With Void gone and Yoshika’s injury covered up by an illusion, people felt comfortable approaching her again, but before she could get back into the flow of politely brushing people off, Seong Min approached—splitting the crowd before her.
“The Queen invites you to return to the main hall and sit with us.”
She didn’t wait for a response, turning on her heel and marching back toward the central building. Yoshika quickly followed, catching up to keep pace a few steps behind the princess.
“Thank you for stopping the fight earlier.”
Seong Min glanced back at her and frowned.
“It was nothing. Your attack would have been more than I could reliably contain, and your opponent was no longer capable of avoiding it.”
Eunae had never gotten along well with her older cousin. Seong Min was ruled by ambition, and viewed the world only through the lenses of power and its applications. Once she realized that she would never reach the level of personal power required to succeed her mother as the clan matriarch, she turned instead to the realm of politics.
Min represented many of the worst aspects of Eunae’s so-called birthright. She was prideful, arrogant, and looked down on others. Whenever she fell behind someone, she’d simply search for some other angle from which she could place herself above them.
It reminded Yoshika of Yang Qiu, a little.
The princess paused before the doors to the main hall and turned to look Yoshika in the eyes.
“I believe that I may have misjudged you. Your secession has been an enormous political headache, which has only been exacerbated by Eunae and Misun’s inexplicable cooperation in support of it. I’ll never understand how you managed to get those two seeing eye-to-eye.”
Yoshika blinked. She felt a little guilty about the fact that Min was venting to her without realizing that she was Eunae.
“Okay? I guess that makes sense. Sorry about making such a mess of things for you.”
Seong Min shrugged.
“I still don’t see what they or my mother see in you. But your power is undeniable. You’ve earned your place, and that much, at least, is worthy of respect. It was wrong of me to cast aspersions.”
“Apology accepted?”
She pursed her lips, looking like she was about to argue, but instead just huffed and spun back around to open the doors.
Yoshika smiled wryly. That sort of thing was why she never got along with Min.
They entered the hall together and were immediately greeted by Queen Eunhee’s bright smile.
“Ah, Yoshika! Congratulations on your victory, that was a splendid showing. Come join us.”
Yoshika took a seat next to Misun, who looked askance at her briefly before deciding to ignore whatever had caught her attention.
“Thank you for the invitation. I apologize for the excessive show of force.”
Her aunt scoffed.
“Nonsense! It was Yeong’s champion who escalated the duel, and the Lady knew what she was getting into when she challenged a xiantian mage to a duel.”
“Technically, I was the challenger.”
“Technically, yes. But everyone present could see that she was provoking you. I think you handled yourself admirably. You gave her a choice—back off peacefully, or defend her words with action. She chose poorly and that’s her problem, not yours.”
Minhee nodded in agreement.
“No harm was done thanks to the intervention of the Void elemental. You have nothing to apologize for.”
Yoshika wasn’t sure she agreed with that assessment, but if they were willing to let it go, then she wasn’t about to press the issue.
“I take it that I passed your little test, then?”
Eunhee laughed.
“How refreshingly blunt. Yes, I suppose you did. It was important to see how you handled social pressure. That was a fine display of soft and hard power wielded with discretion, but judiciously applied. Though, I couldn’t help but notice that some of your methods were a bit...derivative?”
Misun’s eyes went wide, shooting Yoshika an accusatory glare. She averted her eyes and coughed.
“W-we’ve learned from our friends, of course. It stands to reason that we would employ similar tactics.”
Her aunt chuckled.
“Of course, dear. Well, I was going to suggest calling in your elemental friends, but it seems they’ve decided to take their leave. My apologies, Lady High Arbiter—it wasn’t my intention to derail your meeting entirely. Perhaps we can reschedule?”
Yoshika shook her head.
“That won’t be necessary. This has been a productive journey, but I’ve been away from Jiaguo for too long. I’ll be returning home tomorrow.”
“I see. That’s disappointing, but I understand you have other obligations. You are, of course, welcome to return whenever you wish. Your estate here in the capital remains open to you, and I’ll even assign staff to maintain it.”
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
“Thank you, Your Majesty. I hope that our nations will enjoy a long and prosperous partnership.”
----------------------------------------
Yoshika wasn’t worried about staying in contact with Void. A being like that would have no trouble finding her wherever she was, and it’s not like she was planning on achieving divinity any time soon. She had a long way to go, which was why she’d recruited the elemental in the first place.
Meanwhile, it wasn’t as if things back in Jiaguo stopped moving while Eui was busy in Goryeo. The reflecting pool project was making fantastic progress thanks to Haeun and the others in the new magic workshop. They still weren’t sure what they were going to call the discipline once they established a strong foundation, but Yoshika was excited to see where it would lead.
Luo Mingyu, after being browbeaten into it by his father and ordered by Lin Xiulan, was hard at work in cooperation with Yue and Jung, of all people, to design and manufacture a Spiritual Awakening Pill that would allow cultivators who had awakened in either Arcane or Martial arts to redirect their essence to cleanse their meridians.
It had a few kinks to work out—such as the fact that it required a specialized meditation technique, or that one of the potential side-effects was death—but Mingyu was confident that he was nearing a solution, and Yi Lan, the doctor’s apprentice, had even volunteered to be the first to test the finished product.
On a more personal level, Jiaying’s parents...still hated her. They had begrudgingly come around to accepting Jiaying’s choices—mostly under the ultimatum of their daughter refusing to talk to them again otherwise—but they made their disapproval loud and clear at every opportunity. Meili could see why she hadn’t been particularly distraught about leaving them behind.
At least they stuck to being passive aggressive at dinners and annoying her in court. To her surprise, they had not compromised Meili’s civilian identity. As frustratingly unsupportive as the pair were, they genuinely cared about their daughter and the people they represented. They just didn’t like her, specifically.
Last, but very far from least, Lady Tennin’s specialized class on essence deviations and personal mastery was bearing fruit in very unexpected ways.
Yoshika regarded the collection of people who’d requested her audience archly. It was an unusual group, consisting of Lady Tennin, Yang Qiu, Beishang, and three demons that she didn’t recognize at all.
She would have happily granted any of the former three her time as Jia or Kaede, either formally or informally. But they had insisted on an audience as a group, and with High Arbiter Yoshika in particular.
That meant that they were fishing for an executive decision, which always made for challenging conversations.
“How can I help you?”
Lady Tennin stepped forward and bowed.
“Thank you for granting us an audience, High Arbiter. Normally, we would not bring something like this directly to you, but it’s a sensitive subject. I’ll allow Beishang and Yang Qiu to explain.”
She stepped back, but neither of the other two stepped forward to replace her, until Yang Qiu reached over with one of her cloak-like tentacles and shoved Beishang forward.
The demon grimaced and rummaged through her sleeves to produce a slip of paper.
“Uh...these three individuals, Cheng Guozhi, Peng Lan, and Fu Hui, all formerly of the Great Empire of Qin, wish to submit for asylum within Jiaguo and, if possible, be granted citizenship. They are, of course, willing to work to earn their place, within the constraints of the law.”
Yoshika pursed her lips. Beishang had been an experiment—a special exception to see if a demon could really be integrated into society. There had been no incidents so far, but the popular sentiment surrounding the demonic prisoners was...not great.
“I take it you have a specific proposal for us?”
Yang Qiu stepped forward this time.
“I do. I’ll just say it straight—I’m getting sick of hunting down beast cores to sustain the entire demon population by myself. Jiaguo’s shield formation is pretty big, and the qi density here is absurd. The Tennin and I do most of the monster hunting, but it’s too much for just us.”
Yoshika nodded. She could see where this was going.
“So you’re suggesting a team of hunters, uniquely incentivized to hunt magical beasts on their own. I take it you’ve hand-picked these three?”
Lady Tennin shook her head.
“Not exactly, no. The idea was theirs, and it’s not just about having them help hunt youkai.”
Yang Qiu gestured back at them with her thumb.
“Just these three wouldn’t be enough to make a difference. I don’t want to make a team out of them, I want each of them to make a team. Your academy is sorely lacking in practical experience opportunities, and these three have kindly offered to provide them.”
Yoshika frowned.
“Beishang was extensively vetted, and kept under close supervision at all times. You’re suggesting we put these three in charge of students and send them out into the wild?”
Yang Qiu scoffed.
“Hell no—that’s a recipe for disaster. Keep them under supervision at first, like Beishang. Slow integration. I’m not expecting demons to get accepted overnight.”
“And who will vouch for these demons?”
Lady Tennin raised her hand.
“I will. These three are all regular students of mine, and I think that they’ve made great progress. I may not have hand picked them, but if you tasked me with finding the three best candidates for something like this, then I would have.”
Yoshika rubbed her temples, Lady Tennin’s involvement added an entire extra layer of problems.
“What did Shinji say about this?”
“Oh, he strongly recommended against it, but he didn’t veto the idea entirely, provided that I promise not to stake my wellbeing or that of the village on this project.”
“I see...”
She frowned, considering their proposal. It wasn’t a bad idea, per se. Many of the demons who attended Lady Tennin’s classes had already earned privileges like supervised trips outside of the prison, and a carefully managed integration of their most promising individuals could go a long way towards raising public sentiment for them.
If it worked.
The potential for backfire was enormous, and the consequences of failure would be potentially catastrophic for Jiaguo. She could see why they’d brought it directly to her. The councilors in the lower court would never approve of it, no matter how necessary it was for the future of the demonic population.
Which made her decision that much harder. This was exactly the sort of thing that she was meant to decide.
“I like it. I think that the idea has a lot of merit, and it’s probably one of the best paths forward for the demons. You have my support.”
Lady Tennin smiled brightly, but Yang Qiu and the demons scowled. They knew what came next, and it pained Yoshika to prove their cynicism right.
“But I cannot grant your request. I know it will be difficult—that you’ll have to fight tooth and nail, probably making concessions you don’t want to make if you can even come to an agreement at all. Regardless, you have to bring this to the council, and go through the proper channels. I genuinely wish you the best of luck. Is there anything else?”
Yang Qiu made a dramatic show of dropping to one knee as she bowed.
“No, Mistress. That will be all. Thank you for your time.”
Yoshika sighed. She expected that sort of pettiness from Yang Qiu, but it still stung. It was well within her power to push their proposal through, but Do Hye’s words still hung heavily in her mind.
The more she exercised that kind of power, the more she went against the grain of her people, the more reliant Jiaguo would become on her to keep it together. It wasn’t enough to just force everybody to smile and shake hands. Her people needed to form genuine bonds of solidarity—a national identity that would survive without her.
Whether she liked it or not, she was a dictator. But whatever else happened, she refused to let herself become a tyrant.