Thanks for your reviews! And by the way, I did give Shang a much darker sense of humour.
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I was up long before the rest of the camp. The horizon glowed a brilliant orange that swept across the land and behind the rows of tents. I rose from my uncomfortable mattress and started to pace around the room. I could do this. I had to do this! For my father. For China. I sat back down on the bed. How was I going to train a troupe of warriors when all I had was a school of boys? I had been arrogant and naive coming into this. I thought it would have been easy. But I hadn't realized that they didn't have the military background I had. I had to start from square one.
I quickly threw on my clothing and slipped a robe onto my shoulders. As soon as I exited my tent, I was greeted my the sounds of arguing. Great. I walked onto the grounds and saw that one of the men, Yao something or other, had Ping by the collar.
"Soldiers!" I yelled. They all looked up and jumped into an orderly line. I stalked over; shoulders squared. I tried to look as threatening as I could. If they fear you, they will respect you. Eyeing each of them, I stepped over to the barrel of staffs. I slipped off my robe.
"You assemble swiftly and silently every morning. Any one who acts otherwise," I grabbed the bow and arrows and marched past them, "Will answer to me." Fear was key.
From behind me I heard Yao mumble, "Ooo, tough guy."I spun and drew my bow.
"Yao." All of the others jumped back, leaving him to fend for himself. I aimed between his eyes, but swivelled and shot. The arrow arched through the air and hit the top of the wooden post with a thud. I smiled sarcastically; cocking my head to the side.
"Thank you for volunteering!" His eyes followed up to the arrow. My voice dropped back to demanding. "Retrieve the arrow." He glared at me, but bowed anyway, mumbling some incoherent sentence, although I managed to catch "pretty boy" and "with my shirt on", and I motioned to Chi Fu to step forward. He trudged to the base of the post.
"One moment," I called,"You seem to be missing something." I removed the weights from their cases.
"This," I turned to the rest of the boys, speaking loudly, "Represents discipline." I hung the weight from his wrist, only to watch it thud to the ground when I released it. "And this represents strength," I explained moving on the other wrist. Or humiliation, I mused silently. "You need both to reach the arrow."
Yao gazed up the length of the post, and then with a look of determination, jumped up, only to reach about two feet up and slide back down.
I watched as each and every one of them hit the ground. As Ping walk past, I absently rubbed the back of my neck. "We've got a long way to go." I tossed out the staffs, and each boy clumsily caught it. Except Ping, of course, who somehow ended up on the ground.
I ran through a simple technique, tossing porcelain pots into the air and spinning the staff, shattering them each in turn. The boys watched wide-eyed, and held the staff in front of them. As I watched Ping began moving wildly, jerking his body back and forth, striking anyone and everyone around him. Did they send me daughters when I asked for sons?
I vaulted over the injured boys to Ping, only to be hit in the stomach with his staff. I doubled over, my breath had escaped my lips in a rush. I ducked to avoid being hit again and then grabbed his staff as it came around. I jerked it out of his hands and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him close. "You're the saddest bunch I've ever met." I threw staff down and pushed him away, walking back to the barrel. Grabbing my arrows and bow, I marched away.
"Next!"
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After target practice failed, miserably, I brought them to the edge of a steep ravine leading to the river. I placed a bucket of water on the top of my head, balancing it in a way I had so painstakingly practices in my childhood, and grabbed a staff.
"Pick up the stones," I ordered. I deflected each of the stones in turn, moving slightly to even the bucket. "Now," I called, a sneer crossing my face, "Who wants to try first?"
I watched as Yao knocked the bucket off of his head with his own staff, and as Chien-Po tripped over his. Ping ended up with the bucket over his head, soaking his shoulders and almost hitting me with a stone. "You're a spineless, pale, pathetic lot, and you haven't got a clue." I sighed and looked over each of them. Fear, I reminded myself, fear was everything.
"Moving on!"
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Day after day, and practise after practise, the boys repeatedly failed, although I must admit I might have enjoyed sparring, and I had to withhold my laughter when a stray cannon hit Chi Fu's tent. Despite these moments, I found myself getting more and more frustrated, and more and more disappointed. Before I knew it, the sun had sunk into the land, and the boys had dispersed into their tents. My hopelessness made me restless, and I found it impossible to lay down.
I exited my tent and began to walk in any direction. I tried to avoid the boys as much as possible, and steered clear of anywhere near Chi Fu's replacement tent. I eventually found myself at the base of a rock wall on the edge of the camp. I climbed to the top of a rocky perch which overlooked the site. I rested my chin in my hands.
They were not ready for war. It was as simple as that. Some, maybe, had potential. I might be able to do something. But what about Ping? Stray cannons, inability to spar, cheating during target practise? But I couldn't just kick him out of the army, could I? He'll prove himself soon, I thought. I hoped. If not, it would be clear that he was not suited for the military. I would send him home.
With that decision made, I set off towards my tent.
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At dawn the next morning, the boys assembled quickly. I stood solemnly in front of the staffs and many bags of rice. They looked suspiciously down, then back up at me. I smiled.
"Tie one of these onto each end of your staff," I looked down the line.
"We're going running."
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The path consisted of running up a not-so-steep hill, but the trail was narrow and rocky. I set out first, with Chi Fu on his horse, and the others following. As we neared the top, I heard Chi Fu's voice over the heavy panting of the other boys. I paused, and followed Chi Fu's pointed finger to the very back of the group. There was Ping, stumbling with the staff on his shoulders, before eventually collapsing. I saw a shimmer of red, and for a moment was afraid that he was bleeding, but it was gone once I reached him. He gazed up at me, exhaustion heavy on his eyelids. This was his last chance. And although I hated it, knew I would be doing him a favour.
I leaned down and picked up his disgarded staff, throwing it over my shoulders. I shot him a stern look that I hoped I was able to hide my disappointment. I felt it start to leak through onto my expression, so I turned away and jogged back to the crowd. I reached Chi Fu once again.
"Get one of the boys to pack up his things," I motioned to Ping. "He's done here."
-
When we arrived back to the camp, a messenger was already waiting with Ping's horse and supplies. I sighed and grabbed the reins. I was really dreading this. The horse pulled at the reins and jerked him head back, giving me a glare that said How dare you! Don't you know he's trying?
I sighed again and pulled the horse along with me. I saw Ping approach the site, behind everyone else by several minutes. At first, I considered putting it all away and giving him another chance. But a tiny voice in my head, which sounded much like my father, said You would easily step into battle at any moment for your country, but can't face a boy to save his life? I shook the thought away, squared my shoulders, and walked up to Ping before I could change my mind.
He saw me approach, and immediately stood at attention, before seeing his horse and supplies. I took a deep breath.
"You're unsuited for the rage of war, so pack up, go home, you're through." He looked like he was about to protest, but decided against it. His whole posture seemed to crumble, and he seemed to sink into himself. He took the reins from my hands and slunk away, looking defeated. I sighed and turned away. The poor boy. I can't imagine going home to my own father, and telling him that I was denied the opportunity to fight in a war. Especially when his father was Fa Zhou. The Fa Zhou. I shook my head.
You're doing him a favour. You're saving his life. He should be thankful. You saved him. For what seemed like the millionth time today, I sighed. Then why do I feel so guilty?
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Okay, so the song was a little hard to write, and I didn't want it to turn into a songfic, so I did the best I could. Hope you like it!!!