The stench of blood and guts fills the store as I ignore the fearful stares of the slaves and wait for the guards to arrive. Killing two people and inciting a small panic in the streets is probably a big deal, and although Baledagh acted in self-defence, all we have is our word to go by, which is less than reassuring. I don’t doubt he was attacked first, but short of giving an Oath, I have no proof as no one will take the word of a slave at face value, especially ones who’ve been at the mercy of a possible murderer.
I don’t know how murders are handled here in the Empire, but I assume it goes to the Disciplinary Corps, the Emperor’s judges, jurors, and executioners. I suppose Oaths are a convenient method of interrogation but I loathe making them. Each one is like a metaphysical burden weighing on me, like a phantom crick in my neck I can never be rid of. I admire Dastan for keeping his composure with the Oaths hanging over his head. After cleansing him of the Spectres, he’s never shown a hint of anger or resentment. While I do what I can to ensure he and his retinue have plenty of freedom, they still wear a metaphorical collar around their necks attached to the leash in my hand which cannot be pleasant.
Hoping to find proof to absolve me of guilt, I crouch to study my would-be kidnappers/assassins without disturbing the crime scene. Glancing at the mangled features of the first corpse, I mentally quip, “I guess you could say our enemy... has lost face.” Moving to study the decapitated corpse, I add, “Must have made him angry enough... to lose his head.”
YEAHHH!
Instead of eliciting an amused chuckle, Baledagh’s disapproval floods through my mind. “You shouldn’t mock the dead, Brother. They were our enemies, but still deserving of respect. The faceless one threw his life away to buy time for his ally and both died valiantly and without regrets. Inexperienced in deception, they showed great courage and determination, far different from the usual crazed Defiled we fight.”
Sheepishly shrinking away at the reprimand, I reply, “Sorry. Humour is my defence mechanism, it keeps me from panicking about how someone wants us dead or captured, presumably to make us wish we were dead. I was sorta hoping we were done with this stuff.”
Mentally shrugging, Baledagh waves away my concerns. “Whoever it is, they failed. If they send four assassins, then we shall strike down four. Send ten, kill ten. We will endure.”
“Well, not to disagree but I’d like to know who sent these particular assassins and stop them from sending more.”
“Good idea Brother, we shall have our retribution, in blood and in fire.”
“Tch. Always with the blood and fire. Honestly, it sounds so exhausting.” Not that I have any better ideas. If I figure out who’s trying to kill us, blood and fire sounds like an appropriate response. Fighting on the battlefield is one thing; I choose to be there, more or less. Assassins in the city are a different matter. Who knows what collateral damage they might cause? What if they’d attacked in the tea-house, with Lin, Tali, and Tate right beside me?
Oh no... Baledagh said the assassins met him at the tea-house. If they have accomplices, then they might try to use Lin and the twins as leverage!
Dashing through the door to go rescue my loved ones, I immediately rebound off what feels like a wall of steel and stagger back, collapsing to the floor.
Wow. My enemies work fast. How did they wall me in so quietly? And how are they making the ceiling spin?
Husolt’s one-eyed visage appears, circling around with a downright villainous grin pasted on his face. “Oh ho... Thinking of making yourself scarce after killing two men? You see this, girl? We’ve caught ourselves a criminal trying to escape, got him dead-to-rights. You think the Disciplinary Corps’ll reward us?”
Somewhere out of sight, Li Song’s voice sounds in perfect deadpan. “Most assuredly, especially considering this criminal’s high rank. We’ve done the Empire a great service.”
Ignoring the pain and nausea, I try sitting up to disastrous results. Husolt’s large hands keep me steady, but the world continues to spin around me, now on more than one axis. “You don’t understand,” I slur, trying to push his hands away while simultaneously clinging on for support. “I need to go.”
“Sorry lad, but evil has its retribution. You must suffer the consequences of your actions, can’t have you running around killing strangers in cities now can we? It’d be bad for our image.”
“You’re turning me in?” The words slip out without thinking, sounding like an entitled, indignant young noble looking to escape my crimes. “Wait... wait...” Pausing to gather my thoughts, I finally get back on track. “I didn’t commit any crime and Lin needs my help. She might be in danger, I need to-”
“Calm yourself lad, we’re just having a laugh, nothing to be worried about.” Husolt’s ‘gentle’ thumping does nothing to alleviate my nausea or panic, but it does force me into submissive compliance. Most of the time it’s easy to forget, but every now and then something reminds me I’m surrounded by existences who could accidentally crush me with a random sneeze. “Lin and the children are safe as can be, finishing their snacks at this very moment. How you think we came to be here? Her guards noticed something amiss and me and the girl were nearby, so we were asked to check on you. You’re ruining a perfectly pleasant father-daughter market date, you know?”
Relief floods through me as the gyrating room comes to a stop, and I notice how Li Song beams at the appellation despite standing well out of arms reach of the massive bear-eared blacksmith. I can’t blame her. Though his intentions are kind, I really wish he’d stop trying to comfort me. I think I’m starting to bruise. “Lin has guards? Like the rude, veiled woman and her lackeys?”
Choking back a laugh, Husolt likely agrees with my opinion but is too polite to say it. “Err, sometimes them, sometimes others. You know how it is with parents, the old hare is a doting, overprotective sort. Ever since your little run-in with the carnugators in Shen Huo, there’s always someone keeping an eye on the sweet girly, a guardian in the shadows as it were.”
Wow. A guardian. “Must be nice,” I answer, still woozy from my crash. Wait. “Does Mila have a guardian too?” Please say no, please say no, I’m dead if Husolt and Akanai find out about our afternoon delight/hand breaking.
“Nah.” Chortling, he says, “My old lady thinks having a guardian will limit Mila’s growth despite worrying over her safety day in and day out. Besides, it ain’t easy convincing experts to play nanny, only the old hare has enough pull to get it done.”
Stolen story; please report.
Hmm... I wonder if Taduk could arrange a guardian for me too...
After explaining Baledagh’s ordeal and his exceedingly paranoid thought process, I ignore the father-daughter pair of disbelieving glances and turn to the slaves. “When did these men appear? Were they sent by Yazhu?”
Pressed into the back of their cages, the slaves cringe at the attention and remain silent, prompting a derisive snort from Baledagh. “Worthless fools and cowards the lot of them. They all stood idle as my would-be abductor hid amongst them, doing nothing to warn me of their plot. How could they not understand their fate would be sealed the moment I was captured?”
Respect for one's enemies and disdain for the weak, my little brother definitely fits in better than I do. “You can’t hold it against them. They’re scared and helpless, just trying to survive to live another day.” Besides, even the stalwart warriors from Dastan’s retinue were terrified by Baledagh’s Aura and from the looks of things, he’s yet to fine tune his control. He’s great at picking out enemies but defending allies? Not so much. If friendlies aren’t paralyzed by his Aura or forced to defend against it, then we call that a win.
With all his time spent in the Natal Palace, Baledagh’s made tremendous strides in his abilities, going from zero to hero in months. He’s got Honing and Reinforcement down pat and is working on Lightening and Stability, the basic four ‘passive’ skills. After condensing his own personal Aura, we found he shares my ability to manipulate it into projecting different emotions, which apparently is our special Talent with a capital T. I’m better at conveying lighter emotions like courage, determination, love, and general sickening affection, while Baledagh has the darker emotions down pat, like overwhelming blood lust and spine-tingling terror. Being unable to experience it myself, I only have second-hand experiences to go by but I feel Saluk described it best. ‘Is like, be ant and see boot come smash, yes?’
After much careful cajoling, one terrified woman finally speaks up and explains what happened. After filling my order for slaves in Shen Huo, Yazhu led the caravan to the Wall and arrived a handful of hours ago. Once they were all settled into the store, the now-faceless assailant came out of nowhere and killed Yazhu, leaving the body in the back room where it currently still lays. On the one hand, it’s nice to know I wasn’t betrayed by my slaver associate and by extension the father of my second-in-command, but now my investigation seems to have run into a snag.
Husolt and Li Song are of no help, stepping out to avoid the smell after making sure I’m unharmed. It’s sweet how she’s making an effort to bond with her new family and not just passively sitting back and accepting their love and affection. Taking a moment to appreciate their adorable family bonding, I continue my search for clues until the guards arrive, who promptly move aside for BoShui marching hot on their tails with his entire retinue in tow, moving through the streets armed and ready for action.
“Preposterous,” he says, spitting on the corpses after hearing my explanation. “To think they dare make a move on you here of all places? My uncle will spare no effort to find the party responsible for ordering this and we will have our vengeance.” Grabbing me by the arm, he ushers me out the doors to reunite with Husolt and Li Song, who fall in behind us as BoShui’s retinue forms a barrier around me.
“Err, shouldn’t we stay? In case the guards want to ask questions or something?”
“Nonsense,” he replies, glaring at every shadow and corner as if expecting assassins to come leaping out. “You’re a Warrant Officer. You say those dead men attacked you, then they attacked you. The guards will deal with the corpses and you can send someone to retrieve your slaves in an hour or so.”
“Wait, so as a Warrant Officer my word is law? I can go around killing without penalty? That’s absurd.”
Frowning, BoShui shakes his head. “Of course not, but if the men you killed were wronged, then let their families raise the issue with the Disciplinary Corps. That's why we have Adjudicators and Justicars.”
“Then what would’ve happened if I wasn’t a Warrant Officer?”
“Then the guards would take you into custody, investigate, and send you to an Arbiter of the Peace along with their report, where you'll await punishment.” Shrugging, BoShui continues, “You’re a man of power. Those guards have no authority or ability to detain you, though you seem to think otherwise.” Switching to a Sending, he asks, “Those men did try to kill you, right? If not, then we can still handle it, but-”
“Yes, they tried to kill me, but this isn’t right.” Too exasperated to concentrate on Sending, I answer out loud, drawing many eyes as I’m escorted through the streets covered in blood. “Being a Warrant Officer shouldn’t excuse my actions. I killed two men inside a city, there should be more to it than, ‘oh okay, carry on’.” I think this upsets me even more than the assassination attempt. “Is there no rule of law? No justice for the weak or downtrodden? How do things keep from devolving into anarchy? This... it isn't right.”
“You’re right,” Husolt utters, his gruff voice carrying over the marching boots and clanging weapons. “There’s no justice in the world. Personal strength is the only thing you can count on, a lesson I paid dearly to learn.” There’s a grim set to his voice and I turn to see him scratching his wounded eye, lost in memories of the past. After a moment, he comes out of it and pats his abs of steel with gusto. “Work hard lad. You’ve a long ways to go before you make the grade. Crashing into me belly damn near gave you a concussion, so think about what’ll happen when I’m actually trying to hurt you.”
Knowing he won’t answer if I ask about his eye, I’m distracted by something else he said. “... don’t you mean ‘if’, not when?”
With a devilish grin, Husolt ignores the question and turns his attention to Li Song, making one-sided conversation as they stroll along without a care in the world, leaving me to stew in my dread and anxiety.
Merciful Mother, please tell me the People don’t have messed up wedding traditions like ‘defeat the father to claim the daughter’. Might as well call it ‘beat the groom until he shits blood’. Forget Husolt, I don’t think I could even beat Taduk. Although I’ve never seen him hurt or kill anything with his own hands, not even the rabbits he so vocally detests, he’s a dastardly, devious sort not above sending someone else to do his dirty work.
And here I thought surviving Mila’s affection would be difficult enough. I need to get much, much, much stronger in the next year or two.
After escorting me to a commandeered bath house to clean up and then back home where Lin and the twins are waiting with all my pets, BoShui leaves with his retinue after promising to uncover who my mysterious assailants were working for. Wrapping an arm around Lin while we watch Tate and Tali play in the snow, I ponder the implications of today’s attack. Baledagh said the dead men had training as soldiers and the most militaristic enemy I have is the Society. I doubt it’s the Situ Clan given my... not friendly, but peaceful relationship with their young patriarch, and it’s definitely not the Han Clan as BoShui is so devoted and zealous it borders on the uncomfortable. Then again, he directly admitted he’d intended to give up his position as Clan Successor until I cleansed him of the Spectres, convinced I’ll need his help in our future ‘revolution’.
Mother save me from your fanatic devotees. I don’t deserve their fealty, I’m just trying to stay alive in this crap-sack world I’ve stumbled into. Besides, I’m pretty sure BoShui's uncle isn’t thrilled with his infatuation with me. We haven’t told 'Uncle' BoHai about the whole Tainted business mostly because BoShui admits his uncle won’t take it well. Han BoHai already lost his daughter to one religious extremist and I can see how it looks like I’m doing the same with BoShui.
Which means these assassins still could have been sent by the Situ or Han Clan, merely a different faction within them. Or maybe Elder Ming has backers looking to avenge him, or Sang Ryong didn’t like something I said out of hand and wants to make me pay, who knows. The Society isn’t as united as they’d like people to think, especially when it comes to matters of succession. Zian stands unchallenged among his generation and seized the position of heir apparent through sheer strength and talent, but his mom and uncle are at odds with the current Patriarch which means he has no backing from the ruling faction. While there are older, more accomplished warriors in line for the metaphorical throne, with how long Martial Warriors live for, succession usually skips a generation as grandchildren inheriting titles from grandparents.
Assuming no one dies in a bloody coup or something. Happens more often than I’d care to think.
BoShui is a different story. Despite being the son of the current Patriarch and one of the leading talents of his generation, he describes his relationship with his father as ‘estranged’. Han BoDing, BoShui’s father, is using BoShui as a sacrificial lamb, naming the prodigal son his heir to bait his enemies into exposing themselves and allowing them to act against BoShui while BoDing shelters his true heir. Who that might be is a mystery even to BoShui, which makes what happened to the Shrike – or rather BoLao, someone who treated him like family should, all the more tragic.
Ugh. Politics. Look at any other clan, sect, school, or faction in the Empire and you’ll find an endless stream of stories just like BoShui’s or Zian’s. I don’t know how Yuzhen keeps up with everything. I’m so glad the People are easy to get along with, lacking any backroom dealings or internal schisms, with everyone getting along in perfect solidarity.
Wait...
Maybe they do have internal politics and I’m merely unaware of the conflicts. Is that why no one wants to join my retinue? Am I an outcast? But why? Is it because I admitted to Gerel about being Tainted? If so, is Gerel an outcast with me? Did I make a mess of things for Baatar and Akanai by admitting I was on the brink of becoming Defiled?
...
Bah. Politics are the worst.
Chapter Meme