Live for today.

That was Jorani’s new mantra, because Mum Above was a capricious bitch. This wasn’t exactly new news, but recent events had reaffirmed the lesson in his mind. Ever since surviving the shit-show that was Sanshu, he’d been struck by a horrible affliction which blinded him to the truth and made him act against his nature, turning him from wise pragmatist to foolish optimist in the worst of ways.

His affliction? An insidious disease called hope.

With his fortunes shifting almost overnight, Jorani could hardly be faulted for succumbing to this ordeal, for it truly felt like things were finally going his way. He was Hangman Jorani, a hundred-man commander in Falling Rain’s retinue, an enviable position for most and an unthinkable honour for someone as lowborn as he. In an effort to live up to the honour, Jorani swallowed his complaints regarding the bossman’s nightmarish training regimen and made great strides along the Martial Path, all the while dreaming of his life after soldiering.

Such foolish, preposterous dreams, he even gave up gambling and whoring to save his coin, squirrelling away his coppers and silvers so he could someday purchase a cozy little manor somewhere. The details were never too important, he’d be happy in Sanshu, Shen Huo, the Bridge, or even among the Bekkies if they’d take him, but he wanted a home to call his own. Then, he’d find himself a wife, someone kind and sweet for him to love and spoil, and together, they’d raise three children or more if he could afford it, probably less if Ral still needed looking after because the big oaf counted for two children by himself. That was all there was to it, no excessive riches or palatial walls, just a happy family enjoying a cozy little life together.

Even his modest dream was asking too much.

As some asshole once said, man proposes and Heaven disposes. The events at the winery opened Jorani’s eyes to the truth. With Ancestral Beasts toeing the line and pushing the limits of the Treaty, all of Jorani’s improvements amounted to little better than nothing, still a shrimp soldier in the grand scheme of things. On the battlefield, his life and death were at the mercy of the Mother, and even if he lucked out and survived his next encounter with the Enemy, there were plenty of battles and years of service for Dear Mum in Heaven to correct her mistake. Forget surviving until his term of service was up, Jorani wouldn’t put money on him surviving the year, so what point was there in planning for a future which would never come?

In light of this, Jorani did what any reasonable person would do. He drank himself into a stupor, and when he woke up, he drank some more. He wasn’t drinking as much as he’d like since he still had responsibilities, but he drank as often as he could. Good stuff too, because why not? Life’s too short not to enjoy it while you can, and in the same vein, Jorani dined on the finest dishes and slept with the priciest prostitutes. Well, middling dishes and moderately expensive prostitutes, since he only drew a captain’s salary and couldn’t afford the finest or the priciest, but it was good enough.

Unfortunately, last night he’d underestimated the potency of the wine he’d ordered and woke up late with a splitting headache. Stepping out of his yurt, the piercing orb of light in the sky told him it was closer to early evening rather than the late morning he’d expected. Ral and Chey were sitting nearby, idling the time away in each other’s company as they so often did, and like always, it incited a burning hot jealousy in Jorani’s belly. It wasn’t just because Ral had someone to love and Jorani didn’t, but also because he missed spending time with his big, oafish friend, though he’d never admit it out loud.

Her soft smile melting at the sight of him, Chey’s close-cropped hair seemed to bristle as she scowled at Jorani. “Afternoon, yer excellency. How kind of ye to grace us with yer presence.”

Jorani’s head hurt too much to come up with a witty rejoinder, and even if he could, his mouth was drier than the heart of a haystack. “Water,” he croaked, nodding as Ral handed him a skin, regretting the decision to move his head.

While Jorani tried to drink without lifting his head, Ral leaned close and whispered, “You okay Jor? You slept through morning muster you did, and I couldn’t wakes you no matter how hard I tried. I tried real hard too, honest, Jor, but you kept spewing every times I moved you.” Mouth full of water, Jorani waved Ral’s apology aside but the big lug kept going on. “I cleaned you ups and asked Chey to help cover for you, but she wasn’t happy Jor.” Glancing at his lovely partner, Ral leaned even closer and covered his mouth for good measure. “I don’t think Chey likes you Jor. How come?”

Having emptied the waterskin, Jorani almost rolled his eyes before thinking better of it. “What’s to cover? Bossman ain’t paid us no mind in weeks, Mister Rustram’s too busy training like a madman, and Bulat and Ravil have their hands full with the Death Corps. Aside from them, ain’t anyone around who outranks us, so ain’t no one gonna grief me about missing one muster.”

“Since you feel that way,” Chey said, her smile cold and forced, “Then there’s no need to cover for you again. I look forward to your lashing, Jorani. Let’s go Ral.”

Uppity bitch. What annoyed him even more was how Ral left without even looking back. It didn’t matter, it’s not like the giant half-dog was the first friend Jorani lost. Hell, Ral wasn’t even the first half-dog friend he’d lost. There’d been a time when Jorani and Kabi had been thick as thieves, right up until the bastard turned coat and went to work for the Council. Dogs and loyalty, pei. Can’t count on anyone in this world, not your friends, not your family, not your childhood heroes, and not even Mum in Heaven Herself. The only person Jorani could count on was himself.

To this end, Jorani decided to go all out and cheer himself up, and while he had a mind to start with women, he’d need food and energy to sustain him. After a quick bath, he headed to the restaurant the bossman always patronized, where he’d made good on his promise and treated Jorani and his crew to a feast after the mess at the winery. It wasn’t the best dining in the city, but the bossman never put on airs when going out, and always eating at the same venue was probably a subtle challenge to the bastards who poisoned him, saying, ‘Here I am, so come try and kill me again.’

The bossman was a few logs short of a proper cabin, but he looked after his own, which was better than most.

This was all neither here nor there. The important thing was, the establishment was reasonably priced and more than willing to accommodate Jorani’s request for a private dining room and seat him him alone at a table meant for six. Once inside, he ordered their best wine and waited for his meal to arrive while watching a stylized duel take place across the street. There was a time when their nimble acrobatics and flashy movements would’ve impressed him, but now, it seemed silly and wasteful. Hell, he could probably do most of those leaps and twirls himself, but why would he? It left so many openings for your enemy to exploit, and even if they didn’t you’d tire yourself out within minutes. The audience loved it, but only because they didn’t know what battle was really like. It wasn’t captivating and showy like the operas and dramas would have you think, with no room for honour or integrity. Real battles were simple and repetitive. See one, kill one. See ten, kill ten, and do it quickly and efficiently as you can. No point wasting breath jawing away at your opponent, because chances are, you won’t be able to hear each other in the din of real battle, and if you move around as much as those idiots on stage were, then you’d run out of stamina long before you run out of enemies to kill.

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Fucking hell. Even drunk and hungover as he was, Jorani could probably beat both those showy stage idiots himself. He’d fought the Defiled alongside Du Min Gyu and the Death Corps, brought an Ancestral Beast to her knees, and what did he get for all his troubles? Not even so much as a pat on the back. He wasn’t even allowed to talk about his accomplishments, warned to keep quiet in the interest of national security. As far as the bossman knew, Jorani had used the Runic Device against a powerful Demon, nowhere near as impressive as the truth. A soldier’s lot was miserable and thankless, and if he was smart, he’d die sooner rather than later and save himself the grief.

The door opened and in walked the lovely serving girl carrying his winter-melon soup, a dish he’d only recently tried for the first time. It didn’t sound like much, but the name didn’t do it justice. Start with a plump winter-melon twice the size of a grown man’s head and cut the top off. Hollow it out while leaving about three centimetres of flesh on the sides, then throw in all the trappings; shrimp, lobster, chicken feet, chicken stock, and more melon. The entire thing went into the oven to bake until it was nice and tender, before being served as is, melon and all. A delicious, savoury delight which Jorani only got a taste of last time, but tonight, he had the whole thing all to himself.

“That all you order boy? No wonder yer so lean and scrawny.” Appearing out of the shadows just as the girl placed Jorani’s feast on the table, GangShu sat at the table and helped himself to the first bowl. The only bowl, in fact, since Jorani was here alone, but this didn’t escape the old bastard’s notice. Flashing his feral yet sickeningly charming smile, GangShu winked at the serving girl and said, “Be a good lass and bring four settings and a menu.”

“We don’t need no settings, they ain’t staying fer long.” Jorani wasn’t even sure if the smitten serving girl heard him, and he scowled as the other Azure Ascendant’s filed in. Lord of Thunder Lei Gong looked dishevelled as always, his nose and cheeks already red with drink as he sniffed at Jorani’s wine jug. Nodding in approval, the wrinkled warrior guzzled down the wine as the Tyrant Ouyang Yuhuan took her seat with a distasteful grimace, barely sitting on the chair at all and keeping her hands in her lap. Daxian the ‘Virtuous’ came in last and kicked Jorani’s chair leg, rudely demanding he make room at his table for an unwelcome guest, even though there were still two empty chairs to sit in. Ignoring his half-brother, Jorani snatched his wine jug from the Lord of Thunder and wished he had enough courage to snatch his bowl back too. “What do you want?” he asked, pulling the melon closer and drinking straight from the ladle, letting bits of half-chewed chicken and shrimp fall back into the vegetable-turned-bowl. This was his meal and he’d be damned if he shared it with these bastards.

“Now that’s hardly good manners boy,” GangShu admonished, though still smiling in amusement as he silently directed Daxian to another chair. That smile rarely slipped, as false as the bottoms in the bossman’s boots. “No matter, we’ll order more. My treat. Even though I’ve had plenty, I’ve never had a meal with two sons before.”

“And you won’t tonight,” Jorani snapped. He hated GangShu’s Sanshu accent, because it proved he spent most of his time there. The old bastard was the fucking Territory Lord for Heaven’s sake, so how could he leave his woman and child to suffer? “I ain’t yer son and I never will be. I’d like to eat me soup in peace, so say yer piece and be on yer way.”

Daintily sipping at his soup with a wooden spoon, GangShu chortled in the face of Jorani’s anger. “See, that don’t make a lick of sense. Far as I know, I’m the only Ancestral Rat around, and seeing as you’ve got my lovely little ears and a cock between yer legs, then you gotta be my son. You got a cock, don’tcha? I hope so, cuz you’d make fer a damned ugly daughter.”

“I may be of yer blood, but I ain’t yer son. I said it before, but you don’t got the right to call yerself me Pa.”

“This again?” The old bastard’s confusion seemed genuine and Jorani even believed it was, which made him hate the bastard all the more. “How many rat daddies you see stickin’ around to look after their rat babies? Hell, when you look at all the animals in the world, a daddy sticking around after conception is the exception, not the norm, and they all get along fine.”

Jorani slammed his fist against the table. “I ain’t a rat and Ma wasn’t one either. You know how we lived? You know how she died? Ye don’t, and ye don’t care either, and that’s why I ain’t no son of yours.” Taking a long drink from the ladle to calm his nerves, the delicious soup tasted like ashes in his mouth, so he spit the rest back into the bowl and stood to leave. “You can have the room. I’ve no appetite anymore.”

“I didn’t say you could leave.” Though his smile never slipped, GangShu’s voice held a thread of steel within, warning of consequences should Jorani disobey. If he hadn’t watched a Defiled Ancestral Mole manhandle three Living Legends of the Empire, he might even have walked out, but as things were, he was too terrified of the old bastard’s strength. Standing in place was the most defiance Jorani could muster, but GangShu let it slide with an amused chuckle. “Fine, stand if ye like,” he said, helping himself to a second bowl of winter-melon soup, “but if ye think a little spit is enough to ruin this delicious meal, then ye don’t know me at all.”

The irony of his statement lost on him, GangShu fell silent as the server returned with the settings and menus. Jorani notice she’d tidied up before coming in, her headscarf gone and her eyes wide as she smiled prettily and played with her hair, hoping to perhaps catch the handsome GangShu’s attention for the night. Part of the old bastard’s charm, though it sickened Jorani to see it in action, while also making him insanely jealous at the same time. Even though the two of them bore a striking resemblance, the serving girl barely glanced in Jorani’s direction, but she couldn’t tear her eyes off of the old bastard, so distracted he wondered if she even registered what GangShu was saying. After rattling off an order of about twenty dishes, the old bastard dismissed the serving girl with a friendly nod, much to her visible disappointment. Filling his bowl once more, he ladled a second out for Jorani and slid it over. “Look, ye don’t like me and ye got yer reasons for it. Not good ones, but reasons, so hows about we each take a step back? I’ll lay off the family talk and you sit down and listen. Sound good?”

Eyes narrowed in suspicion, Jorani remained standing and left the bowl untouched. “You want something from me,” he said, more a statement than a question. “What is it?”

“Smart. That’s what I like about ye, even if yer Martial Skills ain’t worth shit.” Unabashed at having his motive uncovered, GangShu shook his head and sighed. “Look, the short version is simple enough. The Treaty’s been broken and the Emperor called his chit. I can’t sit on the sidelines anymore, which means I gotta pick a side and the choice is obvious. I considered heading home to wait the war out, but the problem is, it’s a lose-lose situation. If the Defiled win, then they gonna make their way over eventually, and if the Imperials win, then they ain’t gonna be none too pleased with me when this is all said and done with. You with me so far?”

Taking a seat because his legs refused to stop shaking, Jorani swallowed hard and nodded. With the Treaty broken, Ancestral Beasts and Imperial Dharma Protectors were free to act as they pleased, and battles between the two were only ever described as a city-destroying calamity. He might as well eat the free meal and spend the rest of his coin on female companionship tonight, because his chances of surviving the year just went from poor to imperceptible.

Oblivious to Jorani’s inner turmoil, GangShu continued his explanation. “Then, I thought of you, holed up nice and safe in the Behkai brat’s retinue. The Fox bitch who saved yer hide at the winery don’t gotta take orders from the Imperials because she’s busy watching over her kits, so I figured I’d use the same excuse. Even better if ye convince the brat to let Daxian join the retinue too, cuz it’ll give me double the reason to stick close.”

Resigned to eventual death, Jorani took a deep breath and sighed. “Using your sons to avoid fighting. How heroic.”

“I ain’t afraid of a good fight.” For the first time, GangShu’s smile slipped as he leaned forward and Jorani’s heart stopped in his chest. “I may be a rat, but don’t ye dare mistake me fer a coward. This is about taking orders and nothing else.”

Silence fell over the room as GangShu settled back into his chair, and Jorani sat frozen in abject terror, his mind gibbering in primal fear of the god-like being across from him. When he finally came to, he was alone in the room once again, though more than a dozen empty dishes sat atop it, evidence of the time he’d lost in his fear. Collar soaked in cold sweat, he sat shivering from head to toe and told himself it was because of the cold spring air or being sober for the first time in days.

It was easier to swallow than the truth.

“You recovered faster than expected.” Startled by the sudden intrusion, Jorani emitted a girlish shriek and regretted the reaction. Standing behind him with arms crossed and a cruel smile plastered across his face, Daxian looked like the man Jorani wanted to be. Though they shared the same rat ears, pointed chin, and high cheekbones, Daxian seemed elegant and dignified in the moonlight while those same features made Jorani look villainous and deceitful. Daxian the Virtuous, they called him, a former Major who might as well have been sculpted from marble, with broad shoulders and a lithe, yet muscular frame. Tall too, which made Jorani hate him all the more, but that wasn’t the only reason he hated his older ‘half-brother’.

Their ages only differed by a decade, two at most, so why keep Daxian but throw Jorani away?

“Order something,” Daxian said, nodding at the menu. “We figured you’d be here till morning so we ate everything, but you were only out for two hours, which is... impressive.”

It took two tries and a cup of cold, bitter tea before Jorani could speak. “What the fuck was that?”

“What happens when an ant pisses off a Divinity.” Shrugging, Daxian clarified, “You took the full force of his Aura with no defences. Maybe next time you’ll think twice before mouthing off, but somehow, I doubt it. It doesn’t matter though, all you need to do is convince Falling Rain it’s in his best interest to accept this arrangement, and then you can do whatever you please. For now, order, eat, and come find me when you’re done.” Nodding more out of shock than agreement, Jorani kept quiet as Daxian placed a stack of gold coins on the table and strode out the room. Pausing at the doorway, he half-turned to speak over his shoulder, his eyes cold and unsympathetic. “You hate him because he abandoned you and your mother, but take it from someone who knows better. He did you both a favour.”

And with that, Daxian closed the door and left Jorani to ponder the day’s events, which only led to one conclusion.

There weren’t enough women in the world to calm Jorani’s nerves, but he sure as hell wasn’t gonna let that stop him from trying.

Chapter Meme