Mind rested and spirit restored, Rustram headed out to start his day only to falter a few steps out. The morning sun peeked over the horizon and cast its brilliant glow across the land, treating Rustram to his first real glimpse of the ruins of Sinuji. While they’d passed through those very ruins to reach this campsite last night, their lanterns and torches had failed to reveal the true extent of the horrific damage. Though merely a minor border town of little renown, Sinuji had once been home to tens of thousands of people, a bustling rest-stop for travelling caravans and nomadic shepherds alike. Many a humble farmer and wealthy rancher plied their trade here, away from the bustle of busy Central cities yet still nestled in the heart of the Empire.
Or at least, what used to be the heart of the Empire. Not anymore. Now, the ruins of Sinuji sat on the front lines, and its inhabitants were put to rest inside it.
Though less than a month since its destruction, nature was well on its way to reclaiming the border town, for the scale of destruction was nigh on complete. Cracked and crumbling stones littered the landscape, yet nary a single stone sat atop another. Gutted foundations were all that remained of the town’s demolished structures, with piles of debris scattered haphazardly about. It almost seemed like a massive boot had descended from the Heavens and stomped the town flat, with only a few walls of wood and mud remaining on the outer perimeter. Ready to tumble over at the slightest sign of a breeze, teams of soldiers were already hard at work dismantling those few unsupported structures, and even though he knew this was necessary work, Rustram’s heart bled to see the last pieces of Sinuji torn down.
In ten years, who would know a thriving town once sat here or remember its inhabitants who died with it?
Clouds of thick, oily smoke hung overhead and cast the ruins in an eerie, orange-red glow, the result of the living working tirelessly day and night to cremate the dead. The aroma of cooked flesh filled his nostrils and turned his stomach, not because he found it putrid and revolting, but rather because it was all too appetizing, a stark reminder that in death, humans were no different from animals. Bodies of Defiled and Imperial citizen alike were fed to the flames, and even as the wind carried their ashes away, it seemed as if their spirits lingered over the devastated landscape within those clouds of ash. Whether those spirits mourned the loss of home and life or took pride in their ‘consummate’ handiwork, Rustram couldn’t say, but he let his gaze linger for a few seconds more to burn this vision in memory.
These were the stakes. Should the Defiled win, this was what would become of the Empire, and it was up to men like him to stop it.
A heavy, soul-crushing burden, heavier than the cumbersome lead training armour he currently wore, but like the armour, it was a burden he gladly accepted. To defeat the Defiled, he would need strength and strength would not come from idling about. This was the first lesson Mentor Sarnai taught him, a hard learned lesson he took to heart. From his place at the rear, Rustram looked over the entire camp as it slowly came to life, yet what stood out the most was the heart and soul of the retinue, Falling Rain himself. Moving through the Forms in the centre of camp, the boss diligently trained while others were still fast asleep, having woken at least an hour before Rustram even opened his eyes. “You are not talented,” Mentor had said, when Rustram asked her what she saw in him. “But so what? Talent is worthless. Hard work will overcome talent, and you are nothing if not hard working.”
Yet how was Rustram to compete against someone like the boss who was both talented and hard working?
Well, nothing could be gained from standing around gawking, or at least that’s what Mentor would probably say. Taking a deep breath, he remembered Rain and Mentor’s teachings.
Focus your thoughts and calm your mind.
Draw yourself inwards and open yourself to the Energy of the Heavens.
Be aware of nothing but awareness itself.
Seek nothing, find everything.
Laden in heavy armour which weighed at least twice as much as full plate, Rustram’s body moved through the Forms without thought or direction, savouring the mysteries and Insights laid out before him. It was hard not to focus on his breathing, footwork, or hand movements, but instead he forced himself to put it all aside and bask in the moment. The Heavens were fickle, for the more you chased them, the more they wished to be chased. Want not, need not, desire not, but accept all, his mind was an empty vessel for Energy of the Heavens to fill. Faster and faster he moved, but he paid it no mind, much like he paid no mind to the strain on his muscles or sweat pouring down his skin. At some point, he’d drawn his rapier, but this was no surprise, for he was the weapon and the weapon was he, two parts of a whole and neither complete without the other.
Together, they were Death, and Death he would become. Death to the Enemy, death to the Defiled, death to any who would stand against him, the boss, or the Bekhai.
Time seemed to still yet before he knew it, Rustram completed his performance, having gone through every movement of every Form in a single pass. Gasping for air, he unbuckled his helmet and let it drop to the ground with a clang. Dragging his feet to where his water skin lay, he envisioned himself collapsing in the dirt to drown in a puddle of water, but Rustram’s pride would not let him admit defeat so easily. Picking up the water skin without falling over was a feat unto itself, as was lifting his leaden arms to bring the water skin to his mouth, but once he tasted his first mouthful of cool, delicious water, his body surged with new life. A small thing to delight in, but when he first put on this cumbersome training armour, he couldn’t even make it halfway through the Forms before collapsing into a weeping pile of sweat and tears. Now, little more than twenty days later, not only could he complete a full performance, he still had strength enough to stand afterwards.
An astounding improvement in so short a time, though still a long ways from reaching Mentor Sarnai’s exacting standards. Apparently, she expected him to go through a full performance and then ten rounds of sparring. Three times. In the morning. With three more at night. A harsh and demanding taskmistress, she could make even the diligent and hardworking Falling Rain seem like a ne'er do well slacker.
After removing his weighted armour, Rustram’s body felt light as a feather, albeit one which was tired and spent. Still, Mentor said this was the optimal time to reflect on his bounty from training, sharpening his mind while his body rested. Settling down to meditate, he did as he was told and ‘withdrew’ from himself, dividing his mind into two separate portions in order to study his new findings. When Mentor first asked this of him, Rustram didn’t understand how it was possible to empty your mind and contemplate your thoughts at the same time, but as always, Mentor made things clear with but a single statement.
“Stop thinking about how to do it and just do it.”
And oddly enough, it worked. With the boss’s Runic ring on his finger, Rustram sat steeped in Balance and endured the soothing pummelling of Heavenly Energy as it massaged his aches and pains away, leaving him stronger and faster than before so he could withstand more abuse in the future. While this once would have required all his attention to maintain, Rustram could now mentally step away and allow the process to carry on while he pored over the newfangled mysteries revealed to him. Rarely did he come away with anything consciously useful, but he found that if he set his mind free, his body knew exactly what to do. While his spars with Li Song still ended in his inevitable defeat, Rustram felt himself improving with each passing day.
A minor improvement, but improvement nonetheless.
Sadly, he had yet to test his skills in real battle, for last night’s engagement ended long before he found reason to step in. Chey and Jorani’s units – no, not Jorani’s anymore, it was Erkin’s unit now, a gruff and grizzled old bandit who could charm the dress off a serving girl half his age, the silver-tongued bastard. Regardless, Chey and Erkin’s units of roosequin mounted crossbowmen were enough to hold the centre, showering the Defiled with bolts and leaving little else for Rustram to do besides stand around and watch. Truth be told, he spent more time watching the Protectorate instead of the allied units in front of him, so enamoured by their skill with bow and long-axe. Where the boss’s repeating crossbows got the job done through sheer weight of numbers, the Protectorate longbows cut down the Defiled with ruthless precision. To his eyes, it seemed like every one of their arrows brought down a Defiled, whereas it sometimes took ten or more bolts to do the same.
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The merchant in Rustram raged about the utter waste, but other than retooling the crossbows for a lower rate of fire and heavier draw, he had nothing to offer.
“Mister Rustram, the Commander has called for an officer’s meeting before our departure.” Daxian’s Sending echoed through Rustram’s mind and his eyes snapped open to find the tall, chiselled warrior waiting before him. “I informed the other officers while you rested, but the arranged time is almost upon us.”
What happened to their day of rest before setting out on patrol? “Good, good,” Rustram said, though things were not good at all. Had he known the boss had called a meeting, he would’ve washed up and gone over his notes in preparation, but alas, this time was now lost to him. Though frustrated by Daxian’s tendency to take matters into his own hands, the former Major-turned-bandit was an intimidating bastard and Rustram didn’t dare scold him, so there was nothing to do about it except hurry to the meeting.
“Mister Rustram,” Daxian Sent, using the same patronizing tone as always. “An officer must always appear calm and collected, for others look to you for guidance. Soldiers and camp followers tend to panic when the number two commander runs around like a chicken without a head.”
“Mother Above,” Rustram silently prayed, “Please give me the strength to throttle this arrogant bastard.” Daxian the Virtuous, what a ridiculous name, the sheer arrogance of calling yourself virtuous while doing nothing to deserve it. Slowing his steps, he quick marched towards the Divine Turtle and discovered he was the last to arrive, a poor showing from the second in command. Taking his place beside the boss, Rustram ignored Ravil and Bulat’s teasing grins and offered a quiet nod of apology to the boss, who was too busy making sure his bicorn rabbit was comfortable to notice.
Cradling the bunny like a child, Rain cleared his throat and the officers fell silent. “Last night I said I’d try to get us a day to rest,” he began, pursing his lips in displeasure. “Unfortunately, my request was denied because our absence would leave too large a gap in the patrol lines, so we set out within the hour. Our route is simple enough, we head west for five days before turning around. Our mission is to engage with whatever Defiled elements we come across and wipe them out, or if their numbers are too great, to harass and delay them so the front line can prepare. As I mentioned earlier, there will be other patrols moving alongside us, but not together. The closest reinforcements will be between ten to fifteen kilometres away, so if we run into trouble, don’t expect someone to swoop in and pull us out of the fire.” Glancing around at his gathered officers, the boss asked, “Everyone know what they’re supposed to do?”
“Yes boss.”
“You and your troops are familiar with the new policies?”
“Yes boss.”
“You better be. Your lives all depend on it. We’re heading out to fight the Defiled on their terms, which means they could come at us any time and at any place.”
“My soldiers welcome the challenge,” Wang Bao declared, and he looked like he meant it too. The former Butcher Bay bandit’s startling transformation made it hard to remember his roots, a model soldier in his pressed uniform, clean-shaven face, and perfect posture. Seeing Wang Bao made Rustram even more self-conscious of his ruffled and sweat-stained training outfit, and he finally understood why Ravil and Bulat always gave him a hard time for his neat and orderly appearance. He couldn’t help but resent Wang Bao for showing him up, and even hated the bandit’s new voice, no longer gruff and clipped as before, but more nasal and articulate, with a tone which grated on Rustram’s nerves for some unknown reason.
“Glad to hear it.” The boss grinned like a cat, his amber eyes gleaming with mischief. “You and your soldiers can ride in the vanguard then.”
Thumping his chest with a fist, Wang Bao said, “It would be our honour.”
Hmph. Bootlicker.
Moving on, the boss said, “Chey, Erkin, take half your unit and hand it over to Ravil and Bulat. This isn’t because I don’t think you can handle it, but so we can rotate between the four of you and keep at least two groups of quins fresh at all times.” Turning to the representative from the Protectorate, a plain and unobtrusive woman named Sai Chou, the boss asked, “Would it be possible for the Protectorate to do the same? More eyes means less chance we overlook anything, and we’ll only be moving at half speed, so it shouldn’t be too tiring to keep up on foot.”
Leaning on her long-handled axe, Sai Chou spit and nodded, but otherwise remained silent. Though undoubtedly handsome as all Martial Warriors were, the layers of caked dirt and filth made it difficult to tell her age, not to mention ruined any appeal she might possibly have. While it might seem presumptuous to criticize her appearance, Rustram couldn’t help it as he was getting sick of hearing about Ravil’s conquests or how perfect Dei An was, though where he might find the time for romance in his busy schedule was a complete mystery.
“Thank you,” The boss said. “Oh, and tell everyone to keep an eye out for herds of horses, cattle, goats, and whatnot. I know what you’re all thinking, and no, I’m not looking for more pets. This whole area is prime grazing land and a lot of civilians abandoned their animals in their rush to head east.” Glancing at what little remained of Sinuji, the boss shook his head and added, “I can’t say I blame them either. Regardless, we’ll be paid an appropriate bounty on anything we bring back, but more importantly it’ll mean less food for Defiled bellies and more for ours.”
The news was met with good cheer, and the boss turned to Rustram. “Arrange a round the clock schedule, three hours a shift. I want quins scouting three to five kilometres ahead, while the Protectorate form a loose perimeter around us. I want both groups fresh and alert as possible while on duty. We don’t know how many Defiled are out there or where they’re gathering in numbers, so I’d rather not trip over a massive army of cannibals or worse. Have I missed anything?”
“Deployment formation,” Rustram supplied, a moment before Daxian’s Sending informed him of the same.
While Rustram revelled in his minor victory, the boss pursed his lips and sighed. “Right. I’ll be honest, I have no idea how we should deploy. Suggestions?”
“Well, Wang Bao already volunteered for the vanguard, so I say put the Death Corps in the centre, Ulfsaar, Lang Yi, and Dastan as the rear guard, with the resting quins and Protectorate on either flank. The Death Corps hold the line or advance to support Wang Bao, Ulfsaar and Lang Yi wait in reserve, and both types of cavalry are free to move where they’re needed.”
And woe to any Defiled who came across the Protectorate.
“Alternatively,” Daxian interjected, using the same condescending tone one used to correct a child, “The smart thing to do is to use one unit of Death Corps as your vanguard and place the other two on the flanks. They’re the most heavily armoured troops you have, which makes them the best equipped to handle any... unexpected situations.”
“Won’t be no unexpected situations. Yer second’s plan will suit us just fine.” Surprisingly enough, Sai Chou spoke up in Rustram’s defence, though in retrospect, he realized it was because Daxian had subtly insinuated the two lines of scouts might miss something.
“My second, and your superior.” Unfazed by the boss’s stern glare, Sai Chou spit once more before grudgingly accepting the reprimand with an apologetic shrug. In recent days, the boss had become something of a stickler for protocol, a change Rustram wholeheartedly embraced. It was high time the boss put his foot down and stopped letting his soldiers do as they pleased, especially now that they were entering a war-zone. Discipline and training were their greatest weapons against the Defiled, and without them, the Empire would have been lost millennia ago. Also, Rustram needed all the help he could get and he’d long had his mind set on promoting Silva as his aide, a move the boss was reluctant to force on the lazy but literate bastard.
Until now.
“We’ll go with Mister Rustram’s deployment,” the boss declared. “Li Song, I’m handing you command of all three hundred Death Corps, but I’ll send Viyan and Birca to help. Let me know if you need more able bodies, and I’ll do what I can.” Her ears a flutter, the stony-faced cat-girl nodded and the boss continued. “Anything else? No? Okay then. Get your people in order, we leave within the hour. Dismissed.” Staying in place, the boss signalled for Rustram to remain behind and predictably, Daxian stayed as well. “Sorry I couldn’t give you more warning. I didn’t expect Colonel Hongji to say no.”
“We all serve at the Emperor’s pleasure,” was all Rustram could come up with.
“Seems like it. Thing is, I don’t mind the lack of rest. We’re tough, we can handle it. It’s this whole asinine plan we’re supposed to follow. It is, hands down, the stupidest way to fight a war I have ever seen.”
“Scared?” Though his handsome face remained impassive, Daxian’s voice did all the sneering for him.
“No. Actually, I’m looking forward to killing some Defiled.” A true gentleman, the boss didn’t let his irritation show. “Problem is, we’re facing an Enemy who outnumbers us ten to one, so riding out in piecemeal groups to face them on an open field hardly seems productive. We can hardly kill them ten to one while taking a defensive position. How bad will it be out there in the wild?”
“Fool.” Dismissive as ever, Daxian explained, “We must ride out to meet the Defiled to show the world we are not afraid. Our victories will be spoken of on every tongue in every bar and brothel in the Empire, raising morale and providing hope to those in need. The warriors left behind to guard, the farmers working the fields, the merchants hiding in their homes, all still have a part to play and without them, we are truly lost. The Defiled are a threat, but it is the Enemy who will be our undoing.”
“Still stupid. If you want to raise morale, then lie.”
“And what happens if those lies are proven false?” As much as he hated to admit it, Rustram agreed with Daxian on this count. If the Empire loses the trust of the people, then the consequences would be dire indeed.
Closing his eyes, the boss asked, “Then what happens when some idiot makes a mistake and loses a thousand soldiers?”
Despite all his accomplishments, it seemed like the boss would forever be a worrier, which Rustram found oddly endearing.
With a shrug, Daxian replied, “Then the loss will fuel the Empire’s desire for justice and vengeance. As Mister Rustram said, we all serve. In life or in death, the Emperor cares not.”
“How... uplifting. If this soldier turned bandit turned mercenary thing doesn’t work out, I foresee a lucrative career writing greeting cards in your future.” Clutching his rabbit a little closer, the boss sighed and said, “I need you to speak with the quartermaster and make sure we have enough supplies for the entire trip. I want us operating on the assumption that we won’t be able to hunt or resupply until we’re back in Sinuji. I doubt the Defiled will think to taint the water supply or scare away the wildlife, but better safe than sorry.”
“Yes boss.”
“Also, send word back to Luo-Luo and tell her stop production on the repeating crossbows and focus her efforts elsewhere. They’re too inefficient for the cost, in both coin and manpower.”
This was his chance. “Why not adjust the crossbows for a heavier draw? We can easily do it here in the field and while it will take more effort to load each quarrel, even at half the rate of fire, they’ll still have their use.”
“...See, this is why you’re my second in command. Daxian, you best keep him safe, because I can’t survive without him.” Clapping Rustram on the shoulder, the boss grinned and said, “I was too focused on the repeating part, but I suppose normal crossbows will work too. Write a letter anyways and tell her we’ll be unreachable for the next little while so she won’t panic when I don’t return her messages.”
“Er... Are you sure you don’t want to write the message instead, boss? And maybe say something to the rest of your wives?”
“Tch. Right again. How are you still single? Now stop making me look bad and get to work, before I send a letter telling my mom her Disciple is a slacker.” With a playful wink, the boss dismissed Rustram, who strode off with head held high and Daxian in tow, ready to butt heads with the quartermaster over every gram of grain and millilitre of water. While history might not remember Rustram’s name, he was content in the knowledge that Imperial Consort Falling Rain considered him ‘indispensable’.
Granted, he rather have a loving wife and children to call his own, but until such a time, this would have to do.
Chapter Meme