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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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Lie Fan held his family close, the warmth of the Harem Palace a stark contrast to the freezing winds that awaited him. "I swear it," Lie Fan murmured, his eyes looking past the silk walls of the palace, toward the dark, looming expanse of the northern horizon. "When the grass is burned and the shadow is gone... I will come home."
Hearing those resolute words from Lie Fan, the heavy, suffocating veil of dread that had fallen over the Harem Palace finally began to lift. His wives looked into the dark, unwavering depths of his eyes and saw the absolute, terrifying confidence of a man who had never lost a war.
They saw the divine mandate of the Black Dragon, a sovereign who bent the very arc of destiny to his will.
Slowly, one by one, they nodded their heads. The tears were carefully wiped away, replaced by the stoic, unbreakable strength that was required of the women who stood behind the throne.
They felt much more assured by what he said, drawing an immense, profound comfort from his unbreakable promise to return to them when the snow melted. He had promised them the world, and he had delivered it. If he promised them his safe return, they would anchor their hearts to that vow.
With the heavy burden of the looming northern apocalypse openly acknowledged and the fears of his family soothed, the atmosphere in the grand lounging chamber shifted. The frantic tension bled out, replaced by a bittersweet, incredibly precious warmth.
Lie Fan then spent some much-needed, profoundly peaceful time with them. The palace maids silently brought in plates of warm, honey glazed pastries and delicate porcelain cups filled with imported southern tea. For the next several hours, the Warlord of the Earth was nowhere to be found.
In his place sat a devoted husband and a loving father. He pulled Yaoyao onto his lap, listening with a genuine, booming laugh as she recounted a story about a stubborn swan in the palace gardens. He discussed the finer points of calligraphy with Cai Wenji, admired the intricate embroidery Zhen Ji was working on, and simply allowed his soul to rest in the sanctuary of their presence.
He memorized the scent of their perfumes, the sound of their musical laughter, and the warmth of the brazier, hoarding these gentle memories to stave off the freezing winds that awaited him.
As the midnight bells finally tolled across the sleeping capital, signaling the deepest hour of the night, the gathering gently dispersed. The concubines retired to their respective wings, their hearts heavier but their spirits resilient.
For the night, Lie Fan eventually went to sleep in Lu Lingqi's quarters.
The private chambers of Lu Lingqi were a stark, beautiful contrast to the rest of the opulent Harem Palace. While the other wings were draped in layers of sheer silk, smelling of delicate lotus blossoms and filled with poetry scrolls, Lingqi's rooms were a reflection of the fierce, untamed martial blood that ran through her veins.
Alongside the fine mahogany furniture and the imported carpets were polished racks of heavy weaponry. A magnificent, custom forged halberd rested in the corner, and the scent of fine steel polish mingled with the subtle, musky fragrance she wore.
Later, when the heavy oak doors were closed and there was only the both of them entirely alone in the quiet, dimly lit room, the atmosphere shifted into something raw and deeply intimate.
Lie Fan unclasped his heavy outer robes, setting them aside. He turned to find Lu Lingqi standing near the window, her back straight, her silhouette illuminated by the pale moonlight filtering through the paper lattice. She was not wearing her delicate sleeping silks; she was still dressed in her dark, fitted training tunic, looking every inch the deadly warrior she was born to be.
She turned to face him. Her striking, beautiful eyes, inheriting the fierce, predatory intensity of the Flying General, locked onto his.
"My Emperor... my husband," Lu Lingqi began, her voice lacking its usual playful edge, replaced by a deep, burning sincerity. She took a step toward him, her hands clenching at her sides. She asked him, directly and without hesitation, if she could join him in the campaign and go face these nomadic barbarians herself.
Lie Fan stopped, his hands resting on his belt. He looked at her, his brow furrowing slightly in surprise. The battlefield was a hellscape of blood, mud, and severed limbs. He had spent his entire life trying to shield his family from that very horror.
Before he could offer a protective refusal, Lu Lingqi stepped closer, her voice rising with a passionate, desperate fire.
"Please, Lie Fan. You must let me ride north with you," she passionately explained, her words rushing out as she laid bare the deepest desires of her martial heart. "When I was a little girl, long before the chaos consumed the central plains, I used to sit at my father's feet. I heard the thrilling tales and the bloody stories about the northern steppes from my late father. I heard about the Xiongnu and the Xianbei."
Her eyes blazed with the inherited pride of the Lu clan. "My father was the greatest warrior under the heavens. He told me stories of how he had utterly decimated the nomadic raiding parties at the borders of Bing Province. He spoke of the frozen grass, the thundering hooves, and how the barbarians learned to fear the very sight of his halberd. He drove them back into the dirt where they belonged."
Lu Lingqi looked down at her own calloused hands, hands that had trained relentlessly every single day for years, mastering the arts of war in the safety of the palace courtyards.
"I am the daughter of Lu Bu," she whispered fiercely, looking back up at him. "But I unfortunately didn't have the chance to see his greatest victories firsthand. I was too young. And since then, I have been kept perfectly safe behind these towering walls. I have trained my entire life, but I have never had the chance to truly prove my own martial prowess against the very enemies my father broke. I want to face the riders of the steppes. I want to feel the frozen wind. I want to carve the legacy of my bloodline into the north alongside you."
Lie Fan stood in the quiet room, the silence stretching out between them. He was silent for a long moment, deeply considering the horrifying realities of her request.
The northern steppes were not a training ground. They were an unforgiving, apocalyptic wasteland where the temperature could freeze a man's blood in his veins, and the enemy fought with a desperate, savage cruelty that defied civilized warfare.
A single stray arrow, a single slipped saddle in the mud, could extinguish the fierce, beautiful light of the woman standing before him. The protective husband in his soul screamed at him to deny her, to command her to stay in the warm, safe capital where she belonged.
But as he looked into Lu Lingqi's eyes, he saw the absolute, crushing weight of her caged spirit. She was a tiger born for the hunt, currently pacing in a gilded cage.
To deny her this, to deny her the chance to honor her father's legacy and test the steel of her own soul, would be a cruelty far worse than the dangers of the battlefield. It would slowly break her spirit.
Lie Fan closed his eyes, taking a slow, deep breath. He then sighed softly, the sound heavy with the burden of his decision. He opened his eyes and looked at her with a gaze of profound respect.
"Yes," Lie Fan said, his voice a low, steady rumble in the quiet room. "You can follow me into the north."
Lu Lingqi's breath hitched, her eyes widening in absolute shock. She had prepared a dozen more arguments, ready to fight for her place, entirely expecting him to shut her down.
"And you will not ride as a mere observer," Lie Fan continued, a proud, fierce smile slowly touching the corners of his lips. "You can also bring your elite female soldiers battalion with you to the frontlines."
Over the past few years, Lie Fan had allowed Lingqi to select and train a dedicated battalion of female warriors, the Soaring Valkyries of Hengyuan.
They were women orphaned by the warlord era, hardened by grief, and trained by Lingqi herself into a lethal, highly disciplined shock infantry unit that guarded the inner sanctums. They were fierce, unwavering, and possessed a loyalty to their commander that bordered on the fanatical.
Hearing this incredible, unexpected validation of her life's work, Lu Lingqi was, of course, very, very happy. The fierce, stoic warrior completely melted into a radiant, overjoyed woman. She closed the distance between them, throwing her arms around his neck and thanking Lie Fan profusely, pressing fervent, passionate kisses against his jaw and lips.
Her warrior spirit, which had been simmering for years, was suddenly fully, violently ignited. She felt as though she could conquer the heavens themselves.
Lie Fan wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her slightly off the floor, holding her tightly against him. But as he set her back down, his expression hardened, shifting from the indulgent husband back into the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Army.
He caught her face between his large hands, forcing her to meet his unwavering gaze.
"But hear me clearly, Qi'er," Lie Fan then firmly told her, his voice carrying the absolute, uncompromising weight of military law. "This permission comes under a strict, non negotiable condition. You are riding into the maw of death. You must keep yourself safe. And more importantly, when we are out there, I am no longer just your husband. I am the Supreme Commander."
His eyes bored into hers, searing the mandate into her mind. "You must listen to my orders all the time, without question, and without hesitation on the battlefield. If I order your battalion to hold the line, you hold. If I order you to retreat, you retreat. There is no room for rogue heroism in my vanguard. Do you understand me?"
Lu Lingqi felt the terrifying, majestic pressure of the Black Dragon wash over her. She knew he was entirely serious. On the battlefield, his word was the law of the gods.
She did not argue. She did not let her pride cloud her judgment. Lu Lingqi earnestly nodded her head at that, her expression mirroring his absolute seriousness, and agreed.
"I swear it, my Emperor. My blade is yours to command. I will not fail you."
The pact was sealed. The tension in the room evaporated, replaced by a fiery, passionate intensity that consumed them both for the remainder of the night.
After that fateful night, time seemed to accelerate, blurring the edges of reality. Two days passed by in an absolute flash of industrialized, continent spanning mobilization.
The capital city of Xiapi transformed from a serene political epicenter into a roaring, thundering staging ground of apocalyptic proportions. The newly completed wagonways screamed day and night, the heavy iron wheels sparking against the rails as an endless convoy of military supplies was funneled toward the northern staging grounds.
The foundries hammered out the last batches of high explosive shells for the Black Dragon Cannons, and the massive, stone granaries were partially emptied to feed the marching leviathan.
All the massive military preparations were finally, flawlessly done.
Dawn broke on the morning of the great departure. The sky over the central plains was a crisp, cloudless, freezing blue, the autumn air biting with the sharp promise of the impending winter.
Lie Fan was now standing on top of a towering, hastily erected platform constructed of heavy timber and stone directly outside the massive northern gates of Xiapi.
The visual spectacle spreading out before the platform was something that no human being in recorded history had ever witnessed.
Looking out from his elevated vantage point, Lie Fan faced the hundreds of thousands of heavily armed soldiers of the main imperial army that he would personally lead to march up north. It was an ocean of death and discipline.
The sheer scale of the gathering was incomprehensible. The ranks stretched out across the plains as far as the eye could see, a terrifying, perfectly ordered grid of black iron, polished steel, and crimson silk.
Directly in front of the platform stood the heavy infantry, a wall of towering tower shields and long halberds. Behind them, the elite heavy cataphracts sat atop their massive, armored warhorses, the breath of the beasts rising in thick, white plumes of steam in the cold morning air. To the flanks were the terrifying artillery trains, the Black Dragon Cannons mounted on heavy, reinforced carriages, their dark bronze muzzles angled toward the sky.
And positioned proudly near the Vanguard, standing in immaculate, customized dark-silver armor, was Lu Lingqi, mounted on a magnificent black warhorse. Behind her stood her elite female battalion, their spears held in perfect, unwavering synchronization, ready to prove their lethal worth to the world.
Surrounding the base of the platform were the Yellow Ghost Bodyguards, silent and motionless. On the platform with the Emperor stood his high command, Sima Yi, Xun You, Zhang Liao, Huangfu Song, and Lu Xun, their faces set in grim, martial determination.
A heavy, suffocating silence hung over the hundreds of thousands of men. The only sounds were the snapping of the massive red and gold Hengyuan banners in the freezing wind, and the occasional, nervous snort of a warhorse.
Lie Fan stepped to the very edge of the towering platform.
He wore his absolute heaviest, most magnificent suit of bespoke battle armor, a masterpiece of overlapping black steel scales, accented with gold dragons roaring across the breastplate. He did not wear a helmet, allowing the freezing wind to whip his dark hair around his face. He looked out at the sea of Hengyuan banners. He looked at the men who were about to march into the frozen unknown for his ambition.
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Name: Lie Fan
Title: Founding Emperor Of Hengyuan Dynasty
Age: 36 (203 AD)
Level: 16
Next Level: 462,000
Renown: 2325
Cultivation: Yin Yang Separation (level 11)
SP: 1,121,700
ATTRIBUTE POINTS
STR: 1,010 (+20)
VIT: 659 (+20)
AGI: 653 (+10)
INT: 691
CHR: 98
WIS: 569
WILL: 436
ATR Points: 0