In all her time, Luo-Luo had never heard of nor experienced anything so horrifying and hilarious at the same time.

Oh how did it all come to this? This was her fault for losing herself in the opera, but the show was so splendid and sublime, she could barely bring herself to blink and miss a single moment, much less tear her eyes away from the stage to see how Lord Husband was faring. The ornate costumes, the realistic backdrops, the well-practised orchestra, even the resplendent lighting, every aspect of the opera was so wonderfully done with such a brilliant eye for detail, she felt as if she could watch this same show a thousand times and still find new themes and compositions to delight and amaze. Yet despite all the painstaking effort and practice put into the show, all of it was merely to set the tone for the lead dancer’s transcendent movements, which put Luo-Luo in mind of the natural symphony she only recently experienced at Medical Saint Taduk’s bamboo grove.

Despite coming in second place during her graduation ceremony’s dance contest, this performance was far above what Luo-Luo could ever hope to match or even wholly comprehend, for though she was an expert dancer, she was little more than a rank amateur in matters of the Martial Dao. The Whispering Wind told the magnificent tale of a warrior’s journey to the Martial Peak, a gripping performance from start to finish which brought Luo-Luo along on a fantastic journey of complex emotions told through the Movements of the Forms. It was clearly an opera arranged and choreographed by Martial Warriors, for Martial Warriors to enjoy and appreciate, so it came as a great surprise when Luo-Luo finally glanced over at Lord Husband and found him fast asleep. Then, in her panic, she nudged him awake, which triggered his warrior’s instincts as he came to with a start. “Sorry,” he said, far too loudly as he shook off the last vestiges of sleep. “Was I snoring?”

A question which, thanks to the building’s magnificent acoustics, was heard by the entire theatre’s audience, who up until that point, had been sitting in silent anticipation of Lord Husband’s response.

Then, as if things were not bad enough with half the crowd stifling their giggles, sweet, amenable Roc chose this moment to make his hunger known, which might not have been so disastrous if his warbling cry wasn’t so easily mistaken for a mocking laugh.

Thereby infuriating the lead dancer into raising his sword at Lord Husband and screaming, “You dare?”

Rationally, Luo-Luo knew she needed to do something to keep matters from escalating even more, but she was so shocked and appalled she didn’t know where to start. So there she sat with eyes wide and hands over her mouth as Lord Husband stood up, cleared his throat, and addressed the audience with bird in hand. “Sorry for the interruption,” he began, holding Roc out a little so everyone could see the giant bird gulp down his meaty treat with unmistakable delight. “My uh... Laughing Bird was feeling a little peckish, and he doesn’t know how to modulate his volume. I’ll go let him out so this doesn’t happen again. Please, carry on with the show, and again, sorry for the disruption.”

Resisting the urge to palm her face, Luo-Luo stifled a sigh and grabbed Lord Husband’s sleeve before he could run away and be accused of cowardice. “Lord Husband,” she began, whispering as quietly as she could whilst knowing every Martial Warrior in the audience was likely straining their ears to hear her. “There was no disruption, for the show has concluded.” How could he sleep through the intense music, powerful lyrics, and thunderous applause only to come awake at the tap of her elbow? Were she not witness to it herself, she too would think Lord Husband was putting on an act to belittle the lead dancer, which was undoubtedly what everyone else believed.

Had she been in her right mind, Luo-Luo might have averted this next disaster, but in her bewildered state, she set Lord Husband up for the perfect retort. “The show’s over? Then why are we still here?”

A chorus of titters washed through the audience as the lead dancer choked on his fury, and Luo-Luo desperately wished she’d learned how to Send. “It is customary for the cast to interact with the audience at the end of their performance. The...” Oh Mother in Heaven, what was the man’s name? Luo-Luo should’ve looked into it before coming in, but truth be told, she hadn’t expected much from this Central-based opera-troupe. “...lead dancer was kind enough to direct his first question towards you, which was when... ahem.” Trailing off, she saw that Lord Husband understood and was considering how to mend the awkward situation, but Luo-Luo could hardly advise him with every ear listening for her whispers. Praying he would understand, she pressed her hands together and subtly bowed before nodding towards the stage, implying he should apologize for falling asleep without laying blame to his ailing health, but that was too much to hope for.

Especially since Roc finished his treat, and decided this was a good time to extort Lord Husband for more by letting loose with yet another warbling laugh.

It didn’t help that Lord Husband’s friends had long since lowered their heads into their hands to hide their faces, but short of leaving their seats and crouching behind their chairs, there was no hiding their shaking shoulders or quiet gasps for air. Shooting them a dirty look, Lord Husband stuffed another piece of jerky into Roc’s mouth and muttered, “This stupid feathered rat...”

Which of course, the crowd took for a quiet insult directed towards the lead dancer, whose ornate costume included a jewelled crown which prominently sported three elegant peacock feathers.

It was like watching Lord Husband hammer away at the only column supporting the roof over his head, while having no voice to scream at him to stop. “Do I have to do this?” he asked, and Luo-Luo felt like the entire audience was choking on their laughter. “Like, I only watched the first few minutes before falling asleep, and I don’t really care enough to lie about what I saw.”

It would’ve been so much better if he’d asked what the question was first instead of reiterating how he’d fallen asleep, but perhaps Lord Husband was playing to his strengths and putting on the facade of an uncultured warrior. “It would be polite, Lord Husband.”

“Ugh. Fine.” Thrusting Roc into her arms, Lord Husband placed a bag of treats beside her and said, “Hold him tight okay? Don’t let him fly off, or we’ll be in real trouble.” A statement which begged the question of why he saw fit to bring the giant bird inside in the first place, but they were too far along now for regrets. Looking down to make sure Roc was comfortably nestled in her lap, she gave the sweet bird a kiss on the head and looked back up to find Lord Husband standing at the edge of the balcony to address the lead dancer below. “Sorry,” he said, apologizing once again, and even as he opened his mouth, she realized his words would be the final nail in the coffin of today’s events. “Could you repeat the question?”

A brief moment of silence hung in the air for all of a second, and then the audience burst into laughter. It didn’t help that Lord Husband’s friends were the loudest amongst them, and even Luo-Luo giggled along out of nervous disbelief. Lord Husband could not have insulted the lead dancer any more thoroughly if he’d tried, and his comical, bewildered expression only added to the hilarity, making it seem like he was purposely mocking everyone with his ‘feigned’ innocent confusion.

There was no salvaging this situation, so Luo-Luo could only let things run their course and hope for the best. Thankfully, it was only a lowly dancer, so the repercussions of Lord Husband’s ‘insolence’ should be minor at best. Some good might even come from this, for if even an opera dancer thought he could call out an Imperial Consort in public, then Lord Husband’s reputation had fallen far indeed. This was the perfect chance for him to reassert his superiority without upsetting anyone besides the lead dancer’s patron, and even then, there was only so much effort one would invest in soothing the bruised ego of a pretty plaything.

And what an ego it was, to dare raise his voice at an Imperial Consort, so Luo-Luo settled back with Roc to enjoy the after-show entertainment. So infuriated by Lord Husband’s needling, the lead dancer grit his teeth as the laughter played out, no doubt with cheeks aflame beneath his heavy white make-up. “I was hoping,” he began after swallowing his rage, speaking over the last subdued chortles, “To hear Imperial Consort Falling Rain’s opinion of my opera and the Movements within, but I suppose my poor performance must pale in comparison to Imperial Servant Zheng Luo’s. I’ve heard tales of her musical talents, but few seem to know she is also a phenomenal dancer, artist, and calligrapher as well.”

Luo-Luo tensed up at the lead dancer’s declaration, because how would this Central Province performer know of her skills? An Imperial Noble must have shared this knowledge with him, but Lord Husband pressed on without notice. “I’ve been busy the last year, so I’ve never seen her dance,” he admitted, shrugging for added effect, “But you’re right about the rest. She’s a brilliant woman of many talents, and I am lucky to have her.”

Though she knew his words were only for the audience’s benefit, Luo-Luo’s heart melted as he half-turned and offered her a warm smile. Hugging Roc close, she hid her blushing cheeks in his feathers and imagined what life would be like if Lord Husband truly loved her, as he so very clearly loved Yan, Mila, and Lin-Lin.

Wonderful is how it would be. Just wonderful...

“Indeed.” Shaking his head in apparent regret, the lead dancer continued, “You would do well to guard her more closely. To think, such a fine woman of impeccable breeding was almost spirited away by bandits on your journey here. What a shame that would have been, to see this fresh flower... spoiled by improper care.”

A subtle pause, to make others think of the idiom ‘a fresh flower stuck in cow dung’, but Lord Husband paid it no mind, though Luo-Luo wanted to hurl her sofa down at the stage. “Bandits?” he scoffed. “Any idiot with half a brain can tell those weren’t bandits.”

Well played, calling the dancer a brainless idiot without outright stating it, though still too forthright for Luo-Luo’s tastes. Ready with his response, the dancer said, “Oh? Were they not bandits? I heard differently, but if not bandits, then who would dare attack an Imperial Consort?”

“Even children eventually learn not to believe everything they hear and think for themselves,” Lord Husband replied, striking back with yet another less-than-subtle jab. “What sort of bandits would attack a ten-thousand strong military convoy led by a Colonel General? Or operate here, on the front lines, surrounded by the greatest concentration of soldiers the Empire has ever seen? Bandits? No, my people were attacked by hidden Experts bearing Spiritual Weapons under orders from my enemies, that much is clear.”

“The greatest risks offer the greatest rewards,” the lead dancer replied, his smug smirk filling Luo-Luo with anger. His dancing wasn’t so sublime after all, and his singing only above average at best. “So it wouldn’t be too far a stretch to believe these powerful bandits were motivated by greed, but I suppose if I had as many enemies as you did, I too would see them lurking in every shadow.”

Lord Husband shrugged. “Judge a man by the reputation of his enemies,” he said, with the rote monotone of man reading a wise quote, and Luo-Luo marked this one down for posterity. “For example, I doubt anyone would bother sending assassins after, say... oh, I don’t know, a trumped up play-boy of a painted dancer?” Waving a hand in dismissal even as the crowd gasped, he continued, “Anyway, enough about me. This is your opera, and you said you were hoping to hear what I thought of your show right? Go ahead.” Seeing the dancer’s angered confusion, Lord Husband clarified, “Between the dark ambience, the comfortable seating, and the long journey here, I fell asleep before seeing much, so if you want my opinion, you’ll have to dance. So dance, painted boy, dance. Don’t be shy, go on and shake your tail-feathers.”

The last bit was punctuated by an exaggerated swing of Lord Husband’s hips, and the crowd erupted into laughter once again, but Luo-Luo sensed something amiss, a hint of tension in the air which hadn’t been there before. A brief look around revealed the source of said tension, for all of Lord Husband’s friends had stopped laughing, save for Young Magistrate Fung who was doing a passable job of faking it. Beside him, Seoyoon sat upright and ready, with her two sword-maidens prepared to leap forward and defend her. Zian, BoShui, and Ji Yeon were not quite as obvious as Seoyoon, but not by much, while Lady Da’in and Jing Fei both lounged with similar deceptive ease, the latter pressed against her husband’s arm while the former kept a proper distance away.

Lord Husband was nervous too, but he was better at hiding it than she ever would have expected. His shoulders were loose, his stance firm, head held high, and shoulders square, the very picture of a confident young warrior standing at ease, but as she watched him slowly lean to his left, and then back to his right, she realized he was quietly limbering up to move quickly if need be. All this meant Lord Husband was clearly in danger, no doubt from the lead dancer whom he was slowly goading into anger with his casual contempt, but the question remained: why?

Also, since Lord Husband’s initial confusion and his friends’ laughter were entirely genuine, they were clearly all communicating through Sending, so why was Luo-Luo left out of the loop?

“What’s the matter?” Lord Husband taunted, seeing the dancer standing utterly still on stage, save for the rise and fall of his shoulders as he struggled to contain his rage. “Oh, I get it, it’s because we already got all the dancing we paid for today. This is your livelihood we’re talking about here, so you can’t be dancing for free. Tell you what, I’ll match what you earned in ticket sales today, just to ensure you don’t make a loss. Would you accept my word, or should I start throwing coins on stage one at a time? I’ll send my people to bring a chest, but since it’ll take awhile, we might as well start now.”

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“Enough!” Forceful as the dancer’s delivery was, it came moments too late as a single coin clattered down beside him. By some stroke of luck, the coin bounced on its edge once, twice, then went on to roll about unhindered, circling the stage for long seconds until its forward momentum was spent. Then, as it fell on its side, the coin clinked and clattered with increasing frequency for long, tense moments of clamour, until it finally came to stop with a faint, metallic ring.

“Oops,” Lord Husband said, speaking quietly into ensuing silence. “Accidentally threw a copper.”

Fung’s snort of laughter sounded genuine to Luo-Luo’s ears, and it set off a good half of the audience, if not more. She was missing something here, and it most likely had to do with the talented dancer’s identity, which she’d paid no mind to because Shen ZhenWu’s note had implied the danger would be at the tea-house, not the opera show. More fool her then, but she would not make this mistake twice. “No wonder you’ve so many enemies,” the mysterious dancer began, his faintly quivering feathers giving away his barely repressed anger, “With behaviour as boorish as yours.”

“Oh lighten up. We’re all here at the opera house to have fun.” And from what Luo-Luo could tell, Lord Husband was clearly enjoying himself despite the apparent danger, wholly in his element playing this game of cat and mouse. “Unless we’re not.” Tilting his head, Lord Husband asked, “Are we? Here to have fun? Because if not, then maybe you should stop playing games and tell me why we’re really here.”

Swallowing a gasp of amazement, Luo-Luo marvelled at how neatly Lord Husband cut his opponent’s legs out from under him, having emerged the clear winner in this battle of wits. While he might have lost face playing the fool earlier on, this final statement turned everything around onto his enemies instead. ‘If you want to play games,’ Lord Husband was saying, ‘Then I shall play, and we can both play in circles and nothing of note will ever get done.’ This was a declaration of intent, plain and simple, telling everyone that Falling Rain was sick of playing games, and no longer cared to entertain them.

Or conversely, ‘Play games, and you will be played. Speak plainly, and you will be respected.’

Perhaps not the best message to send during a time of uncertain diplomatic tension, but one so masterfully delivered, it left Luo-Luo breathless in amazement.

“A starving camel is still larger than a healthy horse.” Though clearly furious, the dancer magnanimously clasped his hands in a salute out of feigned respect for Lord Husband’s clever ploy. “Very well then. There has been many a tale of Imperial Consort Falling Rain’s discerning eye, and how even with a shattered Core, he is able to offer keen insight into the Forms. Thus, I, Ishin Ken-Shibu, humbly request Imperial Consort Falling Rain bestow his vaunted guidance upon this ‘trumped up play-boy of a painted dancer’.”

Drawing in a deep breath, Luo-Luo finally realized who their opponent was, a young Martial Warrior of thirty-three years second only to Ryo Da’in herself within their generation. Uncle Yo had warned Rain to be wary of the Ishin family, for they were diametrically opposed to the Ryo family in every possible way. Ishin Shigen, the family patriarch and Ken-Shibu’s father, was Ryo Dae Jung’s rival in the Sword King’s earlier years, but had long since been left behind by his meteoric rise. However, ten years ago, their family rivalry was rekindled when Da’in humiliated Ken-Shibu in a public match, one fought in retaliation for spreading false rumours alleging the young Ishin Scion had ‘plucked her flower’ and would soon take her as his concubine. Thus, Da’in made her debut into the Hwarang at nineteen years young by stepping over the fallen form of twenty-four years old Ishin Ken-Shibu, and soon after took her place as the Number one Talent in Central, a title she held for six years until time and age forced her to relinquish it.

Though never able to surpass Da’in, Ken-Shibu was currently the only person to ever fight her to a draw, even though their match took place only a week after she aged out of the Hwarang. Still, in their many subsequent spars, Ken-Shibu proved he had the strength to stand against Da’in, though not outright defeat her, and many claimed he might soon surpass her once he inevitably became a Peak Expert. Regardless of his reasons, Ken-Shibu was clearly here to humiliate Lord Husband and smear what little reputation he still had left to him, but Lord Husband was not so easily snared. “And why should I?”

Caught off-guard by such apathy, Ken-Shibu straightened up in surprise. “What?”

“Why should I,” Lord Husband began, gripping the railing to lean over the banister, “Offer my ‘vaunted guidance’ to you? Just because you asked nicely? I mean, it was very gracious and humble of you to lower your head, but I’m a busy man with things to do and places to be. I don’t have time to teach every random nobody who accosts me in an opera house.” Holding his hand out in blatant demand, he added, “What I’m saying is my time is valuable, so you need to make it worth my while.”

Oh Mother in Heaven, how could Luo-Luo have ever thought Lord Husband was unskilled in diplomacy? He simply played by different rules, and his schemes were dazzling to behold. Having already offered to generously pay Ken-Shibu for his time, no one could say Lord Husband was being greedy by asking for the same. Giddy with awe and delight, she watched the audience reevaluating Lord Husband, wondering if they’d all been fooled by this supposed uncultured savage, and if they should rethink their stance in the following days. Brilliant, utterly brilliant, and all done without prompting or preparation.

Unaccustomed to haggling, Ken-Shibu immediately gave away the initiative by asking, “What is it you want?”

“An hour of your time.” Grinning like a fiend, Lord Husband explained, “I offer you five minutes of guidance, and you put on a one hour dance show for my troops at a time of my choosing. You choose the dance and you don’t have to sing, but I choose the outfit and you dance for the whole hour. The clock stops when you take a break or go in for a wardrobe change, of which there will be many.”

...This was all awfully specific for Lord Husband to come up with on the spot.

“...Thirty minutes of guidance, and I must approve of all outfits beforehand.”

“Fifteen is as high as I can go, and no make-up or masks while dancing.”

“The venue must be private.”

“Paid for by you, must be large enough for ten-thousand guests, and subject to my approval.”

“The stage is to remain clear at all time, else the remaining time is forfeit.”

“The dance must be an actual dance, subject to interpretation by Imperial Servant Zheng Luo.”

“...I accept.”

“We have a deal then.” Their somewhat embarrassing negotiation complete, Lord Husband turned on his heels and spoke over his shoulder. “I’m coming down to watch from stage side. Be right there.” Giving Roc a pat on the head, Lord Husband smiled at Luo-Luo and said, “Stay here. Kuang Biao, keep Luo-Luo safe.” Glancing at both back corners of the room, Lord Husband frowned, turned to the back right corner, and asked, “Naaran, could I trouble you to stay here with Luo-Luo as well? The others will refuse, but if you’re unwilling, I can send for more guards instead.” Wincing from some Sent scolding, Lord Husband grinned and mouthed, ‘Thanks’ at the shadowy corner before leaving Luo-Luo with a wink.

So distracted by watching him leave, Luo-Luo didn’t even notice Da’in moving about until the formidable woman sank down beside her. “He is an interesting man,” Da’in Sent, utterly relaxed save for her half-lidded fox eyes studying Luo-Luo’s expression. “Tell me, why did he go down and put himself in danger? I’ve no doubt surly Binesi is chewing him out as we speak, and I am loathe to admit it, but the Major would be right to.”

Unfortunately, Luo-Luo had no idea what Lord Husband’s plans were, but she had no intention of showing her hand. Instead, she merely smiled and nodded towards the stage, as if to say, ‘wait and see’.

It felt like an eternity passed before Lord Husband reappeared, leisurely making his way to stage side without a care in the world. How many Concealed guards were there with him? Luo-Luo cuddled Roc close and prayed the answer was ‘enough’, for if their enemies struck now and succeeded, then Ken- Shibu and the Ishin family would likely be blamed, which might be well worth the price to the right Imperial Noble. Thankfully, no assassins appeared out of thin air aiming for his life, and Luo-Luo made sure her sceptre was within reach if attackers should appear here, but with so many formidable warriors around her, she was unlikely to have need of it.

Still... she would very much like to redeem herself for her poor showing two nights ago, when she stood frozen in fear and watched Li-Li take grievous injury just to keep Luo-Luo safe. The cut was so deep, you could see the bone, yet the formidable half-cat barely even batted an eye...

Then there was no more time for regrets as Lord Husband finally arrived, standing in the middle of the aisle about five metres from the stage. “A short demonstration, if you please. Explaining takes longer than observing, especially if I end up having to repeat myself. Also, don’t move too quickly, else I won’t be able to see it.”

"Very well.” Brimming with the confidence of a man who’s rigged the game, Ken-Shibu flourished his swords once again. They were different from Zian’s curved sabres, and not at all like Lord Husband’s old short-sword, but Luo-Luo was no student of weaponry and didn’t have a name for them.

They were both very pretty, with hilts wrapped in silver wire and studded with a fortune in blue sapphires and clear diamonds. The right one was long and thin, the left shorter and wider, and both were straight, double-edged, and viciously pointed, but that was all she could say of the weapons themselves.

Then Ken-Shibu moved, and the two swords came to life, spinning through the air in a metallic blur. He spun in circles as well, his feet in constant motion as he danced across the stage to the beat of his humming swords, moving neither fast nor slow, but at a steady and sedate pace. Round and round he went, man and swords moving as one in a hypnotic pattern of blurred steel and flashing light which blended perfectly with Ken-Shibu’s striking robes and colourful feathers. Though Luo-Luo thought his opera performance sublime, this sword-work took her breath away, for it was both beautiful and deadly, a continuous flow of motion punctuated by lightning fast thrusts and slashes meant to slaughter imaginary foes.

And then, as suddenly as it began, it was all over, with Ken-Shibu having made a full circuit of the stage and returned to his initial starting position. “Please,” he said, not even short of breath as he politely saluted with both swords reversed in his hands. “Your guidance would be much appreciated.”

“Very pretty,” Lord Husband replied, carelessly leaving his neck exposed as he lifted himself on stage. There was no grace in his movements, no beauty in the mount, for Lord Husband merely hopped up and sat on the stage before bringing his legs around and over, much like how an older toddler might climb stairs. “Not very practical though.”

Smirking as Lord Husband dusted off his pants, Ken-Shibu smiled at the audience as if sharing some private joke. “Please, enlighten us all.”

“Sure.” Holding out both hands, Lord Husband stood silent for long seconds and said, “Swords please, unless you’d prefer I show you empty handed. I don’t mind, but you’re paying for the lesson, so I figure I should give it my all.”

Clearly suspicious of Lord Husband, Ken-Shibu eventually handed over his Spiritual Weapons hilt first and Lord Husband stepped away to test them. “Lighten them please,” he said, while bringing the swords about in a slow routine, very similar to those stylish flourishes Ken-Shibu so loved. “And Hone the longer one. I’m much shorter than you are, which means I’ll have to carve up your stage a little to make the same movements. Little lighter. Too much, back a bit. Perfect. Hold it just like that and get off the stage.”

Once Ken-Shibu was in place, Lord Husband smiled and said, “Watch carefully and listen.”

And then he was off, mimicking Ken-Shibu’s movements at about three-quarter speed. “You move using Coiling the Nest,” he began, slowly but confidently twirling himself around while his blades danced through the air, in complete control at all times. “It looks nice, but one, it’s stupid to spin around in battle, and two, you’re moving in an incredibly predictable pattern. Watch my steps, because they’re the same as yours, and you’ll see what I mean. One-two three, one-two three, one-two three, one. Stutter-step, then back to one-two three, one-two three.” Stopping in place, Lord Husband returned to his starting point and explained, “You do that the whole circuit. It’s terrible. Anyone with eyes will stab you in the foot, because by repeating the three same steps over and over again, you’re telling them exactly where your foot will be at any given time. Also, your ‘three’ step is this wide sweeping circle that could easily be interrupted, and that stutter-step is an open invitation to catch you off balance and sweep you off your feet, so you should stop using both those steps so habitually.”

Though unable to see Ken-Shibu’s face with his back turned as it was, Luo-Luo could hear the chill in his tone at being publicly talked down to by a man more than a decade his junior. “The footwork is merely to show off the flexibility of my swordplay,” Ken-Shibu said, so defensively that even Luo-Luo could tell he thought Lord Husband was right.

“You say this, but bad habits have a tendency to pop up at the worst moments. Practice does not make perfect. Perfect practice makes perfect, so never settle for anything less than your best.”

“...Understood.” Luo-Luo could almost hear Ken-Shibu grinding his teeth. “The swordplay then?”

“Interesting stuff, but not really all that different from your footwork, just flashier and slightly more complicated.” Having followed along with Lord Husband’s explanation, Luo-Luo hadn’t paid much mind to his sword work, but to the best of her knowledge, it had seemed every bit as flawless as his footwork, and he demonstrated it once again. “Your swords are constantly in motion, ready to attack or defend, and from what I can tell, you stick to multiple variations of four similar Movements: Sweeps the Rushes, Rending Fang, Crooked Claw, and Standing Fury.” Hearing Lord Husband call out their names while going through the motions, Luo-Luo thought she could see the base Movements in his twisting, rotating motions, but she wasn’t entirely sure. “The interesting part,” Lord Husband continued, moving beyond the point he last stopped at, “Is how you shift the patterns in subtle ways to mislead your opponents. Very clever, because you start off with one, two, three, four, one, two, three, four, getting them used to the pattern. Then you switch it around, with one, two, four, three, then next is four, one, three, two. Mixing familiar with unfamiliar, interrupt their flow and pick it back up at a different beat, very disorienting for anyone not paying close attention.”

...Which of course, was Ken-Shibu’s goal. To confuse and confound Lord Husband, so even if he did offer proper guidance, Ken-Shibu could then turn around and claim his guidance was flawed. A crafty trap within a trap, playing on Lord Husband’s over-confidence, but this only showed they didn’t know him at all. Lord Husband continued spouting off numbers and offering criticism until he finished the circuit, at which point his shirt and brow was starting to show signs of sweat and his chest heaved ever so slightly from the brief bout of exertion. “Whew,” he said, slumping down in a show of fatigue, playing it up instead of hiding it. “You need to work on your Lightening control too, it was slipping and varying at the end there. Anyways, like I said, pretty, but hardly practical, much like the gems in your sword. Stick to dancing, because the Defiled will literally eat you alive on the battlefield.” Winking as he tossed Ken-Shibu’s swords towards him, he added, “Contact me once you’ve picked out a venue, and I’ll bring the costumes for you to look at.”

“Hold on.” Unwilling to give up so easily, Ken-Shibu growled, “The deal was for fifteen minutes, and my time is not yet up.” Leaping on stage with effortless grace, he flourished his swords once again and growled, “I won’t challenge a cripple, so call your friends down and I’ll show you how I’d fare against the Defiled.”

Luo-Luo’s heart skipped a beat as what she dreaded most had finally happened. By calling Lord Husband a cripple, Ken-Shibu had thrown away all pretenses of face, and Lord Husband’s response would set the standard for all other public interactions from here on out. Thankfully, he didn’t respond with anger or vitriol, nor did he even respond right away. Instead, he stared for long seconds before shaking his head, before asking, “Have you ever seen a million Defiled, gathered on the fields across from you? I have. Most of you here probably haven’t, and don’t think much of it. It’s only a million Defiled. Just more bodies to cut through, right?” Lord Husband’s voice hardened, so haunted and hurt. “It’s not. You might understand what the number means conceptually, but I don’t think any of you truly comprehend how staggering a number one million really is.” Taking a deep breath, Lord Husband turned to address the crowd and pointed at his feet. “If I were to stand here and count the seconds until I reached one million, it would take me eleven days, thirteen hours, forty-six minutes, and forty seconds. That’s one million seconds. Eleven and a half days, let’s call it. Think about that for a bit, and translate that to Defiled on the battlefield.” Turning back to Ken-Shibu, Lord Husband bared his teeth and said, “There are tens of millions of Defiled out there, possibly even more now since they’ve captured the West. If you want to show off how you’d fare against them, then head West and show the Empire. Dance with the Defiled and make it back alive to prove me wrong. Until such a time, you are, in my eyes, nothing more than a trumped up play-boy of a painted dancer.”

Jumping off the stage to land with an admittedly ungainly thump, Lord Husband stalked away and said, “Forget the payment. We’ll say this first lesson is free, because I’ve no more time to quibble with dancers. I’ve got a date with my mother at a tea-house to get to.”

Her heart swelling with pride, Luo-Luo hugged Roc ever so tightly as she gathered her things and raced out the room after him, so pleased by how Lord Husband handled things. Today, he showed Central that he was clever, but aloof, crippled, but not useless, and most importantly, proud, but also filial.

She was right to trust in Lord Husband’s judgment instead of endlessly pestering him about politics and decorum. Honestly, today couldn’t have gone better if she’d planned it all out herself.

Chapter Meme