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The warhorses had already been brushed glossy, fed concentrated fodder, and given time to rest at midday. Like the men, they were brimming with energy.
Each soldier carried three days of dry rations, three days of water, and was assigned two fine mounts. The army traveled light. They had no baggage train and brought no cumbersome supplies.
They were not just racing hundreds of kilometers. They were going to strike West Ji’s capital in a surprise assault and seize its ruler.
There was no other way to go about things; they had to prioritize speed.
* * *
In the State of West Ji, the crown prince was inspecting the new robe he would wear for his coronation.
An old minister came to advise him that Dragon Throat Pass had seen beacon fires ignite on their own twice. The old minister told him that the event suggested an enemy was stirring in the shadows, planning trouble during his grand ceremony.
Huyan Zhao asked him, “Then what do you suggest we do?”
“We should postpone the ceremony,” the old minister said, blunt and sincere.
Huyan Zhao’s face went dark in an instant.
Who did not know that the longer you waited, the more things could go wrong? His father was dead. He had been counting the days, counting the hours, waiting and waiting. Finally, tomorrow, he would be crowned king. And this old man wanted him to delay?
Huyan Zhao said...
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