Anxious. Disheartened. Reluctant.

This is how I feel about the days to come, and considering what I’m faced with, I’m not ashamed to admit it. Maybe I’m overreacting and things won’t be as bad as I imagine, but chances are, it’ll be worse. Much worse. I don’t remember the last time I had to suffer like this, but I know it’ll suck. I mean, sure, there are plenty of people out there already suffering, but it’s not the same. They don’t understand what they’re missing, unable to perceive the emptiness in their hearts because that’s all they’ve ever known. It’s like living in the desert and becoming accustomed to the sand, but I don’t like sand. It’s coarse and rough and irritating, and it gets everywhere.

Not like floofs.

Today marks the day I ride for the war front and leave all my floofs behind. I’m fine with the war part, but a life without floofs? I can’t do it. I prefer the company of animals to people. Why wouldn’t I? People are difficult and communication is hard. There’s so many unspoken nuances and complex subtleties you need to keep in mind when dealing with people, things like manners, face, reputation, and etc. Take for example, working with my retinue. I need to appear friendly, but not too friendly because that would be weird. I’m their leader and their boss, not their drinking buddy or colleague. I should always be alert and ready, a shining beacon for my troops to look up too. I need to be respected and maybe even feared, because if I scare them, then I must terrify the enemy. I must also be caring and protective of my own, because they fight for me, so I must fight for them.

And that’s just dealing with my underlings. I won’t even go into dealing with other people’s underlings or worse, people of equal or higher status. It’s a lot of pressure, and my floofs are how I deal with it, because floofs are awesome. Sure, they’re a lot of work, but it’s well worth the effort. They don’t care about things like face or reputation, what I’m wearing or how my hair is styled. All they care is about how I treat them. If I love and care for them, then they return that love in spades. Maybe this isn’t true of all animals, but it’s true of my floofs, all curled up around me as I lay on the floor of my room. It’s like they know I’m leaving today and they’re going all out with their adorable antics just to keep me around. Truth is, if I had a choice, I’d never leave them, not in a million years.

How am I supposed to de-stress without my floofs?

Reluctant to break up the cuddle puddle, I put off my responsibilities to laze with my floofs one last time. Awakened by my stirring, Aurie yawns and stretches before shoving his head beneath my hand, blinking lazily to show his affection as he awaits his head scritches. Curled up beside me, Banjo and Baloo snore away with Jimjam stuffed between them, my grumpy kitten flat as a pancake and happy as can be. Her head buried in the crook of my neck, Mama Bun clutches Pong Pong close and shares her warmth with the tiny turtle as he snoozes peacefully inside his shell. As for my bun buns, they’re all scattered about, buried beneath the bears’ girth, flopped atop Jimjam’s back, or even curled up beneath my blankets, still fast asleep in the presence of so many predators.

I loves it and I never want this to end, but alas, it must.

Waking Mama Bun with an Eskimo kiss, I snuggle for a little while longer before getting up, disturbing the restful sleep of all my floofs in the process. Since I won’t have a chance to do this later, I hug and kiss each one of my fur babies good bye. I wish I could bring them along but this is for the best. I’m riding to a warzone, and not a nice, walled warzone where I can leave them in relative safety. I’m riding into the wild west, where it’s less about battle lines and more of an endless back and forth, with roving bands of Defiled engaging solitary patrols of Imperial soldiers. Bringing my animals will only put them in needless danger and strain my supplies while out on patrol. You’d be surprised how much a wildcat eats, especially ones who don’t really do any exercise whatsoever.

“Goodbye Banjo, I’m gonna miss you, my furry little backpack. You too Baloo, remember not to play too rough with Tate, okay? Jimjam, boop! Yes, my sweet tsun kitty, I love you too...”

“...And George, sweet George. You’re the silliest bun bun of all, always getting into trouble. Stop trying to climb into Jimjam’s mouth, you dumb doof. Muah. Okay, your turn Fluffybunnykins, you’re my squishiest...” Annoyed by my lengthy goodbyes and in eager need to do his business, Jimjam impatiently paws at the door. Though I ignore him to give Fluffybunnykins a goodbye kiss, the door opens to reveal Li Song in full armour, ready and waiting to go. Patting the wildcat’s head as he slips away to freedom, Li Song greets me with a curt nod. “Rain,” she says, her voice impassive as always, “The caravan awaits. It would be best not to arrive late for our first day of travel.”

Her way of telling me to get my ass into gear, I suppose. “Thank you Martial Aunt,” I reply, double checking my words so I don’t accidentally give an order or treat her poorly. “I’ll be right out. I was just saying goodbye to all the bunnies.”

Stepping inside so Banjo and Baloo can leave side by side, Li Song opens her arms and Aurie accepts the invitation. Rearing up on his hind legs for a hug, his murder mittens sit on Li Song’s shoulders as he nuzzles her with affection, but her stony expression remains unchanging throughout it all. “Understood,” she says, using her foot to close the door so the bun buns can’t escape. Taking in my bewildered expression as I sit frozen in place, she frowns and adds, “Time is of the essence.”

Well... Yea, but I wanted to say goodbye in private...

Too self-conscious to continue with my baby talk, I make my final farewells in silence. Noticing Li Song’s gaze darting about to all the bunnies gathered around her ankles, I ask, “Would you like to say goodbye too?”

“Yes.” Accepting the offer without missing a beat, Li Song drops to her knees and the bun buns fight to be the first one onto her lap. Sometimes I forget on account of how expressionless she can be, but considering how much time Li Song spends looking after them, they’re just as much her furbabies as they are mine. I’m still not entirely sure why she chose to come along with me instead of staying here with Mila and Husolt or meeting up with Akanai, but I’m glad to have her assistance. While the heavy responsibility is unnerving, not to mention the temptation of having complete control over a lovely cat-girl, I think I can keep my hands to myself. I mean, I would never force myself on Li Song, but even if my morals unexpectedly falter and I feel the urge to succumb to my lust, all I need to do is think about Husolt’s patented finisher, the ‘Papa Smash’, and overwhelming temptation is replaced by mind-shattering terror.

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Hell, it’d probably be a mercy compared to what Mila or Akanai would do if I laid hands on Li Song...

Holding a bun bun in her arms, Li Song asks, “What is this bunny’s name?”

“Grey face with white fur around his eyes? That’s Bugs.” I’ve never shared all their names with anyone, so my floof dad enthusiasm takes over and I continue, “Buster is the opposite, with a white head and grey fur around his eyes. The one on your lap is Thumper, because he’s got four grey socks, while Hopper over here has four white ones. The ones with single-colour coats are harder to differentiate, but...”

Even though she doesn’t say much, I like having someone who’ll listen to me gush about bunnies with a straight face. Lin just giggles and calls me silly while Mila rolls her eyes and suffers in silence, and I know Yan will tease me about it. Li Song isn’t a part of my harem, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy her company. Even though it’s hard to read her lack of expressions, she memorizes the bunnies names and how to tell them apart with genuine interest as she gives them each a farewell hug.

Our farewells finished, we step out into the morning gloom and bring the bun buns out to their enclosure. Awakened by all the fuss, Pong Pong peers out from Mama Bun’s paws in eager anticipation of the coming meal. Never one to disappoint this mightiest of turtles, I transfer him to a waiting box of shrimp and giggle as he goes to town. For my breakfast, Charok has it covered, handing me a bowl of piping hot congee and a plate of meat buns, with more cooling to bring on the road. “You’re a saint,” I gush, knowing this will likely be the last proper meal I have for a while. Were I travelling on my own, it wouldn’t be a big deal, but military caravans move from sunup to sundown, and fires are often prohibited for safety reasons. Even when they aren’t, I’ll probably be too tired or too busy to cook, which means it’s dried rations and travel bread from here on out.

Yuck.

Waving away my thanks, Charok quietly joins me to watch the bunnies eat, knowing I prefer comfortable silence to meaningless small talk. Out of my entire family, I think Charok understands me best, and it shows in his actions. Though he mostly leaves me to my own devices, he’s always there for me if I need him. Like this breakfast, for example. There’s no reason for him to be awake this early in the morning, but he still dragged himself out of bed to cook me a warm meal. It might not seem like much, but it means the world to me, and I pray SuiHua remains safe while I’m gone.

Just in case though...

“Orange One.”

“Yes, Imperial Consort.” Dropping to one knee, the female Death Corps soldier bows her head and awaits my orders.

Not going to lie. I’m beginning to see why people like having servants, slaves, and bootlickers following them around. It’s a horrible practice, but the sense of superiority is exciting and addictive, like physical proof of my prestige and eminence. No wonder young masters get so full of themselves, they live in an echo chamber of self-praise and flattery. “Rise,” I say, wincing at how cringey it sounds. “This is my brother, Charok. Orange Unit will remain in SuiHua under his command. Guard him and my family with your lives.”

“By your will, Imperial Consort.” Though obviously disappointed to be left out of the action, the rugged soldier accepts her duty without complaint.

“You need to establish a chain of command.” Speaking around a mouthful of meatbun, Li Song chimes in. “Without one, should Nephew-in-Law Charok fall in battle, the Death Corps will be forced to return to your side.”

“Thank you.” Having Li Song on my team is already paying off. “Err, after Charok, will be... Husolt, then Mila, then er...” With Charok’s help, I hammer out a chain of command which ends with Tate, since if it came down to it, Tali is more responsible and level-headed. Now that I think about it... “Is one hundred guards enough? I could leave Yellow Unit too...”

Interrupting me with a snort, Charok says, “One hundred guards is plenty. Any more and they’ll slow us down should we need to retreat.”

“Fine.” Switching to Sending, I ask, “You know where my people left supplies, right? Unfortunately, they’re all along the coastline, so if the Defiled make it past SuiHua, you’ll be better off heading inland instead.”

“Yes, yes. Enough of your nagging.” Pulling me into a hug, Charok pats my back twice. “No need to fret, little brother. You are the one riding off to war, not us. Stay safe and return whole.” Charok smirks. “In retrospect, it seems like asking for too much from our Mother Above. Return alive, little brother, no matter how many limbs you must leave behind.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, it’s exactly what I need right now. You stay safe too, and more importantly, stay sane brother.” Charok doesn’t have it easy here. Though not as strong as Alsantset, I’m sure he could make a name for himself if he wanted, but someone has to stay behind and look after the kids. I can’t imagine what it must be like waiting for news from the front and praying Alsantset makes it home alive. It’ll be hard on Lin and Luo-Luo too, but leaving them here is better than bringing them along. I shudder to think what would happen if she fell into the clutches of the Defiled...

Even though it would destroy me, I’d sooner end her life with my own hands.

Having already said my farewells to everyone last night, I double check my gear and set out with Zabu and Ping Ping in tow. The big grumpy quin is reluctant to leave his pups behind, but he comes along while muttering an unending chorus of displeased squeaks. Soothing him with a vigorous neck scratch, I turn for one last look at my floofs only to spot Pong Pong chasing after us while Mama Bun makes a valiant effort to keep up. It’s not that she’s slow, but Pong Pong is just too damned fast, zipping along in a blur of green and speckled yellow. Turning Zabu around, I gather them both to bring back to the enclosure, wondering how Mama Bun got out in the first place. Lifting Pong Pong to eye level, the tiny turtle almost looks like he’s pouting, not the least bit amused by my attempt to leave him behind, but it’s for the best.

Having Gang Shu following me around is nerve-wracking enough, I don’t need Pong Pong around to complicate things.

“Look little buddy,” I say, running my thumb over his leathery head, “You can’t come with me. It’s dangerous, okay? I’ll be back soon enough, but until then, stay here with Mama Bun.” Lowering my hand into the enclosure, Pong Pong squats down and refuses to leave, and when Mama Bun hops over to take him away, his clawed fingers dig into the flesh of my palm. Lifting him out of Mama Bun’s reach, I wrack my brain for a solution. Since logic didn’t work and using force is a terrible idea, maybe I can scare him into staying behind. Using my Aura, I share feelings of warmth and safety while pointing at Mama Bun and the enclosure. The tyrannical turtle’s grip softens and he lets out a sigh, basking in the good vibes I’m sending his way. After a few seconds, I cut him off without warning and make sure I have his attention before moving on. Careful not to overdo it, I use my Aura once again, but this time I share my cold dread and gut-wrenching uncertainty while pointing at myself and the west. Reacting as expected, Pong Pong retreats into the safe confines of his shell and I resist the urge to laugh. Lowering my hand back into the enclosure, Mama Bun’s paws reach out to bring Pong Pong away, and this time he doesn’t resist as my Aura shifts back to one of safety and Serenity.

As powerful and intelligent at he is, Pong Pong is still a turtle and his thought process is more like a child’s than a fully functioning adult’s. Survival comes first, and even though he could win in a straight up fight against an Ancestral Beast, when faced with conflict his natural response will be to flee or defend. He’ll only attack when left with no other choice, and even then he lacks the killer instincts of a true warrior, which is kind of a shame. I had this wild idea of hiding him in my pocket and secretly using his power to wipe away Defiled hordes, but reality reared its ugly head and ruined everything with cold, uncaring logic. Even if Pong Pong were willing to be my pocket monster and Hydro Pump the Defiled to death, doing so would alert everyone to his presence. Gang Shu isn’t the only one I have to guard against, who’s to say the Legate won’t try to use this to his advantage? Worse, what if the Enemy decides they want to kill Pong Pong and sends a half-dozen Divinities over to kill him? Even if Pong Pong escapes, I’ll be caught in the crossfire and unlikely to survive, so best to -

A light weight settles on my shoulder and interrupts my pessimistic spiralling. His lips set in a stubborn grimace, Pong Pong looks me in the eye and unleashes his Aura, so similar to mine it’s almost eerie. There’s warmth and safety, but also acceptance and tenacity as the tiny turtle settles in on my shoulder, determined to stick by me despite the dangers ahead.

It’s almost like he’s saying, “My home is here, with you.”

Or maybe he’s worried no one here will feed him. Who knows. Resigned to bringing him along, I turn back to pick up Mama Bun and double time it to the meeting area, secretly delighted to have a powerful Divine Beast watching my back and a floof to snuggle with. Two floofs, in fact, after I spot Blackjack perched atop my banner without a care in the world, his velvet black ears swaying in the morning breeze. How do they keep getting out of their enclosure? Do I need to put a roof on it? Whatever, so my plans to leave all my floofs behind fell through, but it’s no big deal. I mean, what’s the worst that could...

Oh no. I’ve learned my lesson. No more tempting fate, not again. It’s just war with the Defiled. I've lived through one already, so things will be fine.

Probably.

Hopefully.

...

Please?

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