General Shen stood at the edge of the military encampment, his arms folded across his chest, staring at the distant mountains and desert that marked the border between Hua and Tughril.
Behind him, the camp was a hive of chaos, but it was the kind of noise he usually found comforting. It was the sound of a machine preparing for war.
Everything was ready. But everything was waiting.
And General Shen hated waiting.
A messenger appeared, running toward him. The man was breathless, his face caked in the yellow dust of the desert. He dropped to one knee, bowing deeply to the general in front of him.
"General," the messenger gasped. "Urgent news... from the capital."
General Shen didn't even turn his head. He kept his eyes on the horizon. "Speak."
"The wedding," the messenger panted. "It has been delayed."
The words seemed to hang in the freezing night air, turning to ice. General Shen went perfectly still. He looked like one of the stone peaks in the distance.
