Upon being relieved of her duties as stand-in Legate of the Outer Provinces, Luo-Luo’s first instinct was to crawl into bed and stay there until she withered away.

Failure was not a concept she had much experience with, not in the conventional sense. Her greatest tribulation to date came from dealing with the consequences of being too remarkable and talented, but now, she would be known all across the Empire as the woman who failed to measure up to Falling Rain’s expectations. Perhaps they would say he was blinded by his love for her, which wouldn’t sting so much if he actually loved her, or maybe they would whisper of how she was a fool who sought power for no purpose other than to wield it. It mattered little what others would say of her, but somehow, in this, she couldn’t stop thinking about the possible gossip, because she couldn’t help but wonder if there were a grain of truth to their accusations.

The facts were plain and simple. Lord Husband had trusted Luo-Luo with the mantle of his Office and expected her to carry out his duties while he was otherwise occupied. Then Luo-Luo failed so miserably it forced three Colonel Generals and two of three Marshals to band together and threaten rebellion if she should even try to hold the powers of the Legate’s Office over them. Not rebellion against the Empire, nor even rebellion against the Emperor or even against the Office of the Legate, but rather rebellion against an incompetent Imperial Consort who possessed more power than sense.

Of course, none of them said as much, not in so many words. Colonel General Shuai Jiao even took an Oath saying he would relinquish his ‘emergency powers’, as he so aptly termed it, as well as his military rank once the Defiled threat was contained or ‘the Emperor’s appointed representative’ was able to serve in a ‘competent capacity’. All very carefully chosen terms that left no room for doubt in Luo-Luo’s mind that the ascetic Colonel General was up to something, else there would be no need for such caution. What was to keep him from deeming Lord Husband an unlawful representative or simply incompetent? She noticed he also made no Oath to retire from politics, or to refrain from using his ‘emergency powers’ to benefit himself, or even to refrain from laying the groundwork for a true rebellion in the future. Who would stand against him? With Nian Zu, Ryo Dae Jung, Yo Jeong-Hun, and Quyen Huong all complicit in his rise to power, Shuai Jiao would only need to threaten to implicate them in his statements and they would all have no choice but to support him against the Emperor, because who would believe they did not share in Shuai Jiao’s ambition?

Everyone Luo-Luo spoke to considered him to be a saint among men, a generous, kindhearted Warrior who placed great emphasis on honour and duty, but Luo-Luo now suspected it was all a sham. Well, not all of it, as even she had to admit Shuai Jiao believed in his ideals, but she also knew that even with all his strength and cunning, there was no way the man’s hands were still clean, not after years of political machinations. One cannot walk by the riverside without getting their shoes wet, and Shuai Jiao was merely a more honest and powerful sort of politician. An honourable man would not have blindsided her like Shuai Jiao had, ousting her from her official duties without so much as a how do you do. An honourable man would not have placed the burden of choice on another and risk civil war in a time of hardship for the sake of seizing power, even if his intentions were good.

Which was likely why she never saw it coming, because until he made his move, Luo-Luo wholly believed Shuai Jiao’s false reputation and thus took no measures to guard against him.

So in short, she had no one to blame but herself. She could have resisted his takeover, could have gathered her Death Corps and Royal Guardians, taken up Lord Husband’s Divine Turtle Token and waved it about as he said she could. Then, the Colonel Generals and Marshals would’ve been forced to think twice, for then their actions would be made public. So long as Lord Husband was still Legate of the Outer Provinces, his word was law, and with his token in hand, Luo-Luo spoke with his voice, so she only needed to give the word and the loyal soldiers of the Empire would no doubt stand on her side. If she made a big enough issue of it, the Imperial Clan might even send a representative to assist her, if only for the sake of face.

But she didn’t, because deep down, she knew she was not qualified for the job. Lord Husband’s faith in her was misplaced, else the highest echelons of command in the outer provinces would not have banded together to overthrow her. With this abject failure hanging over her head, how was she supposed to face Lord Husband again?

This wasn’t even the worst part yet. No, that came when she brought Colonel General Shuai Jiao’s ultimatum to Mother-in-Law Akanai with proof that these people were working against Luo-Luo. Rather than get up in arms about outsiders deposing Lord Husband’s chosen replacement, Mother-in-Law Akanai instead quietly sighed, sat back, smoothed her robes and asked, “So what do you intend to do?”

And there it was, spelled out in plain Common. There was no outrage or support coming from Lord Husband’s people, no unity despite all their talk of family and solidarity, just quiet resignation and an inquiry as to how she intended to proceed, because when it came right down to it, Mother-in-Law Akanai believed Shuai Jiao’s actions were warranted and thus was siding with outsiders against Luo-Luo. Having failed so miserably even her own family didn’t see fit to defend her, Luo-Luo simply faked a smile and said she would accede to the Colonel General’s demands and step down from her rightful Office without contest. Mother-in-Law Akanai accepted this with a nod and a pat of Luo-Luo’s arm, as she no doubt thought it was for the best.

So ashamed of her failure, Luo-Luo almost couldn’t bear the thought of having breakfast with the family, but having missed dinner due to a bout of depression, her empty belly forced her out of the room to greet the day as if nothing happened. She smiled and played with the adorable quin pups before eating her breakfast with gusto, making small talk with the in-laws and asking after their health the entire time. She also complimented Sister-in-Law Alsantset, practised her Forms, and even mentioned how she dearly missed the rabbits, wildcats, bears, and even the laughing birds, all without giving away her true feelings.

A good thing too, because throughout it all, she couldn’t help but feel betrayed by this family who supposedly accepted her. For Lord Husband, they were willing to rebel against the Empire, but for Luo-Luo? A simple, ‘What do you intend to do?’. No mention of outrage or sympathy, no muttered curses or oaths of vengeance, just ‘Oh, and what now?’.

It wasn’t fair to the family to think this way. The Bekhai would never have survived so long if they didn’t pick their battles wisely, and it wasn’t as if Lord Husband had lost his title. Though Luo-Luo could no longer act in his name, he was still Legate of the Outer Provinces. Shuai Jiao made no effort to wrest that title away, nor did he attempt to discredit Luo-Luo or any of her work. Not that he had any need to, as Lord Husband was in no state to contest her dismissal and time had done more to discredit Luo-Luo than any smear campaign ever could. Even now, in light of all her failures, she was still unable to see where it all went wrong. Take SuiHua Harbour, for example, one point the Colonel Generals repeatedly contested her on while she refused to back down. They thought her efforts were wasted rebuilding the harbour, effort that could have been better spent reinforcing the Districts or finishing Lord Husband’s planned military stations, but Luo-Luo disagreed. So long as the Empire held the harbour, the Enemy would be unable to take control of the waterway that ran all along the border until it reached the Southern province, giving the Imperial Army the advantage of having ships to ferry troops and supplies wherever they were needed along the Western Wall. Alas, the Colonel Generals refused to make use of this advantage and instead set their ships to chasing Huanhuzi’s fleet wherever it came in sight of land. A waste of time and effort, in her eyes, as the Empire would have been best served by withdrawing from all but a handful of fortified harbours, ones too well entrenched for any fleet to assault head on. Then, all the Colonel Generals had to do was keep watch for the pirate fleet landing and have a force ready to meet them in battle, but somehow, this was not a suitable response.

What if the pirate fleet were to ferry an entire Defiled army behind the Western Wall? Luo-Luo countered that if the Enemy could do so, they would have already done so and the war would have been lost. Whatever method the so-called King of Bandits used to keep the monsters of the Azure Sea from attacking his ships was limited in some way, because every time he emerged from the dense mists, he only ever brought with him a handful of ships, with the vast majority staying in shallow waters like all other sea-faring vessels and fighting to the bitter and costly end. It was no easy task to fend off the constant raids, but while Huanhuzi’s limited ability to skirt into the no-man’s land of the Azure Sea offered him an undeniable advantage over the Imperial fleet, there was no way the Enemy ships were able to traverse the deep waters with impunity, else they would have long since launched an attack on the North, and thus far, there were no reports of any Defiled armies landing on the northern shore. This much she knew for certain, as Colonel General Nian Zu assured her that such a thing would not go unnoticed even with the support of an Enemy Divinity, so she suspected the King of Bandit’s nautical protection had something to do with proximity to his flagship, the Bewildering Mist. Not because of its name, which so many believed was the source of the thick fog that accompanied every pirate attack, despite records indicating that fog was nothing out of the norm along the coast which meant Huanhuzi was merely adept at using it. No, there was some secret to the ship because no matter the prize or battle, the Bewildering Mist never once weighed anchor on Imperial land. Not when his fleet burned down Suihua harbour or in the subsequent battle against Father-in-Law Baatar’s forces, nor did it ever land in any nautical engagement since. Either Huanhuzi had no stomach for battle, which was hardly believable considering the half-badger’s fearsome reputation, or he didn’t dare risk his ship while treating all other vessels as disposable.

What’s more, she speculated there were limits to whatever protection he could offer from the denizens of the deep, as there had been reports of unrecognizable wreckage drifting off in the distance or brought close to shore by the constant tides and getting in the way of Imperial ships. This meant that if Huanhuzi were to ferry a Defiled army to Imperial shores, it would not be a sizable one by any margin, because he simply couldn’t protect that many ships out in deeper waters. Perhaps if he made multiple trips, but then the Enemy forces risked being spotted and dealt with long before they had their full strength in place.

Even if Huanhuzi’s ships dropped Defiled off away from shore had them swim several kilometres to reach land, there was no way for any Enemy infiltrators to escape the notice of patrolling Divinities, not even if said infiltrators were Half-Step Divinity Wraiths. Guarding the Western Wall, with so many Peak Experts moving about, was far different from watching the Northern shore, where anyone with a Core would stand out like a green hat on red robes. It wasn’t that Wraiths went unnoticed when sneaking into the Citadels, but rather watching eyes were unable to differentiate Concealed Wraiths from Concealed Imperials, and there were far more of the latter moving about than most would believe.

Thus, Luo-Luo felt justified in concentrating her efforts on SuiHua harbour and turning it into an unassailable nautical fortress festooned with catapults and bolt-throwers a plenty. Cixi came up with the most ingenious idea of launching a payload of two smaller stones connected by thick iron chains, and they were most effective at destroying masts and oars that stood in their path, as well as anything else. Even if Huanhuzi were to personally lead another attack from the deeps, she was confident the harbour defences would hold with ease. Unfortunately, none of the military minds of the Empire seemed to care, since they only saw the harbour as a way-station, one needed to ship troops and supplies from the Northern Province. Thus, Huanhuzi’s constant raids on said ships and the continued viability of overland travel rendered the harbour useless in their eyes, because they didn’t care about the increased costs that came with land-based transport. To them, the coin wasn’t real, because at the end of the day, it was all paid for by the Imperial Clan, but there were limits to what Luo-Luo could do with the generous but still wholly insufficient consignments of coin that arrived every few months. War was costly, and manning the Western Wall would have long since beggared the Central Province if they’d been forced to pay for it themselves, without even taking into account the costs of building the Wall in the first place. If merchants all across the Empire could be convinced to accept paper currency, then Luo-Luo could ink as much coin as she needed, but until such a time when Lord Husband’s idea bore fruit, she was constrained to paying with cold, hard coin, coin which she was woefully short of.

So instead of focusing their efforts defending Imperial ships travelling along the Azure Sea, the Colonel Generals wasted their time tracking and chasing Huanhuzi’s fleet, engaging him time and time again despite knowing they were at an obvious disadvantage. Now, Nian Zu had all but given up on nautical shipping routes, yet still maintained a powerful military presence along the coast out of misguided fears of an invading Defiled fleet, which was a source of heated contention between Luo-Luo and the Colonel Generals. Those troops would be of much better use defending the Districts instead, but Shuai Jiao, Nian Zu, Mother-in-Law (technically Grandmother-in-Law) Akanai, and even Father-in-Law Baatar saw things differently.

“The boy meant well,” Father-in-Law Baatar had said last night, patting Luo-Luo’s head as if she were a child, “But in this, he is mistaken. Having withdrawn from the second line, we no longer have a forward buffer to buy time for our troops to get in position, as the border is too long to garrison in full strength all along in its entirety. That’s why the boy wanted a second line behind the Western Wall, for teams of soldiers to rapidly deploy wherever they might be needed.” A plan Luo-Luo delayed to reinforce SuiHua harbour, which even he thought was a mistake. There was no accusation in his tone however, only straightforward pragmatism, and he continued listing Luo-Luo’s failures in the same manner. “What’s more, there are two-hundred districts in total, so stationing the requisite two-hundred soldiers at each would occupy forty-thousand soldiers. However, you must double this number at a minimum because soldiers cannot serve indefinitely without rest, even if they do not see combat. Guarding against the remote possibility of attack still requires focus and discipline, both of which are finite in even the best of Warriors.” Sighing as he shook his head, he aged before her eyes as his youthful features took on a cast of wisdom and regret. “Eighty to a hundred and twenty thousand soldiers occupied, but for what gain? The fields still lie empty after winter due to constant Defiled raids, and while all life is sacred, these commoners should have known opportunity here walks hand in hand with danger. We will do everything we can to keep the Defiled from breaking through and running rampant in the districts, but we simply cannot afford to spare so many troops to protect the districts without benefit. The Defiled raids are small now, but only because we have every available soldier defending the Wall. Take even eighty-thousand soldiers away to defend the districts and those hundred-Defiled raiding parties could easily swell to ten times that number. What then, girl? How will two-hundred soldiers hold out against three times their number of Enemy cavalry? Not easily, and not without horrific losses, so the Imperial Army cannot afford to do this. Do you understand?”

Luo-Luo did, in a fashion, though she still maintained that the soldiers guarding the coast could be of better use elsewhere. She also didn’t understand why Father-in-Law stressed ‘Imperial Army’ when he mentioned it last, and while he had a strange inflection at times, this seemed deliberate, or perhaps he was simply coming to the end of his patience with Luo-Luo’s incompetence.

Despite his reasonable explanation, Luo-Luo still chafed at Colonel General Shuai Jiao’s decision to leave the districts so lightly defended, especially in light of the many tales of victory emerging from the districts. Then again, even Luo-Luo had to admit Lord Husband might have overreached, because in the best case scenarios, the militia suffered twenty to thirty percent losses in a single attack, and up to fifty in the worst case scenarios, barring the catastrophe in District Twenty-Six where the soldiers stationed there retreated before battle even began and left the poor civilians to fend for themselves. The Captain in command, one Warrior Pu Tong, had been stripped of rank and was awaiting trial for dereliction of duty among other charges, but already there were rumours abound of his imminent acquittal. Though it made her sick to her stomach to even think it, Luo-Luo wished Sister Mila had hung the man in the field as she was well within her rights to, because now his trial had become a point of political contention. If Pu Tong was charged with dereliction of duty for abandoning the districts to the Defiled, then an argument could be made to charge Colonel General Shuai Jiao with the same crime if he were to later leave them undefended. It was a giant mess which Luo-Luo had not seen coming, and she had no idea how to handle so delicate a situation, but the sole benefit of having been ousted from power was the fact that she now had no part in Warrior Pu Tong’s trial. That was the purview of the Disciplinary Corps, and while she sensed the cats-paws of the Imperial Clan quietly pulling strings in the background, she paid them no mind and focused solely on what to do next.

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Which wasn’t much, if she was being honest. Now that she was no longer responsible for Lord Husband’s official duties, Luo-Luo’s schedule was clear as sunny skies and she had nothing to demand her time.

Or so she thought.

While paying a visit and playing a concert for Lord Husband’s cattle, a Royal Guardian interrupted her with a request from Liu Xuande, who had just arrived by private ship after sailing through the night. The man purchased one for his personal use shortly after Lord Husband stationed him in the Central Citadel, so that he could come back and visit as quickly as the winds would allow, and he used it many a time to spring an unexpected visit onto Luo-Luo. Last time, he brought his fellow Imperial Scions along to discuss ramping up recruitment for the districts, but she could not order this in good conscience before knowing she could protect the citizens flocking west in search of a better life. A good thing too, as it was now clear that the Empire could not defend the districts, not in the way she’d hoped they would.

Though in no mood to discuss her failures, she grudgingly accepted the meeting in case the man had something that was unrelated to her ousting, but luck was not on her side. Storming into her office, where she’d chosen to take this meeting, Liu Xuande fumed with outrage and uttered, “Make us private.”

The command wasn’t directed at anyone in particular, just given with the expectation that someone would obey. Glancing at Kuang Biao and Gunan, Luo-Luo first silently asked if anyone had obeyed, then gave permission to erect a Sound Barrier when their non-verbal response came back negative. Her reaction would have been different if Xuande’s own Experts erected Sound Barriers in her presence, as she would have taken this as an act of blatant disrespect, but he was just behaving with customary ingrained arrogance that he probably didn’t even notice. Hardly outrageous, but it was baked into his very being, much like Lord Husband’s quiet arrogance in assuming everyone was as talented as he.

In an effort to take control of the conversation, Luo-Luo enticed sweet Noodle out to play, and the Emerald Viper obediently slithered out to check her surroundings. On the surface, she paid Xuande no mind as Sorya and Anrhi served tea and snacks, a courtesy even an Imperial Scion wouldn’t dismiss out of hand. Not out of respect for the custom, but because it would lessen him in other people’s eyes, as haste makes waste, and a man in a hurry was a man losing control. That was how it was in the Empire, no matter the province, and Luo-Luo used this and Noodle’s ‘fearsome’ demeanour to her advantage.

Strange how commoner to Peak Expert alike all tensed up around the Emerald Viper, especially considering how many other formidable beasts surrounded Lord Husband. The wildcats were sweet kittens, and the bears wouldn’t hurt a fly, but Princess and the quins were quite feral and willing to kill on a whim. The only difference here was that even though Noodle was a sweetheart, she possessed a deadly venom that could kill even powerful Martial Warriors despite their innate bodily resistance. Or at least she had, until the Medical Saint did something to render Noodle’s venom sacs inert. For everyone’s safety of course, and the sweet snake didn’t seem adversely affected, so there no harm in being cautious.

No outsiders knew the snake’s venom had been rendered inert however, so they all tread cautiously around Noodle. As she curled her tail around Luo-Luo’s forearm and stretched out to inspect the snacks, Luo-Luo stroked the sweet snake and turned her attention to the pale-faced Xuande, who was leaning as far back in his seat as he could without reclining. “So what brings you to the Northern Citadel?” she asked, sipping her tea and savouring the taste. Anrhi picked one of the finest blends, as Xuande had a finicky palate and would make faces if the tea was not suited to his tastes. Lord Husband liked the man for his ideals, but it was hard for Luo-Luo to see anything but a hypocrite, a silver-spoon noble fighting for the rights of the common people without intending to sacrifice any of the advantages he himself possessed. Would he still hold to his cause if he could no longer dress in fine silks or bathe in perfumed water? If the end result was that he could only eat rice gruel and bone broth, would he still stand as a champion of equality for all? Luo-Luo suspected he would not, and as such, she found him grating to be around, but there was no denying his aptitude for finances and tactics.

Politics were another story, however, as Xuande lacked the subtle touch required for it, which was likely why he found himself relegated to the outer provinces. Caught off guard by her abrupt question, she watched as he struggled to understand her actions, as it was impolite to skip straight to business without first appreciating the tea and snacks. Truth be told, she only did it because she could not stand making small talk with the man, as he always had something new or old to be outraged about. It was all for a good cause, and Luo-Luo sympathized with the poor commoners who’d suffered various injustices, but Xuande’s aggressive, hyperbolic rhetoric hurt more than helped. “I have come to offer my humble aid,” he finally answered, having given up on trying to properly read her intentions. “These provincial fools have overstepped their bounds and spit on the Legate’s wisdom, so however you and the Bekhai intend to retaliate, know that I will stand with you. Let us join hands and show these uncultured swine that the honour of the Imperial Clan is not theirs to impugn, for none but the Emperor Himself can unseat His appointed Officials.”

This was the sort of talk that made it difficult to like him, a man always so eager for conflict and bloodshed. To think, she initially figured him for a soft-spoken scholar with more pride than sense, but other than the last bit, she could not be more wrong. Continuing to sip her tea in silence, she studied Xuande until he showed the slightest sign of discomfort, though she suspected he feigned it to move the conversation along. This was what so many people of the outer provinces were unable to pick up on, the fact that sometimes, giving face meant losing some for yourself, a transaction like any other. “And what would you have me do?” she asked, her tone dry and bitter, intentionally revealing her displeasure. “Take up arms against three united Colonel Generals? Raise taxes and establish tariffs to strike back at the Marshals? Or would you have me beg the Emperor for His aide in regaining the authority I have lost?”

All losing gambits, but Xuande didn’t seem to care. “However you care to retaliate, know that I and my fellow Scions support you.”

Now that came as a surprise, as loyalty was not something she expected from Xuande, even if his loyalties laid with Lord Husband rather than Luo-Luo herself. Heartening as it was, she was not deserving of it, for she was unable to match Lord Husband’s brilliance. “My decision is to not retaliate, in light of the greater good. Internal conflict will hurt more than it will help, even assuming I prevail over my political opponents.”

A terrible assumption, at that, because while she was unsure of the exact strength of her Royal Guardians, she couldn’t imagine any of them were capable enough to defeat a Colonel General in single combat. Warriors like that would not be mere Royal Guardians, after all, but entitled nobles serving the Emperor in a greater capacity. A fact Xuande did not seem to comprehend, but then again, he never saw Nian Zu in battle, not like Luo-Luo had, and it was an eye-opening experience indeed. “Not retaliate?” he asked, dumbfounded by this seemingly shocking revelation. “But why? In a single day, Shuai Jiao seeks to overturn all the groundwork the Legate and yourself have laid, trampling the fields like a buck in heat just before the winter harvest.”

Groundwork? What groundwork? Luo-Luo had merely been following Lord Husband’s plans, which she believed had been her downfall. Lord Husband was brilliant indeed, but even he could not have foreseen the threat from Huanhuzi. Had he been in power, he might well have shifted his focus elsewhere, such as on building the Imperial barracks between the Western Wall and Districts like Father-in-Law Baatar believed would be best, or rushing construction of more roads to speed up overland travel, or perhaps something entirely different that Luo-Luo could not predict. That was the issue with taking over his role, because she could never match his genius and foresight, nor did she have the respect of his fellow officers and ministers or the love of the people.

No one could match Lord Husband in all these things and more, but there were people more qualified than Luo-Luo to try.

Thankfully, Xuande failed to notice Luo-Luo’s despondent sigh and launched into yet another of his righteous rants. “The established nobility have seen what the common people are capable of, and now fear their reign has come to an end. Thus, they move to strike down the people’s greatest champion and discredit all his good work. The Legate’s plans were almost in place, with the defended harbour guarding against massed coastal travel and leaving no route for the pirates to easily ship their ill-gotten gains back West. Your continued shipments were also lulling the pirate Huanhuzi into complacency, making this the perfect time to lure him in with a trap and end his threat once and for all. No doubt you were troubled by the need to take the man alive so as to unravel the mystery of his deep sea travel, else he would have long since been dealt with, but now the nobility seek to steal his secrets for themselves and simultaneously steal credit for the Legate’s efforts.”

All pure fiction of course, for the ‘established nobility’ was hardly coordinated enough to act in so decisive a fashion. Whatever conspiracy Xuande saw lurking in the shadows, it was one largely of his own devising, but he still made a good point about setting a trap for Huanhuzi. A costly trap no matter how one looked at it, with more than two dozen ships, a veritable fortune, and countless lives lost thus far, many of which were commoner sailors and deckhands, but of course, Xuande missed all the finer points in his righteous anger. Sacrifices for the cause, is how he would undoubtedly respond if she cared to bring it up, but sometimes it was easier to let him blow hot air until he ran out of steam before jumping back in.

Making a note to talk to Father-in-Law Baatar about the viability of an ambush, Luo-Luo nodded along and made non-committal sounds of interest as Xuande continued, “And this business of leaving the districts so poorly defended? They might as well build the gallows and hang the citizens themselves, for leaving them unsupported by Aura-Capable Warriors is no different from staking lambs out for the tiger. We saw what would happen in District Twenty-Six, and that was largely mitigated by Imperial Consort Sumila’s speedy response, else who knows how horrendous the damages would have been? Amoral is what it is, to leave your fellow man to fend for themselves in the midst of war, claiming they cannot spare the manpower to defend the districts while committing twice that number to securing Huanhuzi for their own nefarious purposes. They mean to cripple the Legate’s popularity and reclaim the economical monopoly they once held, all to satisfy their own ego and greed without a care for what will happen when the Legate no longer has the resources to finance this war.”

...Was that actually what was happening here? Why was Xuande starting to make sense? As much as Luo-Luo wanted to do something with all this information, her hands were tied. She had no authority to order the Imperial Army anymore, nor did she have the means to protect the districts on her own. What would Lord Husband do if given the same argument by Colonel General Shuai Jiao? Demand soldiers be placed at the districts? Directly countermand the Colonel General’s orders? No, he would seek out a suitable compromise, such as...

Glancing at Kuang Biao in stark realization, she finally understood what Father-in-Law Baatar had been trying to hint at, and the Death Corps guardsman nodded ever so slightly. Noticing their exchange, Xuande trailed off and fell silent as he tried to understand what just happened, but Luo-Luo was too busy trying to come up with a plan to speak. All this time, she’d been too focused on following through with Lord Husband’s plans, and while they were vitally important, she’d failed to adapt. That was her greatest sin as stand-in Legate of the Outer Provinces, her inability to ‘roll with the punches’, as Lord Husband would say. She spent so much time struggling for power with the Marshals and Colonel Generals, she failed to realize Lord Husband would have simply gone in an entirely different direction instead.

He would have rolled with the punches and attacked from another angle.

“Kuang Biao,” she began, speaking out loud so that Xuande and Gunan could corroborate her story if she should later come under investigation. “Gather the Death Corps and Royal Guardians and prepare them for travel. In light of the recent attacks and the casualties sustained, I feel the need to inspect the district defences for myself and see what improvements need to be made. I will personally visit the districts hit hardest by the Enemy to offer aid and assistance, but I will need the Death Corps and Royal Guardians to inspect the other districts in my place. Have we enough manpower to send, say... ten Royal Guardians and two-hundred Death Corps to each? Best to have our own people in place sending me reports rather than trust the word of soldiers and officials who have largely proven themselves unreliable.”

“By your command, Imperial Consort.”

As Kuang Biao set off to carry out her will, Luo-Luo considered her actions from all angles. Technically, the Death Corps and Royal Guardians were here to protect the Legate, not defend the Empire as soldiers and Warriors. As this was the case, Kuang Biao was forbidden by his Oaths to suggest this course of action, but he knew full well what Lord Husband would have done in Luo-Luo’s place, and what Father-in-Law Baatar was suggesting she do as well. Granted, the Death Corps would follow her orders without complaint no matter what she demanded of them, but she still had to justify herself to the Royal Guardians and perhaps even the Emperor Himself if He should disapprove of her decision. Terrifying as that might be, Lord Husband had placed his trust in Luo-Luo and expected her to carry out his duties while he was otherwise occupied, and she had no doubt this was exactly what he would have done. How many times had he complained about how his Death Corps honour guard was wasted standing around doing nothing? They were here to defend the Legate’s honour and thus the Emperor’s authority, but how much face would be gained when word got out that tens of thousands of the Emperor’s own Death Corps guards were moving out in strength, just to defend the homes of mere commoners?

Then again, some might spin this as an affront to the Emperor’s honour, since Death Corps and Royal Guardians were meant to serve and protect Imperial Scions, but Luo-Luo would cross that hill when she got there.

Turning to Xuande, she asked, “You’ve been training Irregulars all this time, correct?” The man nodded, still startled she would dare use the Death Corps and Royal Guardians in such an overtly political manner, but he understood that she was siphoning support away from Shuai Jiao and funnelling it towards Lord Husband instead. While the gratitude of the people was cheap and fleeting, with enough support, she could get away with much more than she otherwise might. “I would like a report detailing what you would need to begin training militia as well, not personally, but perhaps with the help of your more promising Irregulars.” If they were going to train more militia, then the districts would need more crossbows, but Luo-Luo no longer had control of the Imperial finances. Not that they could have afforded it if she still did, but it stung to think that they didn’t just stop at removing her from the military chain of command. Now, Marshal Yo Jeong-Hun held control of the outer-provincial purse-strings, a backbiting rodent who scurried from one ship to the next in hopes of rising with the tides. Perhaps Luo-Luo could prevail upon Sister Yuzhen for assistance, but truth be told, there was not much coin to spare, especially if Jeong-Hun behaved as expected and removed Lord Husband’s luxury tax and the restrictions currently keeping the rampant housing speculators from earning a vast fortune.

No, again, Luo-Luo was looking at the problem in the wrong light again, where Lord Husband would behave differently. “Gunan, call for Scion Jian Xianhe,” she said, interrupting Xuande’s verbal report. When she asked for a report, she meant one in writing, but Xuande did so love to hear himself speak, and she saw no point interrupting since he already had his thoughts prepared. Seeing his curiosity piqued, she explained, “I intend to sell off some of Lord Husband’s properties and personal War Bonds to fund the district repairs and improve the defences, and Gunan knows the local market best. It’s what Lord Husband would do after all, for as he would say, ‘What is coin for if not to be spent?’.” A terrible philosophy when it came to wealth, but he never cared much for luxuries.

So what if they’d stolen away her authority as Legate? When Lord Husband returned to reclaim it, she would not let it be said that she had failed in her duties, for he would never allow politics keep him from helping those in need. That was simply who he was, a man generous to a fault, and Luo-Luo was determined to see his will carried out. Let Shuai Jiao and Jeong-Hun take control of the Imperial Army and treasury; So long as Luo-Luo’s efforts bore fruit, then this meant Lord Husband would bear none of the risks of their failure while benefiting greatly from their successes, because at the end of the day, he was still Legate of the Outer Provinces. Perhaps he even foresaw Luo-Luo’s difficulties and instructed Father-in-Law to guide her to this decision, which took away some of the sting of her family’s lacklustre support, but once again left her amazed by Lord Husband’s brilliance and foresight.

One thing was for certain however, which was that Luo-Luo had allowed her personal prejudices against Xuande keep her from utilizing him to his full potential. “I would welcome your company and insight during this journey to the districts,” she said, her tone implying it was a command rather than a request, and the Imperial Scion clasped his fists and bowed in acquiescence. “Prepare your carriage and stand by. I will send someone when we are ready to leave.”

Because before doing anything else, Luo-Luo had to rush home to tell Mother-in-Law of her plans, say goodbye to the adorable baby quins, and pick up her forgotten Spiritual Weapon, which she’d left lying beside her bed again. Not that she expected to need it, not with so many Death Corps and Royal Guardians around, but given the threat of Defiled raids, it was better to have and not need than need and not have.

Then again, perhaps if she took grave injury whilst carrying out Lord Husband’s vision, this would be spark enough to kindle his kind affection and set it ablaze with fiery hot passion. If so, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to encounter the Enemy on the battlefield, and possibly even test out her Martial abilities which had improved by leaps and bounds since Lord Husband’s Insightful instruction. Yes, Luo-Luo could see it now, her struggle on the field of battle followed by a most devastating defeat, and when Lord Husband returned and heard of her struggle, his heart would ache with grief and anguish over her unfortunate suffering. Being the kind and upright man that he was, he would take it upon himself to further her instruction and dance with her from morning to night each and every day, until...

Cheeks flushed with excitement, Luo-Luo fanned her face as she approached the manor and reined in her imagination. One step at a time, advice suited for love as well as the Martial Path. She was in no rush, for she had a lifetime to convince Lord Husband to love her, and having felt his unchecked Emotional Aura in the days leading up to his expedition to the Brotherhood’s monastery, she sensed that she was much closer to her goal than she initially realized. So close, yet so far away, Luo-Luo could hardly wait for the day he finally professed his love for her, but of course, it would have to wait until after his wedding with Lin-Lin. Then, there were no more brides-to-be waiting in the wings, and it would finally be Luo-Luo’s turn.

Hopefully.

Probably.

...

Maybe?

Chapter Meme