I’ve had it with these mother-fucking Spectres in this mother-fucking retinue.

As nice as it would be to have a steady supply of Spectres, there’s too much I don’t know about the birthing process to feel comfortable. Does it harm them in any way? Are they losing a part of their soul? What if my people go full Defiled before I can save them? Hovering about while Taduk checks on Awdar, I try to come up with non-specific questions to ask Jorani. “Ral said things looked bad?”

Wringing his hands and refusing to look me in the eye, Jorani watches Awdar with lips pressed and fists clenched. “I swear on me life, he took a turn fer the worse. Sobbin’ and hurlin’ like there ain’t no tomorrow, sick as a dog he were. Something didn’t feel right so I sent fer ye, but he calmed down right as ye got here.” Barking in anxious laughter, Jorani adds, “After ye left again, he took one sniff of yer soup and he was like a brand new man. Must be some real miracle herbs in it, eh bossman?”

“Nah, it’s normal chicken soup.” Double boiled and made with the tastiest, most flavourful chickens I’ve ever eaten, but no magic herbs or spices, only mundane ones. “You said he was crying and vomiting before I got here. Anything else?”

The gathered crowd scatters at a pointed glance from Jorani, a skill I envy and desire. “Thing is,” he says, keeping his voice low despite our newfangled privacy, “I can’t exactly say what it was, but something was off. He kept goin’ on about how he weren’t a good man and how Mum Above wouldn’t want him, on account of all the killin’ he’s done. Said he was bein’ haunted by the dead and it was a sign he deserved to be punished, and it felt... wrong.” Shuddering at the memory, Jorani tries to laugh it off once more. “Might be gettin’ a little long in the tooth and soft in the head. Sorry to disturb ye over nothin’, and doubly so for botherin’ the Medical Saint.”

Ah yes, guilt and self-blame, delicious Spectre bait laid out for them to feast. “You were concerned and went with your gut. No need to be sorry.” Especially since his gut was right. Awdar calmed down right before I arrived because I Devoured the new-born Spectre the second I saw it. Dollars to donuts the wrongness Jorani felt was the actual birth itself, an incident I’m glad I missed and hope to never experience again. That said, considering I wasn’t around to see it first-hand, I’m only guessing a Spectre was birthed because last I checked, Awdar was Spectre free and there are no ghosties hanging about who could’ve infected him. This marks the second time I’ve been close to a Spectre birthing, which raises a whole host of new questions I have no answers for. Am I a walking font of gloom and despair who enables the birth of Spectres, or is Jorani to blame? Maybe Spectre births can occur anytime and anywhere and I happen to be unlucky enough to have two hosts in my retinue, but if someone is to blame, what can I do to lower the incident rate?

Or raise it. I mean, I did get a free Spectre to nom on and Awdar looks much improved from when I last saw him. It’s not saying much considering he was an inconsolable, strung-out mess, but any improvement is a win. Clutching an empty vomit bucket to his chest, the lanky druggie’s expression is one of calm and serenity, his eyes glazed and gaze detached as Taduk carries on his inspection. Awdar’s withdrawal symptoms have all but disappeared, his heartbeat steady and body still, no longer wracked by the involuntary tremors of addiction. There are no signs of the inner turmoil and self-recrimination Jorani witnessed first hand, and if not for his vomit-encrusted collar, cracked lips, and bloodshot eyes, I might’ve thought Awdar was deep in a meditative trance.

Even for a Martial Warrior, recovering this quickly from withdrawal is kind of ridiculous.

Then again, maybe Awdar wasn’t going through withdrawal to begin with. The symptoms presented themselves much too quickly, barely an hour after we burned his stash, but I chalked it up to the potency of Dream Smoke. Is it possible his dependency and subsequent withdrawal was mostly mental which led to a downward spiral which culminated in birthing a Spectre?

Or something. I dunno.

If true, then it might explain why Awdar looks so much better now. I didn’t put much stock into it before, but Jorani was the same after I Devoured his birthed Spectre, going about his duties with renewed focus as if he’d shed all his worries and despair. If Spectres are born from negative emotions, then it stands to reason those negative emotions would be lessened after I Devour said Spectre, a sort of cathartic release, in a sense. It’s not a perfect assumption, because emotions don’t have a quantifiable presence and Spectres are supposedly itinerant souls or whatever, but it’s the best guess I’ve got. It might also be why the Defiled are so big on torture and bloodshed, because they’re being driven to cause fear and misery so more Spectres will be born.

Finally... an argument to end slavery which the Empire might actually accept. Better working conditions equals happier people equals fewer shitty Spectres floating about. Now I just need to figure out how to prove it without being condemned as a heretic or whatever.

...Wait.

What if the higher ups already know and their solution is to ensure mistreated slaves don’t live long enough to become a problem? It’d be about par for the course for this shitty Empire...

While I struggle to ignore the host of Spectres residing in my brain, Taduk draws back with a tired sigh, a result of spending his mornings hunting for Spiritual Plants and his afternoons Healing my injured soldiers. There’s a good reason most injuries aren’t treated by Healers, because the cost-benefit is heavily skewed in favour of the former. Assuming an injury would cost one unit of Chi to self-Heal, it might cost Taduk anywhere between three to ten units depending on the complexity of the injury. This doesn’t take into account the focus required to direct and control Healing, as I myself experienced before pioneering Panacea, nor the mental fatigue accrued from long bouts of intense concentration. While Taduk can also use Panacea to Heal others, its advantages are mostly lost when used on someone besides yourself. While Traditional Healing might be more Chi intensive, Panacea Healing requires much more time to work, time my teacher has precious little to spare.

Even though he’s busy and most of my soldiers will recover on their own, he still insists on looking everyone over and Healing anyone who needs it, his way of helping me fight the good fight. Patting Awdar’s head like he would a child’s, Taduk says, “The worst has passed for now. Eat and drink as much as you can, but no need to force it. Avoid drugs and alcohol for a few days, and with rest, you should be back to full strength in no time.” Turning to Jorani, he adds, “If he continues to vomit into the night, then come find myself or the boy, yes?”

“Yes Ser, Medical Saint Ser, thank ye kindly.” Bowing and scraping as if faced with the Legate himself, Jorani says, “Sorry fer wastin’ yer time Medical Saint. Like I was tellin’ the bossman, I can’t rightly say what came over me, lettin’ my stupid worries get to me like that. Sorry and thank ye again.”

Waving the apology aside, Taduk wraps an arm around my shoulder as we walk away. “There’s something off about Awdar,” he Sends, his brow furrowed in thought. “Though presenting the symptoms of withdrawal, his blood still shows trace amounts of the drug flowing within. Addicted though he might be, his reaction is too extreme for someone in his condition, and I found no physiological explanation for his sudden malady.”

“I have a theory,” I Send. Briefly outlining the information I’ve pieced together regarding Spectres and how they’re created, I keep my half-baked conclusions to myself until Taduk’s had time to go over the facts. “... so it’s possible the sudden onset of his symptoms was brought about intentionally to stimulate the birth of a new Spectre.”

Rubbing his eyes with his free hand, Taduk rewards my prudence with a helpful insight. “You said there were no Spectres around before hand, yes? Then who or what directed Awdar’s sudden breakdown and suffering?”

That’s one of the best things about Taduk. Even though he believes it’s the Father Himself pulling strings in the background, he’s open-minded enough to consider other possibilities. Try as I might, I have trouble accepting an all-powerful duo of Gods would be so petty and bored as to meddle in the lives of us insignificant mortals. Then again, for all I know, we’re all pieces on a cosmic board game of five-dimensional chess or something. After a moment of thought, I Send, “My best guess is Awdar brought it on himself. With his drugs burned, he realized he couldn’t hide any longer and was forced to come face to face with his past actions. His guilt and shame drove him to believe he deserved to suffer for his sins, and in doing so, he caused himself to suffer from imagined withdrawal.”

“...Plausible.” Nodding in thought, Taduk murmurs through Sending, possibly without even knowing he’s doing it. “Belief is a powerful force, and Awdar’s familiarity with Healing would help with subconsciously affecting his physical well-being. It explains why he had a fever, but no trouble breathing or inexplicable bruising, which is atypical, and why physical movement caused him no discomfort despite being wracked with pain. He only knew withdrawal would hurt, but not why it would hurt, so he manifested general throbbing pain rather than muscle-and-joint specific pain.”

“It was psychosomatic,” I helpfully supply, having found the word in a dusty old book among his collection. “A condition or ailment caused or made worse by a mental factor, such as stress or depression.”

“It bears looking into, though how one might combat an illness of the mind is beyond my ken.” Slumping his shoulders, Taduk looks more tired and defeated than I’ve ever seen him, his smile mocking and filled with self-loathing. “In my hubris, I once believed I could Heal any malady short of death, but now I see I was but a frog in a well.”

Hugging him a little tighter as we walk arm in arm, I Send, “The mind is a complicated thing and the world has yet to unlock its mysteries. You can hardly blame yourself for not understanding something no one else does. Besides, how are you supposed to know things aren’t as they seem if you can’t perceive Spectres?”

“True, true.” Tilting his head, he Sends, “Hmm... The Defiled, they can see these Spectres, yes?”

Oh no. “Don’t turn Defiled for the sake of curiosity, Teacher. It’s hardly worth it.”

“Nonsense, Rain my boy, I’ll be perfectly safe with you by my side. I only need to... how did you put it? Invite the Spectres in for tea? By thinking sad or angry thoughts, correct? Simple enough.” Closing his eyes, Taduk trembles with focused concentration for all of two seconds before opening them again. “What sort of tea would they prefer? Red or green? Or perhaps they’d prefer something floral or fruity?”

My teacher can’t be this cute. “Teacher, warmed as I am by your faith in me, I find your lack of prudence disturbing. Also, the tea is a metaphor and there are no Spectres around to invite, so the point is moot.”

“Hmm. Unfortunate.” Recovered from his brief bout with self pity, Taduk smiles and leans sideways to rest his cheek on my head while we walk. “We’ll try again another time then.”

Try and fail. My teacher is the second most upbeat and positive person I know, following closely behind on Lin’s hoppy heels. Maybe half-hares are predisposed to a cheery demeanour, though you wouldn’t know it from looking at Blackjack. Seated firmly on Song’s head, the tiny hare frowns and glares from his perch while the lovely half-cat brushes her quin, Erdene. Noting my arrival, Mama Bun springs over to greet me with a headbutt to the chest before flopping into my arms like a fluffy, fat baby. Yawning as she snuggles in, she strokes the air with her paw in a silent, but forceful demand for belly scritches. All too happy to oblige, I indulge the sweet floof while checking on the many pots of soup cooking over the campfires, all made with help from the cooks hired by Luo-Luo. Truth be told, she did more right than wrong in choosing this place for my retinue to camp, and I can’t help but feel I’m being unnecessarily judgmental of the multi-talented Imperial Servant. Part of it is jealousy, and another big part is fear, but I suppose being married to her isn’t the worst thing in the world.

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With the soups all done, I ring the proverbial dinner bell and call my soldiers over to eat, though I deliver a few pots personally as an excuse to check up on the most problematic of the bunch. Lang Er is looking a little better now but still has a tendency to drift off into a daze, while the Death Corps have largely recovered during our safe journey back to SuiHua. They’re a resilient bunch, though I have no idea how they can remain Spectre free while wearing so much heavy armour in this summer heat. Delivering soup to the Protectorate earns me many punches to the arm, their preferred method of saying thanks, while Dastan is glum and morose as usual. If a handmade breakfast delivered by the enamoured Sorya and Anrhi failed to lift his spirits, I’m not sure what will. Oddly enough, he seems happier to receive a pot of soup from me, which leaves me to wonder if he’d prefer Red One’s advances over those from the cute half-rat twins. Nothing wrong with that, love is beautiful no matter what form it takes, so maybe I can make something happen.

Only after I finish making the rounds do I head over to collect Ping Ping, the big girl happily splashing around in the shallows after two months of land-locked suffering. Along with Pong Pong, Sir Inky, and most of the quins, Guan Suo defies the laws of nature and watches over the playful frolicking without a smile on his face. After greeting the grumpiest half-red-panda in existence, I call Ping Ping over who happily obliges, and she even brings Sir Inky along on her beak so he can plop into his cooking pot. Pong Pong is more difficult to work with, but a promise of more shrimp brings him scurrying out to leap into Mama Bun’s embrace.

It’s not a nice feeling being extorted by a turtle.

To counter my discontent, I lure the sweetest quin pup away with us as we head back to the manor. Her parents won’t mind, the poor baby was being bullied by her siblings and mean old Zabu let it happen. Even sweet Shana didn’t care too much, leaving me to wonder if the Bekhai modelled their parental practices after roosequin behaviour; nurturing and affectionate when young, then left to flail on their own once old enough to fight, albeit under close supervision.

At least I hope I’m under close supervision...

Upon arriving at the manor, a sumptuous feast awaits, one cooked by Charok, Sorya, and Anrhi. Kyung, Guan Suo, and even Guard Leader join us at the table, and for once, I don’t mind the intrusion. Alongside my meagre contribution of winter-melon soup, we all partake in the delicious meal while the floofs dine in the courtyard outside, the sliding doors of the dining room opened wide to catch the breeze and minimize the separation. Family gatherings are always a happy affair, and even with my preference for solitude, I wouldn’t mind having group dinners as a daily occurrence. A few vital loved ones are missing to complete the set, so I spend dinner spoiling the twins while drinking and chatting with Charok about how our absent family members are doing.

In a nutshell, they’re bored. Sarnai and Alsantset have little to do except write letters and complain while Akanai and Baatar scout the lands, run endless drills, and await the completion of their stronghold. One of three massive super-fortresses being built along the new border, I wholeheartedly believe they are a massive waste of time, resources, and lives. A fortress is nice to have when situated in a choke point or if your enemy is concerned about supply lines and what not, but when there’s literally a thousand kilometres of wall they could attack instead, those fortresses become as useful as a nipples on a breastplate. Even if we could afford to man the entire wall, one concentrated push by the Defiled will probably bring a whole section down before reinforcements arrive, making this whole construction effort a fruitless endeavour.

Well, not entirely fruitless. I am shamefully profiting hand over fist off the whole thing, but fat lot of good that does. What the fuck am I supposed to spend my coin on while the Defiled rampage through Central? With Martial law in effect, I can’t even buy armour for my retinue unless the Army releases their surplus, and those always go to people with better connections than I have. I’d buy craftsmen and make them myself, but wouldn’t you know it, skilled labour is also in short supply, along with steel, leather, food, and almost anything else one can think of.

If it wasn’t for cast iron requiring next to no skill, I wouldn’t even have enough bolts and arrows...

Hoping to solve these issues, I approach Luo-Luo once dinner is done. Happily chatting away with Yan, Mila, and Lin, my gorgeous, virgin concubine takes no notice of my presence, even though I’m standing directly in her line of sight. I don’t mind, and I’m actually kinda happy to see Luo-Luo getting along so well with the others, as the last thing I need is a cat-fight in my harem. Truth be told, I was worried about sweet Lin being bullied by the cunning and spiteful concubine, and I doubt I could protect Luo-Luo from Mila or Yan much less both working together, so it’s in everyone’s best interest if they all get along nicely.

Having had plenty of intimate moments with Yan since my return, I sidle up behind Mila and place my hands on her shoulders. Careful not to slide her too-large tunic off, I vigorously knead the knots out of her steely shoulders and marvel at how her soft skin and slender physique can hide so much power underneath. Luckily, most of her prodigious strength comes from the magic of Chi, for which I give gracious thanks to the Mother. Though athletic of frame, Mila is far from what I’d call muscular, more tone and trim than brawny and robust. Broad of shoulder and slim of waist, I might even call her dainty if I were feeling suicidal, and the sight of her barely-covered and oh-so shapely thighs leaves me wishing we had a soundproof forge to escape to.

Calm down Rain. This is neither the time nor the place to get frisky, not with your terrifying future father-in-law scowling from across the room. Sure, he’s probably scowling because he’s losing at chess to your other future father-in-law sitting across from him, but are you really willing to take that chance?

Thoroughly enjoying the tender loving care, Mila downs another cup of wine before tilting her head back to flash a sleepy smile. That’s not all she flashes, so utterly entranced by my magic fingers she’s forgotten she’s not wearing anything besides a loose tunic which allows me a direct view down her baggy shirt at the freckled, cherry-tipped twin peaks hidden underneath. Then again, maybe she doesn’t care considering nudity is no big deal among the Bekhai, but a glimpse of paradise somehow seems more erotic than having it all laid bare. “Scoundrel,” Mila sends, so not as to interrupt Yan, Lin, and Luo-Luo’s conversation. “What did you do to anger Zheng Luo so?”

“...She’s angry?”

“Do you not see her ignoring you?”

“...I can’t think of any reason why she’d be mad. Are you sure that’s the case?”

Rolling her eyes, Mila shimmies her shoulders and diverts my kneading hands from her shoulders to her upper back. “She must be mad, else she would have stopped mid-sentence to greet you.” Fluttering her eyelashes, she affects a flirtatious falsetto and Sends, “What might Lord Husband desire? Shall Mi-Mi put on a tawdry dress and dance for Lord Husband’s pleasure?”

I’m not gonna lie... that was hot. The eye fluttering, not the falsetto. That was terrible.

“Don’t be jealous,” I reply, making a half fist and using it to work at a particularly tight knot by Mila’s shoulder blade. “Though I wouldn’t say no to a dance.”

“Pervert.”

“You offered. You sure she’s mad?”

“Positive. Does this upset Lord Husband? Perhaps Mi-Mi can make up for it.”

I don’t know if it’s our time spent apart, the alcohol she drank, or my massage turning Mila into a horn dog, but I love this. “And what did you have in mind?”

“...Pervert.” Puffing her cheeks in defeat, Mila changes the subject. “Why do you keep glancing at her? Am I not enough to hold your attention? Or perhaps it’s Yan you’re so enamoured by. Counting down the seconds until you two can abscond to your premarital bed of sin?”

“My sweet, jealous, beloved Mila.” Finding no more knots on her upper back, I drop to my knees and start work on her lower back, receiving a low grunt of pleasure for my dedicated efforts. “Can you not? I’m only waiting for Luo-Luo to finish speaking so I can talk to her about sourcing armour and weapons for my retinue.”

“Hmph.” Resting her head on my shoulder, Mila is so utterly relaxed it’s almost comical, yet her face still maintains her customary frown. “Why would you ask Luo-Luo for something like this? Is she a blacksmith? No, she is not.”

“She’s not a blacksmith, but she is a merchant, so unless you and your papa can craft a few hundred steel spears and breastplates before I head back out on patrol...”

Mila’s dismissive snort draws everyone’s attention, but she remains blissfully unaware because her eyes are closed, thoroughly enjoying the massage. “As if I would waste my time making mundane weapons. Listen carefully beloved: mundane work is for mundane blacksmiths, understood?”

“Yes beloved, but this doesn’t –”

“Even with everyone busy meeting quotas, if I were to offer even the most basic Spiritual Weapon in trade, I could gather a thousand sets of armour and weapons within the week.” Opening her eyes, Mila smiles and blinks slowly to accentuate her point. “So why. Would you. Ask Luo-Luo. Instead of. Myself?”

With Mila already so relaxed, there’s no point continuing the massage, so I pull her into my lap and she happily snuggles into my embrace. “My most humble and sincere apologies, my talented and intelligent beloved. I should have known better and gone to you first.” Maybe she can help with my other issues. “Would you happen to know how I request reinforcements? Do I put up a poster or something?”

“Stoooo-pid. If you want trash reinforcements, then talk to Yuzhen. If you want stronger ones, then maybe ask Fung, Chu Tongzu, or better yet, Nian Zu. If you want elites, then swallow your pride and talk to Mama. With real Khishigs under your command, you will strike fear into the hearts of those worthless Defiled.”

Fung’s on the front lines and I don’t know where his dad is, but Chu Tongzu should be in SuiHua... “Tempting as it is, I doubt any Khishigs will want to join my retinue.”

“Oh beloved, perhaps I was wrong. You are not stupid, but brainless. You are not prideful, but simpleminded.” Biting me on the chin for emphasis, Mila growls and Sends, “Do you think no one wants to join your retinue? You are the Number One Talent in the Empire, but to our dismay, you represent the Bekhai with no Bekhai under your command. Shameful is what it is, and you are shameless for allowing it.” Releasing her toothy hold, she kisses it better before continuing. “You have stood on your own for long enough, and why you refuse to ask for help, I do not know, but it is high time you lowered your head and asked your people to fight at your side.”

“But... after Sanshu, all of the Khishigs left my retinue when you did, and more recently, I figured no one would want to join because of the whole...” Almost exiled thing.

“Idiot. Do you remember how you gathered the people for your first retinue?”

“...Grand-Mentor made me fiscally responsible for them.”

“No, you idiot! Well, yes, but that was not all. You asked them to join you and fight at your side. Did you ever ask any of the Bekhai?”

“...No.” Shit, was it that easy?

“So why not try?”

“...Will you join my retinue, beloved?”

The irony lost on Mila, my query earns me an elbow to the ribs. “Absolutely not. Stop asking. I will not fight in your shadow and beneath your command, for I will rise to glory on my own. And I want Song back when I do. Who knows what perverted thoughts you had while out on patrol, with poor, defenseless Song there to tempt you. It can’t have been easy on either of you, so its best if she fought at my side...”

Laughing beneath my breath, I cuddle with Mila and listen to her scolding with a smile stretched across my face, wholly contented to be back with my loved ones again. With the war looming over our heads, who knows how many more peaceful days we have ahead, for the future looks grim and dark indeed. I have plenty of room to grow and much to learn, but even with a surplus of Heavenly Energy and the ability to send the Defiled fleeing by Devouring Spectres, I cannot imagine a future in which the Empire emerges victorious.

There’s only so much I can do on my own, so unless I can discover a mundane weapon of mass destruction, its only a matter of time before the Defiled get their shit together and push through to Central, and when it finally happens, I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure my family emerges whole and unharmed.

Even if I have to sacrifice the rest of the Empire to do it.

Chapter Meme

- End of Volume 23 -