Head throbbing from the influx of Sendings, Yuzhen closed her mind off and bowed her head, praying this First Imperial Grand Conference would end without conflict. It was an unreasonable request in light of the circumstances, but Yuzhen figured it couldn’t hurt to ask. Gazing out her bedroom window at the floating platform being assembled in the bay, her lips stretched into a wry smile at the absurdity of it all, trying to make sense of the Legate’s baffling decisions. This was his plan all along, it had to be. Those rafts didn’t build themselves overnight, floating in on the river running through Nan Ping and out into the bay to join the rest of their kin in a sprawling mass of wood and twine. By holding the Conference over the waters and not inside the Palace, the entire city would be invited to watch instead of limiting the audience to the elites of the Empire. At the same time, it was a slap in the face to all the nobles and merchants who’d bought property in the inner city or insisted on being accommodated inside the Palace, the majority of whom were now far from the action instead of sitting on the sidelines. It even rewarded those factions who’d thought they’d been snubbed, had been bullied away from the city, or like the Bekhai, had chosen camp convenience over proximity to the city, with the beach now the second most optimal vantage point to watch over the entire conference.

A clever move, though not something Yuzhen could appreciate. Taking a deep breath, she called her people in and set to putting out fires as tempers flared and violence threatened to break out between the factions of the north. The more powerful factions like the Society were clamoring for her to ‘fix’ this mess while the weaker factions were banding together to hold their ground, balking at the prospect of being displaced once more. The Situ Patriarch even had the gall to accuse her of withholding this ‘vital’ information and swindling him out of a fortune for the inner-city manor she’d graciously helped him purchase not three days past.

While it’s true Yuzhen’s advice helped the seller obtain the best value for his property, it was the Situ Patriarch’s fault for treating her like his personal steward. She was the Marshal of the North, not some cowering administrator for him to bully.

So instead of practicing her speech or double checking if everything was in place, Yuzhen spent the last few hours before the Conference securing places for uppity nobles and self-important merchants to sit. At times, her job was like dealing with spoiled, arrogant children. This noble wanted to be seated close to that one but refused to be anywhere near a third. Another noble demanded she remove a row of shacks belonging to peasants and fisherfolk, claiming the shabby dwellings were ruining the Conference’s ‘ambiance’. A third fop wanted her to somehow convince the Legate to change his ‘silly’ plans and move the whole thing into the Palace, as if she had the power to do so.

With so many things to deal with, Yuzhen hardly had time to consider the news of Rain’s discovery at the Canston Trading Group’s winery. A copper vessel filled with a vile fluid, one which corroded metal, stone, and flesh when exposed to sunlight, it was almost too absurd to believe, especially when the source was Hangman Jorani. Yuzhen still remembered the first time she’d laid eyes on the scrawny, pinched-faced half-rat, shivering as he fawned over Rain in Sanshu, hardly the most intimidating bandit she’d ever laid eyes on. Worse, it was hardly the most damning of evidence. While Rain claimed the vile fluid had a ‘stench’ of Demons about it, this wasn’t something he could publicly attest to, not without bringing up too many unwanted questions. Lacking his testimony, all they had was evidence that the Canston Trading Group was making weapons instead of wine, hardly a crime worthy of punishment.

Still, there was something about this whole story which tickled her brain, something vital which she’d yet to piece together. What was she missing? This news was important, but she wasn’t quite sure why…

Throwing the whole matter to the back of her mind, she requested a meeting with the Legate at his convenience and went back to wrangling her spoiled charges, praying for whoever planned this event to be crucified and burned alive. Even Yuzhen’s closest allies weren’t helping much, with Akanai and Rain acting more stubborn and cantankerous than usual. Having claimed the shoreline so their quins and the Divine Turtle would have easy access to the bay, the Bekhai now had a perfect, unobstructed view of the platform, second only to the view from the east wing of the Palace, where, Nian Zu, Akanai, and Yuzhen had been given accommodations. Theirs weren’t the only rooms overlooking the bay, but Yuzhen knew her neighbors weren’t exactly people of importance, with the most influential dignitaries choosing to live in the west wing, closest to the audience room and overlooking the courtyard where most assumed the Conference would take place.

Despite all their political capital, Akanai and Rain both refused to use this to their advantage and woo old enemies to their side. Akanai was in no mood to make nice with the Society or any other factions for that matter, inviting only her closest allies like the Magistrates Tong Da Hai and Chu Tongzu to sit with her in the Palace, while Rain’s reply was even less ideal. Like Akanai, the cheeky rascal was happy to find room on the beach for Lieutenant Colonel Chun Yimu and the Warrant Officers he’d fought alongside in Sanshu, but also made mention of ‘Zian’s ravishing and elegant mother’, an invitation Yuzhen did not deign to pass along.

The damned brat, what’s so good about an old crone like Jia Ying? It’s not that Yuzhen was jealous, she had her handsome, heroic Gerel to satisfy her needs, but a girl still liked to be appreciated from time to time...

With a little diplomacy, a lot of compromise, and the Legate’s Decree forbidding forced entry into another faction’s territory, Yuzhen managed to secure adequate arrangements for the most important members of the North before the Conference began. Seated on her balcony with her betrothed, her guards, and a number of important dignitaries she’d invited, Yuzhen watched the Legate’s procession make its way down to the docks, nodding along as the Crier waxed on about the glory of the Imperial Clan. It was a most formidable sight, with thousands of Royal Guardians in their resplendent red and gold armour, brandishing their Spiritual Weapons. Mounted atop their long-anticipated black-maned lions, they marched in step to the thunderous drum line, the regal creatures making Rain’s wildcats look like mangy, malnourished kittens. Each one as tall as a horse and almost half again as wide, they were intimidating creatures of fang and muscle and Yuzhen idly wondered how they would fare against quins.

Supporting the Royal Guardian’s on foot were tens of thousands of Imperial Death Corps who were every bit as intimidating, their intense devotion and focused gazes making up for their lacklustre armour and weaponry. Enslaved from birth, raised on an intensive and gruelling training regimen, and wholly devoted to the Imperial Clan, every last one of those warriors would gladly die to keep the Legate safe or give up their lives to avenge him. Stories of their ferocity and fearlessness were legendary, and woe to he who drew their ire, for the Imperial Death Corps would not rest until their foe was brought to justice.

No matter the cost.

Interspersed throughout the procession were three massive, resplendent palanquins, each one large enough to comfortably seat two dozen and carried by a hundred porters. Made from Zhengui rosewood, the lumber was more commonly known as golden silk wood, named for its golden sheen when polished and varnished. A costly extravagance reserved only for the higher echelons of the Imperial Family, for the Legate to have one such palanquin was already a surprise, but to use two more as mere decoys meant the Legate was far more important than anyone previously realized. Who was this Shen Zhenwu? Could he be a favoured son of the Empire, or even the heir apparent? Or perhaps he was a monstrously talented scion blessed by the Mother and duly rewarded? Thus far, the Legate’s tactics confounded Yuzhen, unable to make heads or tails of this too-young and mysterious Imperial Scion. He kept the Southern delegates at arms lengths and ruled over the Central nobles with an iron fist, but fawned over Falling Rain and the Bekhai while disregarding all other delegates of the North.

So many games within games were being played while Yuzhen was still scrambling to learn the rules.

Whatever his goals, it had to be said that Shen Zhenwu was beloved by the people. Before the northern and southern delegates had arrived, the Legate’s Decrees had all been aimed at keeping Nan Ping safe and viable for years to come, limiting what damage could be done to the surroundings and ensuring basic essentials like food and shelter would be made available and affordable. None of it had endeared him to the nobility who sought to exploit the Conference to get rich, but the peasants loved him for it. Millions of throats cheered as his palanquins moved through the decorated city streets, playing music, throwing flowers, and lighting incense in his name. In reply, the Legate’s servants handed out steamed meat-buns, dumplings, and candied fruits, extolling the blessings of the Emperor and the Mother alike.

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When the procession finally reached the docks, the Royal Guardians surrounded all three palanquins and the drumming rose to a crescendo before the Legate finally revealed himself to the crowd, having been situated in the foremost palanquin the entire time. So he enjoyed leading from the front, not a man to hide in the safest, most defensible position of the middle or cower at the back, a tidbit Yuzhen filed away for the future. More surprising was his manner of dress, not ostentatious and flamboyant like Yuzhen had expected, but in beautiful, but serviceable plated armour, the very picture of a warrior of the Heavens. With his plumed helmet under his arm and sword strapped to his back, the young, handsome Legate smiled and waved at the citizens of Nan Ping, behaviour more suited for a public servant than Imperial Scion which only served to endear him even more to the people.

Truth be told, had Yuzhen not chanced upon his cold, calculating look during their first meeting, she too would have been won over by the Legate’s charms. She still had no reason to doubt his motives nor even a hint of proof he meant them harm, but her father’s description of the Imperial Clan stayed fresh in her mind. ‘A devious, manipulative bunch who will feed you shit and make you thank them for it’ was colourful, vulgar, and entirely out of character for her father, which signified how strongly he felt on the subject. If the Imperial Clan intended to abandon the outer provinces, Yuzhen meant to save as many of her people as she could. Even if Central were lost, she was confident they could hold the North for some decades yet.

Hopefully.

Marching onto the floating platform, the Legate took his place atop a raised dais, holding his hands up for silence. “Loyal citizens of the Empire,” he said, his Chi-infused voice delivered across the city and directly into his listener’s ears. “I, Shen Zhenwu, Imperial Legate and Chosen representative of the Emperor, thank you all for attending this First Imperial Grand Conference!” Thunderous applause broke out in response to his greeting, and it was minutes before he spoke again. “This day marks a momentous occasion in history, the largest gathering of heroes from across the Empire, here to discuss the growing Defiled threat which looms upon the horizon.” Pausing his speech, the Legate slowly glanced from shore to shore, his eyes seemingly taking in every face before him, the city so silent you could hear a needle drop. “Seeing so many formidable warriors gathered here in Nan Ping, I ask, ‘what threat?’. With these valiant soldiers to defend our borders, I know the Empire will stand strong in the days to come, as it stood for thousands of years before, and will stand for thousands of years more!”

This time, the cheering grew so loud it seemed to shake the ground, sending Yuzhen’s heart into a frenzy as her skin flushed and breath quickened. These were more than just simple words delivered with confidence, no, there was something else at work here. Somehow, the Legate’s speech instilled a sense of belonging and a yearning to serve, an almost instinctive reaction to throw herself at the feet of Imperial Authority. Could the Imperial Clan truly be descended from the blood of gods, or was this some secret Chi skill they refused to share with the world at large?

The Legate’s speech continued on and Yuzhen lost herself in the Legate’s smooth, melodious tones, hanging on to his every word like an enamoured maiden. A quick glance at her betrothed showed Gerel was similarly affected, his amber eyes blazing with passion and ambition, ready to ride out and slaughter in the Emperor’s name. When the Legate’s speech finally came to an end, Yuzhen was ready to take up her sword and join him despite knowing her skills as a warrior were mediocre at best, barely able to match her beloved despite having trained for a decade more. So distracted by her thoughts of martial glory, Yuzhen almost missed her cue when the Crier summoned the Marshal’s of the Central, Southern, and Northern provinces all in one breath. Why not summon the provinces one at a time? Was it to keep the last group summoned from feeling maligned or did the Legate want to incite competition between the Provinces?

Why not both?

Oh Mother Above, please keep Rain from causing another incident. Everyone else could handle themselves, but Rain was running dangerously short on goodwill from… well… everyone… everywhere.

Thankfully, after working together to keep Nan Ping from devolving into blood and ashes for the past week, Yuzhen boasted a civil working relationship with her counterparts, and even though she was last to arrive, she found them both waiting at the docks so they could greet the Legate together. While not as enthusiastic as his cousin Shi-Woo, Central’s Marshal Yo Jeong-Hun was a pragmatic man who saw how the Legate favoured the Bekhai, and like Yuzhen, had no idea why. He also didn’t know Yuzhen shared in his ignorance, and thus was only too happy to work alongside the North and keep Central’s nobles in line. He’d even convinced the younger generation to stop challenging the number one talent in the North, though Rain probably wouldn’t thank him for it. Twenty thousand gold was hardly enough to sate the degenerate gambler and thrill seeker, and only his subsequent exile from the city kept him from robbing the youths of Central blind.

Rain liked to play the part of innocent victim, but Yuzhen was beginning to see through his facade.

The Southern Marshal Quyen Huong was an entirely different sort of beast. The dark-skinned southerners were known for their priggish ways, believing women had no place in politics or the battlefield and should remain safe at home to bear children and wash clothes. As both a female politician and sterile half-beast, Yuzhen doubly offended Marshal Huong’s sensibilities and he wasn’t shy about making it known. As luck would have it though, most Southerners were unused to seeing so much water in one place and were more than happy to frolic on the beaches instead of making trouble inside Nan Ping, so there was little need to meet with Marshal Huong in person. A good thing too, because the last time they met, Gerel almost drew his sword and hacked the insufferable twit to pieces for calling Yuzhen a barren seductress who’d stolen her position from a feeble and ailing old man.

Hell, if he said it again, Yuzhen would hack Huong apart herself.

As host of the events, Marshal Yo Jeong-Hun was given the honour of presenting his gifts first, the most eye catching of which was a gargantuan pearl the size of a melon. Marshal Huong went next, presenting a silken pouch of saffron worth a hundred times its weight in gold alongside a box of rare and precious Spiritual Herbs Yuzhen had never heard of. When her turn came, she gave a short speech which was repeated to the rest of Nan Ping by the Crier, attesting to the practical and pragmatic mindset of the North before presenting her gift: dozens of ships laden with seasoned lumber, processed ore, dyed cloth, and tanned leather, all resources sorely needed for the war efforts to come. While they were all basic resources without too much individual value, the sheer quantity involved meant her gift was easily the most costly of her peers, one advantage of controlling the most lucrative city in the North.

Of course, she wasn’t foolish enough to cheat the Legate of a personal gift. Presenting him a rolled up scroll, she smiled in victory when the Legate unfurled it and gasped, revealing ‘One Hundred Horses’ to the people of Nan Ping, the crowning masterpiece of famed painter Lang Shining. Believed to have been lost a hundred and fifty years ago, she had Rain to thank for this, insisting she accept something from Yo Ling’s treasure stash since her foolish betrothed declined his fair share. All Gerel wanted was another Spiritual Weapon, likely because Rain would soon have his third and her sweet, competitive betrothed didn’t want to fall behind.

Silly man, he should know better than that. Quality over quantity, and skill over size were what mattered most, in combat and in... other pursuits.

Having earned much face for the North, Yuzhen felt like skipping back to her horse until the Crier summoned the next group to the stage. Falling Rain, the five members of the Hwarang, and three famed young warriors from the South. Nine hotheaded, glory-seeking youths, each one standing at the forefront of their peers, called to take the stage together, and Rain without an ally beside him.

If Yuzhen didn’t know any better, she’d think the Legate wanted to start a brawl.

Racing back to her room, she arrived in time to see Rain riding along the shore while the Guardian Turtle swam through the bay, with one of his soldiers flying his banner, a white flag bearing the side-profile of a bunny in a bow-tie. According to Gerel, were one to Watch carefully, they would also see Rain’s pet cloud chaser hare perched on the banner’s crossbeam, head held high in regal pride as if displaying its adorable silken bow-tie. Rain’s other pets were mercifully absent, especially the discordant Laughing Birds he so fawned upon, and Yuzhen thanked the Mother for small favours.

Three of the Hwarang had already reached the stage before Rain and were waiting for the rest of their peers before setting foot on the stage, a show of solidarity they copied from the three preceding Marshals. As the highest ranked youth among them, Rain’s retinue was five time larger than the others, even if only at half strength. Unfortunately, Rain’s retinue also looked highly disjointed at first glance, lacking a neat, uniformed appearance like the professional soldiers of the Hwarang. Being mounted on a mix of quins and horses wasn’t even the worst of it, Rain’s retinue was made up of thieves, cutthroats, slaves, and woodsmen, and they all looked the part. Ripped sleeves and exposed midriffs, piercings and tattoos aplenty, yet the former bandits still looked better than the shabby, half-dressed ‘woodsmen’ of the Protectorate. Much to her chagrin, she noted that the best dressed members of Rain’s retinue were the slaves, Dastan and his former cronies from the Coalition.

Rain himself wasn’t much better. Wearing standard leather Sentinel armour, he looked no different from any other properly dressed soldier under his command. In fact, were it not for his three Spiritual Weapons and the banner flying behind him, Yuzhen doubted anyone would pick out such an unremarkable and ordinary looking youth as the ‘Undying Savage’.

Well, at least he wasn’t slouching. Small victories.

Ignoring his peers waiting for everyone to arrive, Rain trotted onto the floating stage alone, soon followed by the Guardian Turtle and his retinue. Rude and perhaps an unintended slight, but that was what Rain did. Spying the wagons containing his gifts, Yuzhen closed her eyes and regretted not working harder to change his mind. Why couldn’t he just pick out a nice vase or a jade sculpture to give away, a simple, safe, and all but free gift? Even if it’s origins were traced back to stolen goods, he could claim it was a gift from her, something she’d ‘found’ among the Golden Highland Coalition’s goods like the painting she’d gifted. Besides, who would dare demand the Legate return a gift?

Too late worrying about it now. Rain’s fate lay in the hands of the Mother, and Yuzhen could only pray he emerged unscathed.

Chapter Meme