In the Hall of Supreme Harmony, Crown Prince Jiang Heng sat upright on the Imperial Throne.
Below him, civil and military officials crowded like clouds, their Court Tablets rising like a forest. Not one dared speak.
The urgent military dispatch from Liaodong, rushed eight hundred li, had just been read.
"My ministers," Jiang Heng began. "Liaodong is in peril. The Khitan have invaded from the north."
"The Prince of Yan has already sent an urgent memorial to the Court and gone there himself to steady the situation. What solutions can you offer now?"
"I, Song Yue, Minister of War, have a memorial to present." Song Yue stepped out of the ranks.
Every gaze in the hall swung toward him.
When the Summer Office spoke of war, the Court trusted its judgment.
"Your Highness." Song Yue first bowed toward the Imperial Throne before slowly beginning.
"I have served in the Ministry of War for years, reading Frontier Reports as I would letters from home.
I studied this dispatch all night.
Every word I speak today will be grounded in the art of war."
"First, let us consider the two fronts."
"In the northeast, thirty thousand Khitan cavalry have already breached Liaodong's Frontier Wall.
Liaoyang and Jinzhou have sent urgent appeals one after another.
Fortunately, His Highness the Prince of Yan has already dispatched orders to the Northern Four Garrisons and personally led a great army beyond the pass.
This is a tremendous blessing for the North Gate.
But Your Highness must understand: the Yan Principality's troops can hold one route, but cannot withstand encirclement by thirty thousand cavalry.
Behind Shanhai Pass, our Great Zhou has no substantial forces left!"
"In the Northwest, the Tangut have been gathering troops at Hengshan for months.
Why have they not moved? They are waiting! For