As much as Song tried not to play favourites, she had no choice but to admit that Mama Bun was, without a doubt, the softest, snuggliest, floofiest creature out of all of Rain’s pets.
Blackjack was a close second, with his smooth, velvety fur, but his short hare fur lost out to the sheer volume of Mama Bun’s long, luscious locks, an ample mane of delicate fur with the texture of creamy silk. Sarankho’s fur looked softer and fluffier, but her bristles were tough enough to braid together into a suitably durable rope, while Princess’s fur was about as far from soft as one could imagine without actually being spiked. The bears and quins ranked somewhere between the wildcats and weasel-bear, and while Guai Guai’s fur was also soft and thick, underneath his outer coat lay rough and dense inner coat that kept him warm in the Northern Winters, but came off in clumps every week here in Central, which understandably lessened the satisfaction one gleaned from petting him.
But Mama Bun? If there was a creature with a coat more pleasant to sink one’s fingers into, Song had yet to pet it. The other rabbits were similarly soft and comfortable, but the difference between them and Mama Bun was like night and day, like petting a cloud that enveloped your hand in silken warmth. Best of all was how the sweet bunny snuggled into Song’s embrace, curled up on her back and wiggling her soft little hindquarters in search of the most comfortable position, all while scrunching her eyes shut and rubbing her smushy cheeks against Song’s arm as a sign of affection. She saw this same scene play out almost every single day, only with Mama Bun laying in Rain’s arms rather than hers, and Song envied him for the privilege each and every day.
Which was why she wasn’t all that concerned when he handed her the sleepy rabbit and disappeared in the blink of an eye, off to do Mother knows what for some reason or the other. A small part of her screamed to follow and find him lest he travel beyond her allotted five kilometre range, but calm logic and past experience prevailed against irrational panic. Until told otherwise, Song trusted Rain to remain close enough to keep her Oath from taking effect, as evidenced by the trail of destruction he left behind during his private battle against the Wraiths. Mama and Brother Baatar tracked the entirety of the fight, and not once did Rain step even a single foot outside of a five kilometre radius, which showed that he kept her Oaths in mind at some level. Though her Oaths wouldn’t immediately trigger the moment he stepped foot outside her range and compel her to track him down, an unexplained absence would undoubtedly throw Song for a loop, though she was not in any rush to find out how. Her specific Oaths had been laid out by her trainers and given at an age Song could barely remember anymore, but Teacher Du very rarely travelled and back then, she was still bound to her chain rather than an actual person, so this particular aspect had never come into effect.
Either way, she knew Rain would be back soon enough, though in her eyes it was far too soon as Monk Happy led him back through the monastery gates on foot only a few minutes later. Padding directly over as soon as he saw her, Rain dropped his sword and shield to the ground and let them clatter against the stone while he reached out for Mama Bun from a respectful distance, and Song reluctantly handed the sweet bun over without waking the snoring floof. Somehow, Mama Bun seemed to sense she was back with Rain and slumped into his embrace while still fast asleep, so used to being carried in his arms that she’d long since memorized the most comfortable position to lay in. Arms bereft of that soft, silken mass, Song gathered the reluctant Guai-Guai into her arms and placated him with a handful of berries, as his scowling expression almost made up for his less than perfectly furry texture. She especially loved his polite manners, taking the berries into his paws and shoving them into his mouth rather than eat directly out of her hand, as it added an extra bit of charm to the process that none of the other pets could emulate, except maybe the strange Sir Inky.
Who by in large wasn’t really a pet at all, as he much preferred living out in the wild, not that Song could blame him considering the alternative was spending his time in a pot of water he could barely stretch out in. A shame he wasn’t like the turtles and able to breathe on land, but considering his strange predilections and bizarre response to Rain’s Emotional Aura, perhaps it was best if the octopus remained wild and free, rather than became a household pet.
“Hiya Hubby,” Lin-Lin exclaimed, greeting him even though he would not greet her back. Not verbally at least, but the half-hare paid his silence no mind as she melted into his embrace much like Mama Bun in his other arm. Turning her attention to Monk Happy, she asked, “Where’d hubby go mister monk?”
While Song gathered Rain’s weapons and placed them neatly beside her, Monk Happy settled in across from them and said, “Eh-Mi-Tuo-Fuo. Junior Brother Rain was merely investigating a disturbance at the village, a minor altercation between Junior Brother Jorani and Chieftain Asmani.” His customary smile faltering for a moment, he added, “Or perhaps not Chieftain anymore, as the tribesmen put much stock in combat ability. A matter for another day, however, as this incident proves Junior Brother Rain is more aware of his surroundings than he lets on.”
Something Song could’ve told the monks weeks ago, before they even arrived at the monastery in fact. How else would he have known to slip out under Concealment to engage a pack of murderous Wraiths? Far be it for her to criticize, but thus far, the monks of the Penitent Brotherhood had done little to inspire confidence in their ability to help Rain speed up his recovery. Aside from their bouts of less than impressive self-flagellation, the monks of the Brotherhood were a surprisingly pleasant bunch to be around, or at least those who made themselves available were. Those who didn’t locked themselves in their rooms or travelled away to another monastery so as not to be disturbed by the guests, leaving only the monks who were either amicable to Rain’s plight or curious enough to lend aid. Thus, they were always coming up with new ways to test his condition, usually with puzzles, paintings, and other such visual aids, all with varying effect. In the end though, Rain usually responded with Aura and nothing really changed, so she was understandably impatient to see an improvement.
Somehow sensing her discontent, Monk Happy’s smile returned in full force as he gestured for Song to come closer, and while she might have hesitated were it any other man, she trusted the Monk in a way she trusted few others. In all their time together, Monk Happy had never given her cause to doubt his intentions, as he carried himself with an air of amicable indifference to Song’s gender and appearance. Most other men and women always saw Song’s beauty first before anything else, but she felt like Monk Happy would treat her the same even if she were the most beautiful or ugly woman alive, or even not a woman at all. There was something about this that Song found so liberating, as she no longer had to worry about ulterior motives or lecherous intents when it came to Monk Happy, a luxury she only shared with one other man in her life, Papa. Even Brother Baatar often watched her with a calculating eye, not out of his own interest, but rather to gauge if she was good enough to be Rain’s future bride, a fate Song was not entirely opposed to, but not a prospect she desired either.
Who said she needed a husband anyways? Song was perfectly happy to live out the rest of her life sharing her bed with no one besides Rain’s pets.
With this in mind, Song scooted over to Monk Happy’s side and waited for the man to speak, but instead, he handed her a deck of carved wooden cards and indicated she should help with Rain’s test today. She was getting much better at reading non-verbal communication, whether it be body language or Aura expression, and Monk Happy utilized both to great effect. A hint of encouragement mixed with subtle reassurance, one meant to spur her to discover the answers for herself. Glancing at the top card, she saw that she held what she’d taken to calling the favoured deck, one depicting all the things Rain preferred over the sword. Hardly surprising he picked almost anything over the weapon, since it was obvious that despite his astonishing talents, he had little love for the Martial Path and the bloodshed it entailed, while simultaneously being unable to tear himself away. If Song were to describe it, she would say Rain was in love with the ideals of the Martial Path, the strength and freedom it embodied, but he hated the reality of the situation which was the eternal struggle against the Father’s foul minions and his own inner demons.
What Rain wanted was all of the power without the struggle, a concept Song personally found terrifying, as she’d seen what people were capable of when given absolute power over others without oversight or repercussion. Even Jin Tok had tried to be kind at first, but grew angry when Song tried to refuse him, only to become violent and forceful once he realized she had no real ability to resist. Worst of all, he quickly grew drunk on his power and abused it more and more often, especially when Song somehow drew his ire, like when she failed to defeat the ‘savage brat’ who broke his ankle and lost face for his father, Cho Jin Kai, a man who was even more of a monster than his lecherous son.
To this very day, she still had nightmares about the punishment Kai inflicted upon her for losing to Rain and ‘allowing’ the savage child to humiliate him in public, as if she’d lost on purpose even though her Oaths would not permit it.
Trials and tribulations, but ones she had long since left behind her, and while Rain had never abused his power over her, this was far from enough to reassure her subconscious mind, especially in light of his sometimes lascivious gaze. Though he tried to hide it and make Song feel comfortable in his presence, the mere fact that he was mildly attracted to her on even a superficial level was enough to keep her on her guard, but it was not so with Monk Happy and Papa. Thus, rather than question his motives, Song trusted the monk and held out the first card for Rain to see, while Monk Happy held out the card bearing Rain’s sword beside her. Though he behaved as expected and picked the bow-tie wearing bunny, Song wasn’t expecting the wave of bored frustration that accompanied the decision as Rain made his feelings clear. “We’ve done this every day for the past month,” he seemed to be saying, and Song could almost see his shoulders slumping as he ‘spoke’. “Isn’t it time we moved on?”
Under Monk Happy’s urging, Song showed Rain the next card, and again, he responded in the same way, with only minor variations in his Emotional Aura that all said the same thing. Right up until the last card, which depicted his transforming glaive, a card meant to spark a response and guide him to reform his third and final Spiritual Weapon. While it worked with his shield, and Song saw firsthand how he carved up his left hand and fabricated the shield out of blood and bone, in the weeks since, he’d been unable to replicate his initial success and always lapsed into distracted thought when presented with this last card, or so Song thought until she presented it to him herself.
Rain emanated yet another surge of frustration, but one tinged with impatience and laced with self-loathing. “I get it,” he said, without voicing a word. “But I can’t do it, because I’m weak and stupid and worthless.”
So overwhelmed by his emotions, Song responded with an Aura of encouragement and support, one she Condensed without even thinking. “You are strong,” she tried to tell him without saying a word, but that didn’t seem to help. “You will get through this.” Which somehow made things even worse. Turning to Monk Happy for help, she was greeted with yet another smile, one that said he was waiting for her to solve the problem by herself. Reluctant as she was, she saw no other option as she handed Guai Guai over to Rain, while Lin-Lin followed suit and planted Blackjack on his head. Clinging to Rain as if he were merely furniture to rest on, Guai Guai continued snacking on berries with the same surly expression, not giving one whit about who held him so long as it was someone he trusted. Blackjack was a different story, as the sweet hare hopped in a circle atop Rain’s head before leaning down to look him in the eyes. Though his expression remained static, his Aura of angst and frustration faded away as the animals stole his attention away, and it was as if all his worries simply melted into nothingness, already forgotten at the sight of Blackjack’s adorable expression. They would be back the next time they did this test, of this, Song had no doubt, but while the experience was an enlightening look into Rain’s state of mind, she was unsure of the lesson to be gleaned from this.
There was always a lesson when it came to the Brotherhood, and Monk Happy in particular. He didn’t frame them the same way Teacher Du did, with a meticulously planned lecture detailing everything he intended to teach followed by examples to draw from and inferences to follow, but rather in a more free-form manner wherein the lesson was more subtle and less clear cut in purpose.
In times like this, when Song didn’t know how to proceed, Mama always said the first thing to do was identify the problem. “Rain is unable to reforge his glaive,” Song began, but Monk Happy said nothing and waited for her to continue. “He is frustrated by his inability, to the point where one might suspect he has become unbalanced. Hence his fixation on the pets and the many hours spent each and every day playing with them, but there has yet to be any improvement. Is there nothing more anyone can do to help him?”
Monk Happy knew what she meant, but Mama had warned Song against speaking about the Abbot after arriving in the monastery. Patting Song’s head, Mama explained, “The loss of another Divinity will be crippling to the Brotherhood, as they’ve openly revealed they have guided at least two individuals to the highest peaks of the Martial Path. Some will think to join them, but most will see this as an opportunity to plunder a prized treasure trove of secrets. Like vultures circling their dying prey, various factions of the Empire will watch the Brotherhood for weakness, and while the Arid Wastes is barrier to all but the most determined of scouts, the potential rewards will be well worth the effort in the eyes of countless desperate Warriors and aging nobles. Divinity is the end goal of all Martial Warriors, and though few ever reach it, Warriors are a prideful bunch and many believe knowledge and understanding are all that keeps them from reaching their goal. Thus, the Brotherhood will pretend as if their Abbot is alive and well, but lurking in waiting to catch whichever vulture swoops down first. Whether he lives or has died, the end result will be the same. The vultures will circle until one grows bold enough to test the waters, and the rest will react accordingly. Either way, the Abbot is out of our reach until he is healthy enough to stand on his own, assuming he still yet draws breath.”
Thus far, no vultures had come swooping in, but judging by Monk Happy’s Aura, the Abbot was either dead or not yet ready to reveal himself, not even to help Rain recover. “Answer me this,” Monk Happy said, handing her yet another pouch of Spiritual Berries to replace the one Guai Guai just emptied into his belly. “How has Junior Brother Rain’s condition changed since reforming his Spiritual Weapons?”
“...It hasn’t,” Song replied, though she would much rather know how the Brotherhood had a seemingly endless supply of Spiritual Fruits to dole out, a mystery which Medical Saint Taduk seemed utterly uninterested in solving. Likely because he knew the answer already and didn’t want to share, but she imagined it had something to do with the mysterious Spiritual Panda Bear that she had yet to meet. Perhaps the panda wasn’t a Spiritual Beast at all, but rather a Divine Beast like Ping Ping and Pong Pong, or perhaps the Brotherhood had another method of cultivating Spiritual Plants, but either way, Song didn’t know enough to draw any conclusions. As for Rain’s condition, he was still doing the same things he did back in the District Manor, playing with the animals everyday followed by random bouts of teaching moments that occurred with varying frequency. Since she had yet to personally be guided by him herself, Song wasn’t sure what to make of his lessons, though they did seem largely inspired by Insight since the student in question generally turned out to be whoever managed to catch his interest, whether it be Lin-Lin running along the monastery rooftops, Princess wrestling with Banjo and Baloo in the courtyard, or even one of the monks doing something innocuous like sparring, carving, or even painting.
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
Rain never picked up weapon, chisel, or brush, but he nonetheless somehow guided his ‘students’ with astonishing accuracy. In the handful of days following Tate and Tali’s lessons, Song noted a marked improvement in both their Demonstrations, but only because they were young and made many mistakes. It was harder to see the improvements in Sister Mila, Niece Alsantset, Sister Yan, or anyone else close to Song’s level, because if she could pick out their flaws, then she would have pointed them out herself. That being said, everyone who received a lesson swore that even a few minutes of guidance was an incalculable boon to their progress along the Martial Path, one similar to a brief bout of Insight pointing them in the right direction. Song would be lying if she claimed she wasn’t interested in receiving such guidance, but despite Demonstrating the Forms in front of him each and every day, her movements had yet to spark Rain’s scholarly interest. He would much rather try to teach Jimjam and Blackjack how to Cloud-Step or show the rabbits how to solve Lin-Lin’s mechanical puzzles, simple contraptions of wood and wire the monks of the Brotherhood crafted at her request. Festooned with latches, barred hatches, fitted blocks and more, they were designed to hold a Spiritual Berry and crafted so that even rabbit paws could open them with ease. Guai Guai and the laughing birds were clever enough to solve them with little or no help, but the bunnies made next to no progress even after being shown the same puzzle and solution dozens of times. Still, it was adorable to watch their little tantrums when their patience eventually wore thin, especially sweet Thumper whose name served her well as she cleverly smashed apart the puzzles with her back feet.
Mama Bun never even tried to solve the puzzles, as being the most clever of the bunch, she simply brought them to Ping Ping who was more than happy to crunch open the container for her little long-eared friend.
Realizing she’d allowed her mind to drift, Song glanced at Monk Happy to see how she fared, but predictably, his expression was as unreadable as Rain’s. He neither agreed nor disagreed with her assessment of Rain’s condition, but after giving the question further thought, she concluded that Monk Happy would have phrased it differently if Song’s answer was right. He would have left out the ‘how’ if nothing had changed, meaning Song just hadn’t noticed the change, a conclusion she shared out loud. Being unable to come up with the right answer was an answer in and of itself, so long as one took the effort to try in the first place. Ignorance was no sin, not unless it was wilful ignorance, as omnipotence was the purview of the Divine.
“Oh?” Monk Happy responded, clearly surprised by Song’s failure to come up with an answer. “This monk thought you of all people would have noticed it first. When you all first arrived, this monk struggled to understand the meaning of Junior Brother Rain’s Auras, as it was a torrent of emotions without delineation. In recent days however, his clarity has much improved as he is able to bring one emotion to the forefront every time he Condenses his Aura. While much of his message is still lost in the process, at least now we are able to glean the most dominant emotion he feels at any given time.”
Upon reflection, Song realized that Monk Happy was right, but that she failed to notice because she never found his Aura all that difficult to understand. The only thing that surprised her was how much he blamed himself for every little thing that went wrong and how strongly he... not hated, but was ashamed of his own actions. Somehow picking up on all of Song’s thoughts, Monk Happy nodded and said, “Ah, of course. You understood him all along, so failed to notice his improvement.”
“Hehe. Li-Li understands hubby really well,” Lin-Lin exclaimed, beaming from ear to ear as if it were some great accomplishment. “Because they’re so alike, ya?”
A point Song wanted to argue, but she didn’t know where to start. In what ways were they alike? Sure, they shared a similar past, and a love for animals due to their simplistic innocence, but otherwise, they were as different as Blackjack and Tawny One. Both roughly similar at first glance, but utterly distinct once past the initial impression. Sensing Song’s dissatisfaction, Lin-Lin unrepentantly stuck out her tongue before burying her face into Rain’s arm, as if the inability to see Song’s reaction would will it out of existence. It was the sort of thing one might expect from young children or silly animals, but Lin-Lin was just too endearing to fault, so Song let sleeping dogs lie and shared an Aura of love and affection laced with a hint of dissent.
Turning her attention back to Monk Happy, Song hesitated before giving voice to her thoughts, but they needed to be said. Though the Western Wall was still holding strong for now, she knew Rain would blame himself for every death and setback along the way, and doubly so for those that took place in his absence. A foolish and prideful mindset to take, since it meant Rain thought that he could defend the Western Border better than Colonel General Shuai Jiao, but there was no sense using logic to argue with Rain. Thus, the only way to mitigate his depressive spiral was to limit the amount of time he spent away and out of control, leaving him with a more manageable burden of irrational guilt rather than an overwhelming one that might crush him underfoot. “Perhaps he has improved,” she began, unsure how to properly frame the issue, “But... it is not enough. He still has yet to craft his third Spiritual Weapon, and we do not even know if doing so will fix him.”
“Oh, it almost certainly won’t,” Monk Happy said, shrugging in the face of Song’s dumbfounded expression. “The damage to his weapons shattered his Core, but considering how he managed to fix his Core without reforming his Spiritual Weapons, it makes no sense to believe the missing weapons are the cause of his woes. No, we believe Junior Brother Rain’s problems stem from Balance, more specifically a lack thereof.”
Frowning, Song quietly accepted Sarankho’s headbutt and nuzzled the sweet wildcat close, making sure to offer the same to Jimjam as well if he should so choose to accept it. For a change, the diffident wildcat was in the mood for a hug, and for a moment, all was well in the world. Then she was forced to face reality once more and ask a question she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted answered. “You think he turned Defiled again?”
It was impossible right? Rain would never succumb to the Father’s lies, Song just knew it in her heart.
“No, no,” Monk Happy said, much to Song’s relief. “Junior Brother Rain lacks Balance the same way a bird lacks fur or a turtle feathers. Rather than hold to Balance or fall to Imbalance, Junior Brother Rain appears to have... for lack of a better phrase, rejected the entire system. Too much is as bad as not enough, this is an adage many Martial Warriors have heard in reference to Balance, but it appears that this might no longer be true in the case of absolute nothingness. Rather than struggle or surrender, we believe Junior Brother Rain chose to empty himself of all emotion and thus...” Pausing to issue a long sigh, Monk Happy explained, “This monk struggles to explain without revealing too much of what lies ahead, for the Martial Path is one best tread in ignorance, because the wrong misconception can be far more damaging than simple lack of information. The latter is much more easily corrected than the former, and this monk fears your mother would not be so forgiving if he were to ruin a seedling as promising as you. All else aside, Junior Brother Rain divested himself of all emotion and found a... different sort of Balance, one wherein the scales are equalized because there is nothing on either side to weigh.”
Her chest wracked with pangs of sympathy, Song studied Rain’s relaxed, neutral expression as he lay in the grass with Mama Bun in his arm, Guai Guai braced against his chest, and Blackjack in his hand, so calm and at peace in the moment. She understood his desire to feel nothing, for she too had tried to die inside since she lacked the ability to die in real life. Sometimes, feeling nothing seemed a damned sight better than going through all the pain and misery of life, for the endless trials and tribulations had a way of wearing one down. It never worked though, because it wasn’t possible to feel nothing, not while still drawing breath, and though Rain evidently found more success with his attempt than most, he learned the same lesson they all did, that he was only fooling himself into believing he had no emotions at all.
“So what does this mean for him going forward?” And more importantly, how was the Brotherhood planning to fix him?
Catching onto her real question, Monk Happy rubbed his bald head in thought. “I brought him here in hopes of helping him, but I fear I have only enabled him to hide his head in the sand. Perhaps the Abbot could do more, but he is otherwise occupied, so I can only tell Sentinel Song the truth. We... have come up with dozens of theories that might hold water, and differing opinions on what must be done, but we are unable to agree upon any one approach. One thing we do agree on is that we all believe that Junior Brother Rain has recognized his own failings and is rectifying the mistake on his own, to some extent. See how he does as he pleases, without care for pride or appearance? He is submerging himself in his emotions and making up for a lifetime of such experiences he suppressed, discarded, or otherwise tried to forget, but this is clearly not enough.”
Because life wasn’t solely comprised of safe and happy times spent with loved ones. Life was also about loss and failure, struggle and hardship, conflict and compromise. “He cannot stay?” Song asked, more because she didn’t want to admit that she already knew the answer. Rain was clearly happy here, or really anywhere he and his loved ones could be together safely, but a return to the Western Wall would not be the joyous reunion he no doubt desperately desired. While large Defiled armies had yet to take the field, small cavalry patrols were harassing Imperial soldiers and citizens wherever they could, running the patrols and mounts ragged as they struck like lightning and faded away to safety west of the Wall. No Imperial troops would willingly step foot west of the Wall, not without a massive army behind them, for the battle along the second line had shown that Divinities on both sides were willing to lend aid to their respective sides, if only to Conceal troop movements from the naked eye. Alas, this gambit served the Enemy far better than the Imperials, for the latter held a static defence whilst the former were free to pick and choose their targets at will.
And if Rain were to return there in his current state, he would be helpless to do naught but share in the pain and misery of ‘his’ failures.
Was this why he refused to reforge his third and final weapon and lacked any and all sense of urgency? Because he had no desire to return to the war? Presumably, he’d come here for guidance, and the monks of the Brotherhood guided him towards the reformation of his Spiritual Weapons, but surely this was not all they could do. “Is there nothing else you can do for him?” she asked, hoping above all hope that he had some miracle in his pocket, but alas, Monk Happy merely shook his head.
“Alas, until he is able to speak and explain his issues, we are unable to help, so we are deadlocked in that we have no way to proceed, except to say that he is already on the right path, and that his path leads away from the monastery for now.” Bowing his head, he added, “Of course, I will travel with him, to aid in keeping him safe, but the Mother helps those who help themselves, and She is helpless to help those who refuse to heed Her advice.”
Since Mama’s last letter told her all was still well, she decided to give Rain at least one more day to enjoy the peace and serenity of the Brotherhood’s monastery before giving him some much needed motivation to get better. She watched as he played with Blackjack and snuggled with bunnies and called the laughing birds to his hand and stroked their feathered heads with tender care. Then he play wrestled with Banjo and Baloo, guiding them on how to overcome Princess, and laid on his side to invite the weasel bear to come snuggle in his embrace, an invitation she steadfastly ignored. He ate his meals with relish, sharing scraps with those who would eat them, and chased his wildcats about the courtyard with reckless abandon while the rabbits hopped along behind them, all before coming back to sit with Lin-Lin and hold her tight, no doubt showing her just how much he loved her all the while.
A pleasant life, all things considered, full of joy and good cheer, but alas, Rain was needed for more.
After sending Lin-Lin off to bed, Song followed Rain back to his room, where they could speak in silence. Upon realizing she was there, his surprise was evident in the form of an Aura that even she couldn’t entirely understand, mostly a tangled web of confusion and self-loathing. Settling into the chair as she gestured for him to sit on the bed, she spent a few moments petting Ping Ping and gathering her thoughts. First, she detailed what Monk Happy shared with her to ascertain Rain’s thoughts on the matter, and what she got was a mixture of muted frustration and self-deprecation combined with mild indifference and scorn. Clearly, he disagreed with something Monk Happy had conveyed, but given the long delay between statement and response, Song wasn’t sure which part had earned Rain’s scorn.
That being said, she felt the need to give Rain a little push, just in case he’d forgotten why he was here in the first place. “The Defiled are on the attack,” she said, and for once, his body language gave him away as he straightened in alarm and surprise less than a minute later. How strange to think there was a time when his expressions were so easily read, but things changed, and not always for the better. “Not out in force, but minor raids, mostly one to four hundred strong. The districts have taken a beating, because while their militia are more than up the task of weathering a single attack, the Defiled have taken to repeatedly raiding the same districts until soldiers are dispatched to guard it.” She left out that Colonel General Shuai Jiao had yet to order any troops to defend them and Luo-Luo had been forced to organize off-duty volunteers to stand guard during their downtime, not an ideal solution by any means but the only one they had available to them. Shuai Jiao saw the deaths as an acceptable loss, as he valued soldiers over civilians and saw war as an issue of mathematics more than anything else. It wasn’t necessarily the wrong decision, as in truth, the Defiled raids had done little to no lasting damage as of yet and civilians were still lining up for a chance to settle along the Western Border, but it left a sour taste in Song’s mouth, as it would in Rain’s.
“Mama believes there is at least one Defiled army in the field,” Song continued, surprised by how quickly Rain reacted to this news. There was a time when it took minutes, if not hours to get a message through to him, but lately he’d improved to the point where he seemed aware of all conversation directed towards him. Lin-Lin was the first to notice and Song had paid it little mind, but now she wondered if this was yet another sign of his improving condition, one that they’d all overlooked. “Because the Wraith attacks have stepped up in frequency despite learning that their newfangled abilities are some form of Blessing and easily countered by Elemental Chi. The Enemy losses have been substantial, but the raids and assassination attempts continue, no doubt to distract us from seeing what’s happening in front of our eyes.” Taking a deep breath, she added, “This morning, Colonel General Shuai Jiao took sole command of the Imperial defences, and Luo-Luo has declined to contest the decision, though she gives no reason why. According to Mama, Shuai Jiao means to sit and hold the Walls as best he can, because so long as the walls remain standing, a few small raids are of no consequence, especially now that he has the support of the Marshals and can keep the Wall supplied via overland travel. A losing gambit, in Mama’s opinion, as it costs more in both coin and blood to accept this status quo, but Nian Zu and Ryo Dae Jung agree with his plan of action, and there is little we can do.”
Clearly, Rain agreed with Mama as he trembled with suppressed rage, and Song could see how conflicted he really was. She offered him everything else she knew regarding the war efforts, but it was precious little, and though she was prepared to stay and repeat herself if necessary, Rain dismissed her with an Aura of grief and gratitude stained with uncertainty and indecision. He didn’t know what he was going to do, but he needed time to think, and this was exactly what she wanted him to do. Trusting Naaran to keep a close eye on Rain, she left his room and hoped he would stay there, as the last thing anyone wanted was for him to slip away and do something stupid like engage the Enemy on his own.
Which was exactly what he might try if left to his own devices, but there was nothing Song could do to stop him. Not entirely true, as she could bind herself to him using rope like Sister Mila and Yan had, but then that meant sharing a room with him, and she wasn’t quite willing to do so just yet. Instead, she trusted Naaran to keep him close, but not only this, she trusted Rain not to forget her Oaths and leave her here unattended, where she would then be compelled to find him no matter the cost.
He wouldn’t do that to her, not Rain. This, Song believed without fail. What he would do, no one could say, perhaps not even Rain himself, but whatever it was, Song had faith that he would do whatever he thought was right.
And sometimes, that was the best one could hope for, because life was not necessarily about doing everything right, but rather to be true to one’s self in the face of adversity. Easy to speak of honour and honesty when rich and well-liked, but what of the starving farmer who resisted the urge to turn bandit or the honourable merchant who was sorely in debt yet refused to cheat his customers? Yes, the true measure of a person was how they behaved in the face of adversity, and thus far, Falling Rain had done nothing but remain true to himself. This, more than anything, was what defined his Path, and Song hoped to one day understand what defined hers as well. For now, she would follow Rain on his, not because her Oaths compelled her, but because given everything she knew about him, she believed that his Path moved parallel to her own.
Though others might see them as master and slave, in their eyes, they were family, friends, and comrades in arms, so Song would follow Rain wherever he might lead her, so long as he remained true to himself.
Then again... there was no harm in pushing him a little further, just in case he’d grown complacent and was enjoying his time with the pets too much. As she stepped out the door, she was reminded of one last piece of news that might convince Rain to hurry, and she wasted no time turning around to tell him him. “Mafu and Atir’s eggs have hatched, so you have nine, healthy pups waiting to meet you. Mafu brings them by the manor every day looking for you and spends the mornings playing with them in the courtyard.”
Without waiting for a response, Song turned and left the room to avoid the inevitable glee and anticipation she knew would follow, because she feared she might lose herself if his Aura were compounded with her own eager impatience to cuddle the quin pups. If Rain needed rest and relaxation to help fill his emotional void, it would go much faster back home with the rest of their family. If he still had reason to be here, then he had best get to it before too much time passed, else he might recover only to find there was no longer an Empire to return to.
Or worse... he might miss out on seeing the quin pups at their cutest, when they were still awkward and ungainly as they bumbled about with waddling butts and half-lidded eyes...
Chapter Meme