East of the River: Home of the Sun Clan sample (Act I) -- T. P. M. Thorne

“Aha! Here he is,” Han Dang said as Sun Jian entered the militia’s command tent. “So what’s the plan, then, Lord Sun?”
“Our main enemy is Bo Cai,” Sun Jian said to his assembled officers. “He is currently based close to Yingchuan, which should be our first target. We’ll be in charge of attacking the right flank of his army while others engage him directly.”
“Tell us something we don’t know,” Zu Mao complained quietly.
“Hush,” Cheng Pu ordered. “He means well.”
“Methinks you misunderstand Mister Zu, Cheng Demou,” Han Dang chuckled. “I think he refers to the real glory belonging to others as usual, despite the fact that we’re obviously the most successful militia and therefore most likely to score a victory…?”
“Cao Cao deserves to have the glory,” Sun Jian suggested. “After all, he’s been forced to watch his men charge and fall against Bo Cai for quite a while with no success to speak of; all we’ve done is chase away a few rootless bands on various roads, and-”
“That’s not a way to build morale,” Cheng Pu scolded. “We’ve fought armies up to three times the size of our own and won with minimal losses. Give us a siege and we’ll break it.”
“…I’m showing civility toward Cao Cao,” Sun Jian sighed. “But will you-”
“What for…?” Zu Mao scoffed. “And why do that at our expense…? Let’s just prepare for our small role in what’s to come, and stop making giants out of other men just to feel like we’re noble.”
“…Can I finish…?” Sun Jian pleaded. “There’s a grand plan, and perhaps our efficiency is why we’re on the right flank… there was an officer called Qu Yi that they’ve put in charge of strategy, and-”
“He’s a veteran of the unrest against the northern tribes,” Cheng Pu recalled. “Oh, well; at least they’ve seen sense and appointed a decent campaign adviser.”
“…I will finish if it kills me,” Sun Jian chortled. “The plan is to lure them into an assault, and…”

A few days passed before the plan was put into motion.

The Han forces left their individual camps and approached the Yellow Turbans, who immediately deployed a large force to obstruct them. Zhu Jun and Huangfu Song took up the rear of the forces, although they ensured that their battle standards were visible to the enemy. The Yellow Turbans were aware of the defeats that Huangfu Song had suffered in Nan County, however, so they heckled the Han forces with cursing chants.
“News that their master is dead ain’t hurt ‘em none,” Zu Mao scoffed. “P’raps they know something we don’t.”
“We know more than them,” Sun Jian said as he turned and looked at Qu Yi, who was more impressive than his masters as he held his powerful northern thoroughbred steady with the reins in his right hand and kept a strong grip on a field lance with his left; his armour glistened in the sun and compensated for his drab battle standard and lack of designated subordinates. Though none could see it, Qu Yi was smiling: the day was as good as won, and he knew it.
     The Yellow Turban commander, Bo Cai, rode his scruffy brown steed to the front line: he wore a scuffed battle helmet with a crudely-conceived yellow plume protruding from its top, and his armour was as simple as his followers to show solidarity with them. His hard features were all but obscured, but like Qu Yi, he was smiling: he had the numerical advantage, and victory seemed to be certain. Huang Shao held the left flank, and Liu Pi held the right; the few horsemen amongst the throng were pacing and hollering while the infantry inanely recited their supposedly-deceased master’s sixteen-word slogan.
“Well, if Zhang Jue wanted his words to outlive him, he got what he wanted,” Zu Mao suggested. “Are we going to attack, or are we waiting for them to charge first?”
“That’s up to the commanders,” Cheng Pu replied.

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