Dawn. The start of a new day.
The sky was still dark outside, and the morning dew covered the numerous tents situated on a hilly slope. A light mist rolled in, enveloping the camp in a wispy blanket. Embers of a dying fire flickered as the soldiers were woken.
The metallic warble of a morning bird broke the silence.
Inside the dimly lit General's tent, Wei Mudan donned on the heavy iron armour. The weight of the armour crushed down her shoulders. Piece by piece. The air around her was bitingly cold, the touch of the metal freezing her fingertips.
Finally, she tied up her long hair. Her hand trembled as she reached for her headpiece. Frowning, she used her other hand to try to stop the shaking.
Luckily, there was no one else in the tent to witness her trembles. Shaking was a sign of fear, and one that she cannot let her soldiers see. She reached for an unfamiliar golden sword, the hilt engraved with the insignia of the royal family.
Her royal family. One that was filled with strife and tribulations. Today, she was to be their willing puppet, willing to dance under their marionette strings. Today, she was given the chance to prove herself.
Once, long ago, she had craved this attention, but that was before. It felt like an eon ago, but in reality, only a few years had passed since her rose-coloured world collapsed.
Wei Mudan took a deep breath, and exited the tent.
As the General of the army, her tent was situated on a slightly higher ground than the rest of the army, giving her an excellent view of the landscape.
The sky blossomed into shades of pink and purple, the brightest stars still twinkling at the very edge of the purple.
Her Lieutenant Generals had gathered her army on the lower ground. They stood, restless, talking amongst each other even when she had appeared.
That was to be expected.
As a woman on the battlefields, she had long prepared for the countless disparagement and mocking glances thrown her way.
They believed that she would never be worth anything. After all, what was a princess doing on the battlefields? She should be playing dress-up and learning how to walk correctly, instead of holding a sword. Her hands should be soft and white, not coarse like hers.
She had proven them right.
They had lost their first battle. This crushed the morale of her men, and what used to be mocking glances turned into full blown anger and rule-breaking.
But this princess, no, this general, knew what she was doing.
That loss was on purpose.
Now she will prove them wrong.
With a singular fluid movement, she drew her sword with her power, causing a sharp wind to fly over the heads of the soldiers. The murmuring stopped, and they all gazed upon her.
She tilted her chin arrogantly towards the sky. Her body faced east, where the rays of the rising sun began to peek from the dark horizon.
"My dear soldiers," she cried out, her voice strong and powerful, instantly capturing the attention of all who heard it.
"I have failed you—with this, I am sorry. I cannot say anything else."
The soldiers nearest glared at their General with enmity in their eyes.
They did not consider her to be their General; but a mere princess playing with their lives like toys. How could an apology work to compensate the lives lost?
"But! We cannot afford to think of our failures right now," she frowned and glared back at the soldiers, "We are on a battlefield, where time is precious in order to save the soul of our beloved country."
"I know you have neither respect nor expectations of me. I am a woman. But I am a ruler first and foremost. Do not think of me with a preassigned sex, but think of me with one word in your mind: General," her voice hardened and she thrust her sword into the ground in front of her, causing a massive crack to appear.
The crack caught the soldiers off-guard. They stared at her, shock written on their faces. How many people had the amount of strength she had?
"I will not let you die. I will not go back to tell your wives, your children and family that you have perished. All I ask of you is to trust me as your General, and pay no attention to my sex."
The emotions of the soldiers had been stirred by this young lady; maybe they really were judging her wrong? The determination in her eyes and the steadiness in her voice were unlike any other. Her words made them think of what was at stake. They hadn't trusted her at all.
She pulled out her sword and whistled for her white stallion, which had been prepared for her earlier.
She leapt onto the stallion's back.
"Now, it is time for battle! Draw upon your swords, for this is the final fight! Show the enemies our heroic spirit, how we fight until our dying breaths!" she roared, lifting her sword up in the air.
At that exact moment, the sun seemed to shine directly onto her, lighting her silvery armour up as if she were a holy being, the light blinding to the soldiers' eyes.
The tranquil silence of the dawn suddenly burst into noise, and the ground trembled as her soldiers roared in response. Their hearts raced and their morale was even higher than before. Her speech gripped their souls, leaving them trembling in electric excitement.
They abandoned all doubts.
This time, they'll fight with all they had, and put all their heart and soul into their General.
Thousands of swords appeared with her, and her soldiers chanted her name and victory on their lips, the noise deafening.
"Come, my soldiers!"
With that, she rushed ahead with the golden sword shimmering underneath the radiant sun. Her soldiers were aside her, carrying the banner of the royal family and determination within their hearts. She locked eyes with her Lieutenant Generals, and they shared a small smile.
So what if she was a willing puppet right now? In the end, she wasn't a doll to be ordered, a pawn to be sacrificed. If needed, she will use this golden sword to slice the strings that bind her in order to achieve her goal.
She danced on the edge of a knife blade, always in danger from those around her, laughing just before she pretended to fall off the edge—
Only to climb back up every time, much to the horror of her enemies.
Behind her, the old General looked at Wei Mudan's unwavering back with a look of complexity. He finished writing the note with a flourish of his aged hands. With a light whistle, a light-grey messenger pigeon arrived in a flurry of feathers.
The old General swiftly tied the note onto the bird's leg. A powerful flap of its wings set it off on its journey to the Imperial Palaces.
Wei Mudan had long gone ahead in the distance. The old General already knew the outcome of this battle—he had observed her quick mind many times in the past few weeks.
He chuckled softly, "Truly a shame that only with age, will one rid themselves of their naivety."
Such a shame.