Windshear survived, but after the events of that fateful day, there would be many in the Land Under Heaven that wished they hadn’t. I, for one, felt very fortunate to be alive. When the dust cleared, and the sandstorm stallions dissipated into wisps of spinning smoke, I could see the General of Heaven spit over his shoulder as he rode off into the distance atop his starving horse.

  My father and uncle, both having broken off their own pursuits to ride to my aid, had let their own quarry escape. The great horde of what would eventually be called the Yellow Scarves Rebellion had been crushed. Even now Noble Lion’s Golden Infantry, the Crimson Tiger clan, and the Green Skirmishers under a dozen different local leaders, were organizing themselves to sally forth and bring justice to the instigating brothers. Or their heads to the Emperor. It was the same thing, really.

  The Grey Wolves retreated to lick their wounds.

  “The worm bisected will regrow,” Marshal, head of the Tan Ox clan and leader of the coalition against the rebels had said in a missive, prior to the battle. “Only once every rebel is stamped out, will the country be at peace once more.”

  But the Generals of Earth, Heaven, and Flesh were now a problem for someone else far above my station. Right now, I had my father and uncle bearing down upon me.

  “What in Heaven was that?!” roared Uncle, barreling toward me and heaving on the reins at the last second to loom over me. “Did you just try to cut down a sandstorm?!”

  “I…” I rose from the ground, armor scales hanging off where my father – or perhaps my uncle – had used their Mandate to pull me to the ground. Blood dripped from a dozen superficial wounds and a few more nagging ones. Windblown rocks had scored my back and neck, and my face throbbed where it had been pressed into the ground.

  A moment later my father pulled his horse into a tight maneuver alongside Uncle.

  “What happened, Sparrow?” asked the Commandant, his voice hinting at barely restrained emotion.

  “I’ll tell you what happened!” roared my Uncle. “The boy overreached!”

  “I had him,” I said, still dazed and finding new wounds. “I just…”

  “You froze!”

  “I was-”

  “You were shaking! Your eyes were rolled back!”

  “That’s not true!”

  “Damn, Commandant! The boy’s not just powerless. He doesn’t just lack a Mandate from Heaven. He’s an epileptic!”

  “What?!”

  “Is that what happened,” my father asked, voice low and unreadable. “Did you have a seizure, Sparrow?”

  I looked from Uncle to the Commandant, and back again, my mind racing.

  Which was worse in my father’s eyes: to have put a good plan into action only to be robbed by my own irreparable frailty, or to have been so utterly stupid that I had chased down a sandstorm with no Mandate to match it, and simply frozen when I realized how stupid I was? Even now I couldn't say which was true. Something had come over me – something I had never felt before. But despite all that, despite such epic and visible failure, I still held out hope of becoming my father’s heir. I could still rise in the ranks, and for such purposes, to such men as made the decisions, it was better to have been young and stupid than to be labeled an invalid.

  My eyes narrowed on my Uncle. “My Uncle has no love for me. He’d see anyone at the head of the clan, so long as they’re gifted.”

  “I saved your life, boy!”

  “You robbed me of my chance at the General of Heaven. If you had left me to my fate, I would have manifested. If it was just me and the General…”

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  “Now see here, Sparrow!”

  “Enough!” the Commandant snapped, then visibly regained his composure. “Enough… Boshe.”

  “We’ve lost the initiative,” Uncle growled. “No one will come out of this with more than a single trophy now.”

  I looked to my father, as he seemed too distracted to reply, even though Uncle had spoken when commanded not to by his liege lord.

  The Commandant was looking into the distance, where all three rebel generals had disappeared. Moments ago I had been certain we’d have two, if not all three heads dangling from our saddles. A minister finally caught up to him and delivered him a report. He glanced over it before his eyes returned to survey the Imperial coalition.

  “Every clan has played a part, but every clan has failed to distinguish. All eyes are on us now,” my father mused. His eyes flicked back and forth, forming some stratagem in his mind that neither Uncle nor I could guess.

  As if noticing we were still there, the Commandant continued, “A brick with too many sides can tumble this way as easily as that. From here on out, each move we make could put us further ahead or it could trigger a cascade effect, every warlord falling to one side or another. Or worse, they could all come crashing down on top of us.”

  Uncle scowled at that and I was completely lost. Too many sides? But we have an Emperor. All the Land Under Heaven is one beneath his rule! The Imperial Marshal still sits at the head of the greatest unification of power the Land Under Heaven has seen since the Great Ancestor.

  The Commandant’s eyes flicked to us again and saw that neither of us understood. His eyes, now fully focused, narrowed on each of us in turn.

  “Either way,” he said passing the report to my Uncle. “Best not to let the others see us squabbling.”

  My father kicked his horse into another tight turn to go reform his men, leaving my Uncle and me trying to figure out what in Heaven’s name was happening.

  “‘Squabbling?’” I whispered to myself.

  “‘Squabbling?!’” Uncle growled at almost the same time.

  I barely suppressed a smile.

  Teachers and students didn’t ‘squabble.’ Lords and peasants didn’t ‘squabble.’ Students spoke out and were punished. Peasants rose up and were put down. ‘Squabbling’ was something equals did. ‘Squabbling’ was something that could make or break ‘us.’

  Perhaps I had ruined my father’s chance for instant preeminence among the other lords. Perhaps I had made an enemy of my Uncle, even more so than he had always disliked me. But I had sought a general’s head, same as them. And though my chances of surviving that sandstorm had been slim, I had outrode the Tiger, and all the clans saw that. No one else had come closer to claiming that greatest of prizes.

  I hadn’t won the battle, per se. But then again, winning wasn’t the only objective.

  Rebel head or not, Mandate of Heaven or not, I was a player now in the great game of kings and emperors. I had entered the field of battle. I turned to my uncle and saw that he knew it too.

  “‘Squabbling,’” he grumbled once more and threw the report at me as he spurred his mount.

  ***SILVER FALCON CLAN MISSION REPORT: BATTLE OF THE YELLOW PLAINS***

  SUCCEEDED Primary Objective: Ensure all three rebel generals are not captured by the same Imperial warlord.

  SUCCEEDED Secondary Objective: End the rebellion.

  FAILED Bonus Objective: Capture the General of Earth

  FAILED Bonus Objective: Capture the General of Flesh

  FAILED Bonus Objective: Capture the General of Heaven

  ENEMY SLAIN: 0 | ENEMY CAPTURED: 0 | LOSSES: 0

  OVERALL GRADE: C (Nominal Success)

  I shrugged and looked around for my own horse. Remembering the lengths I had gone to save my favorite horse, my only companion these last five years, I began the long, lonely walk back to camp.

  As I did so, I reached into my ruined cuirass and yanked the leather thong from around my neck, snapping it. I looked at the bronze bar for a long while, specifically the line that outlined my lack of fate, my lack of Mandate, and the star that was meant to provide both.

  I dropped the pendant, my boot grinding it into the dust as I strode from the field of battle.

  That line about my Mandate wouldn’t change, but somewhere in the Imperial capital, in the Imperial Minister of Heralds’ office, someone was updating a card with my name on it. I would need to have a new pendant forged to match.

  ***RANK UP!***

  SPARROW

  RANK 5: Cavalry Officer → RANK 6: Knight of the Provinces

  WORTH: 250 dan → 300 dan

  CLAN: Silver Falcon | STAR: Black | FATE: None | MANDATE: None

  BONDS: None | ALLIANCES: None

  DISTINCTION: A knight in the employ of the Imperial Protector of the Falcon Plains who spectacularly failed to capture the General of Heaven.

  Romance text.