Chapter 26 – The Road To Lanyu

Wen talked on the fifth day.

The first four had been what I’d expected. Harsh silence, grandiose camps, and quiet meals in between duties.

On the fifth morning, passing through a village called Hushan that flew the Western Reaches banner from its gatehouse, Wen pointed at a grain depot being constructed on the village’s eastern edge.

“This village was under Lord Qinghe’s prefecture two years ago. Back then, the population was barely above a hundred, and now it has boomed to a hundred and sixty. They built the depot themselves after seeing the Hekou model.”

I perked a brow at his words. “The Hekou model?”

“Your labor rotation system was described in detail to Commander Xu, who in turn circulated the method to Lord Shen’s administrative staff, and they used it as a model to rework the old method.” He adjusted his reins. “I’m surprised that you didn’t know that.”

I hadn’t. The labor rotation I’d built out of desperation to keep six struggling families alive had been adopted across the Western Reaches’ eastern territory as standard practice. There definitely had to be some tweaks in it, so I couldn’t pat myself on the back and claim to be a pioneer, but it felt good to have contributed to some positive change.

The road widened as we moved west. The villages grew larger and closer together. By the second week, we were passing through settlements of three and four hundred people with proper walls, market squares, and garrison outposts visible on nearby ridges.

Military checkpoints appeared at river crossings and road junctions, manned by soldiers in Western Reaches uniforms who checked documentation, inspected cargo, and waved us through when they saw Wen’s administrative seal.

Trade caravans moved along the road in both directions. The grain was heading west, the iron and textiles were heading east. Ceramic, livestock, lumber, and goods I couldn’t identify packed in crates, some sealed and others opened.

“You’re impressed,” Wen commented.

I cupped my chin in thought as the gears in my mind were turning. “The logistics required to maintain supply lines across this territory while running a military expansion requires either a massive administrative apparatus or an extremely efficient one.”

I saw a hint of pride swell in Wen’s chest. “The latter. Our Lord does not tolerate waste.” He then made a face as if a memory surfaced, one he rather not have. “It runs in the family.”

I looked at him. “The family?”

Wen was quiet for a long time. We rode through a checkpoint at a river ford, showed documentation, and continued west.

“What do you know about the Lord of Qinghe?” Wen asked.

“Not much, only that he is a warlord that is currently controlling the eastern territories. His Prefect Shen is based at Meishan and he ran a conscription and taxation regime that stripped villages to the bone,” I said.

“The Prefect’s name is Shen Yang,” Wen said the name with a bitterness that surprised me. This was a man who discussed battlefield casualties like they were grain bins, bitterness was not in his register. “Do you want to know the Lord Of Qinghe’s name?”

I nodded.

“Shen Yuan.”

That stopped me cold.

“Shen Yue, Shen Yuan, and Shen Yang.” Wen recited the names. “They are all three sons of Shen Bowen, the former Lord of the Jade River territories. When Bowen died, the eldest son Shen Yuan took the eastern lands and the title Lord of Qinghe. The second son Shen Yue took the western territories and named himself Lord of the Western Reaches. The youngest, Shen Yang, lacked the strength or the ambition for either claim, so Shen Yuan gave him Meishan as a prefecture to administer. A bone thrown to the runt of the litter.”

“So the treaty between the Western Reaches and Qinghe,” I began to say, “Is actually a treaty between brothers.”

Wen’s jaw tightened. “For now.”

He paused before continuing. “When the treaty expires, Meishan becomes the fault line. Whoever holds it controls the passage between east and west.”

The prefect who had sent Lu Fang to collect Hekou’s grain, who had conscripted my father, who had burned villages and beaten elders to death in village squares, was the youngest brother of both warlords. The entire power structure I’d been was nothing more than a family dispute scaled to continental proportions.

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“Why are you telling me this?” I asked him.

Wen looked at me. “Commander Xu trusts your judgement, so I shall as well. There will come a time when she may call upon you, and it was high time you knew the face of your enemy.”

We rode in silence for the rest of the day. I spent it thinking about three brothers and a dead father and an empire split apart by inheritance.

Lanyu appeared on the seventeenth day.

I saw the walls first. Pale stone rising from the river plain, catching the morning light in shades of cream and gold. It was at least Forty feet high with watchtowers at regular intervals and banners hanging in the still air. The Shen Yue sigil, black and red, repeated along the ramparts in a staggered pattern.

As we drew closer, the city revealed itself in layers. The outer districts spread beyond the walls in organized rings. Market streets lined with shops and stalls. Residential quarters with tiled roofs and courtyard gardens visible through open gates. Teahouses, bathhouses, a theater with painted eaves. There were children playing and merchants arguing over prices. The smell was more sanitary than that of a farm village, although that was a low bar to clear, it was still impressive.

This was a city with culture and commerce and the lived-in texture of thousands of lives.

Then we entered the inner wall.

The military district sat at Lanyu’s core like a fist inside a silk glove. Grey stone, darker and heavier than the outer walls, were all devoid of decorative elements. There were barracks and training fields as well as an armory complex that was large enough to supply hundreds if not thousands of soldiers.

The contrast between the beautiful outer city and the fortress at its heart told the story of Lord Shen Yue’s rule in a single glance.

Prosperity for the people.