Cold Sands || Beyond the Frore Dunes [COMPLETED]

Chapter 40: Conclave

Brisk autumn winds pick up, sweeping across the great plains. Slender blades of grass sway and shuffle along. The sun in the distance appears to be blocked, coating everything in sight in dim yellow, and it's so quiet that it's easy to start imagining things.

I squint as I study the distance.

The cool wind brushes past my ears, bringing along with it the tang of grass and soil and also the faintest stench of blood.

The fall showers have diluted the blood in the ground. The dead, yellow leaves are doing a poor job of hiding the thousands of skeletons. My horse whinnies uneasily and looks from side to side warily as it steps over the maroon earth.

I spur my steed forward and immediately I hear a deep voice coming from behind me. "Careful, Your Majesty."

I reply without looking back, "I do not wish to see the remains, Duke."

In the distance, I can see a pure white military tent surrounded by blinding light and a field of red. I hear the clanging of metals around me and see the soldiers in front of me draw their weapons with a stony look on their faces.

We approach the tent and when we are only two hundred steps or so away, the Blood Mounts charge towards us, spreading out into the two lines to form a V and fence in our party.

I lower my head, pretending to not have seen that, and feel the nephrite lightly bouncing on my chest with each of the horse's strides.

As we draw near, a Yan cavalryman rides forth, greeting me before turning back around to lead the way. The soldiers behind me are stopped and they are forced to halt their horses and wait alertly with their swords raised. There are already around a hundred soldiers standing in formation before the tent. Their black armor covers themselves and their steeds. The ink black spears and the glistening spear tips form an eerily glowing forest.

The guiding soldier nods and the formation scatters outward like the tide washing away, parting a path for three riders. I spur my horse forward and I sense the person behind me following close behind. The warriors around us let out a low bellow and stick their spears diagonally into the air to crisscross with one another, blocking the light overhead.

I pull a thin smile and sit straighter. "Duke of Huai Nan, what do you think of this formation?"

Heng Ziyu raises his voice. "It certainly looks fancy."

By now we have reached the tent. The soldier dismounts and kneels down before the tent. "Your Majesty, the Emperor of Great Rui and the Duke of Huai Nan have arrived."

"Welcome in." It's a man's voice but not that person's.

I dismount and just as I take one step a guard comes up to me. "Weapons are not allowed inside, Your Majesty."

"It's fine. Come in, please."

The guard immediately backs off and lifts up the tent flap with respect.

The gold-painted cow hide tent held up by eighteen poles is large enough to ride a horse in. A fresh fragrance meanders in the air as a light foggy substance seeps out from a censer shaped like an animal's face. Behind the censer stands a young man wearing formal Yan silk ceremonial attire and a small smile. He bows slightly and signals for me to sit down in the prearranged seat. I lift up my train and take my seat casually while Heng Ziyu stands behind me.

Beyond the lazy smoke is an elevated couch, and beyond that are a few civil officials with their heads bowed. Murong Yu is reclined on the couch, dressed in golden armor and a black robe with a long sword the color of spotty black hanging from his waist. He turns his enigmatic gaze over to me, piercing like the blade tip, as dark as obsidian.