General

The General looked down upon the enemy, and began to plan.

A full frontal direct assault? That wouldn’t work, too obvious, and running directly into the enemies’ defences like that would just lead to disaster.

Perhaps an attack from the rear? The ground would be favorable, but an enemy caught by surprise from behind tended to react with more chaos that was preferable.

Besieging was always an option, waiting it out, making sure their water supply got tainted, waiting for their defences to drop then striking.

Then she saw her desired target greeting a man passionately, and she moved on.

River

The water flows.

This is known to all, of course. Only someone with a sheltered existence would think otherwise.

But to know is not the same as to understand.

For when you understand that the water flows, truly understand, you begin to perceive the secret to living a proper life. You begin to perceive that all of life will one day be washed away, and possessions only weigh you down.

Some people refuse to understand, refuse to perceive the truth. So, sometimes, we must make sacrifices, to further our work. As for disposal of the bodies, well…

The water flows.

Palace

Everyone knows about the class structure in the Royal Court, or at least understands how people would fight and argue about getting close to the Emperor.

But that is nothing compared to the social ladder in the Palace Staff.

Every servant, from the Emperor’s Hand right down to the Coal Boy, they knew exactly who they outranked, who outranked them, and who was coming after their position. Every day was another chance to catch someone messing up, to possibly earn another perk while hoarding those you already had.

Then came Emperor William and his blasted rota system idea. Ruined everything.

Chariot

Speed is crucial in warfare. It’s not enough to have the most troops, the heaviest arms, the most brilliant tactics. When it comes down to it, it’s speed that wins. Being able to get to places first, or to retreat and not be caught, to be able to adjust faster than your opponent, that is where victory is all but assured.

Thus, Generals, I give to you speed, I give to you victory. The ‘Complete Heisenburg Aspects Readjustment Ionic Overland Transporter’. With a maximum range well beyond the furthest point on the globe, you can send anyone, anywhere.

Bids, gentlemen?

Cannon

Look, Confucius said, among many other things, not to use a cannon to kill a mosquito. Supposedly, certainly people say he said that, which is as close as you get with most things.

And sure, that’s generally good advice. Overkill is a bad thing, especially when it’s not needed. And when you factor in collateral damage, the cost of acquiring the cannon, the shells, the training… Yeah, just use a flyswatter. Much easier and appropriate for tiny insects.

But unless you have a flyswatter the size of a battleship, I’ll stick to my ion cannon for these flying aliens, thanks.

Horse

The sole track up to the farm was through the valley, which was bad when it rained, as it would get flooded. But the rest of the time, it was fine. The best part was that I could see anyone coming for a good half hour before they got to the gate.

So I could see the horse well in advance. The rider didn’t seem to be in any hurry, so I stayed busy, doing some chores while I waited.

When they did, my heart sank, even before he gave me the telegram from the front line, about my son.

Elephant

It was disconcerting to be introduced to a guy by a small group of drunk women and have them tell you his name, or at least what they called him, was ‘Elephant’, before they all start giggling.

I mean, even though he was friendly and chatty, it’s the sort of thing that throws you. I’m not that insecure, but still… ‘Elephant’? How big…

Eventually he went to the bathroom, and I had to follow and have a look.

Turns out he’s called Elephant because he never forgets a slight against him, like someone checking out his junk at a urinal…

Advisor

I stood outside the door.

In the locker room on the left, Gary was on the phone to his agent, trying to get out of his contract. In the locker room on the right, David was taking out his anger on a punching bag.

And in-between the two, in a tiny office, the booker was staring at the wall, trying to come up with something, anything, to get himself out of this mess, to get these guys to play ball and go out there and perform.

He needed a savior.

Perfect time for a bastard like me to take advantage…

Solider

Zhou didn’t want this to be how he died, face down in the mud, shells exploding above his head. His dream was always to die an old man, in bed, a couple of young women above him. But right now, he’d take a bowl of soup and a game of Go.

There was some shouting to his left, something about making a charge, then a shell hit and the yelling devolved into pained screaming. Zhou mentally checked out at that point, and let his training kick in until the inevitable painful death.

Been fifteen years now, still mentally checked out…