Having been repeatedly warned about what to expect, Song arrived at the banquet expecting to sit through a storm of implied threats and indirect insults, which would undoubtedly culminate with one or more bloody duels to the death as Rain escalated matters beyond everyone’s control with his vicious and indiscreet remarks.
Or at least that’s what Teacher Du, Major Binesi, Luo-Luo, and Merchant Shi-Woo had been trying to avoid with their constant and in-depth advice, but after an hour of sitting on the edge of her seat in a mixture of nervous apprehension and eager anticipation, Song realized Central nobility had strange notions regarding what they considered insulting. Take the matter with the Herald, for example, which had so many faces in the seated crowd hiding smiles or feigning shock, all because the man ‘forgot’ to introduce Rain’s guests by name and title. It felt odd to consider this an insult, as Song had taken it in stride and almost marched into the banquet hall before noticing Rain and Luo-Luo had stopped, but this was as direct a snub as one could give when inviting someone to a gathering.
Small wonder why Central nobles had this custom of arranging for their most important guests to arrive last, because those who arrived first had to sit around for hours while the Herald announced each and every person who came in after them...
The Bekhai delegation was subjected to several more indignities, but it all seemed so silly and inconsequential. For example, as a guest of honour, Rain and Luo-Luo should have been seated on stage, but instead they were given a table beside the stage, supposedly so Ping Ping could rest behind them. Again, Song saw nothing wrong with this until Rain had his Death Corps guards move his table into the conspicuously empty space beside him on the edge of the stage, placing him with the other guests of honour while still sitting close to Ping Ping, who was happily munching on cabbage and smoked fish in her corner. The original seating arrangement was another insult then, perhaps meant to imply Rain was beneath the other guests in every way, but considering how he shared the stage with five Colonel Generals and the Legate, it hardly needed to be said.
Honestly, Song was surprised Rain even bothered moving his table, since he wasn’t someone who took pride or pleasure from sitting in front of a crowd, so it had probably been done at Luo-Luo’s bidding. The Imperial Servant was a gentle and genial woman, but like the nobles of Central, she had a strange sense of propriety. In Song’s eyes, moving their table seemed more embarrassing than not sitting on stage, but judging from the chorus of gasps which accompanied Rain’s ‘brazen’ repositioning, his actions were somewhat effective, but why, she could not say.
Judging by Luo-Luo’s sour stares directed their way, Song surmised that the Bekhai's seats were less than ideal, but again, she saw nothing wrong with the arrangements. Perhaps the fourth row was too far back for Luo-Luo’s liking, or perhaps she found it insulting to have them at the end of the row, rather than closer to the middle aisle, but Song actually preferred things this way. She sat at the very end of her row, with Sister Mila on her right and no one on her left, save for the poor servants standing at full attention against the wall about five meters away. This gave Song plenty of room to draw her sabre if need be, but it also meant she didn’t have to sit beside someone she didn’t know, like poor Kyung sitting with Teacher Du at the other end of their party.
There was only one minor issue Song had, which was that they were seated at individual one-person tables. This made it almost impossible to hide Princess from sight, but Song was hoping it wouldn’t be an issue since the Herald clearly saw the weasel-bear inside her bag and said nothing. At least Princess wasn’t constantly growling and snarling anymore, content to burrow into the shoulder-bag Rain purchased for this very reason. She took to the luggage the moment Song put it on, climbing in and curling up with what sounded like a relieved sigh as the flap closed over her head. Princess seemed mighty pleased with her new means of conveyance and even slept inside it last night, which was good because otherwise Song would’ve been forced to bring the weasel-bear around in an under-arm carry, for she refused to be held in any other way.
Clever of Rain to notice Princess didn’t like having her back exposed, but he’d always been observant when it came to dealing with animals. Granted, Yan and Mila often teased him about the time he almost died trying to charm a giant snake, but that was a long time ago, and he’d come a long way since, or so Song assumed.
Unfortunately, the shoulder bag was far from a perfect solution, but it was the best they had. Song had to hang it on her right side to keep it from getting in the way of drawing her saber, and with only one shoulder strap, the bag swung around far too much in an actual fight, which was made worse by how deceptively heavy Princess actually was. Miss Eun, who’d recently taken up sewing outfits for all of Rain’s pets, including the frilly, colourful dress Princess was currently wearing, had seen Song struggling during practice and offered to put together a more practical bag to carry the weasel-bear in, but until it was finished, this shoulder-bag would have to suffice. To make matters worse, Princess insisted on poking her cute weasel face out of the bag to keep an eye on her surroundings, which while adorable, was impossible to hide with just Song’s hand. Thus far no one had mentioned Princess, and Song was hoping it would remain this way, despite what was written on Rain’s invitation.
Why wouldn’t they let him bring his pets anyways? They were mostly well behaved and there was plenty of room next to Ping Ping. It was as nonsensical as letting Rain show up in full battle dress, but Song had been forced to leave her Runic armour behind simply by virtue of being a woman. Miss Eun had strange ideas of propriety and decorum, but she was the expert, so Song heeded the advice despite sorely wishing she had her armour’s comforting weight settled atop her shoulders.
Since Sister Mila was still immersed in Insight, Song idled the time away by applauding as each guest was announced, as well as quietly playing with Princess. Playing might be too strong a word, but the weasel-bear sat still and didn’t snap while Song stroked her head and whiskers, nor did she flinch at the near-constant, thunderous applause. Almost half an hour passed by before Colonel General Nian Zu finally arrived, with Junior Brother Fung and the rest of Rain’s friends taking their seats in the second row, but on the other side of the aisle from Song and the rest of the Bekhai. Song worried for him sitting so far away, so hopefully, Mama had provided Junior Brother with proper escorts, as the silly man only brought his manservant into the party with him.
The half-weasel Fu Zhu Li wasn’t even sitting at a table, and instead stood with the other servants with back against the wall, easily discernible from his black and blue robes amidst the red and yellow liveried servants...
Then, all that was left was to wait for the Legate, who arrived in full Imperial regalia whilst standing atop a palanquin borne by two dozen Death Corps guards. The gathered guest stood, cheered, and applauded with falsified vigour and enthusiasm, while Song inwardly rolled her eyes at the silly games. Those poor Death Corps soldiers, forced to lift the Legate’s palanquin high above their heads so that at no point would the Imperial Scion ever be standing below anyone else in the banquet hall, including the elevated guests of honour. Stepping off his palanquin and directly onto the stage, the Legate took a few minutes to smile and allowed the honoured guests to greet him one by one, while his Death Corps guards circled around and placed the palanquin on top of the stage in a central position. The black-armoured guards then proceeded to move the Legate’s table back and away from the other honoured guests and onto the palanquin, using it as an impromptu dais to elevate his position even more.
Which more than anything showed that while Central Nobles enjoyed playing games of politics, Imperial Scions lived and breathed them.
On a lesser note, this made Song feel a little better about Rain’s Death Corps guards moving his table, since no one would dare complain now that the Legate had done the same. Intentional or coincidental, Song could not say, and she likely wasn’t the only one pondering this particular matter. Unperturbed by the whispers of the crowd, the Legate and Rain’s greeting went by without incident, at which point the Imperial Scion sauntered back over to his palanquin and stepped up to give a long and inspiring speech. Thank you for coming, formidable heroes of the Empire, defending borders and standing strong, a quick reference to the Empire’s storied history, and so on and so forth, the speech touched on many of the same notes as the Legate’s speech in Nan Ping, only tailored for a more elite audience. Oddly enough, Song found it strange how she remembered his first speech as being so utterly inspiring, while this one felt rather lacking in comparison. How, she couldn’t say, because he was certainly well-spoken and charismatic enough, but this time, there was something different, something missing, something which made it more insipid than inspiring. A quick scan around showed that almost everyone else was entranced by the banal rhetoric, save for maybe Mila, Yan, and Alsantset who were too preoccupied to notice, and Rain and Dastan who were exchanging inquiring glances on stage.
Perhaps this was the mystical, Aura-like ability Rain brought up every so often when trying to understand Luo-Luo’s musical abilities, but why wasn’t Song affected this time around?
Making a note to ask Rain about it later, Song patted Princess’s head and tried to soothe the weasel-bear’s nerves, as she’d reverted to snarling and growling once more. A shame, but at least it wasn’t loud, though Song could feel the weasel-bear’s torso vibrating through the thick leather bag, and her fur bristled so much it felt like petting a pincushion. Truth be told, it didn’t take much to set Princess off, but she seemed especially angry at this particular moment, matched only by her rage whenever Rain tried to pet her. Thankfully, Princess was a forgiving soul who rarely followed up on her threats, and she settled down as the Legate’s speech concluded and the audience responded with thunderous applause.
Maybe the weasel-bear just liked loud, tumultuous noises, and her growling was something to fill the silence...
The moment the Legate’s speech concluded, the room burst into a flurry of motion as dozens of ensconced doors swung open to reveal lines of servants pushing small handcarts. The servants standing along the walls joined their cart-laden comrades to deliver the first course of tonight’s banquet, a fragrant dish of juicy jumbo prawns and lobster noodles topped with steamed bamboo shoots, braised tofu, and succulent, savoury mushrooms. It seemed rather wasteful to have three servants deliver a single plate, one to push the cart, one to set the table, and one to place the meal, but seeing how quick and efficient they were, Song could hardly complain.
A shame Rain’s table was so far away, because he hated mushrooms and Song was always happy to take them off his hands, but now Luo-Luo was the sole beneficiary of his picky eating habits...
According to Teacher Du, the first course was the signal to start what he called the caterwauling phase of the night. While Song nibbled on her delicious prawns, she watched a steady stream of guests make their way up to stand in front of the stage, where they stopped to bow, grovel, and bootlick the Legate and all the guests of honour in turn before retreating to their seats at the back of the banquet hall. It was considered gauche and impolite to use Chi in the course of these dialogues, whether it be through Sending or Speaking, but that didn’t stop these lesser-ranked guests from shouting to be heard. Not just by the guests of honour, but also by the rest of the audience, who of course came in after them and wouldn’t have heard the Herald’s introduction.
All in all, the caterwauling phase was an apt name, for they were like feral cats screeching into the night in hopes of attracting someone’s attention.
Since Sister Mila only needed minimal supervision whilst eating, Song kept a close eye on the caterwauling callers. Most were individuals of middling status, from Lieutenant Colonels to Lieutenant Marshals, and they all behaved like they existed on the bottom rungs of society, which only proved that this banquet hall was packed to the brim with Imperial aristocrats. Most guests received little more than a nod or a smile from the guests of honour, busy as they were eating the first course, but Rain had placed his meal aside and was doing a passable job interacting with them. They didn’t seem to know how to react to such a warm greeting, and most seemed wary of his intentions. Eventually, after hearing no less than eight guests profess shock and loudly proclaim how they had nothing to do with Falling Rain or the Bekhai, Song finally caught on to the game. By appearing friendly with these guests, Rain was making their backers in the audience wonder if their lackeys were as loyal as they thought, though Song was almost certain he hadn’t thought that far ahead. Seeing the discarded shells of the prawns and lobster so neatly stacked atop his plate, she surmised Rain didn’t like the noodles, but also didn’t want to be seen picking at his food in idle boredom. The conversation was probably his way of being polite, as well as an excuse to look busy and ignore his food.
Would it be impolite to walk over and take his plate away? There were still plenty of mushrooms and tofu left to be eaten, not to mention the delicious, stir-fried noodles themselves...
The caterwauling continued throughout the second course, a succulent selection of roasted suckling pig, fragrant-oil infused chicken, and grilled garlic beef spare-ribs which Song devoured with delight. She shared some with Princess too, but the weasel-bear didn’t care much for anything cooked, salted, smoked, or spoiled, which was why Song jokingly picked the name for her in the first place. Princess wanted only the finest cuts of raw, freshly slaughtered meat, and would turn her nose up at anything else, unless there was honey involved. Then she would grunt with inelegant enthusiasm and paw away at Song’s hands in demand that she share the delicious treat.
That was how she knew Princess had a sweet and kind soul, always so gentle with her sharp talons and powerful jaws...
As the third course arrived, a savoury bird’s-nest soup, the lower-ranked guests finished their rounds and it was time for the mid-ranked guests to approach the stage. This would go on for the bulk of the courses, as these mid-ranked guests were less important than the guests of honour, but many wielded comparable power to Marshals and Colonel Generals. This meant they could hardly be expected to queue up just to greet the guests of honour, so they came one at a time, in an order determined by the Legate’s Seneschal, who played his part perfectly while running back and forth all night. Had Rain not identified him as Solitary Sword Zhang Jun Bao, Song would have never imagined that the Legate’s scholarly and docile seneschal had once defeated Teacher Du in their youth.
How many others were like Zhang Jun Bao, former top talents of the outer provinces now working as Imperial attendants? Was this what the Legate had planned for Rain? If so, then perhaps the Legate should thank Rain for turning down his offer, because no amount of training could ever make Falling Rain as humble and obedient as the Seneschal, or teach him how to still his expressions around company...
With how slow things were proceeding, only five guests had gone up before it came time to serve the fourth course, a whole steamed fish with ginger and spring onions. Sadly, there was a time when Rain hated fish too, but he’d grown a taste for it in their time in Central, as it was the most readily available fresh meat Central had to offer. While wistfully wishing she had more fish, Song noted that every one of those five esteemed guests had ignored Rain’s presence, skipping over him entirely while greeting everyone else. Rain didn’t seem to mind and was eating with genuine gusto, but Luo-Luo was clearly miffed and pointedly ignoring all guests that ignored them while somehow also glaring daggers at the same time.
Thus far, all the rude guests had all been from Central, and Song wasn’t familiar with any of them, so it was hardly surprising that they would all snub Rain. What worried her more was how they’d all been called up first by the Legate. Was this an insult directed at Rain, to show how the Legate expected everyone to treat him, or was it a veiled insult towards the Central Nobility, placing them first and therefore of least importance? Either way, it was a good thing Sister Mila was so distracted chomping on her fishbones and ruminating on Insight, because otherwise she would be fuming at this blatant show of disrespect. Without Mama here to keep her calm, Song worried Sister Mila would lose her temper and snap at one of Rain’s enemies, which wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but it seemed like Rain was handling things in his own peculiar manner.
Three more guests were called up, including the Ishin family Patriarch, Ishin Shigen, who brought his family with him, including his son Ken-Shibu, who had an altercation with Rain at the opera house two days past. Also there was Ken-Shibu’s younger half-brother, the twenty-seven year old Ken-Kichi, who followed in his half-brother’s footsteps by also being overshadowed by a Ryo family scion, the only son and middle child Geom-Chi. Still, the Ishin brothers were both formidable warriors, and their father was a Peak Expert of high renown, though the wife up there with them seemed a harmless sort, being mother to neither son and possibly younger than both.
Like all the other mid-ranked guests thus far, the Ishin family ignored Rain, or at least they tried to until he picked up a piece of chicken with his chopsticks. Instead of eating it, he held it up before him while conversing with Luo-Luo. Poor manners on his part, but a closer inspection showed that he was holding a drumstick and was subtly shaking it back and forth in a slow, swaying motion, reminiscent of when he told Ken-Shibu to ‘shake his tail-feathers’.
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Which of course enraged Ken-Shibu so much that his father had to forcibly turn him away in an effort to keep him from glaring at Rain. Hard to pretend to overlook someone when one member of the group couldn’t look away, but Rain was pretending not to notice as he continued his conversation with Luo-Luo. As the crowd quieted down to watch the show, they learned their lively discussion was an in-depth explanation on how to identify each of his pet rabbits through their distinct facial markings, which soon had the whole audience trembling with anger or laughter.
Rain might not understand politics, but he had a gift for inciting rage in his enemies, whether it be accidental or by design.
In the end, the Ishins ignored Rain and plodded away with a political victory, but not a moral one as Rain bit into the drumstick with child-like glee the moment Ken-Shibu moved passed him, eliciting a chorus of muted titters from the audience. Following this outburst, the Seneschal brought up the next guests, a warrior family from the South whose names had far too many characters for Song to keep straight, especially since they were largely nonsensical names from a bygone culture. Unlike the Central guests, these Southerners were equally cordial and polite with every guest of honour, though perhaps a little warmer with Brigadier Chen Hongji than everyone else as they praised him for his efforts in defending the Empire. When they greeted Rain with polite nonchalance, he responded kindly, though made no effort to extend the conversation, which Song suspected had something to do with Luo-Luo’s whispered warning mere seconds before the southerners greeted them.
Were it up to him, Rain probably would have questioned the Southerners on Broken Blade Pichai’s whereabouts, as he’d been complaining for months now how the Living Legend refused to respond to his requests. For once, Song was in agreement, for it seemed rude to offer no answer at all, not even a brusque refusal.
The next few guests were also Southerners, and again they were inflexibly polite, neither friendly nor antagonistic in any way except with Chen Hongji. Luo-Luo had theorized the South was either trying to stay neutral in what they saw as an Imperial conflict, or they’d already taken a side and didn’t want it to be known, but Song was of a different mind. It was telling how there were no Southern representatives on stage and only two Southern parties seated in the first eight rows, so perhaps this united neutrality was a silent protest at having been overlooked for their part in Sinuji, and their efforts on the front lines in general.
Then again, their absence from the stage and front rows might be due to their aloof behaviour, so who could really say?
Regardless of the reason, it was clear the Southerners were the most united force in all the outer provinces. They all followed their Marshal’s orders, and Song was curious to know how someone who could barely be considered a Martial Warrior like Marshal Quyen Huong could command such steadfast obedience from the entirety of the Southern Province. Marshal Yuzhen approached her job like a glorified quartermaster, but Marshal Huong behaved more like a king and oddly enough, everyone else fell in line, including the Southern Colonel General who was in no way, shape, or form related to the Marshal himself.
Huong’s prized nephew, Dienne, supposedly even had a water feud with the Colonel General’s son, which was some Southern custom Song didn’t entirely understand, but she heard they’d come close to killing one another multiple times...
Regardless of her curiosity, Song was happy to ignore the proceedings as she polished off the fifth course of steamed scallops in spicy vermicelli noodles. Rain didn’t even try to pretend he might eat them, and Song was left staring in forlorn hope as the servants took his untouched plate away. There were some whispers of Rain’s poor appetite sounding out in the background, no doubt encouraged by the Ishin family and their supporters, but he was just a picky eater and would no doubt ask for seconds once they served something more suitable for his palate.
Which as it turned out, was not the sixth course, abalone with stir-fried vegetables which again went untouched by Rain, but the seventh course, roasted quail stuffed with fragrant fried rice. Not only did Rain eat his and Luo-Luo’s portion, the servants also brought him four more, prompting Brigadier Hongji to laugh out loud and make a quiet, friendly joke which ended with Rain sheepishly handing over two of his quails. A preventative measure to ensure no poison was involved? Or was the Brigadier as friendly as he appeared? Hard to say, as Song was a poor judge of character, but Rain seemed to like Hongji well enough. What’s more, the Brigadier had spent the entire night professing modesty and making sure everyone knew Falling Rain had been a major contributor to the planning process of the many ideas Hongji introduced, including the destructive blaze which claimed the lives of a half-million Defiled.
By now, the atmosphere had lightened up because all of Rain’s enemies had already come and gone, including the ever-antagonistic Situ Patriarch, Rang Min. Now it was time for Rain’s allies to make their presence known, and they did so in resounding fashion. Eccentric Gam and Wu Gam, High Elder Jin ZhiYa and Warrant Officer Jin ZhiLan, Healers Taiyi ZhuShen, Taokang Geyan, and Lishan Suzhen, all of them greeted Rain with booming enthusiasm and unprecedented familiarity, making them seem more like close friends than mutually beneficial allies. Marshal Yuzhen and Marshal Yo also made it known they were close with Rain, as did all of the high status guests attached to Rain’s friends, like Major General Han BoHai and former Lieutenant General Jia Yang. When it was Song’s turn to go up with Sister-in-Law Sarnai, she brought Mila out to greet everyone and even did a passable job of it too, though she did scowl at Lieutenant Colonel Mitsue Watanabe for leering a little too much. He did so at every single woman with Song save for sweet Tali, and her hand itched to draw her saber and teach this Central lecher some manners.
Upon returning to her seat, she discovered it was the moment she’d been waiting for all night, the eighth and final course of tonight’s banquet: dessert. The sweet scent of pastries set Princess to grunting, and for a moment, Song worried the weasel-bear would pop up out of her handbag, but thankfully she contented herself with dancing in impatience, or doing tippy taps as Rain so eloquently described it. Eyes widening as the servant placed down the tray of desserts, Song took in the magnificent sights and delectable scents even as her mouth watered in voracious delight. There was a warm, flaky egg tart, a rose-coloured peach-lotus bun, a bowl of piping hot tofu pudding in ginger syrup, a phoenix-shaped blob of mango pudding, an elaborately decorated honey-cake, and to wash it all down, a cup of chilled chrysanthemum sweet tea.
Despite all the assurances from Luo-Luo and Teacher Du, Song had been so worried that the banquet would be interrupted before they made it this far, but now that no longer was an issue. No matter what might happen next, it was all worthwhile just for this course alone, not to mention the seven delicious courses which preceded it. Splitting her honey-cake in half to share with Princess, Song bit in with a contented sigh and leaned over to share her happiness with Sister Mila, who absently tilted towards her so their heads were touching, all the while devouring her own desserts with unprecedented speed.
Song wanted to take her sweet time enjoying her dessert, but she almost immediately regretted the decision as a boisterous fake laugh cut through the crowd’s chatter. “Ha, Ha, Ha,” Mitsue Juichi enunciated, as if anyone ever naturally laughed in such an even, cadenced manner, made worse by his fake, falsetto voice. “This banquet has delivered fine food, fine wine, and fine company, but I fear it somewhat lacking in entertainment.” Turning to the Legate with a clasped fist salute, the Central Colonel General said, “I see so many young heroes in this fine banquet hall, and like all youths, I’m sure they’re all bored to tears from sitting around. Why not have them compare notes with their outer-province peers? Perhaps we’ll find another diamond in the rough.”
Stifling a sigh, Song stuffed the remainder of her honey-cake into her mouth, and set to work on the tofu pudding. It was best eaten while still hot, because the pastries were still good even after they cooled.
The Legate unenthusiastically agreed with Mitsue Juichi’s suggestion, and Song stood with bowl in hand while the servants moved their tables away to make room for a sparring area. Why couldn’t the Colonel General wait ten more minutes before opening his mouth? Teacher Du had warned them this would eventually happen, and they decided Song should answer the challenge first, because quite frankly, she was the least reputable youngster amongst Rain’s allies, save for perhaps Jin ZhiLan who was no match for these noble elites.
First up was another painted Central fop, who introduced himself as Yari Tetsudo and was almost dressed exactly like as Kyung was, right down to the white jade tablet on his belt. The family name was familiar, and Song placed it as one Mama told her to be on guard against, because the last time she visited Central, she slaughtered the former Yari Patriarch while fleeing for the Northern Province. Tetsudo was probably a grandson or grandnephew or something, wielding a wicked looking spear which he carried confidently over both shoulders. After bowing for the Legate, Tetsudo smirked at Rain and said, “I hear you taught Ishin Ken-Shibu a dear lesson, Imperial Consort. Why don’t you come down and teach this one a lesson as well?”
“Tch.” Sucking his teeth loudly, Rain made no effort to hide his irritation. “I knew it,” he said, shaking his head while swallowing another bite of mango pudding. “I shouldn’t have given that painted dancer a free lesson. Now everyone wants to learn from Falling Rain, and I’ve no time to enjoy my pastries.” Waving a hand in dismissal as his allies in the audience laughed, Rain continued, “Forget it. How do you people not understand this yet? I’m crippled. Stop bothering me and pick someone else to play-fight.”
Neither friend nor foe knew what to make of Rain’s blunt statement, and Song found herself smiling in amusement. Everyone expected him to dance around the topic and hide his shameful weakness for the sake of face, but Rain wielded his shattered Core proudly like a bloodied banner, as proof of what he’d been through. It made no sense to those who valued face so highly and left them wondering if he was truly crippled or merely playing a part, but it made perfect sense to anyone who’d ever known prolonged suffering. Weakness was temporary, for he was strong of will, and this shame and pain was far from enough to break him.
Leaving Tetsudo up there to stew a little longer, Song sacrificed her entire egg tart to Princess before hanging the shoulder bag on Mila’s arm. She’d tried this a handful of times with Medical Saint Taduk beside her, and Princess was the least perturbed when left with Sister Mila, as opposed to anyone else. Patting the weasel-bear’s head one last time, Song sighed and left her pastries behind to go meet with this insignificant challenger. Upon arriving in front of the stage, she bowed towards the Legate, idly wished she had her Runic armour and a decent pair of trousers, and said, “I, Li Song, daughter of Akanai and Husolt and Khishig of the Bekhai, am here to accept this challenge.”
“A half-cat?” Tetsudo sneered, his expression a mixture of anger and disbelief. “You, a slave, would match yourself against me?”
“Watch your tongue, Yari Tetsudo.” Laced with threat and warning, Rain narrowed his eyes and smiled. “The last person who insulted one of Divine Blacksmith Husolt’s daughters ended up as a messy stain on the ground shortly after. Besides, if you want to talk about status, then she clearly stands above you. Neither of you hold military rank, but she is the daughter of a Lieutenant General, and you are the son of a Brigadier.”
“Hmph.” Obviously still displeased but unable to argue without disregarding face, Tetsudo glanced at the Legate for a final verdict, but he was feigning disinterest in the proceedings as he had all night, and was currently staring off into the rafters while absently sipping his tea. Left with no other choice, Tetsudo snarled and readied his spear, obviously intending to make short work of Song. “Come then, half-cat. We’ve wasted enough time on this farce.”
Song agreed, so she took her stance and waited for Tetsudo to make the first move. It didn’t take long before he launched a direct attack, a powerful, two-handed lunging thrust which took full advantage of his ranged advantage. A textbook opening strike, with enough strength to end the battle immediately without committing himself wholly to the attack and leaving him vulnerable to a counter.
Unfortunately, it didn’t matter. From watching Kyung fight, Song learned that if her opponent did not leave himself vulnerable, then she would just have to make him vulnerable.
Like so many times before, she opened the battle with a quick-draw attack, her sabre scything out of the sheath in Tiger Swipes the Rushes. Matching aggression with more aggression, countering strength with more strength, Song put everything she had into this opening exchange, as she’d seen Kyung do multiple times on the battlefield not five days past. For two years, she’d wondered about where her Martial Path was supposed to lead, and her doubts and apprehensions had blinded her to the truth.
The bamboo grove granted her no compulsive Insights, because she had yet to make use of the Insights she already possessed.
Tiger Swipes the Rushes, a simple Movement, yet infinitely complex. To optimize the simple slash, there were three muscle groups to selectively Reinforce, five different timings at which she could Amplify her motions, nine different push-pull interactions to carry out, and seventeen pivot points upon which to accelerate. There might be more to the Movement, but this was the sum total of everything she knew and understood about it, so she put everything she had into this opening move, while leaving herself wholly open to a counter.
Sabre met spear in a crash of steel, and sabre won.
Feet lifted off the ground from the forceful impact, Tetsudo’s torso spun a full circle once, twice, and a third time before finally toppling to the ground. To his credit, he kept a firm enough hold on his spear so it slid across the ground, rather than shooting out of his hand like Song expected. She even angled her attack to send the Spiritual Weapon up at the roof so as not to injure anyone in the crowd, but her opponent was more tenacious than expected, a good reminder not to underestimate anyone taking part in tonight’s proceedings. Unable to push himself up with two broken arms, Tetsudo flopped onto his back and stared at Song in palpable horror, unable to comprehend how she put so much strength into a single, seemingly casual, one-handed swing of her sabre.
The answer? Mastery of the Forms. Ryo Da’in touted on about the benefits and held her father up as a shining example of their effectiveness, but Teacher Du had long since known the same. He taught Kyung how to tap into the hidden strengths of the Tiger Form, and those same secrets had been passed on to Song, but not in any discernible way, for there was more to it than simply following the motions or the placement of one’s feet. It was about the rhythm of movement and breathing, the flow between push and pull, the measure of speed and distance, the combination of tension and slack. There were a thousand details to note, but most could only be learned through experience and repetition, and for years now, Song had ignored the fruits of her lessons.
But not anymore. Teacher Du had already given Song all the tools she needed to excel, which was exactly what Mama, Tursinai, and so many others tried to tell her. All Song needed to do was take the time to familiarize herself with what she already possessed and learn how to use her tools in her own unique way.
...Well, that and follow through with her strikes. That was one major reason why she kept failing to create a new combination attack, because like Rain said, she kept trying to condense the four movements into one, when she should have instead created a new attack from the four movements. She still had a long way to go before succeeding in that endeavour, but today, in front of the highest echelons of nobility, she demonstrated that Li Song of the Bekhai, was a warrior worthy of the Khishigs.
Pride, joy, glee, and desire bubbled up from within, and Song wished Mama and Papa were here to see her. They weren’t though, so instead, she would give them a story worth hearing, one they could listen to time and time again. Reversing her grip on her sabre, she offered Tetsudo a salute before offering the same to the stunned, silent crowd. “Is there anyone else who would like to compare notes?”
Thankfully, pride was plentiful amongst young elites, and Song spotted several eager opponents, but it took some time for them to sort out their pecking order and send out their weakest. Paying no attention to their names, she crossed blades with her opponents one after the other, each time using a different Movement from before. She’d spent the last few days practising these Movements, but practise was not the same as sparring, and sparring not the same as a life and death battle. Since she couldn’t go out and challenge someone to a fight to the death, she couldn’t afford to waste this opportunity to hone her skills as she defeated her opponents one by one in a single move each. Killing Lunge, Reverse the Flow, Fanged Clutch, and Twitching Tail, she didn’t just emulate Kyung’s actions on that stormy night, but she made those Movements her own, and her opponents were far too weak to block even a single attack.
Until one did, stopping Sharpening Claws with Greet the Moon, and Song’s heart soared with joy at having met a worthy foe.
There was no scramble to block his counter because Song knew there would be none. That was the beauty of Teacher Du’s style, because so long as you forced your opponent to block, then there was no room to counter, as you were both still reeling from the exchange. Therefore the trick lay in recovering before your opponent did, and Song was well prepared with her next move, for it had long since been ingrained in her reflexes through rote repetition. Stepping back to make room, she feigned a retreat and struck even as her opponent’s mind was registering the opportunity, and that brief, almost imperceptible moment of hesitation was what made this Pounce Upon the Lamb so effective.
Pounce upon a tiger and you would be met with fang and claw, but a scared lamb? Ha.
Again, her foe surprised her by weathering the attack, and Song finally took a moment to acknowledge this worthy opponent. Ishin Ken-Kichi, twenty-seven years old, his handsome face twisted in a mixture of anger and surprise. Good, good. Baring her teeth in a feral grin, she fell into the rhythm of battle and unleashed a devastating combination of attacks, using the right Movements at the right moments and picking new ones as circumstances dictated. It was exactly what Rain said she did, only now she recognized it, and as she pushed Ken-Kichi back, the heady rush of accomplishment threatened to overwhelm her senses, but she bore down on her exultation and focused on the matter at hand.
Ken-Kichi fought with two swords, one long and slender, the other short and stout. It was this second sword which proved the problem, light and agile enough to reposition while offering a significant advantage in defensive leverage, allowing him to block her attacks while expending the bare minimum amount of strength. That was his plan, to stretch this battle out and outlast her, so by all rights Song should pull back to moderate her pace. She’d fought six... no, seven matches already, while Ken-Kichi was fresh and had time to study her, but Song was too excited to slow down, even to rest. Single sabre against dual swords, she battered away at his defences in search of weakness and opportunity as he tried and failed to dance away from her offensive. Spotting her chance, she drew her sabre back for a thrust and -
Froze and faltered as a dizzying wave of fear and panic shook Song to her core.
Aura, a small, calm part of her mind explained. This was Aura, disappearing as quickly as it arrived, but a split second of hesitation was all Ken-Kichi needed to strike. His longsword arced towards her neck and his lips parted in a smile, eyes burning with smug superiority as he put a ‘mere slave’ in her place. He meant to kill her here, timed it perfectly with his short, directed burst of Aura, a trick he no doubt used many times before.
But never against Li Song, Khishig of the Bekhai, else he would know a split second was far from enough.
Steeling her nerves, she committed herself to the thrust and told him as much with her gaze, willing to trade blow for blow and life for life. Their eyes locked and her grim determination crashed headlong into his pompous, self-absorbed ego, and she knew he would not make this trade. The longsword changed course to intercept her sabre, and both lives were spared, but Song was not yet finished. Without thinking, she retracted her sabre, and again she drew back for a thrust, taunting him, baiting him to use the same move again. Recognition flashed in his eyes, and his sneer returned in full force, this time filled with shame and anger from his brief brush with death. She taught him to fear her, and he hated her for it, so now he must kill her, lest his shame consume him whole.
Panic threatened to submerge her beneath its troubled waves as Ken-Kichi unleashed his Aura once more, but this time Song met it with righteous fury and unmitigated wrath. This was a battle of equals, and he dishonoured it with his tricks and deceit, but she would not stand for it. Courage met Panic and quashed it flat as Song’s Aura Condensed into being, and her sabre shot out towards Ken-Kichi’s throat.
There it was, the same panic she just felt, only this time, she saw it etched into his startled expression. His sword hurtled towards her neck, but unlike last time, her sabre would reach him first. Time slowed to a crawl he moved through a multitude of emotions while trying to process what they both knew. Shock, denial, anger, grief, regret, and finally, acceptance, for there would be no exchange, not this time, because he’d been bested by a better warrior.
And though she yearned to drive the blade home, Song stopped her thrust short, her sabre’s rounded point kissing the skin of his neck without drawing a single drop of blood. For long seconds she stood there with her blade to his throat, telling him she could have easily ended his life had she wanted to. Then she stepped back out of his range, sheathed her weapon, and waited for him to do the same, before finally offering him a polite salute.
She had bested him today, and that was insult enough.
But someone else didn’t agree. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Rain said, his voice carrying clearly over the shocked silence of the crowd, “I present to you my Senior Aunt Li Song, Expert of the Empire and Khishig of the Bekhai.”
The polite applause drowned out anything else he might have said, but considering how venomous his words could be, this was probably for the best. Song had gone to so much effort sparing the despicable Ken-Kichi’s life to keep this conflict from growing out of hand, she’d hate to waste it all and kill him because of something Rain said.
Then again, the night was young and there were plenty of matches still ahead...
Chapter Meme