That was the name he said, but it amounted to nothing in Tret Ku’s mind. Had the man not been occupying their last carriage reserved for luggage and supplies he’d have forgotten his existence like a goldfish. Also, there was a lingering irritation about that man: either it was because of Mai Jing’s sudden kindness for a stranger, or that there was a man who would be better off abandoned at a stable than accompany them. More than once, he’d thought about reneging their agreement and putting his boot in his behind when she wasn’t looking, but he knew his cousin, at times like these she paid attention to him more than usual.
Yes, it was this dance that kept that man—wandering bum—alive, and well. However much that meant for someone of his ilk. He couldn’t spare a glance at the back window, for it was like the stench that filled that newly borrowed carriage would stick its head up, stare at him then whisk through air and the door just to wiggle up his nose. It was a battle unto itself. A violation of the sanctity of his position was underway by keeping that, “aspiring alchemist,” under their purview. He could feel his prestige dropping every minute.
The autumn was solemn, yet because of it brought a kind of expectation for the things to come. Changes in the younger generation, of strength and rank. Birthing new hopes and killing those that stood; the cycle of the old replacing the new, a cycle like their hottest days to the coldest. Which’s why it was held in such a season. Personally, he couldn’t care less about the significance: if he had to do it again, the next time he’ll depart a month early.
Even if absent a map, a wanderer just needed to pay half a mind to the road in order for some hint about their whereabouts, just then, as Tret Ku boringly watched, the road had peeled away from a cobblestone laid in years of yore, to a dirt-packed thing that was only as it was because of the men, horses, and men and horses together for war that made it so. But that meant they were now fully outside of their region, the Whispermist Highlands and now were, from last he seen on a map, between the border and touching the outskirts of the Grittus frontier: unsettled but claimed land.
Elders who’ve made the pilgrimage to Eboncrown, capital of the One-City Kingdom that bewilders men from the day of its founding to the present—a city that floats in the sky—spoke about the tell for the road there too but “There’s no special hint. You’ll know,” is what one told him. And he shrugged on it, not that it matters, he’ll get his welcome to Eboncrown and have a Queen in tow. What level of peasant would he devolve to on a walk to the capital? The thought made him shiver.
There wasn’t any additional discussion, or inquiry about what they’d just felt—none of the Elders breathed as much of a word about it, and Yan sank into his softbird pillow trying to catch sleep; all the while having a tense-but-not grip on his sword. The urge to snort kicked at him; his sneer however was hidden as much as the shade inside allowed. And that couldn’t be withheld. He knew exactly what had happened: they’d wanted to fight, but because duty demanded. Those faces didn’t lie.
In a flash, they were frightened kittens before they remembered who they were.
And that spiked his bubbling fury.
He feared no man under these blue skies, nor would he quake before a foe. At least, that’s what he believed. The beast’s aura had a touch of the incomprehensible, a blanket of ferocity overlaid while its fangs felt as if they’d already snapped his spine in two. An abominable thing that hunted not for pleasure or sustenance; almost, primordial, he feels. That was a Shade Beast? That was possible?
Tret Ku looked over. “Stop the convoy,” he said.
“I haven’t been able to stretch my legs since the other day, and it barely was an exercise.”
Time was allowed for everyone, except their drivers of course, to lay around in leisure for the time being. Horses were given leave to rest, and their attendants streamed from the furthest carriage like koi. He noticed with an amused look that their faces were contorted: their guest may’ve been well-received to Mai, but to the detriment to those who mattered somewhat. Subjects always had a mouth and when those complaints and whispers ride the wind to their betters’ ear—opinions slightly, but subtly, change.
She can do whatever she likes to feel better, Tret Ku thought as he stretched his legs, things like this will add up more when the time comes for me to takeover. There may be a small chill to the air, but that didn’t affect the grass that brushed his ankles. Or the heart of an ambitious youth, with energy to consume the world for his name. The rolling hills ahead and the clearing they stopped in was enough for his purposes, and as he looked at Mai Jing who was also stepping out, their shared glance told what needn’t to be said.
Mai Jing, heroic as well as determined, spoke with straight lips: “You’ve picked a good time to stop.”
“I figured as much,” Tret Ku said, hands on his hips, “your eagerness to fight had me worried you’d do a practice cut with our cabin.”
“You’re one to talk.” Mai Jing walked forward and gazed at those rolling hills absorbing the autumn sun, with outspoken grass waving back. “Who was the fool that bolted into peril? Was it for honor, or stupidity’s touch? Or was it…?” She sighed.
The servants began unloading some comforts for their rest, with Vinewood lounges and Chessarit Tables over laid cloth, they worked almost faster than they would back in the sect; the power of the Exchange influenced all lives, regardless of vocation. The six drivers for their four caravans moved without instruction; inspections of their transport would be underway as their lords stretched limbs. Had he not intervened these drivers doing their swaps could travel the entire way without rest—except the horses, of course—but the first intervention of a Shade Beast without equal threw his patience away.
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Tret Ku picked a grape from a dutiful servant’s plate.
“Nothing, just that I was more eager than you, is all. We may both be representing our Unbreakable Hilt Sect, but we are not allies on the tournament floor. I just wanted to remind you, in my way, that the camaraderie ended the moment our carriage departed the sect.” Tret Ku said.
Mai Jing grunted. “I’m aware. I’ve always been somewhat keen on what might be going on in your head.”
His gaze shifted. You don’t know the half of it.
“Well, while I appreciate the aspiration, we won’t be facing off against one another so soon. You know as well as I that the Rosewater Exchange takes care to not pit participants from the same power against each other early. At the same time,” Mai Jing said, tilting her head, “for as much as you boast, if you don’t manage to beat our competitors to make it to me then your sword isn’t as sharp as you believe.”
He’d never felt the urge to strangle the woman as he did now. Her and the peasant were irritants of the same breed. Tret Ku retorted, “Same goes for you! Don’t pretend as if—!”
Mai Jing’s attention went past his shoulders. “Mister Yunhei. We’ve hit a sudden stop as to give us an excuse for stretching out. You’re free to enjoy our comforts as if you were one of ours.”
Tret Ku blinked. He begrudgingly turned his head to see their “guest” Ren Yunhei standing behind. How did he get there unnoticed?
Ren Yunhei, a someone from nowhere with a peculiar origin at best. His hair that fell in curtains sold his look: a wandering bum with no home of his own, yet the man and all his worthlessness managed to spark ire. Judging by the reactions of those he quartered with on their journey, it hadn’t been a week and they already strutted fast and away from his person. Has he no shame with his appearance? To top it off, he was about as ordinary as a man could get. Although those that cultivated always had an aura, those that did not left traces of themselves, like a fingerprint on wax. Theoretically, all life had the potential to do so. Though species with higher intelligence would have insurmountable advantages when it came to comprehension of that abstract, called cultivation, as expected.
But him? He couldn’t tell the difference between this Ren Yunhei and a pebble. To be so untalented as to make it a talent, surely was someone’s curse on him.
“A thousand thanks to your hospitality,” Ren Yunhei said from below his hat, “one day I may find it in me to take a personal trip to your sect.”
“And a day of mourning will come,” Tret Ku quipped.
“Peasant, go help the servants with preparing the field.”
His rival intervened, again: “He will do nothing.” Mai Jing gave him a soft look, “Nothing that he doesn’t have the will for,” she said.
Again, she’s defending him again! Why?! His face was expressionless. “He’d have something to occupy him rather than… do whatever it is that an ‘aspiring alchemist’ does.” He wasn’t going to hide his suspicion or dislike for the man, for what could he do about it?
“Milord, I would prefer not to,” Ren Yunhei said, “instead, excuse my manners, but I overheard some talk and thought that you two are about to exercise?”
Mai Jing crossed her arms and sword to her chest. “We didn’t even say it precisely. Only implied. You must’ve been listening well.”
Tret Ku grinned, much like a child running to tattle. Mai Jing’s gentleness and generosity has its limits. There have been many instances while growing up in the sect that she had to reveal the side of herself that discarded it; she saw things in black in white, and when deemed necessary, unlike him, she doesn’t bandy words or give warning when a head needs to be taken. Or, when a peasant oversteps.
“It’s a rather unbecoming thing of you to do, but I’ll forgive that. Sure, are to spar while we have the time, I’m guessing you care to watch?”
“Would gladly.”
“That’s fine, but I must ask why?”
Straw hat smiled. “Cultivators are amazing, why else? And, from what I feel you two are young dragons before me. It’s not every day one gets to spectate the junior generation of this level.”
Received Tret Ku’s snort in reply. “We do not much like to hold back, especially on each other,” he said, giving Mai Jing a short glance, “and if a ripple of our power were to hit you—“
“May die,” Mai Jing finished. “I’m not sure if that’s worth your curiosity, aspiring alchemist.”
They warned but only got a brief shrug.
“I understand,” Ren Yunhei said. “But like I said, I doubt I’ll be able to see dragons like you again.”
Tret Ku and Mai Jing shared a look.
So, the fool wants to see excitement, is that it? I’ll show him the difference then, between a child of destiny and a swine like yourself. He himself couldn’t figure out as to why he cared, or even bothered to spare him a thought whilst men who’ve served him since he was a baby got a pittance of such feeling, it was strange to him. While the three walked to the center of the clearing he transitioned to wandering vagabond to a sideshow jester. For someone who’s a total stranger both in history and character, his cousin took well to him—she even laughed at one of his offhand comments, as if it were a joke! The man himself showed no sign of laughter in it yet reaped an unexpected bonus.
She smiled even while his own was shaded. Now that he thought about it—he did see his face on their first encounter. But what did it look like, again? His plummeting excitement of that hour made whatever he did look like, be a blur to him. Did a worry come to him about his appearance, for some mysterious reason? Ridiculous, I’m worrying irrationally. But, with every widening of Mai Jing’s smile to the straw hat, his unease grew.
At the center, Mai Jing and he stood whilst their tagalong sat on the grass over on the side. The sun’s rays weren’t as harsh as expected and yet still, the hat stayed on. Tret Ku tested his sword: a Rising Upper slash here, Maiden On The Shore there, and a couple thrusts; there was no reason to this, really just him killing anxieties that spawned from nowhere. Or, if he had to be honest with himself—the prickled rose before him was an opponent even he couldn’t underrate.
While the peasant was seemingly out of earshot, “His footstep is weirdly silent. Does he have cotton for feet?” Tret Ku blurted.
“Hmm?” Mai Jing raised an eyebrow. “Really? I didn’t notice. Even so, why’re you worried about that? Doesn’t a lord prefer his subordinates to be ‘seen, not heard’?”
“It’s empty talk. I just found it strange.”
“Maybe he’s served in a household where it’s most important.”
“Not for long, apparently,” he quipped, “I’d rather entrust my tea to the hogs.”
“But enough of that. We’ll spar, for what will be the last time.”
Mai Jing and Tret Ku stared at each other; blades open to the nippy air. A tension so palpable one could measure it. At the spectator’s watch the stranger, the aspiring alchemist of an unknown past had many amused smiles, however his own eyes above were frosty and lacking.
“Let’s see where I would measure up,” he said. His amulet was being caressed by the breeze.