Conqueror's Blade Lore
Nostalgia

Shuisheng finished his bun when the man with the arquebus stepped closer and asked, "Who was that? I haven't seen him before. He isn't one of us, is he?" Shuisheng wiped his hands with a cloth he took out of his inner pocket and sipped from his waterskin. "He claimed to be from Hao Jing, probably a scout of Qian." "That's bizarre. Why would their scouts come to our kitchen?" "There's nothing strange about that. The Qian Army is not far away. He just asked me what salt wås. He'd probably never seen refined salt before." Shuisheng cleaned up and stood up, stretching his arms and saying, "No need to dwell on it, we have a long way ahead of us.

Pack your things. I think we're about to get back on the road, traveling west past Qinguan to Anliang. It'll be further from home. "

"Dasuo Fort. We're finally on the other side of it," Shuisheng muttered to himself. The general's order was that after leaving Dasuo Fort, they must march fully-armed in case of enemy ambush.

Shuisheng's company marched in the middle of the column. The wagons ahead stirred up dust and dirt along the road, making midday seem like dusk. The spearhead was already a mile ahead, but apart from their allies nearby, there were only barren mounds to look along the winding trails.

Shuisheng and the rest were all born and raised in Yan, where rivers and lakes abounded and none had ever before seen such a desolate place, but the initial curiosity had worn off after endless marching, and Shuisheng now felt as if the sand dancing in the air was pouring into his mouth and into his heart. The group marched through a mountain pass into a wide open plain. Shuisheng could finally see things other than rock faces: blinding sunlight, trees dead and shriveled, parched riverbeds.

The captain ordered a halt, and so the troops moved off the road into the meagre shade and rested. Shuisheng lowered the brim of his hat, squinting at the sun above as a sense of disorientation washed over him. He started to question why he and his one thousand comrades of the Shenji Grenadiers came all the way to these outlands which he didn't even know the name of. Yes, it was a soldier's duty. And they received pay to feed their whole families, so it wouldn't matter where he was sent to. He closed his eyes for what seemed like a moment...

"Enemy attack. To arms!" Shüisheng loaded his arquebus without thought. The sun above was obscured by swirling sand and dust, and the dismal view of the outlands was completely gone. A gale blew up sand and dust into a storm. Shuisheng could only hold up his arms in panic, trying yet failing to shield his face from the dust.

"Enemies to windward!"
"Battalion, charge!"

Without any time for preparation, the warriors instantly moved, holding out their modaos and standing like an unbreakable wall of blades. Two hundred steps, one hundred steps, their enemies were charging from up the hillside. Qiu could now finally; make out their faces—they were a group of masked lancers, no more than a hundred, holding short spears and wearing simple padded armor. Qiu sneered and straightened his modao. Fifty steps, thirty steps, the enemies would soon be crossing swords with them! Qiu could almost imagine how it would feel when the lancers clashed against him. But none of that happened.

The lancers reined in their horses a dozen steps away and turned back all of a sudden. Qiu saw countless javelins flying towards them. He swore under his breath at the cowardly enemies, while waving his blade about to btock the flying javelins. But a javelin exploded the moment his blade touched its tip, jolting him, almost falling if not for the man behind him. Qiu tried to ease the ringing in his ears as he glanced down and saw blood seeping from beneath his armour. The lancers were almost at his face when he let out a shout and pushed one step forward with the others, trying to slash at the conniving bastards. But his knees felt unnaturally weak.

"Shenji, grenades!"

It was a command that he'd never heard before, and even the voice sounded unfamiliar: Upon the command, a row of black balls flew over Qiu's head, before exploding among with the enemy ranks with a thunderous sound. Some fell, some sprung up, and the masked lancers scattered in panic.

"Modao, move! Shenji, fire!" Qiu moved to the rear as the grenadiers fired a volley at the fleeing enemies, leaving only a few scattered survivors. Qiu was astonished as if he'd just witnessed a miracle.