Shinhou liked roaming through the streets of Ama’al after dark. No sane non-local would think something like that, but perhaps Shinhou was not sane. Sure the city had a large imperial presence. But resources had been mostly diverted to the attack, takeover, and administration of Bessho and Akeha afterward. Other Bessho were returning to the motherland in waves, but for the poor who had fled the islands upon the Reo takeover, there was no way to make it back to the main island. The Ardans made use of these Bessho to reconstruct Reoa, and for one reason or another, they would stay on the Reo homeland. 

Shinhou was only there for another reason, a reason he would rather not think about at that moment. Such things were now the topics of tavern gossip and rumors. Sending clergy to help with reconstruction was to be expected. But while the Bessho appreciated their presence, the Reo had already begun whispering about brothers with a fetish for the native women and accepting bribes to put in a good word to Bessho officials. It was no matter. Such things were now no longer a part of his world. To begin the next chapter of his life, though, he would have to go first to the forge to pick up his spade. The smell of burning metal made his destination easy to locate.

“An interesting weapon, venerable one,” the forge master remarked.

“You can say it’s blunt,” said Shinhou.

“I have never seen—”

“Of course I did consider using a rod like any other sensible person would. But I find little balance in my life—it seems appropriate to carry around something that reminded me of it.”

The forge master only bowed in response. He then took the spade from its clasp on the wall and handed it to the monk. Shinhou felt the top of the spade, where someone had shaved the edge down to the neck of the blade. “Though perhaps it’s more balanced than it would appear. Certainly lighter with half the metal slab sheared off.”

“Miren! Bring the maintenance kit!” the forge master shouted.

Shinhou looked to the side as a young girl appeared from the supply room with a cloth sack filled with clinking glass vials.

“A week’s worth of oil and a small cloth,” she announced, presenting the bag to him.

Shinhou smiled and took the sack from the girl. But as he grabbed the kit, a dark, heavy aura pressed down from above, sending him staggering backward. The girl quickly retracted her hand as Shinhou pulled away, her eyes widening in fear. For a long moment, the two stared at each other. 

“Could I speak with you for a moment?” Shinhou asked her.

“About what, venerable one?” her facial expression something that resembled real confusion.

The forge master took a step toward them, putting a hand on Miren’s shoulder. “I need the girl to perform her duties here, and in any case she is bound to the guild.”

Shinhou could tell that the forge master, though a strict and demanding man, was nevertheless a protective one. No doubt he thought Shinhou needed her for less innocent reasons. Whatever he said, the forge master would reply with something about her needing to work without voicing his suspicions to get Shinhou to go away. But the aura Shinhou felt from her was not something he could let go of.

“I just need to talk to her here in front of the shop a moment. It won’t take long,” Shinhou insisted.

The forge master bit his lip and let go of the girl. “You’ll forgive me saying so venerable one but we are short staffed, so if she could return to her work with haste that would be best.”

“I understand.”

The forge master nodded and walked back to the rear of the shop. Miren stepped out with Shinhou into the street.

“What sort of kai do you possess?” Shinhou got straight to the point. “It’s not something I’ve ever felt before.”

“Water,” she replied.

“Water,” Shinhou repeated.

“Yes, I’m from Fuchina.”

Shinhou frowned, nodding slowly. He should have known from her accent, but her being from the east meant that whatever it was he felt could be something beyond his knowledge. Xian was the birthplace of kai knowledge and study, and by proximity Fuchinans could also be well versed in all sorts of esoteric sectarian techniques and martial arts.

“Who is your master?” he asked.

“My master?”

“Every kaishu has a master.”

“For what?”

Shinhou frowned. “To teach you the techniques you use.”

“I don’t have a master. I never have.”

Something like that was not possible. Shinhou might not know what techniques she knew exactly, but whatever she had was very strong. There were those with affinity who were not fortunate enough to find an instructor. Such people typically went undetected due to lack of kai cultivation. This Miren had cultivated her kai. From his peripheral vision Shinhou could see the forge master indicating something to the girl with his eyes. The girl glanced once at her employer and then bowed deeply.

“Have a safe trip, venerable one,” she said in a small voice. She turned and jogged back into the forge. The forge master managed a smile and a bow. “We do appreciate your business, venerable one,” he called from within. When Miren reached him, the forge master followed her behind a furnace and the two of them disappeared.

“Appreciate your business,” Shinhou repeated softly under his breath. “And my contacts with the governing bodies, surely,” thought Shinhou. It had surprised him that the local Bessho — historically less religious than their cousins on the main island — took so well to doctrine of The Way being shoved down their throats. Obviously the Ardans felt that the arm of the temple was easier to twist than that of the Bessho Army —  misguided as that belief might be. Shinhou continued on his way to the port, sifting through his memories to see if he could remember anything similar to the powers that girl exuded.

Ama’al was a dark city for obvious reasons, and that might have been a deterrent for most monks but not for Shinhou. A native beggar bared his fangs at him as he passed, but he seemed so sickly there was no reasonable chance he could attack. And in any case, several natives have been executed for assault, enough to deter anyone else in the city from trying. Though more such unsavory characters lurked in the dark side streets, Shinhou’s comfortable stride seemed to act as an invisible barrier against trouble. He walked as if what he was doing was natural, and perhaps those sharing his path took that as a sign that he belonged. Shinhou felt it foolish to think that light somehow illuminates injustices, guides the brave and just, and scares away the devils. In many ways the light seemed to shine on the evil and tyrannical, while the shadows were where heroes helped the weak and defended the poor away from the sight of authorities. 

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Shinhou was done with the Order. It sounded noble to say he was against collaborating with Imperial Forces which grew more oppressive by the day. Such outspokenness had certainly played a part in his expulsion, which was conducted on more contrived grounds. He could fight the charges of soliciting prostitutes and drunkenness by just denying them while paying off a few local council members. At least the latter wasn’t true anyway, and even if it was, it wasn’t like the tribunal wasn’t filled with monks who indulged in much the same. But truth be told his faith had been waning for years. The desperation of the locals grew increasingly hard to confront and address. It didn’t help that he seldom felt appreciated for it. Some of those he helped returned to thank him but they did not have much to give, even in food, considering the toll of war. But many simply took from him and seemed to look down on him as they did so. And so after burning out physically, he was now out of any sort of emotional capacity to help anyone.

Some on the street bowed to him. He wasn’t sure if this was because they knew who he was or simply a response to the shaved head and the robe. Despite his bitterness to everything the Order represented, he found himself bowing back. Who was he to take away hope from the populace? In the distance near the city square they were erecting a statue of The Enlightened One. If only He could see the state of his purported followers now, chief among them the licentious and drunken Shinhou himself. Shinhou had never tasted strong drink as his vows required. In any case the smell made him nauseous. But with all that was going on, he felt very tempted to start now; drink seemed to keep the demons at bay for the people on the street at least. Shinhou glanced at a drunken man flailing his arms and striking a brick wall while intermittently bursting into incomprehensible shouting about his miserable life. It was perhaps an easy line of logic that to keep the demons away one had to transform into a demon himself.

Money was the most powerful god when resources grew scarce. As he approached the docks Shinhou could see men shouting at the foreman for even just a few hours of work. Some were holding up guild papers and badges — real or forged, either being useless; some were holding up their children to elicit some sort of compassionate response. To his side, an army of women were doing the laundry in front of a well-known wealthy lady’s town flat. Though it was still early in the evening, it seemed like every other alley echoed the sounds of working girls and their patrons conducting their transactional agreements.

“Venerable one!” a woman shouted.

He felt a slap on his hand. Years of clergy work taught him not to recoil. When he looked down, he saw one copper coin in his palm.

“Thank you for the bread. This came much too late, but I found regular work with Lady Chiyoda, and I wanted to thank you for having mercy on us.”

He honestly didn’t remember giving bread to this woman, and was wondering if she was thinking of somebody else. But when he began to speak, Shinhou’s voice caught in his throat. “I—.”

“I know you’re busy with your duties venerable one. But could you please just say a blessing for me before you go on your way?”

Shinhou felt a wave of guilt he had never felt before in that moment. Though the words almost refused to come from his mouth, he placed the coin back in the woman’s hand and placed his now free hand vertically in front of him, muttering a blessing. “May the light of The Enlightened One shine upon you and lead you to to the path that overcomes all of a single life’s bitterness and tribulations…”

When he was finished with the blessing, the woman put the coin back into his hands. “Please venerable one. If you’ll forgive me saying so it appears you are wanting for food. Eat and keep up your strength, and I’m sure The Enlightened will be with you wherever you go.”

Shinhou forced a smile. “Yes he will protect me.” 

As he made to walk away, the woman stepped into his way, grabbing his sleeve in earnest. “I hope you become the Abbot of Eternal Light Temple one day. You have a heart that can lead us out of this.”

The Eternal Light Temple, though frequently visited, lauded, and often the setting of stories of chivalry and heroes, was in Shinhou’s view a den of thieves and scoundrels. But it felt insulting and ungrateful to bring up his real thoughts to this woman. “I thank your kindness,” he managed.

The woman bowed. Shinhou bowed back, and then walked past her down the street. Before receiving the coin his first plan of action was to try to get passage on a boat somewhere. There was no concrete plan on where he would go — the main island, the colonies, anywhere might have worked. But even the captains who would let him on for free would want to see a letter from a respected monastery. Too many scam monks have tried to gain free passage in the past. He could perhaps pull a favor from a few higher ranking brothers who felt pity for him, and would at least help him go somewhere else. But he didn’t want to risk their position or reputation in soliciting such assistance. There were few good leaders already. No need to pull down the remaining he could respect.

With no real plan for next steps, he turned at the main road toward the only other place he went when he had no other plans. In contrast to the roads that led him there, this one felt immediately more cheerful the moment he stepped on it. Several men with wide smiles strolled in the opposite direction past him. The bright red lanterns that lined the streets lent the entire area an aura of sleepiness. At the end of the road was a four story lou building with the same hazy red lanterns hanging from the eaves such that they formed a neat perimeter around each level. Shinhou stopped at the entrance and read the gold characters on the thick, black wooden board: “Tower of the Blue Flowers.” He flipped the coin with his thumb and caught it in his palm. After looking down at it, he stowed it away in his sleeve pocket and stepped over the threshold.