Toward the east, on a land blanketed by rocks, sand, and grass, a strong wind howled through the plains, carrying a hint of fallen pine. The raging draft coursed over the flatlands, passing by the forests, rivers, lakes, and even traveling down the cloud-capped mountains residing in the center-most region. This gale didn’t disperse until it crashed against the robust walls of Rahvin kingdom — the land of prosperity and grain.

Armored warriors marched along the top of the walls with steady steps and staunch expressions. Their backs were as straight as a pole as they fulfilled their guarding duty, only opting to return to their stations when their shift was over. Once they were replaced, the warriors would then proceed to walk on top of the northern gate, where they could observe their flourishing country. The streets were filled with merchants selling their wares; Silk, food, weapons, ale, and other luxuries. Men and women could be seen selling other services, such as escorting, hunting, guarding, and sexual favors.

Not only was the merchandise of Rahvin kingdom extraordinary, but the atmosphere was blissful as well. Expensive homes layered the streets of both the outer and inner sector, without a hint of discrimination. Children frailed about in the wide streets, playing with their friends or parents. Not a single man, nor woman could be spotted that was homeless, starving, or ill. It was an unprecedented golden age, one that was filled with peace and exorbitance.

Past the outer and inner sectors, large estates and Manchurian-styled mansions circled the grand palace in the middle of the kingdom. This was where the Imperial family members and great clans called home. Unlike the rest of the nation, where it was happy and peaceful, this area was incomparably solemn and quiet. Few scions stayed inside of the expensive pavilions and even fewer nobles strolled down the roads.

At this very moment, the morning court session was taking place. Thousands of imperial warriors stood guard in front of the palace gates while ministers of varying influence streamed in and out of the royal doors. They adorned exquisite hanfu robes and stylish hats, while some fashionable souls carried elegant hand fans with them as well. They quickly filled the innermost region of the palace, sitting down on both sides of the gigantic halls.

Seating arrangements were allocated based on rank. The closer you sat to the emperor, the higher prestige you held within the court. Soon, all of the available seats were occupied and a eunuch stepped forward, gazing down on all of the officials and nobles. The closest to him was the Prime Minister, Grand Preceptor, Kings, Grand Dukes, Dukes, Grand scribe, and other high-level subjects.

“Court is now in session!” The eunuch roared, following which, a man with an overflowing aura stepped out and sat behind a thick curtain.

“His Majesty has decreed that every valid memorial should be presented if there are any concerns or important matters within or out of the kingdom. If there are no problems at this time, then withdraw!”

Immediately after the shrill voice reverberated throughout the halls, a high-level official stepped forward. “This lowly subject wishes to submit a memorial!”

With this, the court session started and several heated debates ensued. The morning quickly passed into noon, and noon turned into the evening until finally, The Emperor waved his hands and exited the hall. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief and promptly exited the palace after the departure of their undisputed ruler.

One middle-aged man, in particular, was excessively exhausted after this court session. He loosened his collar and mumbled listlessly as he walked back toward his manor. The man passed by a few stone-paved roads and soon entered into his family estate. A wooden plaque stood on top of the house and displayed the family name in all of its splendor, ‘Zhuge” indicating that it was the Zhuge clan property.

Creak! The door creaked open and the smell of water lilies and paint instantly assaulted the middle-aged man’s nostrils. He scrunched up his nose and marched through the corridors, slamming open one of the sliding doors. Rage was apparent in his eyes as he scrutinized the young man inside — the cause of the pungent smell.

It was a young, androgynous man that appeared to be either seventeen or eighteen years of age, elegantly painting with a small brush. Potted water lilies fluttered in the breeze from the nearby window, accentuating the man’s graceful appearance. Yet, none of this picturesque beauty dissipated the middle-aged minister’s anger.

“You good-for-nothing boy!” the man growled, his chest heaving up and down, “your father and mother died because of you, and now, I have to spend every single day wasting my life inside of that damned court while you paint in luxury!”

The man took another step forward, pointing his figure at the young man across the room. “You are coming of age soon, and as a law within the Zhuge clan, you must enter a battlefield, big or small, to bathe in the blood of battle!”

Finally, the young man glanced up at his uncle. His piercing, yellow eyes peered into him as if he were a single word on the page of a book. “Uncle, I am well aware of the upcoming ceremony,” he replied without much concern, “Grandfather has already pulled a few strings and enlisted me into a small skirmish on the Gao Protectorate border, which is where my first battle will take place.”

“This…” Uncle Feng muttered with an astonished look. He had never expected the old master to have already made ample preparations for this useless nephew of his. He could only snort and leave the room in response.

Once Feng left, the young man, named Sai, continued painting on the canvas. His carefree expression and beaming smile which he had shown to Feng were nowhere to be seen. Instead, his eyes were full of apprehension. Both his father and mother had died in the last war with the Turks, Tibetans, and Arabians, rendering their once great clan to lose a majority of their prestige, and the rightful heir. His uncle was the child of an affair and tragically possessed no logistic, nor warfare capabilities, which meant he was unfit for clan leader as well, leaving only Sai to pick up the torch.

These factors resulted in a ton of weight to be pressed down onto Sai, whom only wanted to read books and paint. He lusted for knowledge, not power nor bloodshed. His clan, which was full of generals, simply did not understand his mindset, so he was often looked at as if he were a fool.

A deep sigh suddenly escaped from Sai’s lips, “there seems to be no choice, even my grandfather insists on me entering the battlefield.”

Sai was young, but he was not stupid. The reason for his uneasiness regarding the battlefield was due to the extraordinarily dangerous future ahead of Rahvin kingdom. On the surface, as one of the two strongest kingdoms in the continent, it was inconceivably safe, but Sai thought otherwise. Their kingdom allowed for a stupendous amount of trade to take place from foreign merchants within their dynasty and in other kingdoms that bordered them. Here lies the problem.

Unlike other nations, the Rahvin kingdom possessed another name, The Central Plains. They were surrounded by enemies, both powerful and weak. They required four different armies to guard the borders, and another army to defend the capital. Even if they were prosperous now, due to the reign of the current Emperor, who was unmatched in the lands, it was bound to erupt in total war soon.

Sai read many books, studied past eras and dynasties, and observed the annals of history as they were recorded. And, utilizing the knowledge obtained from such research, he came to a rather dark conclusion. Rahvin kingdom would fall in less than twenty years, or when the current emperor died!

He heaved another sigh as he once again reached this conclusion. But, his repressed mood and train of thought were both interrupted by the opening of the door. He glanced at the entrance and couldn’t help but smile.

“Grandfather, you came,” he greeted with a deep and respectful bow.

“Save the pleasantries for later, boy,” Old Master Song replied with a chuckle, “come, let us battle on the board again.”

Zhuge Song cleared the nearby table and placed two boards on top of it, one was Chess and the other was Go. “You will be moving with a group of heavy cavalry toward the rendezvous location in a few moons from now,” Song spoke while setting up the games, “I have already made a few arrangements and the dangers of this mission are practically non-existent.”

Sai nodded his head with a thankful expression “Zhuge Sai thanks Clan Master.”

Old Master Song didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he gestured for Sai to sit down, opposite from him. He moved a piece on both the Chess and Go board — he controlled white. “I’ll be going first,” he said, slyly.

A sharp glint appeared within Sai’s eyes as an air of solemnity exuded from him. It was clear that both he and his grandfather treated these silly games of most importance.

As their soldiers battle each other on the board, Old Master Song began to converse about a few humane matters. “Once you are of age, you can finally choose your inheritance,” he said, “your father choose the great warrior, Ganji, and your mother had chosen the archer, Tomoe. We have all sorts of ancient inheritances within our clan vault, you will be allowed to enter our catacombs once you are of age.”

Sai smiled and moved his piece, “grandfather, this grandson means no disrespect, but you should focus on the match next time,” he chuckled, “checkmate!”

Old Master Song peered down at the two boards and squinted his eyes, ignoring Sai who quickly got up from the chair and exited the room. He was an old and talented tactician, one that had already reached the last pathway of his ancient inheritance. Not only had he led innumerable wars, but he also retired as an illustrious general.

Yet, his grandson who could not even grow a beard was capable of defeating him in both Go and Chess. This revelation pleased him!

“Haha, our clan will never die… not as long as you live, Sai,” Old Master Song whispered with a strange look in his eyes. No one knew what he was thinking at this moment, but a trace of sorrow permeated the room.

…

In another part of the nation, in the West, at the Gao protectorate, an armored general was seated on top of an iron throne. A thick killing intent surrounded him as he perused through the piece of paper in his hands. Unlike the other men of Rahvin kingdom, he was at least eight feet tall, muscular, and appeared to be foreign.

“Oh? A request from War Sage Song, huh? How interesting,” he muttered with a playful smile on his lips.

The protectorate general contemplated for a few moments before handing the paper to the vice general, “make preparations, we don’t want to offend one of the brightest relics of the past!”

“Yes, sir!”

With that, the lanky and vicious-looking attendant received the letter and quickly left the room to comply with his orders. Once the door closed, a burst of loud laughter escaped from the protectorate general’s mouth. “To think that the old sage would be so cruel and ruthless… I like it!”