Xin Fengxian stifles a yawn with the sleeve of his robes and surveys the assembling forces on the outskirts of Tiansheng. The troops look to be in good cheer, and the clear skies and friendly weather are good omens to start their journey, so he feels quite content with how things are proceeding.

“You look a bit under-the-weather, young master,” Bai Chuanyun observes.

He does not doubt it. While emotionally satisfied, he feels haggard and utterly worn down. “It has been a long week…”

“As long as you are well.”

“I’m just exhausted. My wife has kept me busy, and we were unable to finish our final game of go, which she insists we complete immediately upon my return.”

“My cousin has always enjoyed her games.”

“I’ve heard she is relentless, and even our prince is no match for her,” Song Xinqi, who had been listening nearby, joins their conversation with a wry, knowing smirk. “It is a wonder that you held up as well as you did against lady Bai.”

Fengxian merely sighs.

“Oh, I thought she was very patient when I played against her,” Chuanyun replies.

“If that is patience,” Xingqi gestures at Fengxian and laughs, “I’d hate to see what she can do without holding back. Young master Fengxian might not be with us today!”

“I wasn’t aware that go could be so dangerous…”

Xingqi grins, but says nothing.

“You’re talking about the game, right? Right!?”

Fengxian waves his hand. “That’s enough. We have other matters to focus on. Zhao Zhuoting is distributing my orders to the officers, so we will set out once he returns.”

“My people have already gone ahead, and as far as I can tell, General Dong has done a superb job getting everything in order on his end.”

She is correct. General Dong exceeded expectations with the White River Cavalry’s preparations. Nearly four-thousand of his personal troops are milling about the mustering field, and even the civilians in the baggage train seem roughly organized. Fengxian anticipated more issues, especially considering that the additional supplies given by the court nearly doubled their numbers.

While Fengxian surveys his forces, Bai Chuanyun arrives with his horse, a beautiful white mare with an expertly braided mane. Lanxi county, where the White River Ciders hail from, is well known for their white warhorses. They are strong and swift, with good temperament and a long legacy, thus Fengxian ensures that all of his riders are paired with one.

“We’ll try to keep things simple while on the march. I’ve ordered a consistent schedule with regular breaks to not over-tax the men or the horses, but to also make good time. The important thing I’ve emphasized to the officers is that we are setting an example, so it is imperative we do not trample any fields, steal from, or harass the locals, or disrupt their way of life if we can avoid it. They’re upset enough as it is, so we do not need to give them more reasons.”

“It will be difficult to maintain order with so many people,” Xingi comments, though it is clear she supports the overall plan.

“I’ve made it clear that no one is exempt from these rules, and there will be punishments for anyone who gets out of line or defies my orders. This goes for officers — even myself.”

Xingqi’s surprise is palpable. Why would someone of his stature put himself at risk of punishment? “The men will surely appreciate your personal commitment.”

He gently pets along his horse’s flank and neck, and she reacts pleasantly, as if happy to see him. “It is a small risk for a large benefit — or so I hope. Anyway, I think we’ve delayed enough. Let’s get started!”

A traveling army, even one as small as the White River Cavalry, is not a speedy procession. Fengxian’s target goal for the officers is sixty li per day, and while the riders can easily cover many times that, the baggage train can not. Despite the best intentions of the soldiers and the efforts of their officers, the sixty li goal is rarely met. Fortunately, general Dong’s experience on the campaign trail helped with planning, and Fengxian personally expects a more reasonable fifty li, a distance they travel with a promising consistency.

At their current pace, reaching the border between Sizhou and Fuzhou will take at least four months. That conclusion forced Fengxian to reflect on how large the Xi’an empire actually is. Were they to march all the way to the coast, instead of stopping in the more central Fuzhou, they’d be marching the entire year, perhaps longer.

He resolves to be content with Fuzhou. From there, the Twilight Abode can continue monitoring the situation in the agrarian region and help determine what the problems are. In the meantime, Fengxian takes advantage of the slow progress and the speed of their horses to make regular visits to the small villages of the region. Being so close to the capital, he does not expect to learn too much, but any information is helpful.

In the third month of travel, not far from the border of Fuzhou, they approach Wuzhen. It is a small town nestled into the base of the wooded foothills to the south and overlooking the plains sprawling to the river in the north. There is nothing remarkable about the village to set it apart from any other, but it is the first to surprise the prince.

The normal experience leading up to Wuzhen was to establish the camp about twenty li from the town and then a small group, led by Fengxian, would approach to assess the situation and meet with the villagers. However, this time, a handful of villagers came out to meet them before the advance party had even assembled.

Fengxian hurries to greet the villagers, laboring under the assumption that something is horribly wrong for them to trek out this far. Despite his initial assumption, Fengxian finds the three young men at the outskirts of the soon-to-be camp looking hale and happy.

“I am Xin Fengxian, prince of Lanxi. What brings you to my camp?”

The eldest of the three boys hesitantly steps forward and bows. “We heard that your highness was traveling through the area and our village elder told us to come greet you. Elder Wu wanted to be here, but he does not get around well anymore, so we hope that you can forgive his rudeness.”

The young lad leans in a little like he is going to tell a secret. “I think he is preparing a proper greeting for you, so if your highness has the time to spare, please visit Wuzhen!”

The three boys all bow and speak together. “Please visit Wuzhen!”

Fengxian bids for them to rise with a quick gesture of his hands and spares a brief, uncertain glance in the general direction of Xinqi. “We will take you up on that offer. Let Elder Wu know we will arrive soon.”

“Really? That is great news! Thank you, your highness!” their excitement is palpable, and they are soon scurrying off home.

“I wonder what that was all about?” Xinqi muses.

“Well, why don’t we go find out?”

The young boy’s assumption proves correct. The village elder was, indeed, preparing a proper greeting, or at least what the villagers believe a proper greeting should be. Out and away from the day-to-day of courtly proceedings, a small feast and gathering of villagers to greet Fengxian and bestow what minor gifts they can is more than plenty. However heartfelt their celebration might be, it pales in comparison to a true imperial greeting by other ministers and the noble clans.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Over two dozen excited townspeople present gifts of one nature or another, normally something of modest value. Some offer hand-made items that are more sentimental than valuable, but Fengxian politely declines them all. He refuses to take anything of value from those who might need it, and is eventually forced to explain that he does not wish to insult any of them by picking-and-choosing which gifts to accept.

He goes to great lengths to show his appreciation and to soothe any wounded pride, but finds that the resilient farmers and woodsmen brush it off easily enough. However, in spite of all of his refusals, Fengxian is left holding a small carved figurine that he assumes is the great dragon, Ruyilong. He intended to refuse it along with the other gifts, but no one will fess up to owning it, much less to making it, so he hands it over to Zhouting for safekeeping.

“Your highness, it is such a pleasure to have you visit us so far from Tiansheng,” an elderly man with frail, hunched shoulders and fluffy white eyebrows greets him with the best bow he can muster. “I am Elder Wu, and I watch over this town to the best of my ability.”

Fengxian bows politely. “It is always a pleasure to meet the wonderful people of our empire.”

Elder Wu chuckles and strokes his beard. “Wonderful people are difficult to come by these days.”

He leans on his cane and extends his free arm somewhat. The boy who came to greet Fengxian earlier rushes to his side and helps steady him. “This is my grandson. He is a smart boy with a good heart. In time, he will replace me and guide the village, but he lacks what I have endured, and what ails me now — time.”

Fengxian tips his head, curious about the statement.

“Would you join me inside?” Elder Wu gestures to his home with a flick of his cane. “The physician says that I must avoid the humidity for my health. Imagine that, eh? Can’t avoid something like that.”

“Of course. Lead the way.”

Elder Wu shuffles along at a snail’s pace, but they do not have to go far. “My grandson… Ah, yes… If only I could grant him the wisdom of my years, then he may be truly prepared for the future.”

“I am sure you are doing your best to teach him what you know,” Fengxian replies courteously.

“Of course, and he listens well! But I cannot teach him perspective!”

“Perspective?”

“Mmm… I shall explain inside.”

Several minutes later Fengxian and Elder Wu are seated at a table and his grandson is preparing some tea in the next room. At first, Fengxian has some doubts about Elder Wu’s mind, and suspects he might be suffering from the weight of his years, but the more he observes, the more he comes to realize that he just loses himself reminiscing about the past or some such. The old man is still as sharp as they come.

“I have heard about your travels, your highness,” Elder Wu finally continues once his grandson sets their tea cups in front of them. “And I have heard why you are traveling, and it is for the same reason I worry about the boy: perspective!”

“Ah,” Fengxian nods as he comes to understand where the old man is taking the conversation. “You are correct, I am traveling to get a better perspective.”

“Mmm… the years have given me a perspective you cannot easily find. You can observe the now, and hear tales of the past, but you cannot go back and live it yourself. You cannot see how things change, or how they remain the same, not like an old man such as myself!”

“And what does an old man such as yourself think of current affairs?”

“Current affairs? Pah! Current affairs is a nice way of putting it. But you don’t want that, you want to know what risk there is to the empire, no? What upsets the people of villages like Wuzhen?”

Elder Wu’s voice crackles and his tone darkens, but he is not wrong, so Fengxian agrees. “I do… and do you know what it is?”

Elder Wu smiles broad and wide, exposing what few, crooked teeth remain. “If I cannot teach the boy, can I teach you, your highness? Hm, perhaps… perhaps I can! What ails the people is not simple, though simple it may sound.”

He takes a moment to sip his tea and wet his throat. “There is an agreement of sorts, between the people and the emperor. The Mandate of Heaven, it is called. We peasants are but one of three pillars in the mandate, and our part is paying taxes and providing labor. In exchange, the empire uses those taxes to our benefit. We are kept safe, our roads are maintained, the dykes keep the river from washing away the fields, and when hardship does strike, we are taken care of. We ensure the comfort and survival of each other, because that is what she demands of us.”

Elder Wu clears his throat and coughs into his sleeve. “But we pay more taxes now than ever before, and we have seen less to show for it. The service of the empire towards its people has faded, but our obligation grows ever greater. The people will gladly pay their taxes, as it is our obligation established by the Mandate of Heaven, but if the empire does not honor its agreement…”

He leans forward and fixes Fengxian with a harsh look, and then speaks the truth that the prince fears the most: “then soon there will be no empire…”

“Speak, Miss Song,” Fengxian mutters and side-eyes the woman who has nearly blurted something out several times, but always stops at the last moment. “You’re starting to concern me.”

She shies away and purses her lips. Ever since leaving Wuzhen, she has kept an eye on him, and it is clear she is desperate to say something. Nevertheless, even given permission, she still hesitates.

“Well, you seemed lost in thought, so I didn’t want to interrupt, but I have this feeling you learned something,” Xinqi pauses for a breath. “And you don’t seem happy about it.”

“Oh?” Fengxian fidgets with the carved dragon, repeatedly turning it over in his hands as if it will divulge some hidden secret if viewed at the right angle. “I did learn a bit. When we visited the other villagers, they seemed content, and none had anything useful to say. Wuzhen felt the same at first, but after talking to Elder Wu, I suspect we are on the correct path — even if he is exaggerating.”

“What’d he say that has you so on edge?”

“Hm? Do I seem tense?” he lets out a calming sigh and relaxes his shoulders. Perhaps she is right and he has been bottling up his concerns. “He told me I need a proper perspective to understand what I seek.”

“Proper perspective? Did he explain what he meant?”

“In a sense, yes,” Fengxian indicates the road beneath their horses with a nod of his head. “What do you think of the road, Miss Song? This is one of the most heavily traveled highways in the empire, and it transports a mind-boggling quantity of grain every year.”

She makes a show of examining the road, but he can’t tell how serious she is about it. “Not much different than any other. It’s washed out in a few places like all of them, and the ruts are well-worn, so I can believe it sees a lot of activity. I suspect our army isn’t helping matters, though.”

Fengxian nods a few times, then twists in his saddle and waves to general Dong, urging him to join them. “That is my assessment, too. It seems like any other road to me. General Dong, what do you think of the road?”

General Dong is caught off guard by the inquiry, but crosses his arms and huffs. “It’s a road. However, back in my youth, the entire thing was paved with finely cut stones. The floods were really bad about twenty years back, and they pulled up all the stones as filler for one of the dykes rather than doing a proper job of it. The dykes failed a year later, of course, and the road was never fixed.”

He spits into the grass. “Never trust an official when they say they’ll fix something later. They never will, especially when they can cut costs and line their own pockets.”

Fengxian gives Xinqi a smug grin. “See, that is perspective. Neither of us would have known that, but general Dong has a perspective that we, being younger, do not.”

For that very reason, and a few others, Fengxian bestowed one of the vaunted academy positions on Elder Wu’s grandson. As he said, he is a smart boy, with a good heart and a lot of promise. Fengxian spoke with him a bit and couldn’t disagree. The boy will be a valuable asset once trained by Master Zhou.

“So, they are upset that the road isn’t fixed?”

“Among other things. Elder Wu’s main point is that they pay more in taxes now than ever before, and they see even less in return for it.”

Dong Peishao spits again.

“But that isn’t really a surprise, is it?” Xinqi answers. “You already know that the court is horribly corrupt. Half of my job is investigating their underhand dealings! So, I don’t understand why you’re upset? Is it because you’re right, and there is a revolt looming over our heads?”

“That’s why we have the White River Cavalry!” General Dong concludes proudly.

“No, he mentioned something much, much worse,” Fengxian holds up the dragon figurine. “He says the Mandate of Heaven is in danger.”

Xinqi blinks and General Dong mutters a quick prayer under his breath.

“Most people learn about it at some point, and what the mandate entails, but it is so easily forgotten,” Fengxian finds the weight of the dragon figuring growing, but dismisses it as a figment of his imagination. “It has existed as long as the empire — in fact, the very reason the great Xi’an exists at all is because of the Mandate of Heaven.”

“So, some old man thinks that the mandate, which has held for over eight centuries, is just going to fall apart,” Xinqi snaps her fingers for emphasis. “Just like that? Then what? The empire just ceases to be? It’s not like an old fairy tale is the only thing holding the empire together!”

‘If it were only a fairy tale, then I’d agree,’ Fengxian sighs inwardly. Unlike him, Xinqi hasn’t met the Great Dragon. She cannot understand the true master of the mandate like he can.

“No, it probably isn’t, but answer this: when has Xi’an ever faced an external threat, except from beyond the Great Bastion? Do either of you know?”

Xinqi shakes her head, but Peishao speaks up. “Xi’an has never faced an enemy from beyond the borders, at least, none that I have ever heard of.”

“That is because of the Mandate of Heaven. Were it to fall, then we are no longer safe from the rest of the world. We do not need armies, because we have her watching over us.”