Crouching Dragon: The Journey of Zhuge Liang sample (Act I) -- T. P. M. Thorne

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General Chen Dao was not as elaborately armoured as Zhao Yun, and did not leave much of a lasting impression on Kongming, who returned his gaze to the train of troops following Liu Bei.
“I see dust in the distance,” Xu Shu reported. “They’re coming.”
Kongming raised his fan to his forehead in order to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun as he turned his gaze to the horizon; there was now a cloud of yellow dust as thousands of infantry and cavalrymen slowly descended on Bowang.
“Xiahou Dun…” Kongming murmured. “I wish I had a better view.”
“Well, it isn’t too late for you to strap on some armour and do your bit, Zhuge,” Xu Shu chided. “I’ll go and ask the supply captains.”
“…Don’t be like that,” Kongming retorted. “It’s just that you hear a lot about these generals and sometimes you want to see them for yourself.”
“Well when you’re the Director General, you can ride to the front with Lord Liu, can’t you,” Xu Shu teased. “Seriously, every soldier down there wishes he was somewhere else. Let’s just watch.”

Kongming and Xu Shu watched as, in the distance, the soldiers of Xiahou Dun formed neat, orderly lines facing Bowang. Flags were arranged, carrying the names of Cao Cao and the general who commanded the battalion. The rows of soldiers - each wearing rough sandals, black tunics with peach-coloured scarves, and cheap iron helmets - awaited the commands of their generals, who wore suits of mail and rode horses with resplendent saddles. The vanguard generals and overall commanders, Xiahou Dun and Li Dian, were wearing polished mail that sparkled in the afternoon sun; Kongming could only imagine the fierce, intimidating expression of Xiahou Dun, whose left eye had been lost during a battle with the forces of Lü Bu some years earlier.

The forces of Liu Bei filed onto the plains; they wore orange tunics that were of a poorer quality than those worn by Cao Cao’s forces, and most had leather helmets rather than iron ones. The standard-bearers raised the yellow flags of Liu Bei, which received jeers of derision from the confident front lines of Xiahou Dun.

“…That’s a little more like it,” Kongming praised as Liu Bei’s soldiers formed poor, disorganised lines, giving the impression of poor training. “Now let us hope that they fall for it.”

Xiahou Dun rode forward, pointed his spear, and in a deafening voice he cried out, “Where is Liu Bei???
Liu Bei rode forward. Zhao Yun and Chen Dao remained at his sides, and the rest of his elite cavalry bodyguards followed as closely as they could.
“…Runt!” Xiahou Dun taunted. “Sandal-weaving maggot!
Liu Bei did not respond; instead, he ordered Zhao Yun out to battle while he retreated slightly with his bodyguards.
“…Are duels like this still typical…?” Kongming asked as Xiahou Dun and Zhao Yun took the centre of the battle field, and started to make dashing passes on horseback, trying to unseat the other with thrusts of their spears while drummers beat a steady pace on either side, and the soldiers roused their champions on.
“Yes,” Xu Shu replied numbly. “Rarely, it decides the whole outcome.”
“…Pity this can’t be all they do,” Kongming sighed. “…Xiahou is not the better man of the two. I expect he’s adjusting to only having one eye.”
Zhao Yun almost ran Xiahou Dun through on the ninth pass: Xiahou retreated to his own line, shouted in frustration, and turned to make a tenth pass, his temper now getting the better of him. At this point, a flag conspicuously dropped on the far right of Liu Bei’s disordered battle lines, and Zhao Yun seemingly reeled from the attack, beating a hasty retreat to his own lines.

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