“...and it is these valiant heroes standing before you who will lead our brave soldiers onwards. To. Victory!”
In response to the Legate’s stirring oration, the people of the Empire erupt into rousing cheers and thunderous applause, glorifying the eclectic gathering of Martial Warriors standing on stage, the winners and closest losers of their respective contests. Running the gamut in gender, age, race, and status, the Legate’s valiant heroes are a fair representation of the Empire itself, a diverse and unique group of individuals unified against a common enemy. Among them are a few familiar faces, like Exarch Erien, the beautiful and ferocious tribeswoman of the North, proudly sporting her ethnic, silver headdress complete with polished moose antlers and savage war-paint. Standing far to her left to avoid being brained by Erien’s unwieldy headgear, Du Kang Bing greets the crowd while dressed in more practical armour, though with bubbling enthusiasm as he waves in all directions with both hands outstretched, his voluminous smile so at odds with his customary stoic and stony demeanour. He’s come a long way since we last met, but I’ll never forget his look of startled surprise when Akanai picked him up and hurled him into three of his underlings.
Ah, memories.
Also on stage is the lovely, but thoroughly intimidating Ryo Da’in, and Central’s homegrown rising dragon of humble origins, the plainest and most boring member of the Hwarang, Yong-Jin. I’ve already forgotten the names of most other contestants on stage, because they all pale in comparison to the dynamic force of personality that is Man Giao. Standing at the forefront with a single imposing fist raised in triumph, the proud half-bull accepts his due with confident poise, as if his victory was all but assured and this recognition a long time coming, no longer a Brigadier and promoted to Major General by the Legate himself. Truth be told, the promotion probably is overdue considering he’s almost four-hundred years old and beats down Demons like they’re his red-headed step-children, but I’ve recently discovered my perception of strength is rather distorted, what with hanging around Akanai all the time.
Her opponents weren’t weak, my Grand Mentor is just ridiculously strong.
As I’ve done every morning since the commencement of the First Imperial Grand Conference, I sit and watch the festivities from my ‘enviable’ beach-side location. It’s great for networking and visibility, since anyone on the beach can come up and say hi while everyone in the city can see me and Ping Ping, but I’ve never cared about making friends or cultivating a proper image. Doubly so now that I’m an Imperial Manwhore, since my status is so high it doesn’t matter what I do, people will still bend over backwards to please me. If I forced my way into some big-wig’s bedroom and slapped them awake, they’d most likely smile and apologize for not greeting me at the front door. A private balcony would be much nicer, since not only could I avoid all the bootlickers and sycophants, I could also slip away and do something more productive with my time, like meditate or nap.
How did I ever survive on four hours of sleep a day? I don’t understand how it’s even possible anymore.
Now, this isn’t to say I’m not impressed by the accomplishments of the people before me. In my eyes, the two dozen Martial Warriors on stage deserve to be there, not only because of their personal strength but because together, they form an accurate microcosm of the Empire’s warrior caste. No matter which province or background you hail from, whether you’re part or the wealthy elite or the beleaguered workforce, there’s someone on stage to relate to, which is almost inspiring all on its own, because it tells the world one simple fact: Heroes aren’t born, they’re forged. These heroes come from a myriad of backgrounds, but it doesn’t matter where they came from or how they got there, they now stand side by side as celebrated heroes of the Empire. It gives every citizen something to aspire to, and if the Legate rigged his contests for such an outcome, then he’s a more cunning and devious man than I gave him credit for.
That said, I’m still bored out of my fucking mind sitting here on the beach. It might be my imagination, but I feel like I’m not the only one to discover his enthusiasm has waned, since the applause is nowhere near as thunderous as it was on the first day of the Grand Conference, when I stood before them as the Number One Talent in the Empire. Granted, the crowd is much smaller now than it was then and even the most fervent of fanatics will suffer fatigue after twenty-something days of non-stop celebration.
Twenty-five, to be exact. Today is the twenty-fifth day of the First Imperial Grand Conference, twenty days since Mahakala passed away, and there’s been almost no progress whatsoever. It feels like every day is spent idling our time away with with festivities, contests, banquets, and performances, complete with all the glad-handing and face-giving expected of such a momentous occasion.
It’s fucking retarded.
Okay. Maybe I’m not being entirely fair. Stuff has happened in the last two weeks, I just haven’t been a part of it. All the heavy hitters have been deployed to the Western Front, including Akanai, Dad, Nian Zu, and Grandpa Du. Obviously, they brought everyone away with them including Mila, Yan, Alsantset, Charok, and all my friends, leaving me alone in Nan Ping with Taduk, Lin, and my retinue.
Oh. And Luo-Luo. God, I wish they took Luo-Luo with them...
By now, most of the soldiers in and around Nan Ping have already been deployed, with only a fraction still left behind. Some stayed to take part in the Contests, but there are a select few like myself who have been left to ponder their unknown fate, with little to do but look on as everyone around them rides off to war. I can only assume it has something to do with my minor spat with the Legate, and I’ve caught myself searching for royal assassins hidden in the shadows more than once. At least now I can put a name to my likely successor, the stodgy and lifeless Yong-Jin. On paper, he seems like the perfect replacement, a young warrior of humble birth, Disciple to a celebrated Hero of Central, Awakened to a Blessing of the Elements, in his case Wood, and best of all, a man with a spotless record and immaculate reputation, beloved by all, peasant and noble alike.
I’ve never actually spoken to Yong-Jin, but I already hate him. Besides, how is he better than me? I’ll admit, he’s taller and better looking, but he has all the personality of tofu and had his ass handed to him by Wu Gam on stage. A shame no one seems to remember it though, with all the applause directed his way. The contests were stupid anyways, Mila or Yan are far more deserving, but neither one took part in the ‘amended’ Contest. If the Legate expects me to hand over my title of Number One Talent in the Empire to Yong-Jin without a fight, then they’re both in for a rude awakening.
On the other hand, if he wants Luo-Luo then he can have her with my blessing. I’m keeping the Death Corps though, they’re awesome.
Now, I may be overthinking things since the Legate has made no move to cut ties with me, nor has he expressed his displeasure in any way, shape, or form. I considered requesting an audience to clear things up, but decided against it on account of not having anything productive to say. I don’t want to be the Legate’s lackey, but I don’t want to be his enemy either, which leaves me in a tough situation since he’ll only accept one or the other. Since I’ve made no move to ingratiate myself with him, then I can only assume he sees me as the latter, and the only reason he has yet to act is because he’s waiting for an opportune moment. Seeing how I’m now isolated from my strongest protectors and Yong-Jin is poised to take my place, I doubt the Legate will wait for much longer.
Technically, as a Warrant Officer, I could leave to serve wherever I’d like, but if I did, I’d probably piss the Legate off even more, not to mention the Abbot who has still yet to arrive. I mean, it’s already going against custom to ask an elder and superior to come meet me, and it’ll only get worse if he thinks I lied about my circumstances. Worst of all, even though Radiant Fist Wugang agreed to carry a message to the Brotherhood, he couldn’t say how long it’d take to get a response since he wasn’t sure if he could get word to the Abbot himself. All in all, I’ve been sitting around doing nothing for the past two weeks, and I hates it.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
All I want to do is fight the Defiled. Is it too much to ask for?
With Lin at my side and my floofs all around me, I suffer through the slow, agonizing torture that is ‘enjoying’ the festivities. Despite Luo-Luo’s warnings it’ll negatively affect my image, I’ve taken to using the time to brush my floofs, but today’s festivities are taking longer than normal to wind down, and I’m slowly going crazy with boredom while waiting for the crowd to disperse. The moment I deem it’s polite to, I gather my floofs and rush back to the safety of camp before I’m mobbed by a crowd of would-be minions of nobles who have yet to see which way the wind blows. Honestly, if it wasn’t for the Legate’s ‘with me or against me’ mentality, I’d look forward to being out of the limelight again.
Plain old Falling Rain, here to kick ass and devour spectres.
After a quick lunch, I kiss my sweet wifey and adorable floofs goodbye before heading into the city on Luo-Luo’s new rickshaw, a gift I purchased at great expense but went thoroughly unnoticed. Dressed in a conservative tunic and boring old pants, she sits as far away as the rickshaw physically permits, and I give her the space she so obviously desires. Her aloof demeanour is a far cry from how she behaved when we first met, but luckily, I have Blackjack’s playful affections to keep me company throughout the long ride. Upon reaching our destination, there still has yet to be a single word or look exchanged between Luo-Luo and myself, which sadly is probably the best case scenario, all things considered.
Greeting us at the door to his workshop is Yo Sung-Hoon, formerly known as Snivelling Young Fop. Having grown accustomed to my inclination for informal dealings, Sung-Hoon offers a brief salute before jumping straight into the thick of things. “I heard back from my uncle today,” he says, for once leaving mention of his Uncle’s lofty status as Central’s Marshal unsaid. “He approved the contract and we’re on the hook to provide 25,000 pots and pans to the army.”
“Well done.” It’s a massive contract, but if he thinks we can do it, then I trust him. “No luck selling him on the woks?” Surprising considering Central’s love of fine cuisine, I’d have thought their nobles would leap at the chance for better battlefield dining.
At one point in time, Sung-Hoon might have taken my question as an insult to his aptitude, but after two weeks of working side by side, my careless words roll off him like raindrops off a duck. “Sadly no,” he says with a grimace as he leads us inside for our meeting. “We failed to consider one simple fact. Most army cooks wouldn’t know what to do with a wok while any private chef employed by a noble would undoubtedly already have their cookware.”
Ah... Should’ve known I was barking up the wrong tree. “Right. Well, the pots and pans are good start. Better to start small and lay a foundation for our future dealings. Grow too fast too quickly and everything could collapse under our feet.”
“True, but as you like to say, nothing ventured, nothing gained.” With a snobby half-smirk, Sung-Hoon casually remarks, “I’ve also secured a contract to provide bells for the watchtowers currently under construction. A dozen to start, which is a small order, but one we can fulfill without too much issue.”
“You sly little weasel, you’ve been holding out on me.” Delighted by the good news, I clap my business partner on the shoulder with a bark of laughter. “How’d you convince your uncle? It couldn’t have been easy, the warning bells are an integral part of the defence.” We can’t build walls everywhere, but the idea is we build a warning system instead, one to alert nearby patrols and villages there’s Defiled nearby.
Not a great idea, but it’s... an idea.
Beaming at the praise, Sung-Hoon offers a modest shrug and replies, “I poached a master bell-founder from a workshop owned by a rival of ours and gifted my uncle our first creation. I couldn’t have done it if you hadn’t insisted on better conditions for the workers. The master has family in our employ, which was instrumental in swaying him to our side. I was prepared to double or even triple his salary if need be, but he accepted a meagre fifteen percent instead.”
“People go where they’re appreciated. It’s smart business, especially in these circumstances. Soon enough, we’ll be competing with all of Central for talents in a wide array of professions. Others can offer more money and promise better conditions, but we’ll have already established our reputation as fair and decent employers.” Plus, I don’t have to toss and turn at night because I’m growing rich off the suffering of others. “Introduce me to the bell-founder later, unless you think it’s too much.”
“I was going to suggest it myself, or rather impose upon your lovely concubine to do so in my stead.” With a suffering sigh, Sung-Hoon shakes his head. “You don’t understand how hard it is working under a social recluse. Lucrative deals can be made or broken based on face alone, and my meagre status is far from influential enough to represent your lofty interests.” Opening the door to the meeting room, he offers a sweeping bow and gestures for me to enter first, far too much pomp and circumstance for me to stomach. “Then again, were you a different sort of man, I’d hardly have this opportunity to ride your coattails to success.”
“Hardly riding my coattails. I provide ideas and little more, you and your father do the lion’s share of the work.” Taking a seat at the table, I pour him a cup of tea and raise my cup in a toast. “To a valued partnership, in which I do so little and gain so much.”
Chortling as he accepts the toast, we continue going over the nitty gritty of our business venture, the documents all laid out for Luo-Luo's inspection. In a mere two weeks, Sung-Hoon has accomplished more than I thought possible, not only training a basic workforce and creating a supply chain, but even moving on to more advanced projects like bellmaking. The advantage of working with an established merchant powerhouse is starting to show itself, and I’m not talking about his family connections. Having a large pool of talent to draw from makes things so much easier. Organization and communication are crucial in a new undertaking like ours, and experienced administrators make a world of difference. With so many managerial skills being transferable, they only need to learn the details of their new job and are less overwhelmed than someone learning everything from scratch. More than one administrator has spotted and resolved a crisis before Sung-Hoon or I even knew there was a problem, and if not for their help, we’d still be arguing about what products to focus on instead of securing profitable military contracts.
Seriously profitable. Sickeningly so, even. Getting the infrastructure in place was the hardest part, and I probably made it more difficult with my demands for fair treatment, but the kid rose to the occasion and did his job well and is ready to reap the profits. Our cookware is priced at eighty percent of the copper equivalent, but in comparison, our material costs work out to be less than a tenth, while labour even less so since we don’t need skilled craftsmen to hammer things out. All we need to do is bring in the unrefined iron ore, which is priced in coppers by the kilogram, melt it down in the special furnaces designed by Husolt and Diyako, then pour the molten iron into the specially designed moulds, and voila. Cast iron pot or pan, with zero skilled labour required. Scale these profits up to the level of giant warning bells, and if the Legate waits another month before sending his assassins after me, then I will die a disgustingly wealthy man.
A small consolation, I suppose.
As usual, Luo-Luo takes the lead in our daily meeting with Sung-Hoon and they discuss the nitty gritty details while I snack and play with Blackjack all by my lonesome. After the first meeting, I wanted to send Luo-Luo by herself, but she put her foot down and refused to attend the meetings without me, though why I have no idea. Ever since Yan joined my happy little harem, Luo-Luo has gone from eager and enthusiastic to cold and apathetic. Outside these meetings, she spends most of her time inside her yurt and doesn’t speak unless spoken to, only coming out to ride Mafu around when I’m out in the bay with Ping Ping or meditating in my yurt. She even stopped dressing all sexy, which I suppose is a blessing since Mila is already jealous enough and Yan made it clear she doesn’t like to share, but honestly, it couldn’t have come at a worse time.
I was starved of sex for the longest time, then Yan showed up and blew my mind. We had one incredible night of passion together, and then, not three days later, she left with Grandpa Du, after we were betrothed but before we could find time to... get together again. Mila left too, not that there was much chance of anything happening there, and as sweet and loving as my adorable wifey Lin is, she’s adamant we wait until she’s twenty. It’s not fair, any time I make a move, she scrunches her nose and gives me this adorable glower which makes me feel so damned guilty for wanting to...
And now, it seems I’ve blown my chance with Luo-Luo, which is a shame. Despite our rocky start, I’ve come to appreciate her brilliant mind as well as radiant beauty and voluptuous body. She had the foresight to suggest Sung-Hoon stockpile iron ore before our competitors drive the price up, and immediately understood the value of purchasing futures as soon as I explained the concept. For less coin than I keep in a single boot, we secured the purchasing rights to enough iron ore to keep us in production for three years, essentially locking in our price and protecting us from unsavoury market manipulation. I wasn’t joking when I said I barely lifted a finger, because with Luo-Luo here, there was no need to.
Beauty and brains, only lacking in brawn. Oh well. I’ll respect Luo-Luo’s decision, and this is probably more in line with how she truly feels. I suppose the sex-kitten act was just that, an act, what she thought I expected of her, and since she now knows I’m not a lecherous, wanton manwhore who will fuck anything that moves, she feels more comfortable being herself, a quiet, reserved woman who enjoys... I dunno, sitting around in her yurt, slow quin rides around the camp, and making passive aggressive comments about things she warned me about but I ignored, like my current stalemate with the Legate. Whatever, the bottom line is, I will not pressure Luo-Luo for sex, no matter how ridiculously horny I may be. I have three wives who love me, and while they can’t love me right now, I can wait. It’s no big deal. I survived for years without sex, so what’s a few more weeks?
Of course, given how things are proceeding, those few weeks may very well be the rest of my life...
Ugh. How much longer until I can go to war?
Chapter Meme