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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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"Let them rest tonight," Lie Fan whispered to the wind, his eyes burning with the promise of tomorrow. "Let Cao Pi sit on his stolen throne and tremble. Because when the sun rises, we will bring the walls down around him."
Hearing their Emperor's cold, calculated assessment of the enemy's fractured leadership, the gathered advisors felt a collective thrill of impending victory.
They nodded their heads in unison, murmuring their absolute agreement with the strategic pivot. Sima Yi's eyes gleamed with the dark promise of psychological warfare, while Fa Zheng could hardly contain his predatory smirk.
"Your Majesty's insight is flawless," Chen Deng remarked, leaning over the topographical map of the inner fortress. "If Cao Pi is indeed wearing a crown that does not yet fit him, the Wei generals will be fighting out of a grim sense of duty, not out of the fanatical devotion that Cao Cao inspires. Duty is brittle. It shatters under enough pressure."
"And we have pressure in abundance," Pang Tong added with a rasping chuckle, tapping the wooden markers representing their artillery batteries. "We shall see how a poet prince handles the roar of the Dragon Cannons."
The strategy and tactics discussion continued deep into the evening, the brilliant minds in the room refining the minutiae of the morning's assault.
They plotted the optimal angles for the trebuchets to clear the high inner walls, finalized the deployment zones for the Hwachas, and coordinated the exact infantry wedges that Zhang Liao and Taishi Ci would lead into the breaches.
Finally, as the oil in the lamps began to burn low, Lie Fan held up his hand. "That is enough," he declared, his voice carrying the finality of a closing iron gate. "The plan is set. The board is arranged. Now, we merely execute."
Before he turned to leave the command post, Lie Fan addressed the room one last time, his tone shifting from tactical to deeply paternal toward his massive army.
"Send word to the quartermasters across all three army encampments," Lie Fan ordered, his gaze sweeping over his advisors. "Tonight, the soldiers are to be given double their usual rations. Let them eat their fill of meat and drink deeply of the clear water we have secured. Tell them that tomorrow is the day history is written. Tomorrow may truly be the final battle required to defeat the remnants of Cao Cao's legacy and unify this war torn land under our banners."
He paused, a dismissive sneer touching his lips as he thought of the treacherous cowards in the far west. "I know there are whispers of those fools in Xingping... this 'League of Lords of the Northwest' or whatever grandiose title Yan Xing and Cheng Yi have crowned themselves with. Let the men know that they are not to worry about their flanks. Those border dogs are entirely unworthy to be acknowledged as rival powers. They are merely bandits squatting in our future territory. Once we claim the imperial palace tomorrow, we will swat them like flies at our leisure. Tonight, we celebrate the eve of total victory."
The advisors bowed deeply, their hearts swelling with the absolute confidence their Emperor radiated.
After issuing his final commands, Lie Fan left the grand balcony of the command post. He walked down the wide, marble stepped staircase of the commandeered nobleman's estate and out into the secured streets of the outer city.
The night air was thick with the smell of woodsmoke and the distinct, metallic tang of blood, but the city itself was eerily quiet. The Hengyuan infantry had established absolute, iron clad martial law.
Patrols of black armored infantries marched in perfect synchronization through the lantern lit avenues, their presence alone enough to keep the terrified civilian populace hidden behind locked doors.
Accompanied by a heavy escort of his elite Yellow Ghost Bodyguards, Lie Fan made his way toward a very specific destination: the Chang'an branch of the Serenity Inn.
To the untrained eye, the Serenity Inn was merely the most luxurious, impeccably managed hospitality establishment in the capital. But to Lie Fan, it was the beating heart of his intelligence network.
The Serenity Inns scattered across the continent were the fortified, highly secret headquarters of the Oriole agents. Here, beneath the guise of wealthy merchants and traveling scholars, spies compiled reports, decrypted ciphers, and managed the shadow war that had won Lie Fan half his battles before a single sword was drawn.
Because of its hidden fortifications and the absolute, fanatical loyalty of the staff, it was also unequivocally the safest place in the entirety of the conquered outer city.
As Lie Fan crossed the threshold of the beautifully carved wooden doors, the innkeeper, a high ranking Oriole handler, immediately dropped to his knees, offering a silent, deeply reverent bow.
Lie Fan waved him up with a subtle gesture, stepping past the opulent reception area and into the secluded, heavily guarded private dining quarters in the back courtyard.
Inside a spacious, warmly lit dining room overlooking a small, tranquil koi pond, Lie Fan found the most precious piece of his empire.
His thirteen year old eldest son and Crown Prince, Muchen, was seated at a large, circular mahogany table, eating a late dinner. Surrounding the boy, acting as a living, impenetrable shield, were his assigned protectors Ma Chao and Ji Ling, who had seamlessly stepped into Zhao Yun's role following the Silver Dragon's departure.
Flanking Muchen on the other side were his brilliant tutors, Lu Zhi and Zhuge Jin, their faces weary from the long march but their eyes bright with pride.
When the heavy wooden doors slid open and Lie Fan's massive, armored frame filled the entryway, the dynamic in the room shifted instantly.
Every man at the table, from the veteran generals to the esteemed scholars, immediately stood up, pushing their chairs back. They cupped their hands and bowed deeply. Muchen, his eyes lighting up with profound joy and relief at seeing his father unharmed, rushed out from behind the table and dropped to one knee.
"Imperial Father!" Muchen greeted, his voice cracking slightly with emotion. "We greet Your Majesty!"
Lie Fan's stern, warlord visage melted away instantly, replaced by the warm, deeply affectionate smile of a father. He stepped forward quickly, reaching down to grasp Muchen by the shoulders and hauling the boy to his feet, pulling him into a tight, brief embrace that smelled of leather, sweat, and victory.
"Be at ease, all of you," Lie Fan commanded gently, looking around at Ma Chao, Ji Ling, and the scholars. "Sit down. Continue to eat. You have all marched hard today, and you have protected the future of this dynasty perfectly. You have my profound thanks."
He gestured for them to resume their seats, then pulled out a heavy wooden chair right beside Muchen and sat down with a heavy, metallic sigh of relief. The physical toll of fighting on the eastern wall was finally catching up to his muscles, but his spirit was soaring.
An attendant materialized from the shadows instantly. Lie Fan waved a hand.
"Bring me a plate of whatever you are serving the Crown Prince," Lie Fan ordered casually. "Some roast venison, if you have it, and steamed vegetables. And bring a teapot of your finest white tea leaves. The Silver Needle, if the caravans managed to bring it this far west. I need something to clear the smoke from my throat."
The attendant bowed perfectly and vanished.
"Imperial Father," Muchen said, his eyes wide as he looked at the dried blood splattered across Lie Fan's bespoke armor. "The sounds of the battle... even from here, inside the inn, the roar of the cannons shook the teacups. Is the outer city truly secure?"
"It is, my son," Lie Fan said, accepting a warm, damp cloth from another servant and wiping the grime from his face and hands. "The outer walls are shattered. Cao Cao's army is trapped within the inner fortress like rats in a barrel. The end is very near."
As the food and the steaming, fragrant white tea arrived, the dining room transformed into a sanctuary of warmth and familial bonding. For the next hour, the brutal reality of the siege outside was held at bay. This was a rare, invaluable window of time for Lie Fan to refresh his mind and, more importantly, to spend quality time with his heir.
Lie Fan did not simply lecture, he listened. He asked Muchen to share his experiences of the day. He wanted to know what the Crown Prince had observed during the army's massive logistical shift into the city.
"It is one thing to supply an army on an open plain, Imperial Father," Muchen noted, his brow furrowed in serious thought, echoing the lessons Lu Zhi had undoubtedly drilled into him. "But moving a hundred thousand men into a dense urban environment without causing mass starvation or rioting among the civilian populace... it requires an entirely different set of mathematics. Master Zhuge and I spent the afternoon redirecting the grain carts so they wouldn't clog the main arteries needed by General Zhang Liao's infantry."
"Excellent observation," Lie Fan praised, taking a sip of the delicate, sweet white tea. "Conquering a city is an act of violence. Ruling a city is an act of administration. If we allow our soldiers to strip the granaries bare tonight, we will be fighting a rebellion of starving citizens tomorrow. You must always look past the edge of the sword, Muchen. The sword wins the throne, the grain keeps it."
Muchen nodded eagerly, soaking in the practical wisdom. He shared his point of view on the terrified faces of the Wei civilians he had seen through the carriage windows, expressing a budding, empathetic understanding of the heavy burden of rulership.
Lie Fan guided the conversation expertly, using the day's apocalyptic events as a real time classroom, teaching his son how to balance the ruthless necessity of war with the merciful pragmatism required to actually govern a unified empire.
Ma Chao and Ji Ling listened in silent respect, while Lu Zhi and Zhuge Jin exchanged subtle, satisfied smiles. The Crown Prince was maturing into a phenomenal leader right before their eyes with each days passing by, tempered by the heat of his father's greatest campaign.
As the hour grew late and the tea ran cold, the adrenaline of the day finally faded, leaving a heavy, bone deep exhaustion in its wake.
Lie Fan bid his son and the generals goodnight, retiring to a heavily guarded, luxurious suite on the upper floor of the Serenity Inn. For the first time in weeks, the Emperor of Hengyuan slept deeply, the distant, muffled sounds of the occupied city acting as a bizarre lullaby.
Time slipped away into the dark, and soon, the sky began to lighten, painting the eastern horizon in streaks of pale grey and bloody crimson.
Lie Fan woke precisely at the break of dawn, his internal clock tuned to the rhythm of war. He did not linger in the soft silk sheets. He rose immediately, his mind already sharp, entirely focused on the monumental task ahead.
With the help of his squires, he adorned himself in his full, magnificent panoply of war. The heavy black iron plates, etched with golden dragons, locked into place over his padded gambeson.
He secured his helmet, the fearsome faceplate framing his cold, determined eyes. Finally, he reached out and grasped the haft of his legendary heavenly halberd. The weapon felt perfectly balanced, a familiar extension of his own unstoppable will.
Stepping out of the Serenity Inn, accompanied by his Yellow Ghost Bodyguard, Zhang Mancheng, Lie Fan breathed in the crisp morning air. The smell of burning wood still lingered, a grim reminder of yesterday's violence.
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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