one decision would change the face of China forever.

"Be my Queen."