Shogun's Tent,
Forgotten Monastery
Tsea-gong regarded the strange child before him, unnerved by his serene calm as he stared right back counting beads on his necklace. The child bore the same grey robes as the armed warrior monks behind him, a significantly darker shade than usual. Nor did he spy any insignia marking their Temple. An oddity, as they were usually quite fanatical about their Schools. Whatever the case it could wait as he turned his attention to things more important, such as the bright sunlight pouring through the smouldering ruin of his tent roof.
“How long have I been asleep?”
“Nearly a day…"
“A DAY!? Taker’s Pit! Why wasn’t I woken sooner?”
“My Lord! Shogun!”
Guards and attendants came rushing in, tripping over each other in haste. None was of sufficient standing to satisfy his questions fully on the harvest or the operations he had set in place and he quickly tired of them. They were solely interested in his recovery and adamant he suffer their administrations.
Brusquely he waved them off to the smoking edges of the tent. He needed solid answers and progress reports. He needed to get out there and…
Where the Nine is my armour?
Yanking his dagger free from the pole, he spun and breathed a sigh of relief at seeing his swords perfectly displayed back in their stand.
Someone must have conducted their ceremonial cleaning. He marched over to check before reaching out across the openness of his camp, feeling for the presence of Bo and Cai. Then, to his amazement, his senses flooded out even further. He gripped the table to steady himself as he felt the sudden presence of hundreds of Cored souls.
Each was like a flickering candle, buffeted by strong winds in the night. They must all be Cultivating as they went about their work. The further he reached, the more he was susceptible to the winds himself until finally he lost his balance and had to withdraw.
Stunned at his achievement, he knew he had done so before, but at great financial and spiritual cost. Having only attained the briefest of glimpses under a heavily induced meditation aided by Essence rich paraphernalia. It had been years back when he still stubbornly believed himself to be a true pure-blooded Noble, capable of breaking past the 5’th Dan.
That he could achieve this control so easily now, flooded him with a joy he had long since left to annuls of history. Tsea-gong schooled his emotional breathing lest he burst. The extra sleep no longer seemed like quite the travesty it had earlier.
Excitedly, he resolved to test his newfound gains more thoroughly, but almost immediately realised that would take time. Time that he didn’t have. He reached out once more, this time focusing on the candles of life force that burned brighter than others.
When he saw the two close together burning much brighter than all other surrounding candles, he recognised them immediately. They were a long way off, out in the moors if he were to hazard a guess and fairly active judging by their flames. Tsea-gong reached out to them waiting two seconds before repeating himself.
At such a distance, mental communication between bonded individuals was still an impossibility for him. The sheer cost of Chi just in reaching them with an uninterrupted weave was staggering. However, there were workarounds to this. Such as having a personalised pattern for a door knock and using a hollowed weave.
Cai and Bo would sense the failed attempts brushing their minds, recognising the Shogun's call.
Tsea-gong sighed in relief as he felt them both stop what they were doing and start heading towards him immediately. He imagined they must be surprised, but without a proper connection, all he could sense was their Cores in use. Curiously, he noticed another candle burning brightly and reached out for it tentatively.
His thread was pulled suddenly and washed away like a cloud of dust imploding on itself. He almost collapsed in a daze and when he did come around he found the bald-headed child smiling at him once more.
“New heights are such a delight, O Salamander, but forget not the Laws. Only forged bonds can be called upon and scribed metal thread is nigh impervious to intrusion.”
Tsea-gong felt his soul stir in anger at the insolent pup. He needed no lecturing from a Coreless child. As the wave of dizziness left him he finally addressed the waiting Monks.
“There is much that requires my immediate attention. Speak your Abbot's words and then kindly take your leave. What price does he set?”
“Thank you, O great Shogun.” The bald child spoke again “The Abbot’s asking price is but a moment of your Time.”
“This child speaks for you?”
He addressed the two warrior monks, but they maintained their stoic silence. Tsea-gong suppressed a sigh, waving his attendants over to help him don his armour.
“Very well, you have until my men get here. But if I may, why the sudden change? I thought it common practice for Monks to make their requests known until only after their task is complete.”
“Have you not risen hale?”
Tsea-gong paused pulling on a strap that needed loosening, staring incredulously at the boy.
“That’s it!? You’re not going to help with the efforts. I thought your mandate was to channel Heaven's Will. Who but Monks can stem the Giver's overabundance?”
The child's face burst into a delighted smile. Tsea-gong had almost expected him to laugh this time.
“We are a very old Sect, Shogun. Our Mandate is more focused on historical importance rather than daily occurrences. You need not wrap your tongue up in Temple-sensitive dictates with me. No. Simply put, we are not here to help you put down your undead.”
Tsea-gong stared daggers at the insolent child. That a Coreless dog was allowed to speak for Warrior Monks was their thing, but to have it speak to him was another matter entirely.
The boy raised a small onyx box from the folds of his robes, holding it up to Tsea-gong as if he was supposed to know what was within. Checking, he found couldn’t sense a thing and looked for runes of which there were none. The box was obviously crafted from materials that prevented all prying. Tsea-gong got an uneasy feeling, slowly suspecting he might indeed know what was within.
Glancing over to where Takashi’s blood had pooled, he sensed no trace of it and was grateful for his servant's efforts in cleaning up. They had probably had to dig up the ground and replaced it with fresh soil as well as destroying and replacing the furs. The last thing he needed was for religious fanatic Sects to get wind of his problem-solving techniques regarding the Palace.
“There are many treasures on this ancient mountain, Salamander. From the highest peaks to the lowest ravines, but the greatest bounties are hidden deep within its bowels. So, it’s not surprising that the Nobles have built their Houses and fortresses within it. What is surprising, is when an item of significant power surfaces. It then quickly becomes concerning when it changes the state of play on an otherwise barren field.”
Barren field?
Tsea-gong narrowed his eyes at the brat. Saying nothing as he re-adjusted another strap on his armour. He had never killed anyone so young before, but the idea was fast being re-evaluated. He allowed himself a moment of control, before replying.
“You’ll find no gifts here child. Perhaps you are mistaken.”
The most unsettling wheezing breath came from the child as he turned away. It sounded like an old man laughing.
“There is no mistaking that stench, those corrupted weaves.”
“The two stared at each other as the atmosphere in the tent chilled suddenly. Tsea-gong realized his servants had quietened, weary of the ongoing drama . With a bark of command, they busied themselves once more. Reminded of just who they should be fearful of here. Tsea-gong tried again.
“If a gift has surfaced on this barren field, then it has come to me as a spoil for the great victory my Watch has won. I shall wield it to ascend greater heights.”
The child sounded exasperated as he replied in a chastising tone.
“That gift was cursed and you would do well to wash yourself of its stench. Your victory was hollow and your men slaughtered. And it’s not heights that should concern you now, but the depths you have stirred.”
Tsea-gong could hear himself growl in anger, realising now his new growth was affecting him in more ways than one. His emotions flared like they belonged to a younger angrier man. A concern grew at just how long it would take him to achieve his calm stance once more.
“We have always recovered, this time shall be no different.”
“If recovery is all you are interested in, then my words stand. What use are a thousand swords to the warrior, if half of them shatter under the first blow and the rest fall apart whilst he slumbers?”
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
This child was taunting him. He had to be. To dare talk about his warriors so. Nor was all his armour readjustments helping his mood any. If he didn’t know any better he could have sworn someone had dared to wear it.
“It is my brave Cultivators who hold back the tides so that Coreless pyeanchi like you can sleep at night. You would be mindful to speak better of them boy.”
His Preafects tested his word by readying themselves for battle. The creak of thick leather audible as hands gripped swords tightly. The silent monks raised their heads on a Preafect each, their faces as serene as a Tea ceremony. But Tsea-gong recognised a killer when he saw one.
“You will do nothing,” Tsea-gong commanded his two masked Preafects as they stood ready.
“Your brave are dead. All you have left are cowards to train up the new. Rejects of the Houses who you have filling your purse for the position of purchased rank. Cultivators who command from the rear. This is the Power you wish to Cultivate?”
“Child, I am warning you.” Tsea-gong growled, ripping the bracer out of his attendant's shaking hands.
At least someone was sensible to fear his wrath.
“You have focused on quantity over quality. Not even the peasants could breed fast enough to replenish the men you waste.”
That was it.
The Shogun flung his bracer to the side, Cultivating with precise intent. He did not want to kill another in his Tent so soon, but that did not mean a few broken bones were out of the question. He moved his Cultivation directly over the insolent brat.
To his shock it fell apart completely. His weave frayed as suddenly as a cup’s contents thrown into the wind.
The child sat there with an unimpressed look, looking almost disappointed. Both elder monks' eyes flicked dangerously towards him, before returning to their respective poses. They had not even flinched.
Shi-baal
Stunned. Tsea-gong could have sworn he had felt some sort of energy come from the child and not the Warrior Monks behind him. Yet he could not sense a Core within the boy.
Gently, the child wiped a trickle of blood from his nose in a composed manner. A hardness behind those eyes surfaced as he glanced around the tent.
“Out, all of you.” Tsea-gongs attendants froze, surprised to find he was staring at them and not the Monks. “OUT!”
Quickly they dropped what they were doing and beat a hasty exit with retreating bows. Only when they had all left did he turn on the boy once more.
“How are you Cored? The impurities of Ki are simply far too dangerous on the young.”
“I am not. Nor do I imagine I’ll be alive long enough to start a family. Which makes this all the more disappointing when I came expecting to find a Noble of Pure Blood, of which you are not.”
Tsea-gong studied the child, what he had done should not have been possible. At over Eighty years old, he had heard many outrageous tales of the Monks. But to have his Cultivation weave, so thoroughly annihilated by a mere child, upset him more than he could bare.
“If you are not cored, then how…?”
“There are other sources of power in this world, Tsea-gong. Not limited to the one you allowed into the city yesterday. I would have imagined a thief like you understood such things.”
Tsea-gong allowed the comment to pass with a darkened scowl. They were alone beside his Preafects and they would not react so long as he ignored it entirely. Instead, his eyes traced the child’s glance as they settled on the Palace’s Strongbox of Cores. It always came back to that one accident. One he had failed to reproduce and was always skimming off the top for.
“You know how to unlock the Level 10’s.”
The child said nothing, but his eyes said everything.
“Teach me.”
“Not a chance.”
“Why?”
“Would you like a second head? Perhaps a third arm?”
Tsea-gong grimaced in revulsion. He had not imagined unlocking a second Level 10 core would have the same consequences as the Beast transformations. But there had to be something he could impart, something he could use.
“What of my men?”
“You’re the one who can’t even equip them with metal. Now you ask for Techniques? Deal with what you have been given and let Heaven set your path.”
“How can one be so young and yet so indifferent to our plight? Do you reject our service is paid in blood for all of Qaelang?”
“Simple, I am a genius, or rather the reincarnation of one. The Emperor's Law stands for a reason, Power attracts Power. What will you do when your men gain the attention of a House? Besides, your service has done nothing for our cause.”
“What cause?”
“Did I not say our focus is on historical events?”
“Takers Pit, boy! What good are religious historians to the needs of warriors?”
Tsea-gong fought to compose himself, all but giving up on his armour. It galled him to note that the child seemed to understand his struggle with his rapid power growth and its instabilities. After a brief pause, the boy continued.
“Historians take note of the Ages of men, in particular the events that lead up to the next. The Powers that rise and fall. Powers that, hmmm how shall I put this? That can discern through an army of Cultivators, reaching into the mind of its strongest warrior. Even though this warrior happens to slumber amongst some of the best Runic cores available, in a tent warded against intrusion.”
"Remind me Tsea-gong, what happened when you tried to reach through to the mind of another Cultivator unbidden? How easily did a simple thread of metal cast your attempt astray? Now, what can you tell me of the Creature you tried to incinerate?”
The Salamander's heart dropped, having completely dismissed it all as a bad dream.
It had to have been a dream.
“It could not have been real?”
The look of indifference the child gave him made his heart sink further, and he realised this is what the Monks were here for. He tried to recap what he had gone through but found he struggled to remember much of it.
“I was in the Throne room when the…”
“I know, I was there with you. Alas, my Spiritual battle left me lacking sight and sound. I am only interested in the creature. What did it look like? What did it want?”
"I… I can’t remember. It's been taken from me".
“You must remember something!”
"He… she. Takers Pit, I can’t recall. It had the most beautiful face, but its true face was vile. It was looking for something, it wanted it back and it wouldn’t let me go."
Tsea-gong paused as all three monks turned to each other, some form of communication passing between them. It was the first sign of interaction between the silent warrior monks and he watched their every move with caution.
“What does this mean? Are you familiar with this being?”
With a sigh, the boy finished his silent communication with a shake of his head, turning back to Tsea-gong.
"One of mine was aiding in the healer's tent of his own free will, when he heard that a Monk had almost died at the hands of a Seeded. Naturally, this curiosity deserved some investigation, but along the way, he was accosted with great urgency and brought to your tent. Upon arrival, he sensed an old foe we had long thought missing. One who has wrought great personal cost to our Sect, indeed all of Qaelang. Quickly, he realised the danger you were in and came to fetch me immediately.”
Tsea-gong frowned.
One of mine?
“My request of him was simple. Why save the life of the man who had severed our Sect from Qaelang and watched us fade into obscurity?”
Tsea-gongs skin crawled as he finally realised just who this boy was. The Abbot himself. And the Sect he belonged to was a dark one, the Rose Court. Obscurity was exactly what they deserved and yet here sat three of them.
How had they crossed the span?
It should have been a dead one. All who had dwelt upon that peak had long since abandoned it, the Rose Peak was a ruin of a ghost town. The connecting bridge long barred up and eventually cast off the mountain entirely.
Tsea-gong swallowed before replying. Frustration consumed him. Not only was that creature real, but it was powerful beyond measure. He needed that Technique, but he also understood offense would not help his cause. However, if this child thought he would just roll over then he had seriously misjudged the Salamander.
“That bridge was a threat to all of Qaelang. Its fate was sealed the day I saw with my own eyes… things running across, beneath it. These were no Beasts or Lepratics, Abbot. I can only assume they were the so-called Monsters the Houses claim to hold back in the depths.”
The Child raised an eyebrow, but Tsea-gong pressed on.
“Then there was the number of accidents on that Peak, the disappearances of entire households. My men were set upon in the night almost constantly, but after every battle, no dead were ever found, the corpses dragged away. Towards the end, entire patrols vanished. Nowhere in all of Qaelang did such losses occur. For Takers sake, you even had Pyeanchi swarms coming out in the daylight!”
“What good is a Monastery, Abbot, that calls down the wrath of the gods?”
"What good is a Watch Tower, when all who enter die?" The Abbot retorted.
After an awkward pause and a confused frown from the Shogun, followed by a look of dismay, the Abbot chose a gentler tone.
"That was unkind of me, and I see from your response you had not yet read the report before your... debacle."
"Tower 80?" The Shogun whispered.
All he got was a silent nod.
"Another wipeout? Those were the most expensive runes money could buy!"
"I am aware. Your man was most adamant about this fact, but they too were drained and destroyed. You might want to look into the history of the Tower before these attacks escalate and get out of hand."
Tsea-gong cracked his knuckles as he muttered about the cursed tower striking again. "It seems everything is getting out of hand these days."
The child gave him a condescending look before getting up to leave.
"Then let us hope for your sake Tsea-gong, you rise fast enough to get a grip on things. Our time here is done."
"WAIT! What about the creature, what do I do?”
The Abbot paused in the doorway.
“Die well, or die in obscurity. Isn’t that what you offered us? You have set foot in a struggle as old as the birth of Qaelang itself and you somehow can't even manage a single cursed barracks tower. There really isn’t much I can do with incompetents and cowards who purchase their rank. Goodbye Salamander.”
“The blood of thousands will be on your head boy! Who is the real Monster here?”
The Abbot paused with a sigh before replying.
“That you pretend to be a Pure-blood capable of forming your own Technique, bodes well of your guile. You will need plenty of it in the days to come, although Peach Nectar will certainly serve you better. The creature's touch lingers upon your spirit, I know not how, but you will need at least seven mouthfuls to wash clean of its stench. Doing so should prevent it from finding you so easily, for now, I would keep the incense burning that I have left you."
“That is of some help, thank you. Fortune favours, I already have some."
The Child smiled ruefully as he turned to leave.
“I regret to inform you. Your armour was not the only item tampered with as you slept.”
Tsea-gong’s eyes widened in panic as he rounded on his war desk, ripping open the hidden drawer. A wail of outrage escaped through the open tent roof as his guests departed. The rarest of Spirit wine had been drained from its sack.
----------------------------------------
Watch Camp
Outskirts
The three monks stood together wrapped in shadows as they watched the Shogun's tent. Two powerful Cultivators slowed as they approached it, hesitant to the Shogun's wrath.
“A second head, a third arm? Really Chow-Feng.”
The child snorted humourlessly.
“It should prevent him from trying his luck again. Truly, it’s a miracle he was able to unlock one by accident, but they say desperation is a miracle instructor. I can’t help but wonder how many he has wasted trying to repeat the deed. This should temper his desires.”
“Is it really so bad to impart them the Learning? You can see their need.”
“I’m not even going to dignify that comment.”
“What of your vision?” Asked the third Monk, quietly changing the topic.
The Abbot sighed.
“He is not the one. Too old. Nor did I detect the power of Noble blood in him. At his age and rank, he would have developed more than one Technique by habit alone.”
The child glanced out across the moors. The frenzied activity evident in the tone of the instructions yelled as men poked at the mud with long poles searching for corpses sunk. At Taker’s Call tonight, any left unfound would rise as something else.
A large group of filthy peasants walked past, causing him to wrinkle his nose in disgust at their putrid aroma. The number of children in the group was a curiosity and he would have studied them further had he not realised they were also carrying food and raw meat on their persons.
With a bias against meat, the thought of consuming such a meal whilst so horribly unclean made him gag.
Not even the curiosity of a round eye pale skin supporting a tall leper of some sort up the mountain was enough to make him wish to study them further. With a shiver of disgust, he Cultivated gently. Pushing the mud away from his sandals and rippling his robes as though the wind blew against him softly.
It was a bitter pill to see how low the great Cycle could place a soul, but Chow-Feng knew not every soul would be grateful for self-determination. The chains of order bound many tightly for the good of Civilisation. This was all the more important why this new Age of man had to be watched for carefully or cut off at the root should it begin to go wrong.
“Could our interpretation of the vision be wrong?”
The child frowned at the absurdity of it.
"That is always a possibility, Sol-Wei, but too much has come together for it to be a coincidence.”
“A treacherous act against the throne on a field of wet blood. The white fox shall preside over his fate and spare his life."
“This is the place. At most, we are early.”
“How long shall we watch?”
The Abbot laughed.
“Try not to be so miserable Sol-Wei. It’s only the Age that brings about the breaking of the great Cycle and the Twin Sisters wrath on all men. If this field of blood shall dry, then we shall simply wait for the next. We have nothing to fear now that we have found our Fox.”
Both warrior Monks stared unimpressed at the child. With a sigh, Sol-Wei responded first.
“Perhaps the Shogun had some measure of insight on you, Chow-Feng.”
The Abbot chuckled again.
“You wound me. Truly, I have felt it every day since I awoke to this Cycle. This shall be the one where I finally lay eyes on him.”
“Let us hope so Chow-Feng, because it's the first where the white fox is dead and draped around the shoulders of the one called Arch-tenant.”
----------------------------------------