I’ve always known the Bekhai love their celebrations. Back home in the mountains, they’d use any excuse they could to throw a festival, from standard celebrations like the solstice or a feast in honour of fallen heroes, to silly things like a boating festival despite only having access to a pond, or commemorating the eighth day of the eighth month because eight is a homonym for ‘prosper’, so eight-eight must be doubly prosperous. Whatever the reason, the Bekhai are never shy when it comes to throwing a party, even after a week of non-stop celebrations. To be fair, they’ve been stuck in Central for nine months and haven’t had a chance to properly let loose until now, but I was all partied out after the first day.

And here we are on day eleven, still going strong. I love my family, but if this keeps up, I’ll need at least a month of social-hibernation just to recharge...

To welcome Du Min Gyu and Yan to the northern citadel, Mom and Dad have spared no expense turning the park outside our manor into a scenic, lakeside pleasure garden. After importing thousands upon thousands of winter-flowering plants from the Northern Province, Mom and Luo-Luo arranged them alongside the paved stone pathways which wind around the park. The pink callunas, red quinces, yellow aconites, and purple pansies add a much needed splash of colour to the dull, dreary Central landscape, while red-paper lanterns cast a warm and mildly eerie glow over the night’s festivities, with drums, dancing, and performances aplenty to entertain and amaze.

The eerie part is probably just me, because the people of this world love the colour red so much, it’s the colour they associate with happiness, luck, prosperity, vitality, and fertility, hence Mila’s staggering popularity amongst the Bekhai and the people of the Empire now that she’s entered the public eye. Red is so beloved, it’s even the colour of wedding outfits instead of the traditional black and white, two colours which are associated with death and funerals respectively. That’s why the Death Corps armour is black and why no one blinked an eye when I wore all black outfits, but while wearing a little bit of white like Lin’s scarf isn’t out of character, few people would ever wear an all-white outfit because this says you’re either a slave or there’s been a death in the family.

And to think, all this time I’ve been looking forward to seeing my lovely wives wearing beautiful white dresses. Then again, considering my current situation, maybe they’ll be wearing white soon enough, though I won’t be around to appreciate it...

Dragging myself out of my depressing thoughts, I sit at my table and idly consider asking Guan Suo for a hit of his pipe to cheer me up, though I doubt the surly old fart would care to share, or even reply. He hasn’t shown his face ever since my injury, though now that I think about it, he actually disappeared a few days before, after that one time I asked him about how to break through Concealment. A simple no would’ve sufficed, but not only did he tell me to fuck off, he’s also been ghosting me ever since. I know he’s still hanging around because not only would he never leave Ping Ping unguarded, but also because the moment my food arrives, the entire plate disappears right before my eyes, followed closely by the soup and utensils.

“You know,” I mutter, randomly glaring around at places Guan Suo might be and enviously eyeing Ping Ping’s pyramid of cabbage and smoked fish. “If you wanted food, you could’ve just asked for a plate instead of stealing from a malnourished cripple.” No answer is forthcoming, which is to be expected, but as a half-gnawed chicken bone appears out of thin air and sails into the grass, I’m tempted to order Kuang Biao to teach this old bastard a lesson. “And stop throwing trash around! My mom worked really hard to plan and arrange everything, and your scattered garbage is ruining the ambience.”

Seriously, the flowers and decorations must have been planned weeks in advance to have it ready for today, which means Mom either respects Du Min Gyu more than she lets on, or she wanted this for new year’s day but was delayed by transport or logistics. Probably the latter, if I were to guess, but so long as no one points this out to the guest of honour, he’ll be none the wiser.

Since Guan Suo seems committed to his vow of silence, I mutter a few uncomplimentary curses under my breath which sets Lin to giggling as she guards her plate from my grasping hands, except I don’t try very hard because I know she’ll be sad if I actually take her food. Luo-Luo offers her plate to replace my own, but I’d feel bad about taking it and politely decline, which for some reason earns me a teary-eyed pout, the exact expression I was trying to avoid on the other side. After ineffectively consoling my emotional consort with a pat on the hand, I flag down a nearby servant and ask for another serving and replacement utensils, but only after they’ve finished serving everyone else first. I don’t want to look rude in front of the guests, a veritable who’s-who of bigwigs from the Northern Province, all out in full force to greet ‘Great Teacher Du’ and give face to the Bekhai, or Nian Zu and Dad. Invited to sit at our table by the guest of honour himself, Nian Zu and Du Min Gyu hit it off quickly, and it isn’t long before the old relics get to trading war stories and waxing poetic about the ‘good old days’ while Yan and Da’in look on with wide-eyed awe.

Marshal Yuzhen is also here, sitting in a prominent position up front with Gerel at her side, not as her Guard Captain, but as her scowling betrothed, decked out from head to toe in swanky red-silk lace like a pretty little boy-toy and all too aware of my not-so-hidden smirks directed his way. Now that I have Kuang Biao’s protection, I feel safer about teasing Gerel, but it’s mostly in good fun. Still, I hope he never finds out I was the one who gifted Yuzhen his current ensemble, not to mention a few other outfits meant for a more private setting.

Then again, considering how... enthusiastic Yuzhen’s response was, Gerel might even thank me for it, though I doubt he ever will.

Seeing the Bekhai’s most steadfast allies in attendance is no surprise, as the lines have long since been drawn in the sand. While Patriarch Han BoDing is here representing the Han Clan, he’s seated apart from BoHai and BoShui to keep hostilities from erupting, with Yuzhen, Gerel, and Zian’s party acting as a buffer zone. Magistrate Jia Ying of Shen Yun is also present, Zian’s gorgeous cougar of a mother in the citadel to visit her darling son, with the stern and intimidating Lieutenant General Situ Jia Yang, Zian’s uncle who was once the figurehead of my hatred for the Society, but has since cut ties with them to serve under Nian Zu. Also sitting with them is Vichear, the half-bear former Major moving up in the world now that he’s Jingfei’s Mentor, and judging by the goofy grin on his face while he chats with Jia Ying, interested in deepening his ties to Zian by becoming my friend’s step-father, though any hot-blooded male would say the same.

Seriously, Zian’s mom is so hot, she looks like his older sister instead of Jia Yang’s, still a city-destroying beauty at fifty something odd years of age...

Pleasant appearances aside, Zian and his family being here is hardly noteworthy, except for where they’re seated. Initially, we had Nian Zu in the most prominent guest spot, but since Du Min Gyu invited him to sit with us after Yuzhen had already been seated, Jia Yang now sits in Nian Zu’s vacated chair. At first glance, this is no big deal, but the novice politician in me believes some people may read into this arrangement and think it was all planned in advanced to make it look like Nian Zu is endorsing Jia Yang as his successor. In reality, Du Min Gyu was probably just bored of Dad’s stony demeanour and Mom’s acerbic tongue and wanted someone to talk to, but it wouldn’t hurt for others to think Jia Yang will be the next voluntary Situ Clan outcast since Rang Min’s star has dimmed in recent days. Where he was once the powerful and mysterious Patriarch of the Situ Clan, he lost a lot of face and respect after sending a Royal Guardian out to fight Gerel under the guise of a Situ underling. Not because he wouldn’t fight Gerel himself, but because by sending out a Royal Guardian, his personal image goes from powerful Patriarch to pitiful puppet dancing to an Imperial tune.

Personally, I don’t think it changes much, but it’s possible Zian’s mom and uncle can twist this to their advantage. Mentally wishing Vichy the best of luck in his love life and hoping Ying and Yang aren’t up to anything nefarious, I look away before anyone catches me staring at the lady Magistrate’s modestly-exposed cleavage, only to rest my gaze on a much more dangerous pair of mammaries, specifically those belonging to the gorgeous and scantily clad Exarch Erien. Unused to the temperate Central winter’s and unaccustomed to fine silk dresses, the fearsome, tribal warrior sports a low-cut leather vest and little else. Almost nothing else, in fact, aside from whatever she’s wearing from the waist down, but I can’t be bothered to check since her bosom is threatening to spill out from her sleeveless ensemble. It isn’t until Luo-Luo elbows me in the ribs that I realize that the fearsome Exarch has not only noticed my attentions, but is also grinning from ear to ear while leaning forward and subtly squeezing her breasts together with her biceps. To further my embarrassment, her husband, Exarch Bralton, meets my gaze and shoots me a wink and a nod as if saying he understands my fascination, but the best reply I can muster up is to turn beet red and look down at my hands.

I don’t know what ties bind the Bekhai to the married Exarch pair, but they’re some of Dad’s most steadfast allies, though they don’t bring much to the table besides themselves. They’re not the type to command troops, nor are they big on taking orders from above besides ‘go here and fight’, but they’re fiercely loyal, highly respected, and have been in the public spotlight far longer than my reclusive dad, which means their friendship has brought many of the smaller factions to our side who might have otherwise remained neutral.

Aside from Fung, who brought Seoyoon to sit with Akanai at our table, that pretty much rounds out our trusted allies, a list which is distressingly short. Still, they’re all powerful individuals in their own right, so I shouldn’t complain too much, especially since we also have a fair amount of... less-trustworthy allies here tonight as well. Despite the all-too-true rumours which have me pitted against an unnamed Imperial Scion and the warnings I sent to my business partners of the very same thing, the people of the North don’t share Central’s adoration for the Imperial Clan, so mere rumours of conflict aren’t enough to scare them off. Even if Jixing made his status and stance clear to all, it still might not be enough to sway the people of the North to his side, because while they aren’t all as insular as the Bekhai, they aren’t as welcoming to Central or Eastern influence as the Society either. Northerners are a stubborn bunch, and tribesman or not, I’m more Northerner than some Eastern Imperial ponce. Score one for xenophobia, though I’d probably lose their support if they knew I was a soul-hopping invader from another world.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Hell, if word gets out, I’d probably even lose the support of my family...

Wishing Alsantset hadn’t forbidden my floofs from joining us at the banquet table, I sit and watch everyone eat while waiting for my food. Unfortunately, Guan Suo holds a grudge over my muttered complaints and intercepts my replacement meal, as well as the next three courses and their replacements too, leaving me the scraps and garnishes which he couldn’t be bothered to take. This is bullying plain and simple, and Lin’s muffled laughter isn’t helping, but in the interest of saving face, I pretend like nothing is wrong and keep asking for more food while wishing I could Send instructions to dose everything with laxatives. It’s almost two full hours into the banquet before I finally put hand to chopsticks and have a proper bite to eat, but by then, the casual dining portion of the night is over and a steady stream of guests make their way over to greet the hosts and guest of honour, which means even though there’s food in front of me, I can’t eat it while making nice with the guests, a hellish torture worse than anything I’ve ever been through.

Well, not entirely true, but close.

Since I’m no longer able to access my Natal Palace, my memory isn’t quite what it used to be, so the next hour is a stressful one as I try to match names to faces and the relevant details to go along with them. Tyrant Yuhuan and her Patriarch brother, Eccentric Gam and Wu Gam, High Elder Jin ZhiYa and her daughter ZhiLan of the Harmonious Unity Sect are but the first wave of guests, each one of them supposedly on our side but could easily switch at the drop of a hat. The other bigwigs are mostly lower-ranking Officers or wealthy merchants whom I’ve only met in passing, and given my condition, they only stop by to say hello with poorly masked expressions of pity before moving on to speak with Taduk or Luo-Luo, leaving me ample time to stuff my face in peace.

Delicious as the banquet food is, it still pales in comparison to the tofu pudding. Honestly, I’m almost willing to be the Legate’s bitch boy if he can promise me twenty-four bowls a day, though I doubt he even wants me anymore, or could afford it...

Comfortable in her element, Luo-Luo handles herself well and even negotiates a handful of cursory business dealings, though nothing is certain until the papers are signed and the goods are delivered. As for my reclusive teacher... he isn’t the most sociable person around, nor is he polite, but few take offence at his succinct replies and lack of focus regarding the conversation at hand. Having returned just for tonight’s banquet, he ate everything on his plate without tasting a thing, including the vegetables he so normally hates, which is how I know his mind is stuck on whatever problem he was working on back at the farm. I’d love to ask how his attempts to grow Spiritual Plants are going, but this is hardly the time or place to discuss it. It’s only been two weeks since I told him about my suspicions regarding Pong Pong’s poop, but considering it only took six weeks for a Spiritual Plant to grow large enough to attract Mama Bun’s notice, Taduk should already be seeing progress if my hunch is right. Unfortunately, due to the sensitive nature of the subject, we haven’t been exchanging letters and Taduk’s spent almost every day since at the farm, utterly obsessed with his new project and only coming back to the citadel to celebrate the milestone events with Lin and the rest of us.

Truth be told, I’m itching to join him out at the farm, not just to help out, but also to get away from all the celebrations. Sadly, thanks to stupid Jixing and his fixation on Luo-Luo, it’s not safe for me to travel away from the citadel and my presence would bring increased scrutiny to Taduk’s experimental Spiritual Plant garden, which is a secret best kept to ourselves.

...I wonder if that’s the secret to the tofu pudding: it’s made from Spiritual Soybeans. Or Spiritual Ginger in the syrup. Or Spiritual Cane Sugar... I should ask Taduk to try growing Spiritual Beets. It’d be the perfect cover, hiding Spiritual Beets in a mundane beet farm, brilliant!

“Great One.” A sending from Kuang Biao interrupts my musings, and I almost jump in my seat. “The Justicar from this morning is here, along with three others.”

What Kuang Biao fails to mention is that this time, the Justicars are accompanied by their respective escorts marching in lockstep, which makes for quite the sight. Their short staves of office held at the ready, no less than a hundred Enforcers ring the four Justicars as they scowl and stomp through the flowers on their way to my table. The sea of guests part aside for this obvious show of force, and I clench my jaw to keep from ordering my Death Corps to teach these bastards a lesson in civility.

There are stone paths everywhere, but nooo, they just had to trample over Mom’s flowers. Assholes.

My meal still unfinished, I swallow one last mouthful along with my anger and push the plate aside. After wiping my hands and face with a handkerchief, I take Lin and Luo-Luo’s hands to reassure them that everything will be alright. Truth be told, I don’t think either of them need reassuring, as Lin is already glowering at the Disciplinary Corps members and Luo-Luo has drawn herself up to full height, regal and noble in the face of this threat. Considering the Justicars or Jixing likely chose to come now so they could humiliate me before so many guests, I put on a brave face and try to emulate Luo-Luo until I think better of it. I don’t do ‘regal’ well, but I can sure as hell do insolent. Sighing as I crack my neck to get into the mood, I flash a smile at my concerned friends in the crowd and even give Zian a wink, which earns me a roll of his eyes before he looks away to study the Enforcers, his hands reaching for the hilts of his swords without even realizing it.

It’s humanizing to know Zian isn’t skilled at everything, because he’s pretty terrible at concealing his intentions. Also nice to know he’s considering fighting the Disciplinary Corps for me, but I’m hoping it won’t get to that. Vainly hoping, but still hoping.

The Enforcers march right up to the edge of my table before coming to a halt, and the front ranks loom over me with weapons in hand. Their black robes and covered faces take on a sinister tone in the eerie red light of the lanterns, and for long seconds, no one speaks. The abrupt silence is almost deafening and the heated gazes of the Enforcers stifling to endure, but I’ve suffered worse from Mila on a good day. Instead of asking why they’re here, I look past the row of Enforcers and lock eyes with the Justicar from this morning, recognizable only because he’s standing apart from the other three. There’s no token presented today, no banners declaring who they are, not even a mention of crimes committed as we exchange stares, and true to their word, Mom and Dad leave me to deal with this on my own, until it comes time to flip the board.

Which is honestly looking pretty good right about now.

Since the Justicars are already hostile, I see no issue with poking their buttons some more. Letting go of Lin’s hand, simply because she’s sitting on my right, I pull my plate back in front of me, pick up my chopsticks, and continue eating my meal, making zero effort whatsoever to conceal the sound. Coughs ring out from the crowd as they stifle their laughter, but a few snorts escape when I slurp my tea.

“Imperial Consort Falling Rain!” Unable to bear it any more, the enraged Justicar growls my name, but that’s all.

“Yes, that’s me.” Grabbing a slice of lotus root, I chew the crunchy tuber and speak with mouth full. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“You feign ignorance, but this Official visited Imperial Consort earlier today,” the Justicar declares, no doubt playing to the crowd for effect. “You disputed this Official’s judgment and requested I convene a hearing with three of my peers to present your case.” Though his ceremonial headdress covers his face, his eyes give away his triumphant smile as he waits for me to respond, but all I do is nod and wait. Disappointed by my lack of reaction, his smile returns in full force as he announces, “The hearing has convened and judgment passed by the triumvirate of Justicars you see here before you. Dastan Zhandos and his traitorous retinue rebelled against the Empire and fought alongside the Defiled in Sanshu. As such, they should have been sentenced to public torture until dead, but in a grave miscarriage of Imperial Justice, they were instead pardoned by Magistrate Chu TongZu, enslaved, and placed under your command.”

I imagine the Justicar expected a collective gasp or a clamour to break out, hence his dramatic pause, but the only way it could’ve been more awkward is if there were crickets to fill the silence. A few heads turn this way and that to see if Dastan is in the crowd, but since this was a banquet for Du Min Gyu, the rank and file weren’t invited to join. Though the food has all but turned to ashes in my mouth, I put another slice of lotus root in my mouth and motion for the Justicar to continue. Eyes narrowing in fury, he speaks through clenched teeth, his voice strained and tone furious. “Thus, the triumvirate hereby sentences the traitor Dastan Zhandos and his retinue to fight on the front lines until death. As it was your commands which allowed these rebels to live in luxurious comfort, and your command to which they are forever bound, the triumvirate declares Imperial Consort Falling Rain is to be stripped of his rank of Warrant Officer Second Grade and conscripted into the Imperial Army, where he is to ensure Dastan Zhandos and his traitorous retinue carry out their sentence.”

This time the crowd gasps, but to my eyes and ears, their surprise seems tinged with anger and outrage, so I hope this holds true for the rest of the Empire when word gets out. Waiting several seconds for the Justicar to continue, I finally see he has nothing else to add, or at least he intends to wait until I speak. Chewing my food thoroughly to buy time, I steel my nerves and swallow my food before asking, “Is that all?”

“Yes, but know -”

“Understood.” Since they have no intentions of pushing the whole bandit or looted goods agenda, I hold out my hand and direct the Justicar to leave. “As we are in the midst of a banquet, I won’t see you out.”

“Audacious!” Snarling in mock fury, once again the Justicar’s eyes give him away, brimming with delight at my misstep made in anger. “This Official has yet to finish with your sentencing and you would chase us away? Imperial Consort you may be, but you’ve no right to order the Disciplinary Corps about.” Pleased as punch to ‘put me in my place’, the Justicar holds his head up high and says, “Private Falling Rain will report to -”

“Hmph.” Unleashing a Chi-infused snort even Akanai would approve of, Du Min Gyu steals the wind from the Justicar’s sails by literally raising a booming gale of his own, one strong enough to buckle servants and merchants alike. Melting away as quickly as it appeared, the Chi-powered winds settle down as Du Min Gyu sneers and asks, “Now who’s being audacious? Since when do Justicars give orders to soldiers regarding deployment or assignment? Ridiculous.” Pointing a wizened finger at me, he huffs and declares, “I am still a Lieutenant General yet, so the boy will serve under me.”

“Calm yourself, comrade Du.” Though his words are directed towards Du Min Gyu, Nian Zu’s hand rests on Dad’s shoulder, no doubt keeping him from tearing the Justicar apart. Beside him, Alsantset does the same for Mom, while Charok holds Alsantset back, a daisy chain of emotional restraint which fills me with warmth. “Falling Rain is not only your future grandson-in-law, but also a northern soldier and you a Central officer, so to take him under your command would smack of favouritism and lead others to think you mean to shelter Falling Rain from his punishment. This will not do.” Shaking his head, the old warrior sighs and says, “Since this matter is so severe, I will personally ensure there is no foul play involved, for justice must be served.” Meeting my gaze with the barest hint of a smile, he says, “Private Falling Rain, you are to report for duty at first light, where we will set out for the front lines to carry out the Justicar’s sentence.”

Remembering what he once told me about greeting superiors, I stand and salute my benefactor. “By your command, Colonel General, this soldier obeys.”

Well, Kuang Biao said that my honour guard was doomed unless I knew a commander who was ‘virtuous to a fault, utterly without weakness, and lacking in greed, past mistakes, dark secrets, or beloved friends and family who can be used against them’. If anyone fits that criteria, it would be the Hero of the Northern Wall, the Shooting Star Nian Zu.

I guess this solves the issue of my safety, so now I just need to figure out how to keep Dastan and his retinue alive too.

...Rest in Peace Dastan?

...

Fuck.

Chapter Meme