Cooking ain’t easy.

Truth is, it’s kinda a hassle. Without freezers or chemical preservatives, everything’s gotta be done on the spot when you want to cook a meal, which adds up to a whole lot of time spent two or three times a day. Even making something as simple as dumplings takes a lot of effort. You gotta knead the dough, mince the meat, dice the veggies, grind the spices, roll the wrappers, wrap the dumplings, and steam them evenly to ensure they’re completely cooked without being over cooked. Things get even more complicated if you take into account things like hunting and butchering the animal or milling the flour, or getting things done in the right order at the right time. Can’t pre-make the wrappers because they dry out quickly, nor can you mince more meat than needed because it spoils faster, and a multitude of other minor issues which can drive a man crazy. All this just for dumplings.

In short, I suspect my love for cooking stems from my masochistic tendencies.

Still, after two months of eating nothing but field rations, even a simple meal cooked over a campfire tastes heavenly in comparison, and doubly so when shared with loved ones. There’s something spiritually satisfying about watching people enjoy a meal you cooked, a confidence boost I can’t get from anywhere else. My time and effort has gone into this food, and Lin’s cherubic facial expressions, Yan’s quasi-erotic appreciative moans, and even Song’s muted gestures of delight are all the reward I need.

That said, today, my most rewarding diner is Luo-Luo.

Recovered after an hour-long nap, the once-elegant Imperial Servant devours my cooking like a ravenous beast. Gone are the days of her dainty bites and refined sips as Luo-Luo’s chopsticks tap out a symphony of gluttony, hard at work shovelling thick noodles and shredded pork into her waiting mouth. Barely chewing, she slurps down the soup before moving on to the dumplings, tearing into the piping hot wraps with a furious vengeance. Eyes wide and mouth full, Luo-Luo’s movements are quick and precise, her chopsticks readied and eyes focused on the next piece of food. It’s like seeing Pong Pong go to town on shrimp, impressive, yet oddly unsettling and somehow also endearing. If Luo-Luo genuinely loves my cooking even half as much as Pong Pong loves shrimp, then I could really see a future between us.

God... why am I so turned on right now?

In less than five minutes, the four ladies devour what took me an hour to make, with Luo-Luo eating more than the rest of us combined. Lips pursed in disappointment, Luo-Luo reclaims her ladylike demeanour and gingerly dabs her mouth with a handkerchief, her gaze filled with restrained dissatisfaction as it turns in my direction. Rising to her feet with a cold, humourless smile, she eschews her customary curtsy and says, “Luo-Luo must excuse herself, as there is much work to be done.”

My apologetic smile goes unnoticed as she stalks over to Mafu, and I make a mental note to cook more food next time. Shaking her head in disapproval, Yan offers to ride back with Luo-Luo while Sending, “I left you two alone for five minutes. What did you say or do to offend her?”

...Nothing? I thought our alone time went fine. Isn’t Luo-Luo just hangry? Did I stare too much and embarrass her? Or maybe she has to poop and she’s rushing home for privacy, who knows. I don’t understand women, and I probably never will.

Good thing this will never be a problem with Lin. After washing the dishes with Song’s help, we settle down to watch my sweet wifey’s impromptu pet pageant, featuring all the silly tricks Lin taught the floofs in our absence. Turns out, she has a real knack for training animals which goes beyond simple commands like “roll over” and “paw”. Those are merely the opening act, and soon after Lin guides the floofs through a series of Chi-powered stunts. From bears balancing on chairs to gravity-defying wildcat parkour, the animals display an unprecedented level of skill, intelligence, and coordination which leaves me astonished, especially the bun buns. Sweet though she may be, Mama Bun isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed so I figured her cute babies would be the same, but under Lin’s command, the adolescent bunnies work together to untie knots, move in eye-catching formations, and perform synchronized flops and binkies, which is what I call their random jumps of happiness.

By the end of the performance, my sides are splitting with laughter and I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve “aww’d”. Even the usually icy Song has a soft smile on her face as she individually rewards the floofy performers with delicious treats. Meanwhile I sweep the conductor into my arms and reward her with a kiss. “Incredible,” I say, careful not to hug her too tightly. “Absolutely incredible. How did you teach them to use Chi?”

“I didn’t teach them hubby, they figured it out on their own.” Beaming with pride, Lin adds, “All I did was motivate them to learn, ya?”

“Oh? What do you mean?”

“Mm... Like ‘jump’.” Fluttering her long scarf to catch Aurie’s attention, Lin commands the golden wildcat to make another breathtaking vertical leap. His mouth wide with glee, Aurie easily clears five meters without a running start, which is two meters higher than what he could jump six months ago. “I stopped feeding them regular meals and just hung meat in the trees. Then, every day, I’d raise the meat a little higher, and once they realized they could do it, they were jumping around all the time.” Covering her mouth to giggle, Lin continues, “Oh hubby, you should’ve seen the first time Jimjam jumped into the house through Luo-Luo’s window. She screamed like ‘Kyaaaaaaaa’ and Jimjam jumped right back out and hid in the bushes like a scared bun-bun.” Narrowing her eyes with a pout, Lin adds, “That’s when Mi-Mi made me teach them to jump on command, so they’d understand ‘no jump’.”

Shaking my head, I roll my eyes and sigh. “I don’t understand what Mila was thinking, gifting Luo-Luo with a Spiritual Weapon. So what if she becomes a peerless Martial Warrior? It’s been two months and she’s still terrified of the floofs, so what good will she be on the battlefield?” More importantly, how can I use Lin’s method to ensure all my floofs outlive me? How does Chi make animals live forever anyways?

Busy clipping Banjo’s claws with her saber, Song chimes in without looking up. “Courage will come with confidence. Much like Lin-Lin built Aurie’s confidence by having him jump higher each passing day, we must gradually build Luo-Luo’s the same way.”

Tugging her braids in a show of frustration, Lin grumbles, “I know, and I tried, but Mi-Mi scolded me and told me to stop bullying Luo-Luo. I wasn’t bullying, I was trying to help! I planned a trip to hunt and fly kites but she refused to stay out overnight, and then she threw a big hissy fit when I tried to bring her boating with Daddy.” Huffing with indignation, she adds, “I even had a plan to help her get over her fear of the wildcats. I was gonna wait for Luo-Luo to fall asleep and then sneak Aurie into her bed. Then, when she wakes up and sees how cute he is, she won’t be scared anymore like with Mafu-fu.”

“Liar.” Seeing through her deception, I pinch Lin’s cheek and expose her true intentions. “You just think it’s funny when she screams.”

Her girlish grin warms my heart as she denies the accusation. “No hubby, I wanted to help, honest.” With an almost evil snicker, Lin adds, “But if it didn’t work, then at least it’d be funny, ya?”

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So cute...

After so much bloodshed and chaos, this is exactly what I need, a bit of silly, carefree entertainment with Lin and the floofs. That said, not everyone can be as lucky as I am, which means I should get back to work. Having shirked my responsibilities for long enough, I promise Lin to spend more time with her tomorrow before sending her away with Song, then head over to Rustram’s and ask him to gather the troops for a talk. It shouldn’t take long to find everyone; for some strange reason, Luo-Luo got it in her pretty little head to station my retinue outside SuiHua and east of the new wall, where no other soldiers are camped out. By itself, this isn’t a problem, but to prevent treachery or sabotage, no one is allowed west of SuiHua without a pass and unrelated individuals aren’t allowed to approach any of the construction grounds under penalty of death. This means to visit the taverns, brothels, gambling dens, night markets, duelling stages, or anything else which might entertain a soldier on leave, all of which are situated west of the wall where the majority of soldiers are camped, then my people have to apply for a day pass which must be authorized by the Marshal.

Seriously, Luo-Luo might be the dumbest smart person I know. What are my people supposed to do, sit around and enjoy the view?

Once my people are gathered, I raise a hand for silence and look over the crowd, noting so many missing faces and absent friends who I’ll never see wearing these new fetching uniforms. High-collared shirts sporting elegant knotted buttons, smart looking vests to go over it, and loose pants which look oh so comfortable gave the retinue a unified appearance, their sable blues complementing the Death Corps in their dark heavy armour worn over black Imperial robes. With a determined effort, I turn my mind away from distraction and mourning to instead focus on those who remain, especially those who need my help. Whether they be reformed bandit or discharged soldier, former slave or Death Corps elite, defeated rebel or woodland protector, they’re all hurting and it’s mostly my fault.

“Well,” I say, hiding my guilt to smile for the crowd. “We marched, we fought, and we bled for sixty days straight. We set two records, one for longest consecutive days spent and one for most efficient kills-to-casualties ratio, but most importantly, we survived.”

A short cheer rings out as the survivors celebrate their safe return and I’m happy to hear it. I’m an idiot for keeping them on the front lines for so long, but all the self-recrimination in the world won’t change the past, so there’s no point in coming clean. I’m not doing this to save face, but because many of my soldiers take pride in what we accomplished. While working for the Number One Talent in the Empire might sound nice, they all have a personal stake in the records we achieved on front lines and I don’t want their pride tainted by knowledge of my ignorance and stupidity.

Also, it’s super embarrassing.

Once everyone quiets down, I continue. “We survived, but our work is not yet done.” A few faces in the crowd grimace while others grumble in discontent, but I speak over them without stopping. “We survived, but we are far from safe, for the machinations of Enemy are subtle and insidious.” That shuts the dissenters up, as they understand the risk of Defilement far better than I do. I’ve got a mental void packed with Spectres and absolutely nothing to worry about, but they can’t do what I do and they don’t know what I know. I see worry written all over their faces now that I’ve brought it up, no longer able to ignore the quiet little voice in the back of their minds telling them all is not well. They grew up on stories about the Enemy, heard all the warnings and know all the signs, and now every one of them is wondering if their friend, their neighbour, or even their lover is too far gone to save.

A handful are even self-aware enough to worry about themselves.

“We survived,” I say, emphasizing this again. “We survived because we fought side by side. We fought in teams, units, squads, and as a retinue, but whatever the designation, we worked together to fight off the Enemy.” The last thing I need is for my people to turn on one another out of fear or paranoia. While I know no one is Defiled, proving it is difficult and I could do without the threat of a Purge hanging over our heads. “What do you do when you see a comrade struggling on the battlefield? You help them, plain and simple.” Despite doing my best not to single anyone out, my gaze lingers on a few troubled individuals, like Awdar, Jinoe, Ravil, and Ulfsaar. “We are still on the battlefield, albeit fighting a different sort of battle, but nothing’s changed. You think someone needs help, then provide it. If you cannot, then find someone who can, whether it be your group leaders, your sergeants, your squad commanders, or even myself. For though the Enemy is subtle and insidious, I do not believe the brave warriors who fought at my side will succumb to the Father’s hateful lies, especially when we. Fight. Together.”

As much as I wish my speech was met with thunderous cheers and victorious fist-pumps, my lacklustre oration and ham-fisted delivery only earn me a smattering of claps. I’m not too worried, especially since I know there are no Spectres around to bother them, but positive mental attitude is important. I know all too well the dangers of spiralling depression and how much help a friend can be. Granted, my friend was imaginary and I was just talking to myself, but I like to think Baledagh had an overall positive impact on my life.

Honestly though? I kinda wish Mahakala didn’t break the veil, so to speak.

Or you know... didn’t die. That would’ve probably been better.

After promising to do something about our camp’s location and placating the crowd with free alcohol (one thing Luo-Luo did right, though I shudder to think of the cost), I lead by example and follow through with my advice, starting with what’s probably the most problematic case. “Ulfsaar,” I call, knowing many will see and hear what I’m doing. “A word?” The knotted buttons of his snug-fit uniform strain as the hulking half-bear tries to hide his snarl, but he doesn’t try very hard. Swallowing my fear, I clap Ulfsaar on the shoulder and ask, “How do you feel about cattle?”

“They are delicious.”

I’d laugh, but I don’t think he’s joking. “Well, too bad because you can’t eat these cattle.” Ignoring how many of Ulfsaar’s former bandits are gathering close, I point at my herd of mixed cattle and say, “What do you see when you look at them?”

“Food.”

“...Beyond that.”

“No word games,” Ulfsaar snaps, his fists balled at his sides. “Speak plainly.”

Refusing to back down, I narrow my eyes and wait until the big guy reins in his temper, his expression regretful, yet also unrepentant. He’s sorry he spoke out, but believes he is right to be angry, except he doesn’t really understand why he’s angry. “You once told me you studied bears in order to seek your purpose.”

“A mistake,” he growls, now angry at his past self. “I am no beast.”

“True, but that doesn’t mean you can’t learn from their example.” Pointing at the herd again, I say, “Take another look and tell me what you see.”

“I see dumb, smelly animals chewing grass like the placid beasts they are.”

Mean. “Okay, now think back to the first time you saw the herd, a day’s west of Sinuji. They were chewing grass then too. Did you notice anything different about them?”

“...No.”

“Exactly.” Seeing his confusion, I continue, “Here, they are safe and sound, but out west, they were in constant danger, yet in both cases, they remained calm until a threat presented itself. Like you, they are strong and powerful, and like you, their temper is fierce to behold, but unlike them, you’ve forgotten how to let go of your anger.” Growing defensive, Ulfsaar growls, a hoarse, guttural sound which sets my bones to shaking, but I press on. “We spent a lot of time surrounded by danger, so you held onto that anger because you think the anger makes you strong, but it doesn’t. Anger is a crutch, one you’ve come to rely on too much, so it’s time to change.”

“What do you know, child?” Ulfsaar reaches out to grab me by the neck, but the ring of weapons stays his hand. His people, the warriors he brought from Sanshu, all stand ready to cut him down should he lose control, and leading them is his sweet wife. Her eyes filled with sorrow, Neera gazes at the man her husband has become and Ulfsaar deflates before her scrutiny.

Waving his people away, I continue speaking as if he didn’t just consider killing me in his rage. “I know that despite your prodigious strength, you are a man who loves peace. I know that given the choice, you would never again turn your weapon against a living foe and you pursue Martial Strength because you seek the Mother’s lessons within the Forms. I know that you followed me here out of a sense of obligation more than loyalty, because despite my objections, you still believe I am the Mother’s Chosen Son. I know you recently formed your Natal Palace, yet your strength has stagnated, and most importantly, I know why. Throw away the crutch, Ulfsaar. You don’t need it. You have people you can rely on if you need help to stand.” Patting his arm, I say the next part through Sending so only he hears it. “Release your anger and seek Balance my friend, else next time, I fear I won’t be enough to save you from the Father’s agents.”

It’s a risk even implying I can do what I do, but I trust him. I fed him a line about drugs and detox after I ripped the Spectres from his soul back in Sanshu, but he’s always suspected otherwise, which I assume is why he’s still following me. My gambit pays off as Ulfsaar’s eyes widen in surprise, and after a long, excruciating pause, he nods. That’s all I get, but it’s enough. “Good. Another thing. I’ve got a job for you and your crew.”

“Your command?” Ulfsaar asks, his voice quiet and eyes reverent, which isn’t the best, but it’ll have to do.

With a triumphant grin, I point at my herd a third time. “Make sure they don’t wander off and pick out the best candidates for combat training. You and your giants are too slow on your feet, so I’m thinking it’s time we gave you some personal transport. Try and wash them too if you can. They stink.” Plus, it’ll be good for Ulfsaar to look after a living, breathing creature instead of killing it, sorta like a therapy cow, and it saves me from having to hire too many cattle-hands.

That’s like three or four birds with one stone. Great value. Much savings.

After hammering out the details, I leave Ulfsaar to it and move on to my next trouble problem, this time an easier one. “Anyone seen Awdar?” I ask, speaking to no one in particular. “I’m gonna beat the shit out of him and burn his drugs. Wanna help?”

Chapter Meme