“... so while Jorani and Chey meet up with Wang Bao and Ulfsaar to check out the Piggies holdings, there’s not much else for us to do in the interim. Sorry for getting us kicked out of the city before you got a chance to try the food, but you’re always too deep in meditation to hear me. Oh, about that, the Conference starts soon and when it does, I could use your help uncovering any possible Tainted or Defiled. I’ll remind you again closer to the date, but...”
Mentally exhausted from his intense, non-stop training regimen, Baledagh laid in bed and listened to Brother’s voice permeating through the Natal Palace. The report marked yet another day’s passing which meant Brother would soon demand they switch places so he could train. Not that they couldn’t both use the Natal Palace together; Brother rarely intruded into Baledagh’s personal space, instead choosing to spend his training sessions out in the void.
No, they had to take turns because Brother was obsessed with efficiency.
Mother forbid he let time be wasted, which meant Baledagh had to ‘cover’ for him while he trained. A thinly veiled excuse to get Baledagh out into the world, and while he appreciated Brother’s sentiments, he’d much rather be left to his own devices unless it was to spar, duel, or fight.
Oh how he ached for war to break out so he could slaughter his way through the Enemy...
While there was something to be said about how Baledagh only felt alive when his life was at risk, he wasn’t one for introspection or self-examination, nor would he bring it up again. He’d caused Brother enough trouble to last a dozen lifetimes and had no intentions of adding to those burdens. It was his fault they’d almost been exiled from the village and while Brother liked to pretend it didn’t bother him, he was a lousy liar at best.
Why else would Brother take the effort to recreate the village inside their Natal Palace then do everything in his power to avoid looking at it? Though he refused to admit it openly, Brother was hurt by their rejection, so hurt he even started speaking in Common all the time and removed all the not-people inhabiting their Natal Palace. Truth be told, Baledagh was relieved by their absence. There was something unsettling about the almost-but-not-quite-lifelike inhabitants of their mental plane and seeing them at work elicited feelings of loathing and revulsion. Brother called it the ‘uncanny valley’, where empathy for a humanoid object soured once the observer realized the object wasn’t human, but Baledagh just called it creepy. They weren’t real people, just figments of Brother’s imagination made to populate his ideal, peaceful home, a child’s fantasy turned into an adult’s escape.
Not exactly a healthy mental attitude to adopt, but Baledagh wasn’t in any position to criticize.
“...Anyways, that was my day. How about yours? Anything new to share? Thoughts, problems, questions, aspirations?”
Baledagh smiled. Brother asked the same question every day, always trying to get him to open up and talk. Not the worst thing in the world to have someone concerned about your well-being, and doubly so when the consideration was undeserved. “I’ve nothing to say regarding the Canston Trading Group,” he answered, “but I do have something to share. There’s something strange happening. Lately, when I’m deep in meditation, it feels like I’m close to... something. Insight or Enlightenment, or something... It’s like there’s a wall in front of me and a voice speaking on the other side. I can make out the faintest sounds and feel the vibrations from their voice but nothing more. The words, the content, and the significance are all hazy and unclear but so close to being realized it frustrates me to no end. That’s why I’ve been so engrossed of late, because I’ve been trying to... find a door, I guess.”
“I know what you mean. I feel the same way while trying to breathe underwater and watch Ping Ping play. Taduk says I need to forget about it and let nature take its course, but I’m not sure I should take advice from a guy who meditates in his sleep.” Hearing his wry chuckle, Baledagh could easily picture Brother’s self-deprecating smile, always belittling his own talents even while encouraging others. “Don’t worry about it,” Brother continued. “You’ll figure things out, I know you will. You know what I find helps?”
Rolling his eyes, Baledagh replied in a monotonous tone. “Taking a step back to enjoy life.”
“Ding Ding Ding! We have a winner.” Appearing in the void, Brother beamed as he shooed Baledagh away. “Don’t train too much, even if no one is watching, we should at least pretend we were lashed. And don’t worry, I didn’t set up a date for you. Everyone’s busy playing in the water so all you have to do is look after the fur babies.” Wiping away an imaginary tear, Brother added, “Alas, we must wait for another day to see sweet Lin in her swimsuit. I figured Li Song could use a little fun in the sun and would be more comfortable if I wasn’t around to ogle. She’s been more quiet than usual, probably cause she’s freaking out over being back in Central. Besides, I doubt she’s thrilled about her old teacher adopting a half-beast, I know I wouldn’t be, especially after everything she’s been through. Life just hasn’t been fair to poor Li Song.”
How Brother found the time or energy to worry about others was a mystery. Responding with a noncommittal grunt as he made his escape, Baledagh stepped out of the void and took control of their body, stretching as he re-acclimated to his unfamiliar sensations and surroundings. It was too flat in the Central Plains and he found it a little unnerving. It was better inside the city with tall buildings and towering walls to block his view, but here in camp, sometimes all he could see was endless grass, water, or sky spreading out in every direction. He hated the reminder of how small and inconsequential he was, a harsh and bitter truth to someone who possessed less than half a life. Though appreciative of Brother’s efforts to share everything and make him feel included, sometimes Baledagh wished he could fall dormant and unresponsive until a more permanent solution was found.
Peaceful oblivion would be bliss compared to his current depressing, pointless existence, where no one knew or cared about him save Brother.
“Mwar.” Drawing Baledagh’s attention with a bat of his paw, Aurie grumbled in petulant protest. Fluffy belly exposed to the sky, the spoiled wildcat rested his head in Baledagh’s lap and voiced his dissent over the lack of petting. Running his fingers through Aurie’s thick, silky fur, Baledagh glanced around and kept his eyes focused on the immediate surroundings. Mafu and Jimjam groomed one another and Sarankho lounged in a ray of sunlight while Banjo and Baloo play-wrestled in flattened grass. Half-buried in the ground, Ping Ping faced him with watchful yet weary eyes, blinking slowly as she rested her head on a raised mound of dirt. A most formidable beast, Baledagh was quite fond of the gentle giant, ugly, needy, and temperamental though she might be. Moving Aurie aside, he wandered over to Ping Ping to pay his respects and pat her beak. Sighing with awe, he marvelled over her rough, yet magnificent form, a creature built for survival in a world full of danger. Her durable shell and powerful beak made her the ruler of her domain, with might and majesty enough to do as she pleased.
Now this was an appropriate animal companion for a true hero, unlike the indignant Aurie curled around Baledagh’s legs and gnawing at his boots.
Unable to end the wildcat’s temper tantrum, Baledagh sat with his back against Ping Ping’s leg and resigned himself to belly scratching duties. Taking comfort from their physical contact, Ping Ping heaved a sigh of relief and closed her eyes as the tension drained away from her massive body. The poor thing was unused to moving about all day and because she was worried Brother would run off a second time, she’d been resisting the urge to sleep so she could keep an eye on him. Truth be told, Baledagh didn’t approve of Brother exploiting Ping Ping’s fear of abandonment, but it wasn’t his place to say anything, though Brother wouldn’t have dared do the same with his wildcats or bears. The injuries he’d suffered were already Healed and gone, but Ping Ping’s emotional scars ran deeper than the eye could see.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Qing-Qing would’ve liked meeting Ping-Ping. Commanding yet considerate, domineering yet compassionate, the Guardian Turtle of Ping Yao embodied all the best traits of the Mother with none of the worst.
Cuddling with wildcat and turtle alike, Baledagh followed Ping Ping’s example and exhaled, feeling all his pain and worries melt away. Basking in Central’s warm, temperate air, he glanced around at his surroundings once more, taking his time to appreciate what he saw. Low in the sky, the sun cast a golden hue upon the Azure Sea and gilded the horizon while Roc and his flock flew overhead, enjoying their newfound freedom with all their hearts. Inside their enclosure, the baby bunnies huddled around their mother in a mass of wild fur and floppy ears, exhausted from their running about and content to nap in the shade of Ping Ping’s bulk. Nestled in his arms, Aurie rumbled in delight at Baledagh’s ministrations, eyes closed and lips stretched in a silly grin. Satisfied with a full belly and safe place to rest their heads, none of these creatures worried about what tomorrow would bring, intent on enjoying today’s bounty.
Perhaps Baledagh and Brother could both learn something from this.
Only Banjo and Baloo’s play grunts spoiled the silence as the two yearlings play-fought for dominance. No longer the tiny furballs they once were, both bears were almost one and a half meters tall when standing on their hind legs, with rounded bottoms and protruding bellies to boot. Both paws held forward, they tested each others skills, pushing and grabbing, gnawing and clawing, happily grunting all the while. Lighter of fur and foot, Banjo pranced aside as his darker, clumsier brother missed a lunge and fell onto his face. Flipping onto his back, Baloo fended off Banjo’s attack with all four paws, pushing the smaller cub aside so he could find his feet. Then, they both reared up once more and closed in, relentlessly batting each other with oversized paws. Left and right, right and left, their measured strikes were playful but probing as both bears practised for the future when they would both claim their own territory.
Just for fun, he imagined what it’d be like to weather the fury of a fully-grown bear. Those powerful paws striking from up high contained a force to be reckoned with, and though the pattern was simple and repetitive, blocking or dodging was anything but easy. Then there was how the bears struck, always aiming for the side of the face with wide, impossibly fast swings. Up close, those attacks would come at a blind angle on either side and if you blocked one, the next attack would come from the opposite side, a simple, yet effective combination. Even when their massive paws missed, neither bear overextended or lost balance, merely leaning into the strike and using the momentum to add power to the next blow. This was a perfect demonstration of Bear Form – Standing Fury, performed by two cubs just over a year old.
Feeling the inkling of Insight tickling his mind, Baledagh moved Aurie aside and stood up, continuing to watch Banjo and Baloo play. Lifting both hands high in the air, he emulated their wide, circular swings while imagining an opponent standing in front of him. Shoulder and hips working in concert to maximize the effect, but unlike a bear, his human opponent would strike back. Duck and weave while attacking, aiming for the head and nothing else, push the enemy back and give them no reprieve. Left and right and left and right, building up momentum with each strike until you smash through their defences or find an opening to...
Chopping down with his right, he instantly followed up with a left uppercut. No, that didn’t feel right. The idea was sound, but the execution too slow. In his mind, his chopping sword was immediately met with rising shield, like the powerful jaws of a bear snapping around its victim’s head. Speed was key here, a powerful up-down combination to finish the fight. After solidifying the idea, he set it aside to practice when he went back to the Natal Palace and ran over to play wrestle with Banjo and Baloo, much to their delight.
Turns out Brother was right again. Taking a step back to enjoy life really helped, and Baledagh was one step further along his Martial Path.
Now, if only one of the wildcats would join in so he could get Insight into the Tiger Forms...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
From the day he’d first discovered his purpose in life, Goujian set about his duties with unwavering conviction. Armed only with his faith, he committed everything he had to bring death to the heretics and salvation to the innocent. The Enemy sought to sink fang and talon into the Empire and corrupt it from within, but Goujian the Confessor would not allow their foul contamination spread. With no teacher to guide him or Mentor to shield him, his rise to prominence had been tumultuous at best, but he never doubted his path for a moment, trusting in the guiding hand of the Mother to lead the way.
Until he came across Falling Rain.
His pieces all in place and waiting for his command, Goujian was ready to unmask the Defiled pretender, but for the first time in decades, he felt the cold, uncertain grip of doubt clenched around his heart, throwing his mind into chaos and disorder. Initially, he intended to injure the ‘Divine’ turtle and have Falling Rain lashed for his crimes, exposing his foul nature, but fate conspired to carry out Goujian’s plan without the need to lift a finger. Allowing his temper get the best of him, the boy commanded his turtle to destroy a bristleboar merchant house inside Nan Ping and earned himself fifty lashes from the Legate, a significant punishment considering there had been no loss of life. Though his spies could not enter the inner palace or even report on the aftermath, Goujian had two separate confirmations of a Bekhai Healer rushing towards the inner palace to tend to Falling Rain’s injuries, not to mention the official report of the punishment hanging outside the Magistrate’s Palace, signed and stamped with the Imperial Seal. Surely not even the Legate would dare falsify the Emperor’s judgment, would he? No, there was no doubt about it, the boy was lashed and sought healing after meeting the Legate. Though he looked none the worse for wear when Goujian spied on him in camp, it wasn’t too implausible considering Falling Rain’s reputation was built on his ability to endure grievous wounds and continue fighting. Most telling of all was that after half a day and a full night, there was still no Decree condemning the boy as Defiled.
How could this be? While a mere pittance compared to the Mother’s Mercy, he had trouble believing a nineteen-year-old Defiled could hide his true nature after fifty lashes, no matter how sturdy and resilient he might be. What’s more, for years Goujian yearned to investigate the bristleboar ‘clan’ over rumours of their ruthless and inhumane treatment of slaves, but since they were protected by the Ancestral Beast Zhu Chanzui, he’d been denied at every turn. He had people documenting their crimes and keeping careful watch on their properties in and around Central, but thus far, he’d found no conclusive proof of Defiled among the bristleboar. The lack of proof did nothing to mitigate his suspicions, but now Falling Rain was at direct odds with them, which raised a whole slew of other questions.
Could Goujian be wrong? Was this a sign from the Mother instructing him to stay his hand and turn his attentions elsewhere? Could Falling Rain sense the Defiled like he claimed to, and brought the Canston Trading Group to the Empire’s attention? Was he truly the Mother’s Chosen Son? If so, then why was his Aura so heinous and unholy?
Perhaps this was all a ruse, a ploy by the Enemy to cloud his judgment. There was nothing surprising about Defiled infighting, their tribal squabbles kept them apart for tens of thousands of years. Now that they’d united, the Empire was in dire straits, but dealing with the Enemy army was a concern for military men and Goujian had precious little to offer. His path delved into matters of the soul, of cleansing and redemption, a path which left little room for other pursuits. Even if the Empire fell, the Mother’s children would survive and one day rise again, of this, he had no doubt.
No, Goujian’s doubts could all be summed up in a single question: Is Falling Rain Defiled? If so, then the corruption ran even deeper than he thought and no person above suspicion, not even the Legate.
Especially the Legate.
Mind in turmoil, he focused his Chi to Watch as Falling Rain floated in the bay, just like he did every morning since Goujian arrived. A large portion of the boy’s retinue had been sent away presumably to hunt, but that wasn’t enough to convict him. If Falling Rain was worried about being exposed, he certainly wasn’t showing it, relaxed and carefree as he submerged himself beneath the waters of the Azure Sea. He was getting better at water-breathing, staying under for a quarter-hour or longer before resurfacing for air, a marked improvement considering he’d only been at this for three or four days.
“Give the order Master. The world will see the truth soon enough.” Goujian’s second-youngest disciple... no, youngest now that BoLao is gone... spoke up, eager to begin the bloodshed. At thirty years old, patience was a lesson Yuanyin still had yet to learn, too keen on dispensing justice before proper cause could be found. No, he would make a poor successor, just like the rest of Goujian’s Disciples, each one lacking in some vital manner.
Except sweet, lovely BoLao, so talented and studious. He’d placed all his hopes on that girl and now she was dead and gone while Falling Rain, the scum responsible for her death, was enjoying a leisurely morning swim.
Why was the boy’s innocence even an issue?
His mind made up, Goujian gave the order. “Commence the operation, with one small change. No need to hold back. Use everything we have. Best if the boy and his Tainted turtle dies before they cause irreparable damage to the Empire.”
Better to kill a hundred innocents than let one Defiled walk free. Such was the conviction required to guard against the Father’s corruption.
Chapter Meme