Quashing the desire to fly into a rage, Yo Shi-Woo reminded himself this was a public venue. Appearances must be kept, so he unclenched his jaw, steadied his breathing, and relaxed his shoulders, all while imagining having the arrogant northern savage whipped for his insolence and ignoring the laughter of the other diners around him.
“How mortifying it must be to have both your sons defeated by a diminutive northern primitive.” Insolent as always, Ru Minsu happily added oil to the fire, fanning the flames Shi-Woo’s anger and hoping to provoke him into an unsightly anger. Amateur. “At least your older son didn’t disgrace himself by surrendering, but there’s something to be said about knowing one’s limits.”
Taking a sip of tea to calm his fury and order his thoughts, Shi-Woo smiled at the uncultured philistine and said, “Alas, mine is a family of merchants and politicians, unskilled in the ways of war. Arithmetic and logistics are my sword and shield, but unfortunately my sons were unwilling to follow in my footsteps. As their father, I could not bear to deny them this chance, and while my eldest son recently brought great pride to my house by forming his Natal Palace at twenty four years old, how could my untalented sons be a match for the scions of the illustrious Ru Family? My grandfather used to sit me on his lap and tell stories of your ancestors’ glorious victories, warriors one and all. Come, bring out your crouching tigers and hidden dragons, show this ignorant old man what true talent looks like.”
“See old friend, that’s the thing.” Minsu smirked, as if privy to some great joke. “I know my limits.”
Deriving little pleasure from Minsu’s subdued response, Shi-Woo turned back to the duelling stage with a smile. After Minsu’s fathers and uncles died in battle and Minsu’s grandfather passed away from old age, the Ru family had fallen into decline and barely counted as a third-rate power now. Shi-Woo’s ‘untalented’ sons were far superior to the Ru Family scions and Minsu knew it. Such was the problem with warrior families, they rose and fell with their greatest talents. If a merchant family produced a talented warrior, then their name would soar into the heavens, but even without, they always had the family business to fall back on.
Shi-Woo’s self-satisfaction didn’t last long as he discovered the second and third matches had begun and ended in the time it took to put Minsu in his place. As before, the northern savage dragged his comatose opponent to the corner in a show of utter contempt. Shi-Woo was too far to hear, but his servant standing stage side Sent him updates on everything the boy said. Leaning over his pile of defeated foes, the boy roughly handled Shi-Woo’s son before asking, “Excuse me, Justicar sir? Will I be held responsible if these guys bleed to death? Because if they’re delaying their healers just to get me in trouble, then I need a minute to keep Feathered Big Bro from bleeding to death or choking on his vomit.”
A burst of laughter inside the restaurant told Shi-Woo everyone else had also heard the boy and it took every scrap of self-control not to overturn his table and storm out. The savage went too far. Feathered Big Brother? Who’s your brother, you brazen whelp! You think yourself a Yo Family scion now? Brother your head! Faint-headed from anger, he Sent instructions to have his son brought down despite the tardy healer’s instructions. If his eldest suffered further injuries then so be it, Shi-Woo would find him the best healers in the Empire. A man can be defeated but not humiliated, and the Yo family would have their vengeance.
After receiving assurances he would not be held responsible for his defeated opponent’s safety, the savage promptly defeated three more opponents, all battles without a hint of suspense. Six opponents, six victories, and all in about as many minutes. The savage was on track to repeat yesterday’s performance, only this time in front of a crowd of thousands. As the architect behind today’s debacle, Shi-Woo would face heavy criticism for bringing shame to so many of Nan Ping’s young heroes and leading them to the slaughter. Their families would be hungry for blood and not even Central’s Marshal, his cousin and closest confidante, could save him after offending so many distinguished houses.
Without looking at his Chief Guard, Shi-Woo Sent, “You told me the boy was a paper tiger. ‘Talented, but not overly so. Strong, but unrefined and unpolished’. Those were your words, verbatim.”
“Master, this useless slave begs your forgiveness. The boy is crafty and hid his skills deep.” Though an Oathsworn slave, the man had served Shi-Woo his entire life, purchased and trained for the sole purpose of defending his master. Simply named Shou Yi, or ‘Guard One’, his loyalty could not be questioned and were he a free man, he had sufficient skill to earn the rank of Lieutenant Colonel. Were it anyone else, Shi-Woo would have him strapped and castrated for this failure, but Shou Yi was irreplaceable. Out of twenty Oathsworn slaves, Shou Yi was the only one to condense his Aura and form a Natal Palace, making him a true hidden powerhouse.
Reminding himself Shou Yi had never let him down before, Shi-Woo Sent, “Elaborate.”
“Yes Master. In yesterday’s bout, the savage appeared fierce and powerful, but in this slave’s eyes, also reckless and impulsive. While able to overpower his opponents, he left himself open and vulnerable too many times, and were he met with stiffer resistance then his defeat was all but certain. Even against eight relatively unskilled youths, he almost took grave injury twice, winning through a combination of intimidation and luck. This slave has seen it before, brash, overconfident children who think themselves invincible, and in his foolishness, this slave believed the savage boy to be one of them. Today, he fights like a different man, careful, calculating, and cautious.”
While Shou Yi spoke, the savage won his seventh match by submission after breaking his opponent's leg. Heaping disgrace upon defeat, he even had the audacity to ‘help’ his defeated foe by supporting him off the stage. Faced with this indignity yet unable to refute, the hapless young man could only swallow his pride as the savage all but carried him away. Forced to admit his failings, Shi-Woo reevaluated the savage before him. A clever, scheming child, today his insults were indirect and subtle, nothing like yesterday’s outspoken blockhead. Who was it guiding his actions?
It wasn’t Situ Nian Zu, the man was notorious for his political incompetence. A peak expert with skill and fame to rival Du Min Gyu, yet stuck with the most unprofitable and unrewarding task in the North for over four decades. Were he a shrewder man, Nian Zu would have swallowed his pride, taken a wife, and carried out his duties. So what if his tastes ran contrary? He didn’t need to love his wife, he merely needed to get drunk and sire a few heirs. A small price to pay to escape the cold, barren Northern Wall but the man refused to play the game as it should be. A short-sighted fool like that couldn’t possibly be the mastermind behind Falling Rain and the Bekhai.
Was it the half-fox marshal of the north? Rumours said she was nothing but a big-breasted, empty-headed tramp, yet she seduced the former Marshal, learned his greatest secrets, and consigned the entire Shing Clan to death. While likely acting as someone’s puppet, Shi-Woo hadn’t the faintest clue who could be pulling her strings. Things would be made clear once his Society allies arrived, but whatever mastermind was behind all this played his hand well, rushing across the board before Shi-Woo’s pieces were all in place.
Perhaps the puppeteer was hiding in plain sight. Nothing in Han BoHai’s history spoke of a masterful schemer but such skills could be learned and recent actions made him a man to be wary of. Not only was he present at yesterday’s meeting with the Legate, he was also the only person of consequence present during Han BoShui’s match with Tam Taewoong. A ‘well-known’ paper tiger and disreputable drunkard, the young BoShui’s victory over the former Hwarang was an unpleasant surprise to all. Even worse, though dead and cremated, BoHai’s daughter had once been feared across the lands as the Bloody Shrike and the Confessor’s chosen heir. Was BoHai responsible for the Confessor’s recent, uncharacteristic silence? What other weapons was the man hiding?
These northern delegates were far more formidable than expected. Had he been double-crossed by the Society and fed inaccurate information? How convenient for his greatest allies, the Situ Clan, to be so conspicuously absent, giving this barbarian tribesman time to run roughshod over Central’s youths. He’d been told the boy’s victory over Teng Wei Chuan, Ouyang Yu Jin, and Situ Jia Zian had been more luck than skill, but if so, then why was the boy still breathing? Situ Jia Yang had been disgraced and Teng Wei Chuan’s immediate family dead, but it was hard to believe the Ouyang Patriarch would let the death of his prized son and heir die without retaliation. The Society had long been looking to expand southward and only an unspoken alliance among Central’s factions had kept them out. Could this be a united Northern effort to shame and supplant Central’s noble families?
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
A commotion on stage interrupted Shi-Woo’s contemplation and he refocused his attention, Sending a query to his stage-side servant. “What’s happening?”
“This servant reports, the boy is trying to take back his runic items.” What followed was a reiteration of the boy’s words.
“... Do none of you understand what ‘collateral’ means? I won ten matches, so I've won ten thousand gold, which is enough to cover the rest of my matches. Since I don’t need collateral anymore, why can’t I give my martial aunt her stuff back? You want a chance to win them? Then put up another thirty-thousand gold between the ten of you.”
It’s as if every word out of this scrawny savage’s mouth were meant to incite animosity and exasperation. An absurd and obvious provocation meant to defraud more out of Central’s noble young warriors, but they had no choice but to endure his taunts. Strength was respected above all else, and the boy was nothing if not strong. “Shou Yi,” he Sent, reconsidering his options. “How strong would you say the boy really is?”
Hesitating, Shou Yi took long seconds before Sending his reply. “Unknown, Master. He is still holding back. He’s less brutal than before but far more precise, using just enough strength to defeat his opponents which makes it difficult to gauge his true strength.”
“Your best guess then.”
“Master, this lowly slave believes none but the best can challenge the boy, unless we step outside his age group. Take young master’s bout. Though it appeared as if he walked into the boy’s sword, the truth is the boy struck at the perfect range and angle to connect through the young master's defenses. This requires superior perception, control, and overwhelming confidence. In the second match, he saw through his opponent’s Ghost Step in an instant. If he’d studied the movement before and was waiting for his chance then I wouldn’t be so impressed, but the boy only arrived yesterday and the Ghost Step is a prized secret. Where could he have seen it before? Then...”
Shou Yi continued rattling off praise for Falling Rain’s prowess and the boy continued defeating his opponent’s with ease. Nineteen years old and already so accomplished, today’s matches proved Falling Rain’s reputation was well deserved. Eventually, his final opponents forfeited and the matches were done, leaving Shi-Woo and his peers stewing in silent contemplation while the savage collected his winnings.
Until one brazen man laughed and applauded.
Drawing the ire of everyone present, they all turned to glare at the culprit in question, but everyone quickly tempered their anger. Surrounded by his Royal Guards, the Legate had slipped in unnoticed during the duels, his youthful features alight with a grin as he clapped. “Magnificent,” he praised. “Eight versus one yesterday and twenty separate duels today, what a hot-blooded young hero. Such is the passion of youth!” Glancing at Shi-Woo, he added, “Isn’t that right, Servant. Yo. Shi. Woo?”
Shivering in fear, Shi-Woo vacated his seat and fell to his knees to kowtow. “I-Imperial Servant b-begs Imperial Legate for f-f-f-forgiveness.”
“Oh? I see you share your son’s penchant for stuttering.” The Legate’s boots approached but Shi-Woo didn’t dare stop kowtowing. All his prepared excuses fell to the wayside now that the Legate had come out to meet him. It was now obvious he placed far more importance on Falling Rain than Shi-Woo thought, but if that were the case, why didn’t the Legate warn him against acting? After yesterday’s disastrous meeting, the Legate surely realized the nobles of Central would not stand for Falling Rain’s arrogance, but he did nothing to dissuade them, merely dismissing everyone as soon as possible.
Was that not giving his unspoken permission to take vengeance into their own hands?
“You seem confused,” the Legate said as he took Shi-Woo’s vacated seat. Shi-Woo continued kowtowing, his forehead aching with every knock on the floor. “You’re wondering, ‘Why is the Legate here to protect Falling Rain?’, am I right?”
“Imperial Servant dares not question the Legate’s motives.”
“You know, lying to an Imperial Scion is a grave offence. Should I demand an Oath to verify the truth?” Shi-Woo whimpered in reply but the Imperial Legate merely chuckled. “Oh calm down and stop kowtowing. Drink some tea and compose yourself.” Shi-Woo did as ordered and steadied his breath, cheeks burning with shame as he stood before his peers and enemies as a disgraced man. Playing with his closed fan as he addressed the crowd, he said, “Contrary to your beliefs, I’m not here to protect Falling Rain.” Grinning, he slapped the fan against his palm for emphasis and added, “I’m here to protect all of you.”
Taking a dramatic pause, the Legate waited while his tea and cup were tested for poison. Taking a long sip, he exhaled in delight. “Ahh, good tea. Now where was I? Ah yes, protecting you. On his deathbed, my father, may he rest in peace, told me a story, one you should all know well. Fifty years ago, during the hum-drum of daily activity, he came across a report written by a young lieutenant of the North. In this report, the lieutenant claimed an army of fifty-thousand Defiled had attacked and almost razed the border fortress he served in. Immediately, this drew my father’s attention because if this was true, then why was a mere lieutenant, a leader of ten men, writing the report?”
Taking another sip of tea, the Legate shook his head and sighed. “It was tragic really. The entire fortress’s general staff had been assassinated by Wraiths, leaving said lowly lieutenant as the sole surviving officer. The Mother’s blessing shone upon the Empire as this lieutenant was a man of talent, taking control of the fortress and holding out against the Defiled for ten, long days, longer than anyone thought possible. On the tenth day, word of reinforcements finally arrived, but our heroic lieutenant was crestfallen to find only a mere three-thousand friendly cavalry archers waiting outside his gates. ‘They were doomed,’ he thought, and he made his peace with the Mother.”
Chuckling wryly, the Legate continued, “According to the report, these three thousand archers, mounted on giant, fanged weasels and led by a nameless Major of the Imperial Defence Forces, broke a Defiled force almost twenty times their numbers in a single afternoon. Instead of expounding on the miraculous victory or his personal accomplishments, the lieutenant went on to make more ludicrous claims like how the Major plucked Defiled heads like apples and slaughtered Demons like pigs. The report made the rounds and everyone laughed and jeered, calling it a work of pure fiction and utter nonsense. Everyone except for our Imperial Emperor’s father, who was of course, at the time, the current Emperor.”
A Royal Guard arrived bearing plates of food and once again, everything was tested for poison. With fan in one hand and crab leg in the other, the Legate continued his tale between bites, but Shi-Woo didn’t need to hear it. He knew the rest of the tale and had even been there for parts of it. Back then, he couldn’t have been much older than Falling Rain was now, a young man learning the family business at his grandfather’s side. He remembered sneering at the foolish lieutenant and nameless major, both dressed in utilitarian garb as they approached the Emperor’s representative, fully expecting them to fall to their knees and beg for forgiveness for their lies. Instead, they swore an Oath of truth and claimed the report held no falsehoods, and for a moment, the entire court fell silent as they waited with bated breath for the Mother to strike these lying fools dead. When She didn’t, everyone present realized they were standing in the presence of greatness, an expert tactician, peak expert, and Hero of the Empire.
The Herald of the Storms, whose name he now remembered was Akanai of the Bekhai, Grand-Mentor of Falling Rain.
The damned Crier from the Magistrate’s Palace had only introduced Akanai by rank, not title, else he’d have long since figured this out. How could he have been so foolish to forget? Shi-Woo’s grandfather had danced a ditty in his office when news of their rival’s misfortune came to light. Akanai and her escorts had proved themselves formidable beyond all measure, killing dozens of decorated heroes and vaunted Experts of Central in one fell swoop before escaping through the mountains with minimal casualties. Grandfather even hoped Akanai would return at the head of an army to seek vengeance and made preparations to join her in uprooting their rivals, but sadly, nothing came of it. Ostensibly, the former Emperor soothed her anger by promoting her another rank to Major General, but Shi-Woo never believed it to be true. If a woman like her was so easily swayed, then her name would have long since echoed through the Empire.
The memory had almost been lost to time, but apparently not so for the smiling Ru Minsu. Scowling at the smug bastard, Shi-Woo cursed his own stupidity. No wonder the Ru Family refused to join the fight against Falling Rain, they still remembered their hard-learned lesson, paid for in the blood of Minsu's father and uncle. The Ru family might have even sought to curry favour with the Bekhai and revealed the secrets of Central’s young warriors, enabling Falling Rain to defeat his opponents with ease. How devious, how dastardly, how brilliant.
Well played old friend, well played.
Still eating, the Legate spoke to his captive audience. “Now some of you might wonder why my father told his children this particular story on his deathbed. On the surface, it seems like a tale of politics and backbiting, business as usual, but if you look closer, it reveals what's rotten at the core of the Empire. Take the fortress for example. After ten days of bitter fighting, why were the first reinforcements to arrive a group of tribal mercenaries? Where were the Emperor’s soldiers?” Tossing an empty crab leg to the floor, he snarled. “The closest commanders believed the fortress would fall before reinforcements arrived, so instead of mustering out to save their comrades, they hid behind their walls and ignored the lieutenant’s messengers day after day. Cowards.” The Legate spit and many followed suit. “Then there is Akanai herself. Were she a human male, Central’s greatest families would have fought a bidding war to bring this hero into their family, but a beautiful female half-beast with sapphire eyes and hair of gold? Everyone saw her as a commodity, a plaything to take and own, instead of what she truly is, a Hero of the Empire.”
Glancing around at the gathered nobles, the Legate unleashed his Aura and no one dared to resist it. Trembling from head to toe, Shi-Woo stared at his feet and prayed for mercy, helpless as the Legate snapped open his fan and revealed the Imperial Sigil for all to see, speaking as the Emperor’s chosen voice. “Hear me. The Empire will face dark days ahead, and only through solidarity can we overcome our trials and tribulations. Any individual who threatens our unity, threatens the Empire itself.” Snapping the fan closed, the Legate added, “Challenge the boy, defeat him if your honour demands it, but do not overstep your bounds. The Empire needs warriors and wealth, but not necessarily you yourselves.”
Rescinding his Aura, the Legate stood and brushed himself off. “Good tea, good food, and good company,” the Legate said as he marched down the stairs. “Reward the owner with a hundred gold.”
After waiting several minutes in case the Legate returned, Shi-Woo mopped the sweat from his brow and collapsed into the recently vacated chair. Too close, this was far too close. In a single day, he’d almost crossed the Legate and Akanai both, and the day was still young. Calming his beating heart, he made preparations to pay the Lieutenant General a visit and shower her with gifts and praise, doing everything possible to convince her he held no grudge against the boy.
Talented though he might be, Falling Rain's foul tongue was bound to upset someone and get himself killed. When that happened, Shi-Woo hoped to stand beside Akanai, or failing that, anywhere besides in front of her.
Chapter Meme