The Last Empress [Fantasy/Romance/Adventure | IN PROGRESS]

13. A Strange Kind of Flower

By the meticulous calculation of the Qin Tianjian (Celestial Observatory), the auspicious day of the Hunt was determined. At the barracks, preparations had begun well in advance. Servants and maids set about with purpose, hanging colourful paper lanterns from lines that connected the pinnacle of one tent to another. Carts of vegetables and meat are wheeled into large cooking rooms where steam whistles out from covered pots and pans before escaping out through the chimneys into the sky like small white puffs of cloud. Seasonal sweets such as osmanthus jelly slices and mooncake are detailed with fine tipped brushes. In sectioned storage areas, shiny black jugs of rice wine with gold flecked, red diamond-shaped seals are stacked on top of each other.

Royal relatives, advisors and officials flock to the grounds from neighbouring provinces to herald the parade. On the night of the Emperor's arrival, multiple bonfires are lit with whole pigs and lambs roasting on spits in preparation for the Mid-Autumn feast.

"All hail the great Emperor!" A high pitched voice announces, accompanied by the sound of metal hooves and carriages. Celebratory gongs echo loudly in the chilly night.

Ying runs his eye over the soldiers standing in straight lines at the entrance of the barracks. They waited patiently for the royal entourage to make an official entrance, the most patient he'd ever seen them. The men of the army were hot tempered and only paid respect to those who were stronger and fitter than they were. Certainly, presentation and manners were not at the top of their list of priorities.

One of the small town recruits, Dulong, shifts uncomfortably in his fresh garments. This was probably the cleanest he'd been his whole life. Even Ying's own armour shone softly with warm reflection, and when he glanced down at his feet, he could actually see faint silver etchings curving across the tip of his black boots. Before their recent wash, he hadn't the least idea that such etchings even existed.

This year, the fanfare and grandeur of the parade surpassed all prior years, with the Crown Prince taking the lead. On the way to the barracks, they had even bestowed citizens with generous handouts of coins and food. A couple of Princes arrive close behind the initial parade, not wanting to be left forgotten in the dust.

After the initial presence, the audience gathers in the centre of the barrack. A makeshift stage was set up, the set showing a round moon caressed by rivers and mountains. Dining tables were positioned neatly around the stage in lucky circles of union.

The Royal Consort accompanies the Emperor as he settles down on a wide, yellow cushioned lounge.

With the sound of pounding war drums, dancers leap gracefully onto the elevation, accompanied by a loud twang from the zither player. Bright blue and silver ribbons twirl and drop from all angles as the story of Chang'e, the Goddess of the Moon unfolds before the curious eyes of the audience. Men are seated at low tables seperate from the women, enjoying starters of fruit platters and mooncake. Snacks of fried peanuts are offered to accompany the mellow aroma of the finest rice wine Chang'an had to offer.

Unlike the others, Ying was not in a celebratory mood. After all, he would soon be headed on an undisclosed mission to the heart of the enemy camp. He downs one cup of wine as acknowledgement to the merriness of his comrades before turning his back to the act.

As expected, the shared tent was empty. Ying smooths out a piece of parchment on the wooden table, the tip of his brush hovering for a moment before he sets the pen back down.

When would he return? Or rather, would he return... alive?

He lets out a small sigh, adding the paper to the pile of undelivered letters lying quietly at the bottom of his trunk. After all, what good would it do to worry his sister and Teacher Yuan? The Jade Rabbit mission was fraught with danger; General Li had made that clear from the start.