Chapter 27
Elder Yotu returned to his mansion in the late morning to find his library, kitchens, and guest rooms a mess. He didn’t particularly care about the second two; his servants would see to the tidying of those, but he hadn’t realized that the children would raid his library. He sighed, wondering how badly they had disorganized everything and how long it would take him to put everything back into order.
He sighed, then settled into the kitchen and waited for the servants to bring him some food. Three of the children were waiting for him, and he reported the news.
“Given the nature of the request, we are of course granting Hoten permission to return home to visit his mother one last time,” Yotu said.
“Did it take you an entire day to come to that decision?” Won asked.
“No. We spent an entire day discussing unrelated matters,” Yotu lied. Well, not entirely lied. The decision to send Hoten home had been made in the first hour, and the rest of the time had been spent discussing the implications of the Shen patriarch’s power.
“It must suck being old and having to deal with that kind of meeting,” Won commented, chewing on an apple.
“Getting old is the worst thing in the world, except for the alternative,” Elder Yotu said. “Tell me, what did you think of our little contribution shop?”
“It’s filled with crap,” Won said honestly. “The only good thing in there was the Qi guardian egg.”
“Oh? Well, I suppose when you’ve got a hidden master feeding you marvelous treasures like the weapons you carry it might skew your standards,” Yotu said, stroking his long mustache. “But I assure you that our goods serve their purpose. They perform as advertised and are suitable stepping stones for our young outer sect members to work their way up in ranks and powers.”
“Oh!” Pao said, suddenly getting it. “So it is junk.”
“No, I mean that the gear is temporary to—”
“Yeah, that’s what I mean. It’s the junk that you use when you can’t afford the good tools,” Pao said, grinning. “I mean, like using pig iron because you can’t afford good steel. There’s nothing wrong with it, that’s just what you have to do sometimes.”
Yotu sighed, accepting the comparison as his servant, a young woman from the village, appeared with a bowl of eggs and grits. He began eating and casually questioning the children about the hidden master who taught them, but the children were surprisingly well-guarded on the matter.
“Where is the other member of your quartet?” Yotu asked as the children rebuffed yet another roundabout question.
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“Tan’s a lazybones sometimes,” Ko said. “He’s just sleeping in. It’s fine. When will Hoten be ready to return with us, do you know?”
“The Red Rooster has been—”
Ko snickered loud enough to interrupt him. Yotu blinked. “Is there something amusing about his nickname of which I’m unaware?”
“Yes, there is,” Ko giggled. “I didn’t know that it had followed him here. Do you know how he got it?”
“No, but I’m most interested to hear the story,” Yotu admitted.
So Ko explained the story of how they had all earned their spirit stones by sacrificing a toy to Tren Shen when they were younger, but how Hoten had tried to buy one instead of make a sacrifice. When that had failed, he had tried to steal one, which had led to him being inflicted with an unfortunate curse which turned his hands and ‘male parts’ red. Nobody was certain who began calling him the Red Rooster, but everyone thought the name was hilarious.
Including Elder Yotu, once he’d heard the tale.
“I see,” he said, finishing his breakfast. “If you will excuse me, the duties of being an elder call once more.”
He sighed as he left the children behind, but he needed to report this back to the conclave of elders, to see how this knowledge would change their strategy.
Tan dragged himself into the kitchen a few minutes later. The servants fed him, while he fed Key a few scraps on his plate. He was exhausted in more ways than one, having already fed Key a significant dose of Qi as well.
In the manor of Argoth the Pill Master, Hoten was busy vomiting. He shook uncontrollably, and once he finished vomiting he turned around and filled up the chamber pot the other way around. His fingernails were turning yellow, as were the whites of his eyes.
Argoth found him in that pitiful state. The alchemist was dismayed, having not heard the latest account of the source of the Red Rooster’s name and believing him to be a favored student of a hidden master. He sighed in disgust, then went to fetch one of his mortal servants to help the boy clean himself up.
Once Hoten was more presentable, he was still suffering from the toxicity of taking two pills so close together. Argoth examined him, giving him a thorough physical before announcing that he’d live.
“You shouldn’t have gotten this ill from a single pill. I wasn’t expecting the toxicity to reach this level for weeks,” Argoth muttered.
“Took two,” Hoten admitted, shivering from the fever.
Argoth blinked. “You took two yesterday? Are you an idiot? Don’t you—no, of course you don’t. Well, there’s nothing for it but to ride the illness out. When you return back from your home village, if you still want to be my test-rat and your real master approves, you may resume your duties as my servant and take the rest of the pills. The toxicity causing this illness should have resolved itself by then.”
Another mortal servant arrived then to inform him that the conclave of elders, so after confirming once more that Hoten wasn’t dying, he went to spread the news of the boy’s stupidity.
Due to this delay, it would be three days before Hoten was ready to travel.