Honour, She Obeys

by L. S. Slayford

  Whether she wanted to or not.

  Not that either of them could do anything about it. Prince Kang thought she was Zhou Mouhai, the son of a minor chief, not Zhou Mulan, the rebellious daughter who took her father’s place. She wasn’t the one that he wanted, not really.

  At least, that’s what she told herself.

  “I keep thinking about those we left behind.” Digan’s voice was small, but the wind carried them to everyone’s ears.

  Mulan breathed heavily, her mind instantly carrying back to the day they were forced to march, leaving behind those with injuries far too severe to carry on. Fevers that wracked the body, leaving the man lifeless but still drawing breath; infectious wounds no amount of magic potion could heal; internal bleeding they couldn’t treat. With the locals refusing to take anyone in for fear of death to their village, the Rouran closing in, and the urgency of getting back to the capital, Prince Kang had done the only thing he could.

  He’d ordered those too sick to move to drink poison.

  A few times in the past, her father had explained the necessity of such acts. How sometimes you had to be cruel to be kind.

  What remained of the army possessed little resources. A pathetic few tents, some furs and blankets, and precious little food. What medicine the village could spare helped, but it only went so far. The potion Zong obtained from the local shaman had healed her, yes, but it’d quickly run out, leaving none for anyone else. Although guilt continued to eat at her, Mulan was still grateful to be alive.

  And not to have to make the tough decisions Prince Kang obviously had to make.

  It was one thing to order your men into battle, but another to relieve them of their personal fight against mortal injuries. A volunteer had offered to stay behind and administer the poison.

  Mulan stared ahead, watching Prince Kang’s back as he rode alone. “I think we all do,” she said. “But at least they’re out of their misery now.”

  Silence stretched between them for several minutes, save for the steady beat of the horses’ hooves on the stone road and the constant patter of rain. Eventually, Chuo slid a glance her way. “What happens when we reach the capital?”

  A frown locked between Zong’s forehead. “What do you mean?”

  “With you know,” he replied, gesturing towards Mulan. “Look around. The army is dead. We could probably convince him to let us go home.”

  Daocheng snorted. “Good luck convincing Mouhai to go home.”

  Mulan shook her head. “I can’t return home. Not yet, anyway. The threat of the Rouran is still strong. It would be wrong to leave Prince Kang like this.”

  A mischievous smile pulled up one corner of Huyanti’s mouth. “Of course.”

  Her brows slammed down at his tone. “What do you mean by that?”

  The smile morphed into a grin. “Prince Kang, huh?” Despite the rain, Mulan could feel her cheeks warming and Huyanti chuckled lightly. “We’ve all seen the way he looks at you. Never thought he was that way inclined, but I guess you can’t tell just by the way someone looks.”

  Chuo joined in with the laughter and Mulan shoved down the urge to smack them both. “I always thought Mouhai would end up with someone a little closer to home.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Daocheng glancing away, his jaw tightening. Within her chest, something ached for him.

  She loved Daocheng, yes, but not the way he deserved.

  Conversation flowed between her friends for the rest of the journey, but Mulan couldn’t concentrate on talk of girls and love. Her eyes fixed on Prince Kang’s back up ahead, her mind on what happened between them back in camp.

  Finally, the walled gates of Pingcheng loomed before them. Standing three times the height of a man, the grey walls exuded a sense of imposing majesty and awe, promising one hell of a fight to break through them. Wooden watchtowers stretched several stories high above the walls, and Mulan knew that whilst she couldn’t see them, armed guards watched all who entered the city.

  More lined the colossal gate, several pairs of dark eyes watching them as they rode past. Up ahead, the hustle and bustle of the city spilling before them, Prince Kang waited, his eyes flickering over each of them. Behind, the rest of the men rode single file. “I’m taking you to the barracks where you can get some rest.” His eyes settled on Mulan, and she noticed the exhaustion that stained them. “Zhou, you will accompany me to the palace.”

  Nodding, she couldn’t help the tremor of trepidation that snaked around in her gut. She’d heard stories about Emperor Taiwu from others in the camp, of how he’d treat messengers bringing news he didn’t want to hear.

  It would be just her luck to have her head cut off now after surviving everything else.

  Silently, they allowed Prince Kang to lead them through the city. Despite the rain, the incessant chatter of people going about their daily life, of traders bellowing of what goods they had to offer, and small children dancing in puddles floated on the air.

  War waged beyond the city walls, but life went on within.

  For Mulan, though, it offered a warm comfort seeing the children playing, knowing that as one generation fell, another rose. The Tuoba would continue to live.

  Especially in cities such as Pingcheng. The minutes stretched on with each new road Prince Kang led them down. Lanterns hung from the sides of wooden and stone buildings of all sizes. Thick plumes of incense wafted on the chill air alongside cooked meat and spices she couldn’t identify. The rain ran down the faces of stone statues like a torrent of tears. If Shenzhou was a single bloom, then Pingcheng was the entire garden.

  People darted in and out of their way, far too many to count. “It’s incredible,” Digan exclaimed, watching a gaggle of young ladies cross the street, brightly coloured parasols covering their faces. The rain couldn’t hide their giggling. “Pingcheng is huge.”

  “My grandfather used to tell me stories of where he was originally from,” Daocheng said, the first smile in days dancing on his lips. “He told me how beautiful and vast Jiankang was, how the Jin emperors had loved it so much they made it their capital. Did you know he once saw Emperor An up close?” The others shook their heads but smiled at the warmth of his words. “He couldn’t rule, obviously, because of his health issues – he couldn’t even speak - but Grandfather said when he smiled, you couldn’t help but smile with him.”

  “I’ve never been to a city as large as this,” Zong said. “Even to this day, the Xiongnu refuse to settle in one place.”

  Prince Kang glanced over his shoulder, a frown etched on his forehead. “Aren’t you all from Shenzhou?”

  “If it wasn’t because of my great-grandfather, I’d be roaming somewhere around the northern steppes with the rest of my people.” Seeing the confused look on the prince’s face, he explained. “My great-grandfather was a priest who sided with the wrong khan and paid the price by having his entire line exiled to the south. That’s how my family came to know the Zhou’s. We’ve been their bannermen for three generations.”

  Falling into silence, it didn’t take long for Prince Kang to lead them to a large compound made of several buildings nestled beneath the shadow of an imposing watchtower. Soldiers marched up and down, spears in hand and their leather armour tight against their bodies, their large caps keeping the rain somewhat off their faces.

  After speaking to whom Mulan could only assume was the captain, Prince Kang ordered everyone except for her to bathe and rest. As the remainder of their army began piling in, eager for food and sleep, he led her away and down a narrow street not far from the barracks.

  A sinking feeling settled within her gut at the thought of where they were heading. But it turned to surprise when they stopped outside a small building, climbed down from the horses, and knocked.

  A few minutes later, an old man opened the door. White whiskers and deep creases etched into his face and he hunched over, gripping a crooked cane for support. The robes he wore reminded Mulan of the river in the afternoon; the qual
ity of the silk suggested money, but the fraying at the hems and the modest appearance of the building indicated he’d come down in the world. “Prince Kang, I’m glad you’ve returned,” he said, his voice croaky.

  A thin, almost unnoticeable hint of a smile curved on the prince’s face. “I’m sorry to bother you, Teacher Xilu, but we have a meeting with my father and, well ...” He gestured to their appearances.

  Teacher Xilu tsked at him and stepped to one side. “Of course not. The emperor would have a heart attack seeing dirt in his palace, although blood is more than acceptable. Good timing, my boy. My daughter was just about to help me in the bath. It’s one of the few pleasures in life I can still enjoy.”

  Prince Kang shook his head and ushered Mulan inside. “No time for that,” he told the old man, shutting the door behind them. “Just a wash and a quick change of clothes.”

  “I’ll have Shengtong bring some spare clothes. You know where the bath is.”

  “I do. Thank you, Teacher.”

  The old man dismissed him with a wave and hobbled into another room. “Oh, tosh. I haven’t been a teacher in years so stop calling me that.”

  Mulan went to open her mouth and thank him for his generosity, but Prince Kang pushed her towards the back where steam enveloped a large wooden tub. “No time for thank you’s. Get cleaned and get dressed when Shengtong arrives. I’ll wait for you out here.”

  “But -”

  “Shut up. We can’t make my father wait.”

  “So why aren’t we going straight there?” Mulan asked, confused.

  A middle-aged woman with a soft rounded face and pink cheeks hurried towards them. Carrying a pile of clothes in her arms, she placed them in Mulan’s hand. Prince Kang gave her a quick smile. Before she could say anything, he shut the door in Mulan’s face.

  “Because he will kill you for dirtying his floors. He’s done it to servants.”

  Great, just who I want to meet, she thought. Steam wafted around her and the water felt amazing on her fingertips. Pity there wasn’t time for a real bath.

  Quickly, Mulan undressed and used a rag on the pile of clothing to wash the grime of travelling off her skin, making sure to avoid getting the strips of cloth around her chest wet. The only thing that could improve the situation was some food. How she longed for a proper meal. Her stomach growled as she scrubbed the dirt from her face. Thankfully, not a single bruise or scar from the Rouran’s attention marred her features, thanks to the shaman’s potion.

  “Hurry up.”

  With a weary sigh, she pulled on the new clothes and fastened her armour over it. Last to go on was the helmet. Ensuring all her hair was tucked beneath it, she said goodbye to the bath, promising herself one soon.

  When she opened the door only a few minutes after having it slammed shut in her face, she noticed the dark look in Prince Kang’s eyes as he stared at her before hurrying past, a bundle in his own hands. “Wouldn’t it be better if we met with him tomorrow, when we’re properly rested and clean?” she suggested, hoping he’d agree.

  “This is too important to wait,” he called to her, the thud of armour hitting the floor. “I should also mention that he’s got a vicious temper.”

  “Great,” she muttered sarcastically. “Just what I needed to hear.”

  “It could be worse – we could be seeing him first thing in the morning instead of in the afternoon.”

  “Does he like to eat little soldiers like me for breakfast?”

  “No. Just to kill them.”

  Mulan paused. “Tell me you’re joking.”

  “I’m joking.”

  Mulan frowned, unable to tell if he was being serious or not.

  A minute later, he opened the door and ushered them out of the house without saying goodbye to their hosts. “Isn’t that rude?” she asked, as they mounted their horses.

  They trotted northeast. “Teacher Xilu is used to it. He’s the only one who treats me like a friend and not a prince. He’s always allowed me to come and go as I please. Since his forced retirement, I make sure he’s well looked after. Or as much as he allows me to. Like yourself, he’s a stubborn goat.”

  They rode on in silence for a while, navigating the busy streets. Sometime whilst in Teacher Xilu’s house, the rain stopped. Dark clouds still stretched over the sky and water dripped from the eaves of buildings.

  People of all ages rushed from one building to another, conversing with storekeepers and others around them. Mulan gasped with how many people she saw – hundreds in just a single street. How many lived in the capital?

  Out of the commotion, someone yelled. “It’s Prince Kang, returned from the wars!”

  Shocked gasps rang out and everybody turned to stare at them. Seconds later, applause echoed throughout the street and cries of jubilation flooded their ears like a tidal wave. It seemed to go on forever.

  Mulan glanced over at her commander. Annoyance cast deep shadows over his eyes and his jawline tightened with each clap. “Do you get this every time you come home?” she asked as they rode past the cheering residents.

  He drew in a breath and let it out with a sigh. “Every single time. I hate it.”

  Surprise rippled through her at the honest remark. “Really?”

  Nodding, he kept his eyes forward, fixed on the road ahead as people stepped back to let them through. “They treat me like I’m some kind of hero, ready to save them all.” Those dark eyes slid to her, a flicker of sadness within them. “But I’m not.”

  Not knowing what to say, Mulan kept her mouth shut. Suddenly, as they almost reached the end of the street where it lay quiet and blessedly free of large crowds, a woman dressed in loose-fitting clothes darted in front of them, blocking their way. “May the gods have mercy on your soul, Prince Kang, because I won’t!”

  The few people nearby gasped in horror at the vicious tone. Bringing the horses to a halt, Mulan frowned. “What is wrong, auntie?” she asked, using the appropriate term for a woman her mother’s age. “Why are you standing in the street like this?”

  Brown eyes burned a fiery path in Mulan’s direction, and she jabbed a finger at the prince. “Because he killed my son, that’s why!”

  Mulan flashed him a confused glance. He leaned forward on his horse, a knot appearing between his brows. “Do I know you?”

  The woman stepped forward, the tie holding her jacket over her dress slipping somewhat. Rage painted her features with ice. “My son’s name is Yin Changdong. He died at Tiger’s Claw Pass, but he wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for your so-called leadership.”

  Annoyance coursed through her at the woman’s words, although she was surprised at how quickly news spread across the empire. “It wasn’t Prince Kang’s fault your son died; blame the Rouran. They were the ones who killed him.”

  “I heard what happened,” she spat. “It was him,” she jabbed another finger towards Prince Kang. “Who took them down the pass instead of going the safer way. It was him who walked straight into an ambush. It was him who killed my boy, my only boy. My baby is gone.” Her words broke with soul-wrenching tears and she buried her face in her hands.

  Torn between pity and anger, Mulan’s words died on her tongue. To her right, Prince Kang dismounted his horse and walked to her. “Mother Yin, you are right,” he said, his voice low but thick with self-deprecation. “My job was to defeat the Rouran and bring everyone home safely. I failed in that task. The deaths of thousands of men are on my hands, including your son. No matter how many times I say it, it will never bring him back to you, but I am truly sorry.”

  Lowering her hands, Mulan watched as the woman stared at him, eyes red with tears, before one hand shot through the air. The sound of her palm striking his cheek pierced the air like an arrow. “You’re not a prince. You’re a monster.” Without saying another word, she hurried off, disappearing down an alley to Mulan’s left.

  She opened her mouth to say it wasn’t his fault, but the dark look he shot her quickly changed her mind.

 
Silently, he climbed onto his horse once more and urged it forward, the palace walls looming before them.

  Like those surrounding the city, they rose high above their heads. Beyond it, Mulan spied a magnificent building soaring towards the sky, as if attempting to reach the heavens. Red tiles gleamed like fire, the grey stone beneath almost the colour of pearls. Even at a distance with thick walls separating them, what Mulan could see seemed impressive.

  Yet, as they bypassed the guards stationed either side of the colossal gates, and more of the palace came into view, impressive seemed too minor a word.

  The pearl-grey stone building stretched from one side of the courtyard to the other; wide marble stairs, far too many to count, led up to huge wooden doors decorated with dragons and phoenixes. Gingko trees grew in straight lines alongside the walls, offering colour and a sweet scent on the air as guards marched up and down, their blades sheathed at their sides.

  Mulan hurried to keep up with Prince Kang’s strides, although purposely maintaining a little distance between them. With his royal status, it wouldn’t be proper for them to walk side by side.

  Ignoring the looks and deep respectful bows of servants, they walked through a labyrinth of marble-floored rooms. Lacquer wooden furniture and rich silk hangings gleamed in beams of sunlight. Not a single thing seemed out of place. The scent of freshly cut flowers and the lingering caress of perfume infused the air. After several minutes of walking, they finally stopped outside an ornate pair of doors, carved in intricate floral designs. Two guards stood on either side, their faces set in stone but their eyes fixed on the prince.

  “Out of my way,” he growled.

  Silently, they stepped aside.

  Opening the doors, a room so lavish materialised before her eyes. White marble columns threaded with delicate strands of gold ran along the sides of the room, holding up a high ceiling painted in pure white. Long windows stretched over the far wall, bathing the room in warm natural light, illuminating the fine threads of gold in the marble floor. Small wooden tables polished to a high sheen sat on either side of the room, silk cushions positioned on the floor beside them, ready for whatever meeting next took place. Not a single speck of dust marred the place.