As the distant sounds of battle filter in through the shuttered windows, I lay in bed and pray for the blissful oblivion of sleep, but it will not come.

I expected as much before slipping under the covers, but hopes and dreams have little to do with expectations. In less than ten hours, Hongji will give the order to withdraw from Castle JiangHu and put into motion a plan which could make or break this war for the Imperial forces. The idea is to bait the Enemy forces here into chasing us for the better part of a day as we feign a withdrawal, before turning to fight and holding out long enough for our allies to close in around the Defiled flanks and set upon them from all sides. That’s the plan at least, but no plan survives contact with the Enemy, or so I’m told, and there’s so much that could go wrong I can hardly begin to list it all. I figured there was no point in coming to bed tonight, knowing I’d be up all night plagued by thoughts adrift in a sea of angst and anxiety, but Yan insisted I at least lay down and try to rest. I was gonna fake it and slip out after an hour or two, but she came to bed with me and now I’m trapped in her pale, slender embrace. Not the worst fate to suffer, and it does mean that most of my honour guard can stand down and get a few extra hours of sleep instead of following me out to the inner wall to satisfy my curiosity, but it feels so much worse not being able to do anything while worrying about my inability to do things.

It’s a vicious cycle. I’m anxious because I can’t do anything, then I can’t do anything to relieve said anxiety, which leads to more anxiety. I hate it.

At least Yan is getting some rest. Being Legate means I get a big boy bed, but we don’t take up much room even with Ping Ping snoozing on my chest, Aurie sprawled out across my legs, and Mama Bun tucked into the crook of my arm, using my bicep as a pillow while she hugs my forearm tight. The red panda is also around somewhere, nestled under the covers close to Ping Ping, while Roc and his flock roost in and about the room, slumbering fitfully save for the odd snoring whistle from the darling fledglings. The rest of my pets are split up between Lin-Lin and Song, while beautiful Mila is out on the plains somewhere, no doubt busy making last minute preparations for our imminent retreat or getting as much sleep as she possibly can before the long day ahead. Mom, Akanai, Alsantset, so very many of my dear friends, and almost all my sweet moo-moos are also involved in this risky gambit, so even if everything goes perfectly to plan, there’s a good chance that I will be mourning at least one of them come tomorrow evening.

Unless I’m dead too, at which point I’d be beyond mourning. So yea, I’m having some trouble falling asleep.

It occurs to me that Yan knew I’d be awake all night, but just wanted me to stay by her side, because I’m not the only person around who needs comforting. Doing my best not to disturb her slumber, I angle my head to take in my beautiful wife, her expression so drained and weary even while fast asleep. It’s been a tough week for her thus far, what with holding down fort Sinuji and taking part in the arduous withdrawal, and now things are about to get even harder as we dial things up to twelve and gamble with the fate of the Empire. Holding sturdy stone fortifications against the Defiled is an onerous task, but a frantic withdrawal while fending off the Defiled on the open plains of Central is a whole different beast. Out there, one mistake, one misstep, one miscommunication could spell doom for tens of thousands of soldiers, and even if each and every one of us does everything right in the battles to come, we could still lose due to no fault of our own. The second I stepped foot in Castle JiangHu and laid eyes on Yan, I almost gave in to panic and ordered her home alongside Lin-Lin, Mila, and all my pets, because I couldn’t stand the thought of losing even a single one of them. They’d never forgive me for it though, so that was the end of that, though I will say that with each passing second, I am feeling less confident about this plan.

What if the Enemy doesn’t take the bait, and settles in to occupy the five abandoned castles instead? Unlike before, we intend to reoccupy Castle JiangHu once we deal with the Defiled army, so it’s not like we can firebomb it all like we did with all the front-line forts. This one simple fact is why I didn’t want to commit so many troops to this counter-attack, but Nian Zu and Shuai Jiao claimed that even if this came to pass, it would work to our advantage since it would split the Defiled forces even further as they’d have to hold the castle and assault the neighbouring fortifications at the same time. Hardly seems like an advantage considering the bloody cost we’ll pay to retake the castle, but the two Colonel Generals were pushing for this counter-attack so hard, I couldn’t exactly say no. Well, technically, I could have, but then what? Keep fighting on the Enemy’s terms? If we’d gone with my plan to just send reinforcements to help hold the centre, Akanai wouldn’t have shown up to save Castle JiangHu and the Enemy would’ve overrun the defenders before the reinforcements arrived. Then they would’ve ridden out and torn the reinforcements to shreds before moving on to attack the neighbouring fortifications from all sides. Nian Zu and Shuai Jiao were right to push for decisive action, I see this now, but I’m still not sure this was the best plan to move forward with, and in truth, I never will be.

Honestly, I don’t understand how other people do this, just make decisions and move on with life, instead of over-analyzing whether or not they’ve made the right choice while considering every possible negative outcome and the consequences thereafter. Are they just stupid? Do they turn their brains off or something? How is it possible to hold the lives of millions of people in your hands and be so cavalier about your actions? How do you turn off that voice in your head telling you all the things that will probably go wrong? Is it just me? Does no one else have this problem? This is why I hate making decisions and prefer to have things decided for me. I don’t want to deal with all the uncertainty, so if I never make decisions, then I never have to worry about the consequences and can save myself all this stress. I’m physically sweating while lying in bed, that’s how bad it’s gotten, and I swear if my shoulders were any tighter, my head would pop like a zit and splatter my brains all over the walls.

Also, I kinda need to pee, but I know it’s just nerves and I don’t want to wake Yan just yet, especially since I know that would only break the seal and I’d have to pee again in less than an hour.

There are four other castles along the central front, while the Northern and Southern flanks hold five similar fortifications each. With only three armies in the field, and the largest by far here at Castle JiangHu, it would be foolish of the Enemy to commit almost half their manpower to chasing down our withdrawing forces and leave themselves surrounded on all sides. Zhen Shi is clearly happy to bide his time and train his Chosen, which means all his posturing and aggression might well have been done to bait me into abandoning the castle. Even if it wasn’t, giving up a fortified base without a fight is awfully suspicious, and from what I’ve seen, the Enemy commander doesn’t strike me as the sort of fool to rush in headlong without a plan.

Then again, the same goes for Nian Zu and Shuai Jiao. My War Council assured me the Enemy would have no choice but to chase down such a tempting target, but my gut tells me the smart thing to do is to cancel the plan, batten down the hatches, and hold Castle JiangHu for as long as we are able to. Unfortunately, the wheels are already in motion, and cancelling now could have repercussions I’m not yet ready to face, like public criticism from the honourable, respected, and principled Colonel General Shuai Jiao, or Nian Zu’s passive aggressive comments to Dad who then brings his concerns back to me. I still feel like there’s something I’m missing, because while catching Imperials on open ground is huge, if the Enemy occupies Castle JiangHu, they’ll have plenty more chances to do the same. At some point, we’ll have to either move to retake the castle, or else the Enemy will be perfectly positioned to intercept retreating forces when we inevitably give up the second line. In my eyes, it’s a no brainer for the Enemy to hold the castle, because it puts the Empire in an awkward position and gives the Defiled a fortified base right on the second line, but I do admit my cautious nature may have something to do with it.

Is it weird to hope for a bloody, hard-fought battle tomorrow, if it saves us from a bloodier, harder-fought battle in the near future?

A shame my Runic Cannons aren’t ready yet and won’t be anytime soon. Even with the basic mechanics of the Rune figured out, it’ll still be a while before the Tyrant comes up with a working model, much less one which has been tested and perfected. Until such a time, we’ll have to rely on crossbows and catapults, but having seen how many Defiled Chosen are arranged against us, I’m starting to worry we didn’t bring enough ammunition. Or crossbows and catapults, and irregulars to use them. I wish we didn’t have to destroy the catapults we can’t bring out of Castle JiangHu, but we can’t risk the Defiled using them against us. We can’t even leave enough of them intact to repair when we get back, because a lot of the value in my ranged weapons is the engineering behind them, what with the reinforced crossbeams, sling loaded ammo, and counterweight pulley mechanisms. We still have our mobile catapults to dish out the damage, modelled after the ones the Golden Highlands Coalition used in Sanshu, but if the Enemy learns to make full-sized catapults of their own, or worse, starts carrying around crossbows and bolts, then the Empire will be proper fucked. This was a point I had to drill into every single commander time after time. If the fortification is about to be taken, the number one priority is to burn the crossbows and catapults, because in the long run, that will probably save more lives than escaping.

That’s the cold hard truth of war. It’s a game of numbers, one the Empire is slowly, but surely, losing, and it falls on my shoulders to change this.

You know what really gets my drawers in a knot? The simple fact that my part in this is all but done with. From here on out, I am nothing more than a figurehead at best, and a burden at worst, because I can no longer affect tomorrow’s outcome in any meaningful way. Grandpa Du wants me to test my Oration abilities and yell “stop” or something mid-battle, but I’m not sure it’ll work for a variety of reasons, including my inability to pick and choose my targets. If I try things his way, I might get everyone within range to stop fighting for an instant, but it’d literally be everyone, not just the Defiled.

Or worse, what if Oration works based on language, and the tribal Defiled don’t understand what I’m saying? Then we’d be really screwed...

Honestly, the only reason I’m here is so the Death Corps and Royal Guardians can take the field, both of whom are present in lower numbers than I’d like. There’s also the added benefit of semi-bluffing Zhen Shi and acting as a deterrence against Demons coming nearby, not to mention the none-too-subtle threat of carrying the Divine Ping Ping around and the effect her presence has on morale. That’s about all I bring to the table though, which means I get to twiddle my thumbs while my friends, family, loved ones, and comrades-in-arms fight for their lives in the impending battle. I hate not being able to personally contribute to the war effort anymore, even if it’s something as small as swinging my sword around and killing a dozen or so Defiled. I can’t even string a proper longbow anymore, much less draw one, and the heaviest draw weight I can manage is a measly eighty-kilograms, which will only send an arrow about 250 meters, at best. It’s my technique, probably, since I can’t put my whole body into the draw like Lin-Lin and keep any semblance of good aim. Not that I could hit the broad side of a barn before, when I was still a Martial Warrior. Practice makes perfect, and I don’t practice nearly enough, because let’s be honest: swords are way cooler than arrows.

At least I can still use a crossbow, but the range on those things isn’t all that much better, for the simple fact that crossbows require about twice the draw weight of a longbow to fire a projectile the same distance. It has something to do with length of power stroke and fixed limbs on a crossbow, but the physics all went over my head when Diyako tried to explain it and I had no advice to offer, so we’re stuck with 350 meter range on our crossbows unless we drastically drop rate of fire by including a hand-crank system or something. As such, Akanai deemed it too dangerous for me to join a firing line, since that would put me too close to the battlefield and within striking distance of Peak Experts and Wraiths, so I can’t even use the shiny new crossbow I brought with me unless the battle really goes to hell in a hand-basket.

Lin-Lin brought her longbow though, which means even she will have more impact on the battle than I will. Feels bad man.

In short, I am once again, helpless to affect my own fate, and the fate of everyone I care about. This is almost worse than my time in the mines, because then, at least I could... not look forward to death, but romanticize it, rationalize that it’d be better to reincarnate into another life and start over fresh. Despite knowing it was possible, I never could actually go through with it, because at the end of the day, I clung to the hope of a better life, and it’s a good thing I did. Look at where I am now. Sure, the current situation is dire as I’m embroiled in a devastating war with no ability to fight and heavy responsibilities weighing me down, but putting that aside, life has never been better. I have two wives, Mila who inspires me to be better each and every day, and Yan who is my emotional rock, always fully confident in my abilities no matter the odds stacked against me. I have my sweet wifey Lin-Lin, who is always there to cheer me up and fills my heart with joy, and dutiful Luo-Luo, who I would be lost without and works day and night to support me in my financial and political endeavours, and even takes the time to try and understand my pseudo-science ramblings. Then there’s Song, who I feel understands me in ways the others never will on account of our similar experiences, and Alsantset and Charok who have been nothing but kind and understanding since the day we met.

I can’t forget Mom and Dad, who have given me more than even they themselves realize, which was already more than anyone should expect, and Akanai and Husolt, who not only supported and helped me along, also trusted me enough to let me marry their beloved daughter. A special mention also goes out to sweet Tali and Tate, who I still can’t believe are twelve years old and already learning their trades, when it feels like just yesterday when I was swaddling them in blankets and rocking them to sleep. Taduk believed in me from the start and put not only himself at risk, but his beloved daughter too, just so he could teach me how to read, write, and gather herbs. Grandpa Du is the newest addition, but I am no less thankful to have him around, because he and I are kindred spirits in a sense, driven to learn more about the Martial Path so that we might pass our knowledge down to later generations. At great risk to himself, he’s spent many an hour sitting by my side and discussing the Dao as we each see it, and while it has yet to bear fruit, I feel as if I am on the cusp of a grand discovery that could change everything in an instant.

On top of all that, I also have incredible friends who have stood by me through thick and thin, valued comrades who continue to fight in my name even when I can no longer be there to support them, and sweet, loving floofs who are just happy to be by my side. Honestly, things don’t get much better than this, and I have so much to be thankful for, not even ten lifetimes would be enough to repay what I owe, much less the single lifetime I have now. Thus, I cannot die just yet, which means I must not only survive, but also lead the Empire to victory against the Defiled, and secure the borders once again.

It’s a tall order, but if we don’t all die come tomorrow, I think I can manage it in time, even without repairing my shattered Core. In fact, fixing my Core should really be lower on my list of priorities considering I’ve done so much more as Minister of Finance and Legate of the outer provinces than I could have ever accomplished as Martial Warrior Falling Rain. There are a hundred-thousand commoners training to become professional Irregulars right now, and in a year’s time, I might have enough to sweep the Defiled back out of the Western Province and reclaim it for the Empire. Grand dreams indeed, but so long as we keep the Enemy contained, I believe it’s possible.

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In spite of all the death and despair, I don’t really hate this world, not anymore. Sure, it’s a miserable rock filled with terrifying creatures trying to kill me or worse, but if I didn’t come here, I’d have never met my wonderful family, loving wives, adorable floofs, and incredible friends. It’s still a shit world, but it’s chock full of my favourite people, which means there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

Unable to ignore my protesting bladder any longer, I carefully ease out from under Aurie and Ping Ping before slipping from Yan’s embrace, though Mama Bun clings tight with all four paws and leaves me no choice but to bring her along. Luckily, being Legate has its perks, such as this luxurious, castle suite I currently reside in, complete with bathhouse and lavatory facilities, even if it’s just a chamber pot in a box. One awkward visit later, I step out of the lavatory carrying a disgruntled Mama Bun, grumbling as she digs at my robes in search of lost warmth and comfort. Quietly soothing the sweet girl with a series of calming pats, I pick my way around the sleeping laughing birds scattered about the room and give thanks to my incredible night-vision which keeps me from tripping over myself in the dark. Throwing on a warm, outer robe as I step out of the bedroom, I acknowledge the Death Corps standing guard at my door and head over to the shuttered bay windows of the living area. Waving aside my guards’ concern regarding Concealed assassins, I open the shutters and take a seat with sleepy Mama Bun to watch the night’s battle unfold.

It’s the same thing every day. The Chosen attack sometime between sunrise and sunset, sometimes more than once on the same day, while the tribal Defiled assault the walls from sundown to sunrise. It’s a smart tactic, since it means it keeps us Imperials busy at all hours of the day, and the unarmoured Defiled attack when it’s too dark to pepper them with crossbow bolts without risking injury to allied Warriors. Unlike the Chosen, there is little coordination in these tribal attacks, only an all-out effort to clamber up the walls and kill as many Imperials as they can. There are no probing strikes or feinted attacks, no siege ladders or concentrated efforts, no, the Defiled live for the battle and care for nothing else. Despite their proven ineffectiveness and the bloody price they’ve paid in past days, I cannot for the life of me understand why the Enemy commander continues to try the same thing, night after night. Pound for pound, most Defiled tribesmen are no match for a trained Imperial soldier in a fair fight for one simple reason: most of them are crazed, rabid beasts with little to no regard for self-preservation, which makes it easy to bait them into showing an opening. Sure, you might freeze up the first time you come across a blood-maddened berserker on the battlefield, but that fear fades all too quickly after you’ve killed a few on your own.

That said, I don’t believe for a second that the only reason the Chosen attack during the day is so their allies don’t have to weather a storm of bolts, arrows, and stones. Personally, I think it’s because the Chosen still consider themselves Imperials as opposed to proper Defiled, which means they’re lacking the better night vision of Defiled. Dastan and I were unaware this was a thing, which was why it kicked in automatically, but I suppose the Chosen are better informed and know the Defiled have better night vision, which is somehow keeping them from attaining the same. It all goes back to my incomplete theory about teeth and Heavenly Energy, how believing something would naturally happen made it so through an unconscious use of magical fuckery. The Defiled believe they can see at night, and so they do, while the Chosen believe night-vision is a mark of true Defilement, and therefore, do not gain this benefit despite being Defiled themselves.

It’s similar to how animals use Heavenly Energy, intuitively as an extension of their natural abilities. Jimjam and Sarankho use Lightening to run faster and climb better, while quins use Honing to tear through flesh and bone, but it’s not exactly a versatile skill. The wildcats only lighten when they’re running or climbing, besides Aurie who picked up Banjo and Baloo’s trick of Lightening whenever he wants to be carried, and the quins only hone to fight or kill, but not to eat, as evidenced by the adorably strained faces they make when crunching through shellfish. Then there’s the oddity that is Kukku, a chicken so skilled at manipulating Chi, he can put people to sleep using his rooster’s crow. Usually, that’s the opposite of what happens, but I suppose in Kukku’s bird brain, it makes perfect sense that the sound he uses to wake people would also be able to do the opposite, not to mention how he still can’t fly despite having giant wings and the ability to Lighten himself to a near negligible weight.

Seriously, it’s hilarious watching a giant chicken perch on someone’s shoulder, especially a monk who has a bald head that looks like a big shiny egg.

I see what Gerel meant when they said I lacked faith. Though he was talking about faith in the Mother, by extension, he also meant faith in how Chi works. It just does, and in his mind, there’s nothing more to it, much like with the bears, wildcats, and various other animals of the world. On the other hand, Grandpa Du is more open to explore the mechanics behind Chi and Heavenly Energy, because he believes understanding how it works can help make him a better teacher and Martial Warrior. Both approaches are fine, but I lack faith, in that I believe things shouldn’t work this way, because I have memories of a world without Heavenly Energy and where teeth most definitely do not grow back the second time around.

So where does this leave me? Caught in a quandary of faith. I would love to believe there is a higher power watching humanity from above, protecting us from Her evil counterpart who seeks to destroy all creation, but it all reads like a myth or fairy tale, and not even a particularly original one at that. I also cannot believe in magic and expect it to work on unexplained rules, so I must reconcile my absence of faith with the Martial Path by understanding those rules and how they react with the physical world as I understand it. My theories don’t even need to be 100% right, they just have to be right enough so that I wholeheartedly believe in my conclusions. It’s a lot to ask for from someone who constantly second-guesses his every thought and decision, but it’s a goal at least.

However, instead of banging my head against the metaphorical brick wall which is the solution for my shattered Core, I’ve been really hung up on Spectres, souls, and the Defiled these past few days. It’s some fascinating stuff putting all the pieces together, and I think I have a working picture of how it all interacts. See, Spectres are created in the bleakest moments of our existence, when we’re so bummed we sever off a section of our souls in order to escape all our darkest emotions. As far as I can tell, the biggest problem is that this portion of severed soul, filled with doom and gloom as it is, still yearns to be whole and reside in a flesh and blood body once more, which is why they seek out a new host. However, one sliver of soul is not enough to inhabit a whole body, so they join together with other Spectres and attempt to combine together as one soul, but this is not possible, nor is what they’re doing enough. Since all Spectres are comprised of joyless emotions and are so fond of spreading their lacking cheer, I’m guessing that in order to take control of a host, they need to match their host’s type, sort of like how a blood donor’s antibodies must match with the recipient. However, rather than changing themselves, which may or may not be impossible for a mere sliver of soul, the Spectres instead set to work convincing their host to change his or her soul to match them instead, to... various degrees of success.

Which explains the dark, ominous whispers and speedy decline into impulsive behaviour once infested with Spectres, because an unreasoning host is a malleable one, and more easily convinced to surrender. Not just their bodies, but their very souls themselves. I’m reminded of my visit to Bei’s Natal Palace, a distant, guarded fortress from the outside, but inside was simply the humble hut she called home. There, she was subjected to what amounts to mental torture, forced to carve apart her father’s corpse and cook him as a part of a lavish meal, her torment no doubt repeating itself over and over again. This might well be the end result of all Demon hosts, but I suspect otherwise, given what I know from my encounter with the Demon formerly known as Vivek Daatei. Like Kukku, Demon Vivek could lock his foes within their Cores by convincing them to create a prison of their own design. Since they wanted to be there, they overlooked the flaws in their fantasies, just like I did until my subconscious came along in the form of Baledagh to snap me out of it.

Thus, my theory is that all Demon hosts are in similar straits, locked in a prison where they feel they belong. Poor Bei felt so guilty about killing her father, she decided she deserved to relive the horrors of her past time and time again. It wasn’t the Spectres who forced that horrific nightmare upon her, but her own guilty conscience.

How does this help? I’m not entirely sure, but I noticed some strange parallels in how Spectres take advantage of their Hosts to create a Demonic body, and the Martial Path. In many ways, those mental prisons are a form of One with the Self and maybe even One with the World, because as far as the Host is concerned, they are exactly where they should be and doing what they must do. Bei was adamant she belonged in that imagined little hut, with her dead father laid out across the floor and her body abused beyond recognition, so much so that I almost couldn’t convince her it wasn’t true. In fact, I didn’t convince her. My Aura did, an Aura of sympathy and compassion I used to share my genuine feelings, but not before breaking through the barrier she’d built around herself and her emotions.

In a sense, she created her own World within the Void, a World she became One with.

Is this how Demons come into existence? By creating a Natal Palace so realistic, their hosts forget they’re not in the real world? In doing so, they become One with the Self and One with the ‘World’, but not One with the Heavens, which explains Zhen Shi’s observation of how every Demon he encountered fell short of Shattering the Void. What it doesn’t explain is how Spectres induce a commoner to Create a Core, but it does offer some interesting hints on how to achieve the milestones which come after, ideas I can’t exactly test just yet since I have no idea how to get into my seemingly intact Natal Palace. At least, I assume it’s intact, since Gen Shi was able to draw me in there for night-time meetings, but how that’s even possible is beyond my understanding.

Unless I’m wrong and that white space wasn’t my Natal Palace, in which case I’m just barking up all sorts of wrong trees.

It’s frustrating how I’m uncovering all these little nuggets of information about everything besides the one milestone I actually need to understand. Core Creation is the first step along the Martial Path, but also the least studied, because it’s simply a pass or fail check. You either find Balance and Create a Core, or you don’t, and that’s that, which is just all sorts of bullshit. There has to be a reason why 99% of Imperials fail here on the first step, but 100% of Defiled make it through.

Then again, there’s a third faction I’ve little to no information on, and while they’re Oathbound not to reveal any Imperial secrets, learning about the perspective of an Imperial Warrior might offer valuable insight on how they’re trained. Eyeing the Death Corps guard standing by my side, I realize I don’t recognize his face, though that’s hardly a surprise. The Legate left some forty-five thousand Death Corps behind, a formidable force I would be stupid not to take advantage of, but it kills me to usher slaves to their deaths. “What’s your name?”

“This lowly slave is designated Teal Three, Imperial Legate.”

Not all the Death Corps units are named after colours, and they constantly reorganize their designations based on the number of guards working together and their respective strengths, but according to Kuang Biao, colours are reserved for the strongest units available. This means my old friend Red One is no longer Red One, but rather Stone Fifty-Eight, but more importantly, Teal Three here is one of the strongest Death Corps guards in the outer provinces. “Please do not refer to yourself as lowly anything, much less slave. You are a Warrior Teal Three, and deserving of respect. Is there another name you’d prefer to be known by?”

Though unwilling to meet my eyes, Teal Three stands ever-vigilant as he scans the area around me, fixated on the open window so as not to miss a single hint of Concealed movement. No doubt he would much rather stand in the window itself, to better protect me from assassins, but doing so would ruin my view, which presumably is why I’m sitting here in the first place. That’s not a judgment call either, the Death Corp’s Oaths have a strict hierarchy to ensure they do their duties without interfering with their Master’s lives. “Death Corps Guards are forbidden to take names, Imperial Legate.”

Probably because that would give them too much individuality. Better to name them after colours and objects to remind them of what they are: property, rather than people. Stifling my sigh so Teal Three doesn’t think I’m upset with him, I gesture towards the outer walls and the Defiled beyond it. “What do you know about the Defiled?”

“They are the Father’s foul minions who seek to destroy everything the Holy Mother Above has wrought.”

There is no religious fervour in his tone or reverent glint in his eyes, as Teal Three is merely offering a rote response to a basic question any three year old in the Empire can answer. “Why? Why must they destroy, is that their purpose? Doubtful, else the Defiled would have been eradicated by internecine conflict millennia ago. They form tribes, raise families, create their own languages, so surely this means they are capable of co-existing with one another. If this is the case, then what drives them to conflict with the Empire?”

“This... one does not know, Imperial Legate.”

“You don’t have to address me in every sentence. Care to hazard a guess?”

“This one lacks the information required to offer any worthwhile conjecture, as this is his first encounter with the Enemy.”

Teal Three is fairly eloquent as far as Death Corps Warriors go, which means it’s possible he, like Kuang Biao, used to be a Royal Guardian. “Are you a Peak Expert?” Teal Three nods, and I follow up with, “If you don’t mind sharing your age, I’d be interested in hearing it.”

After a moment’s hesitation to register the choice before him, Teal Three responds, “This one is forty-five years of age.”

Young as far as Peak Experts go, and the minor straightening of his back doesn’t go unnoticed, showing he takes pride in his skills. “Impressive. How is it you’ve never faced the Defiled before? I get the lack of incursions, but does the Eastern Province not have any outbreaks of local Defiled?”

Again, he hesitates, and I can see the struggle in his expression as his Oaths force him to toe the line. “There are, but not many, as the Eastern province is small and the population densely packed together, making it difficult for Defiled tendencies to go unnoticed.”

“Interesting.” I didn’t know the population was densely packed, which means there are probably more Easterners than I initially suspected. I was guessing in the low millions, but if they’re all packed together throughout the entire province, who knows how many there are over there? “I first came into contact with the Defiled about nine years ago, though I didn’t know it at the time.”

“...In the slave mines?” Surprised by the interruption, I turn to Teal Three with a raised eyebrow, and he quickly falls to his knees, though his head is still raised and eyes fixed on the window to protect me from harm. “This one begs Imperial Legate for forgiveness, or failing this, a swift death.”

“No offence taken,” I say, gesturing for him to stand. “I was just surprised is all. Yes, from my time as a slave, in the Canston Trading Group’s mines. I was just twelve and didn’t know much of the world, so I didn’t realize my captors were Defiled. They tormented me every day for their own, sick amusement, and encouraged the slaves to harass one another too. Every few days, they’d torture some poor soul to death while the rest of us watched, usually over the most minor infractions and sometimes for no reason at all. It was not a pleasant experience, but lately, I find myself reflecting on that time more and more.”

“...Why?”

Having lost myself in my thoughts once more, Teal Three’s belated response takes me by surprise again. “Because I still don’t understand what their goal was. Why were we mining there? Not for any ore I recognize, nor were we equipped with the tools a proper stone quarry would require. Why did they feel the need to torment us, yet to take such care as to not cripple anyone? The illogical manner in which they chose their victims and the consistent number of deaths makes me wonder if they had a death quota to keep up, but why? It wasn’t to turn any of us Defiled, else they would’ve encouraged deviant, violent behaviour or forced us to consume human flesh or something. No, they had a different purpose, one I still don’t understand, and that bothers me, even more than the nightmares of torments past.”

Well, now I know they were trying to set up an Anathema factory or something, but that’s not public knowledge yet and probably never will be. Still, It reeks too much of coincidence for one amber-eyed slave to survive and head off into the wilderness, just to find the only group of people within a hundred kilometres who cared enough to save him. Extraordinary coincidence or Divine intervention, it’s impossible to prove beyond a reasonable doubt, and if it’s the latter, then I’d be furious at the Mother Above for dropping me off in the deep end without any warning. That’s not how you teach kids to swim, Lady. Give them some water wings and start them where they can stand or something.

Realizing I’ve fallen silent again, I find Teal Three still standing vigil beside me, and figure the poor guy could use a break. Closing the shutters, I shuffle over to the tea table and take a seat there instead, gesturing for my reluctant companion to take the chair across from me. The other Death Corps guards in the room stay at their posts, and I can’t tell if they’re jealous or relieved at all the attention Teal Three is getting, but I’m tired of monologuing to myself all the time, so I might as well keep talking out loud. “Lately, I’ve been wondering why I survived when so many others didn’t. In truth, I should have died there, but through some... miracle of Heaven, I didn’t, and it makes me want to believe I was saved for a purpose.” Gesturing at the battlefield, I give a wry smile and add, “Maybe even this purpose. Except... I don’t know what I am supposed to do. How do we win this war?”

“You command, Imperial Legate,” Teal Three replies, offering me a seated salute. “And the Death Corps will obey. These are the trials and tribulations laid out before us, and all we can do is persevere through them.”

Given that they’re Oath-sworn slaves compelled to do so, Teal Three’s words shouldn’t make me feel better, but something in his delivery buoys my spirits, a solemn, almost eager desire to follow my lead. It’s not much, but it’s something, so I accept the gesture with a grateful nod before bidding him a silent farewell and shuffling back into my room to take my place at Yan’s side. Though she stirs in her sleep, she doesn’t wake as I slip back under the covers, even snuggling in close until her forehead is resting against my cheek. Ping Ping likewise clambers back atop my chest while Aurie makes room for my feet to slide under him, and as Mama Bun flops back into the crook of my arm, I realize I’ve been a fool for worrying so much. I’ve done all I can, but I am not alone. I have family, friends, comrades, and soldiers to rely on, and I would be foolish not to. It’s Imperial Army doctrine 101, no man is an island, and a lesson I would do well to not soon forget.

Tomorrow, the heroes of the Empire will do battle against the Defiled on the open plains of Central, and for better or for worse, we will get through this trial and tribulation together.

Chapter Meme