For nearly a thousand years, the Whitebrow Dynasty ruled the entire known world. From the far side of the Eternity Mountains to the most distant reaches of the Jade Sea, All Under Heaven kneeled before the Empire’s Heavenly Mandate.

However, as the centuries wore on, the Whitebrow family grew further and further removed from the world they ruled, increasingly decadent and unstable. The culmination of this process being Her Eternal Majesty, the 31st Whitebrow Emperor. She declared herself immortal, and personally oversaw the execution of every last viable heir to the Whitebrow bloodline. In autumn of the year 964, she celebrated her success by undertaking an all orchid blossom diet, and became increasingly ‘reclusive’.

At the 977th Imperial New Year celebration in the Throne City, an event that would ever after be remembered as the Calamity Gala, it became public knowledge that Her Eternal Majesty had been dead for over a decade.. The Empire’s monastic bureaucracy, the Golden Court, had been hiding the body and fabricating orders from an empty throne.

Thus began a gruesome civil war. Each of the Five Great Realms declared themselves the new capital of imperial authority for All Under Heaven.

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Four months after the Calamity Gala, a drifter entered a farming village on the southeastern edge of the central realm.

Upon a broken and dry blood splattered city gate, there survived an inscription. ‘Valued Citizens, Remember Always That Plagues And Traitors May Come And Go, But By The Emperor’s Firm Hand, All Under Heaven Will Forever Prosper.’

The drifter noted that the gate was likely damaged intentionally. The ornately carved formation seal which allowed it to detect and record the presence of those that would pass under it was slashed through, likely from the strike of a blade, or some kind of cutting art.

Her mediation on the matter was interrupted. A dog came skittering out from the town side of the gate. It glanced up at the drifter as it passed, a severed human hand in its mouth. The drifter watched in silence, refusing to allow any astonishment to show on her face.

Despite being surrounded by idyllic fields full of fluffy lazing gorgs, Summergift Village was certainly in a bad way.

‘How fun.’

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She adjusted her opaque gray tinted spectacles and attempted to shake some of the dust from her faded orange-brown travel robe. It was important to her to at least try to look presentable for all the people she was probably going to kill soon. After all, it was only polite.

She didn’t make it far past the gate before being interrupted by a shrill voice, “Hello visitor! Welcome to Summergift Village! My goodness, you haven’t been traveling alone in these difficult times have you?”

The drifter simply nodded in confirmation toward this sniveling gatekeeper, who was shouting and stumbling out of their little office booth behind one of the gate’s defaced pillars. The gatekeeper was wearing the standard yellow uniform of a nameless Golden Court acolyte, and it looked like they’d barely slept or eaten in days.

“How bold of you traveler. You must be very strong to have made it here without incident. Well, if you’re looking for work, Summergift has been awaiting you! There are many opportunities, martial and otherwise. Before you go in, our, uh, our automatic check system is currently under repair. Can you please leave me your name, citizen registry code, and reason for entry?”

The drifter smiled gently, and shook her head, indicating that she would not.

The gatekeeper slumped pitifully, “I see…”

Under normal conditions, this would be the step in the process where the gatekeeper would blow a whistle, summoning a brute squad to deal with the intruder. Instead, the gatekeeper simply turned their gaze to the cobblestone as they mournfully shuffled back to their little office.

The drifter honestly wanted to applaud the little gatekeeper for having been bold enough to still keep going through the motions of their assigned task, in spite of the fact that the Golden Court clearly no longer held any particular sway over the area. She wondered how long they could keep it up without mortally offending someone.

She looked around, and found the streets empty. There was a distant sound of triumphant cackling. She wasn’t entirely ready to jump into trouble just yet, so she made her way to the first tavern she laid eyes on.

It was called ‘The Bloated Dragon’. She found it reassuringly grubby, and blessedly unpopulated. She estimated that it must have been a regular haunt for passing merchants and their haulers, back in better times.

The harsh older woman behind the bar scarcely glanced up at the drifter, even as she sat down at the counter. The drifter waited patiently, looking around at all the memorabilia and signage that typically adorned such places.

The bartender grunted with disgust, and briefly rummaged through a hidden cabinet. She produced an ornate gord, and without a word poured some of its contents into a cup. It was a fine peach wine, with a rich floral smell. She slid it toward the drifter, crossed her arms, and scowled.

“Oh, this is the good stuff. How much do I owe you?” the drifter asked.

“Nothing. It’s on the house, as long as you leave this cursed idiot town once you're finished. If you plan to stick round, well then I’m sure you’ve got at least 25 tails of jade to spend on it.”

The drifter smiled, and meditated on the insult. Besides being more than enough to buy a good plot of land, it was considered the height of rudeness to offer to buy or sell anything for 25 tails of jade. The story of the legendary detective, who once used that sum to bribe a fool into confessing their treason, would never be forgotten.

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She took a long sip, and a moment to savor the wine’s delicate flavor, “Would it be rude to ask what you’re still doing here then?”

“Yes, but I’ll humor you anyway. It’s because I’m 25 tails stupid myself. This tavern’s an old family business, I’d rather die miserable, keeping her afloat for just one more season, than live a hundred happy years anywhere else.”

The drifter smacked her lips obnoxiously, “Mhm. That’s some dedication. What’s so wrong with this town anyway, you think?”

“You’re joking.”

“I never joke. Forgot how after the head injury.”

“Eh, dung water. Whatever. It's to do with the war, mostly. It hit this town sideways. You know how the Partisan League’s been spreading their influence among the working folk?”

The drifter nodded her confirmation, taking another gentle sip of the fine rare wine.

“Yeah, well, turns out word of the Calamity Gala was all they needed to turn this town upside down overnight. The local magister and all her detectives ran for it, leaving only Sunny, that poor little fool at the gate office. The Empire is gone, long live the revolution and whatever.”

“And then?”

“And then the Revolutionary Workers Committee of Summergift sent word to their sponsors in the Stormguild of the good news.”

“I think I’ve already heard this story a couple times, but with different town names.”

“I’ll bet you have. Well, to cut it short, turns out we exchanged Golden Court taxes for Stormguild ‘service fees’. In an effort to drive out the new taskmasters and dues collectors the Stormguild sent, about half the Revolutionary Whatsit allied with a Pyrehorde Band who just happened to be snooping around nearby looking to ’help out’.”

“So, now the town’s split between two new sets of powerful oppressors. All the initial revolutionaries are either dead or driven out, unless they’ve sworn their eternal loyalty to their new masters on either side.”

“Hey, you HAVE heard this story before, huh?”

The drifter hummed to herself, and finished the last of her cup, “Ah, that really is great stuff. Well, now that I’ve got a buzz on, how about I kill all of them?”

“All of them?” the bartender asked, sounding like she was about to either laugh or vomit.

The drifter nodded happily, as she swiveled off her chair and made her way toward the door, “All of them”.

The bartender tried to shout something to the drifter as she left the building, but the drifter wasn’t really listening. There were too many fascinating new things in the street occupying her attention.

The gatekeeper, Sunny, was a good distance down the road, excitedly pointing at the drifter. This was seemingly for the benefit of three rough looking martial types. One of them was a veritable giant, standing about 22 hands high. All of them were wearing something dyed Stormguild teal, featuring insignia depicting a scowling draconic head with a ship anchor in its mouth.

The drifter could feel the scrutiny of all the bystanders staring at the scene through tilted window shutters. She briefly focused on someone who probably imagined themselves very cleverly hidden in an alleyway, though she got the impression they were hiding from the Stormguild crew, more than anyone. This one was armed, and the drifter was fairly certain she felt the telltale stink of Pyrehorde haughtiness in their air.

The crew of three strode toward the drifter, and made a show of flaring their martial intent. The giant was reasonably impressive, and based on her aura, she must have killed at least a dozen people. That huge double handed ax on her shoulder definitely had an alchemical engine built into the business end. The drifter couldn’t guess at a glance what sort of formation might have been built into the giant’s glowing red prosthetic right eye.

The giant’s two comrades, ‘topknot’ and ‘earrings’, were less impressive. Those two were little better than opportunistic dogs, but they each carried a saber of decent quality. Their intent blurred into the giant’s, which was strong enough to manifest an aura hallucination. A huge one eyed demon, towering to the roofs of the local buildings.

The drifter smiled at them all, like new friends arriving for afternoon tea. To the drifter’s increasing delight, this seemed to upset the Stormguild crew greatly.

“Heard you were new in town, Fresh Meat.” the giant bellowed.

The drifter blinked and hesitantly pointed at herself, still smiling blankly, as if unsure she was the one being addressed.

“Yeah, you. Fresh Meat.” sneered the topknot, as she moved to hook the drifter’s shoulder with the blunt side of her saber.

The drifter effortlessly brushed the weapon away with the back of her hand. Instantly, the giant swung the flat of her massive ax around to bludgeon the drifter in response. The drifter obligingly went limp, moving her head in tandem with the blow. She created a seamless illusion of impact, and sprawled theatrically on the pavement.

The Stormguild crew laughed, while the drifter flopped and writhed in mock pain, quietly drawing out an unseen hatchet from under her robe.

“Congratulations, you survived a blow from the Thousand Foe Cleaving Ax of The Demon Madeye! ” boasted the giant.

“Arrogant bastard, never thought you’d come up against a celebrity out here, eh?” said earrings.

Topknot stepped forward and kicked the drifter in the ribs, “The Stormguild is looking for warm bodies to fill the ranks, but all fresh meat needs to be tenderized before it's of any use. We can’t have you getting all uppity now can w- AH-! AHHH!!”

Topknot’s thought was interrupted by the sudden stinging pain of her left foot flying free of her ankle. The drifter moved with the dreamy grace of a dancer as she swept her hatchet through topknot’s right leg, severing it cleanly at the knee. Topknot landed on her head as she fell, and stopped moving.

The giant, ‘Demon Madeye’, jumped backward with uncanny agility, pulling the ignition cord on her ax’s alchemical engine. It flared to life with a high pitched whirring noise, its blade began glowing with searing heat.

Meanwhile, the drifter swung her humble hatchet across the eyes of the one she’d dismissively thought of as ‘earrings’. Earrings was dead instantly, the top half of her head hitting the cobblestone a few seconds before the rest of her fell in the opposite direction.

The big woman who’d been called ‘Demon Madeye’ was sweating as she lashed out with her blazing weapon. She was a seasoned fighter, making the most of her reach, and the superhuman swiftness afforded to her by her body cultivation training, but it wasn’t enough. The drifter’s flowing movements were like something out of a beautiful nightmare.

‘Madeye’ hadn’t been hit yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time. The shadow of certain death gripped her spirit.

Just before the drifter’s hatchet sliced into her heart, the woman who’d claimed to be the Demon Madeye found herself saying, “No, no no please, my father, he-”

The drifter’s opaquely tented spectacles gleamed as she continued to dance over the bodies. It looked like she was in a trance, performing some kind of funeral rite. Really, it was all just to wind down from what she considered a middling effort. It was always a nuisance when a foe was too strong to kill with contemptuous ease, yet was still too weak to really satisfy her.

The lurking representative of the Pyrehorde, and all those watching from their windows, including the owner of The Bloated Dragon, were dumbfounded, paralyzed with confused horror.

>>>To Be Continued>>>