Chen Yu paused before the doors to Princess Xifeng’s chambers, steeling himself for what was to come. Before him, the masked pair of imperial guards standing at either side of the great double doors said nothing. One of them had given him a single appraising glance as he approached, before dismissing him as not a threat. The imperial guard had always unnerved him. Chen Yu had served the Qin for half his life, earning the right to take their name thrice over, if he so wished. But the imperial guard were nothing like the men he served alongside, disciplined to a degree that shamed his majesty’s armies. He had no doubt they were cultivators one and all, but some artifact concealed every trace of their power. Over the years, Chen Yu thought he had met hundreds of imperial guardsmen, but in truth he wasn’t sure. He’d never seen more than twelve in one place, never once seen a face beneath their porcelain masks. He’d never gotten a name, beyond the zodiac call signs they favored, they never deigned to speak with him beyond what was required for the execution of their duties. Such devotion was inhuman, more inhuman than any cultivator he’d ever met could dream of being. He wondered, if any of them remembered him, if they’d served together beneath the rising dragon. He wondered if they were laughing at his plight beneath their masks.
Scholars were fond of saying that the reward of excellence is further labor. But Chen Yu thought there was something to be said for who one labored under. He’d finally earned the eyes of the imperial family. Just not the member he’d hoped for.
Chen Yu swallowed one final time, took a deep breath, and stepped forward, past the guards. He set his hands upon the golden bars set within the door, and pushed hard. Even for a core formation cultivator, the double doors were not light. He wondered how many years of his salary they were worth, how much force they could withstand. Despite their great weight, the doors swung open silently, and he stepped into the princess’s massive apartment. A small bead of sweat dripped down the back of his neck. Once, years ago, he’d witnessed the teenage princess push one of the doors open with a single hand. That was the nature of this palace, every detail a reminder of the difference between heaven and earth, between imperial scions and mere mortals. The guards were almost superfluous, when foundation establishment cultivators would struggle to open the doors to the princess’s chambers, even if they were left unlocked.
Slowly, he surveyed the sitting room. It was opulent beyond the wildest dreams of the lesser nobility, and utterly devoid of personal touches. Rows of wooden columns supported the high ceiling, painted crimson and ornamented with curling golden dragons. A throne dominated the far side of the room, with two low tables set before it for receiving guests. Save for a sealed jar of wine and two cups, the tables were bare. He wondered who'd originally decorated the place. The late third consort perhaps?
It certainly wasn’t the princess, on the three previous occasions she’d summoned him here, not once had she made use of it. Chen wasn’t such a fool as to think that such a reception meant she held him in high esteem, or even trusted him. He suspected that such lax etiquette was simply part of how the princess handled many of her interactions with the court. It would help explain how so many noble scions had managed to lose face in foolish attempts to gain her affections, if they mistook such an intimate audience for evidence of her affection for them.
Chen Yu, who had been born in a stable along the Gold Road, had no such misapprehensions. He was to the princess the same thing he was to every other imperial scion, a weapon to be bought.
“I thank you, for accepting my invitation, honored Captain Chen.” Qin Xifeng’s voice did not emanate from any location he could sense, but from everywhere and nowhere. “Please, join me within.”
Even standing in the same realm, he couldn’t sense her location. The apartment was simply too deeply steeped in her influence, the density of her qi occluding his spiritual sense as sufficiently dense steam could impede the eyes.
“Oh.” He paused, heart rising in his chest at the quiet exclamation. “Do bring the wine.”
Captain Chen complied. There was never any question he would do otherwise, here in the belly of the dragon. He wandered about the apartment, looking for the princess. Not quite aimlessly, his spiritual sense could perceive hints of the gradient of her qi’s density, but he had more than a few false starts. Twice he knocked on the door to an empty closet, before peeking inside and realizing he was moving the wrong way.
It was utterly improper, but then propriety was for those who served. The heirs of the dragon played what games they wished, so long as they did not stand in the way of the welfare of the nation. Idly, he wondered if any of the imperial guards were shadowing him now, lurking a step behind him, concealed by some other esoteric spiritual tool.
The princess’s personal chamber was a stark contrast to the reception room outside. There was a single low table to his left, adjacent to a veritable mound of blankets and furs, with a vaguely princess shaped hole in the middle of them. The table was covered with scrolls and writing tools, with half a dozen open at once. He very carefully avoided glancing at them, and turned, looking for the princess. The divan to the right was similarly devoid of royalty, as was the colossal bed dominating the center of the room. Another table held a mostly eaten meal, a bowl of mixed pickles and a few slices of smoked venison all that was left. Mundane fair, for royalty, but even the pickles emanated qi. And yet, the princess was entirely absent. One of the room’s four doors was slightly ajar, and through it, he could see the shape of tiles on the floor.
“Have a pickle, if you’d like.” Her voice whispered in his ear. Chen Yu definitely did not jump. “I’m further in.”
Ancestors, she was really going to do this to him. If Chen Yu was going to suffer through her nonsense, he was indeed going to have that pickle. Or, rather, all the pickles. Setting the wine down, Chen Yu sat at the princess’s table, and picked up her chopsticks. They were black lacquer, with golden caps at the tip. Slowly, one at a time, he finished the small bowl of pickles. They were delicious, thin slices of cabbage and carrot infused with the perfect balance of acidic tang and syrupy sweetness. As he ate, he cycled, careful not to waste the slightest trace of the immortal chef’s work.
He knew she could see him. Or, sense him somehow. He was enveloped in her qi within her domain. He took care to let his feelings show on his face, as he savored the pickles.
He considered the venison. It was, if anything, less spiritually potent than the pickles had been. But it was still the meat of some spiritual beast, and of a quality that would strain his captain’s salary to afford regularly. He could smell it from here, rich meat, woodsmoke and sea salt. But there was a limit to how far he would take this act, and finishing off the pickles was it. He left the thin slices of wine-red smoked meat where they lay.
Resigning himself to his fate, Chen Yu walked through the open door. The first thing to hit him was the mist. It was dense and fragrant, the first breath he took in felt almost like a drink of wine as warmth spread through his chest. He could identify several of the herbal scents in the air from past experience, including Sage’s Brush and Black Devil Thistle, which were used to concoct potent pills for cultivators. Idly, he wondered just how many taels of silver the princess’s bath had cost the empire. In his heart of hearts, he knew he didn’t really want to know. Such knowledge could only lead to envy, and it was not his place to envy the scions of Qin Longwei.
The second thing to hit him was the sheer density of Qin Xifeng’s qi within the bathroom. It was a near tangible thing, so dense that even with the steady release of medicinal qi from the water, hers was the dominant influence in the space. The qi released by the bath was hers, without even cycling it. Chen Yu would have had to fight her to even draw upon even the thinnest wisps of it. His eyes widened as he realized what was going on. Gods above, it was the early form of a Domain. She stood at the edge of Royalty, in core formation.
What a monster.
All but blind, with both his mundane and spiritual senses limited to mere feet around him, Chen Yu slowly moved through the cavernous bathroom. Eventually, he found the princess.
The center of the bathroom was filled by a colossal tub, a great bowl of tile and cement built into the room. It was wide and deep enough a dozen men could bathe together without the slightest risk of inadvertently touching each other. It was so wide, from his position at once edge, he couldn’t clearly see the far side through the steam. Dragons danced in delicate blue tracery around the porcelain rim. Water rose to the very edge of the rim, dangerously close to spilling out onto the floor. And countless bundles of herbs, an entire garden dried and twined into little bundles, floated on the surface. The mass of greenery was so dense that even without the steam, it would have been impossible to see into the water.
And in the center of the tub, a head poked up above the surface. A great mass of black hair spread wildly across the water, striking as a blot of ink spilling across paper. A pair of ice blue eyes stared up at him.
Chen Yu schooled his face. He wouldn’t laugh. He couldn’t laugh. But monster or no, she looked so cute like that. Like a child pretending to be a crocodile, rather than a beauty or a monster.
The princess blew bubbles.
Chen Yu coughed. He definitely did not laugh.
The princess rose, and Chen Yu instantly averted his eyes, staring at the porcelain dragons by his feet. He kept his eyes glued to the tiled floor, as he heard the sucking slap of wet feet against tile. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in, when he finally heard the rustling of silk.
He continued staring downwards, until a flash of blue silk finally graced his peripheral vision. Princess Xifeng sat down on the edge of the bath, and put her feet back in the water. Even as its edges floated in the water, her plain blue robe simply refused to get wet, the product of some immortal tailor’s labor.
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“I’ve always found, I do my best thinking in the bath.” The princess said, not even turning to address him.
“Princess, this is grievously improper. I would greatly prefer if any future meetings were held in a more formal setting.”
“Pour me some wine.” The princess commanded, completely ignoring him.
Chen Yu did as he was bid. Idly, he wondered if Qin Guo would have had their first official meeting in the bathtub.
He handed her a cup of the potent spiritual wine, and she drained it in a single gulp.
“I’m not really a fan of this stuff.” She said idly. “Too bitter. I drink it mostly for the qi. Another, if you please.”
Chen Yu poured.
“Actually, just give me the jar.”
Chen Yu handed her the jar. She placed it by her side.
“Anyway, Maoshe loves it. He always says that I have the palate of a hummingbird.”
The princess overturned her cup, letting the wine spill out towards the bathtub. Just before wine touched water, a gap emerged between the herbs. With a flash of pink and white, an open maw appeared between the bundles of greenery, just beneath the stream of wine. As wine poured into the open mouth, the princesses' other hand darted down, grabbing the body beneath before it’d even finished catching the stream of alcohol.
There was a high pitched squeak of protest, as a vibrant blue serpent thrashed in Qin Xifeng’s grip.
“He’ll be fine.” She said, as she stuffed the diminutive dragon into the half empty jar of wine. The protests immediately quieted. “I suppose we should get down to business.”
Princess Xifeng breathed in, and the medicinal qi saturating the air flowed towards her like water down an open drain. Power flowed into her without cease, as if her dantian were a bottomless pit. She continued to draw the breath long after a mortal’s lungs would have been full, until the bathroom was filled with mundane steam, and nothing else. Even the plants themselves looked grayer than they had a moment ago, drained of something vital.
She exhaled, a quiet breath that carried no trace of the colossal volume of qi she’d taken in.
“I am not your first choice.” The princess said quietly.
“No, your highness.” Chen Yu replied honestly. If the princess wished to flout propriety, honesty was a far more comfortable form of transgression for him.
“You favored my brother.”
“I had the honor of serving under the Rising Dragon in the first war with Shan, yes.”
“Tell me, what did you think of him?”
“He is a mighty warrior, and a suitable crown prince. The very image of his father at his age.”
“Yes, he is. He is noble. He is honorable. He is powerful. His men love him. Father trusts him.” She laughed, and Chen Yu was shocked to hear no trace of bitterness in it, at being passed over for the throne before she was even born. “But tell me, honorable Captain Chen. Do you think he can win?”
Chen Yu fell silent. It was not often that someone voiced the fear that lurked at the back of the minds of every noble and soldier in the empire.
“I think that save for his imperial majesty, Qin Guo stands the best chance of leading us to victory against the Shan.”
“Yes, save for his imperial majesty, he is our best choice. A fine way to phrase it. Let us be honest with each other. If my father dies before Shan Huizong ascends, we are lost.”
“Indeed.”
“And so, you would seek to serve Qin Guo, to lend your strength to his cause, to forge for him the best chance at victory, however slim.”
“I would.”
“You expect to die for the dream of Qin Longwei.”
“I do.”
“I have no interest in dying for my father’s dream. Instead, I intend to kill for it.”
“Easy words to say, for one who has never seen war.”
“Perhaps.” Princess Xifeng said with a laugh. She turned to face him now, and in her ice blue eyes, he saw a terrible surety. “I don’t care. Only a fool thinks their experience at losing wars makes them the sole authority on how to win one. Every storied general is one loss away from being relegated to a cautionary tale, every untried commander one impossible victory away from becoming a legend.
“My brother has accepted his fate. He does not admit it to himself, but he has accepted that our salvation hinges on my father ascending, or outlasting Shan Huizong’s pact. I have not.”
“I admire your confidence.” Chen Yu said honestly. “But I don’t see a path to victory here that does not run through Qin Longwei.”
“I don’t either. Not yet.” The jar of wine rattled, and Princess Xifeng stilled it with her elbow. “Shush, Maoshe. Too long, I have allowed myself to live as a caged bird. Father thought that the most good I might do for the empire would be in the form of a political marriage. It might have worked, if I were born earlier. But none who matter will bind their fate to ours unless Qin Longwei outlasts Shan Huizong, or ascends to immortality. My own value is nothing in comparison to such a risk.”
“So you intend to simply win the war?”
“Yes. Or extend my father’s life. Or find another immortal to check Shan Huizong. Or force sufficient material losses upon the Shan that even without Qin Longwei to match them, conquering Qin becomes logistically impossible within Shan Huizong’s remaining years on the earth. We have victory conditions. But throwing more men at the southern front isn’t one of them.”
Despite his misgivings, Chen Yu found himself intrigued. He didn’t share the princess’s optimism, but she had more steel in her spine than he’d expected. He didn’t think there was a miracle solution to their dilemma. But if her star rose in court, it would mean another powerful voice to push through reforms that might truly make a difference, like forcing the clans to fully mobilize, or suborning the sects.
“I will not throw my life away on a futile dream.” He finally said.
“You decided to throw your lot in with mine the moment you accepted my invitation. Everything else has been us taking each other’s measure. Fear not, I have the perfect way to ensure that I will not spend your life in vain.”
Chen Yu did not like the sound of that.
“Has the Ministry of War given you your commission?”
“Yes.”
“Good. You will recruit an independent detachment for me. A century, with the standard one to nine enlisted ratio. Favor those you know to be personally loyal to you, or to have potential, over those with higher cultivations. You will take one of the imperial guards with you, their presence should be enough to see anyone you wish to recruit reassigned without invoking my name.”
“A hundred men would strain my ability to empower. Under the commission I was granted, I don’t have the authority to recruit a second core formation cultivator.”
“One won’t be necessary. I will be accompanying you.”
Chen Yu’s stomach churned. That was what she meant. She intended to take to the field herself. Sure, it meant she wouldn’t dispose of him wastefully, but there would be nowhere on the continent he might flee, if he lost the princess.
“Has his imperial majesty approved this?” He asked, knowing the answer.
“He has not forbidden it. I am a full member of the imperial family. I do not need my brother or father’s permission. If the Rising Dragon’s crab generals object, I will remind them of their oaths to the line of Qin Longwei.”
He could take this to Qin Guo, and through him, to the emperor. But even if he succeeded, it gained him nothing, except an escape from this duty, and the princess’s eternal enmity. Princess Xifeng was no political rival it benefited Qin Guo to check, not yet. He could not rely on the crown prince's gratitude in that eventuality, even if the emperor forbade the mission. He could kiss any chance of political influence or an independent command goodbye.
“Before I agree to this hare-brained scheme, what exactly do you need an independent command for?”
“Two weeks ago, an inner disciple of the Heaven-Piercing Spear stole a spear that used to belong to my father. After the unification, he passed it down to one Zang Tengfei, who recently passed it on to his own nephew. The Heaven-Piercing Spear has thus far failed to recover the weapon.”
“You intend to return it?”
“Not particularly. Not without concessions. But it’s a good start to building an independent power base. A theft that offends the emperor’s honor, but not so directly that the imperial guard would handle it. A weapon that could serve in your hands, or be sold back to the sect. A noble deed that could be flaunted before the court. A thief with a promising background who might be suborned to my service.”
It was a solid plan. The reasoning was laid out cleanly, and Chen Yu could see no obvious fault in it. It would be a promising beginning to their partnership, if of course, the two of them could deliver on it. The weapon would not end up in his hands. He knew how the game was played, it was too valuable a piece on the board. But even without the enticement, it was a promising beginning. His name attached as the second in command to such a deed would go far towards ensuring his ability to keep his command if he separated from the princess. He could work with this.
“I like that you stopped for the pickles.” The princess said suddenly, before he could respond. “Too many of my servants are cowards, unable to grasp something when it’s held out to them, let alone seize real fortune.”
Chen Yu thought the princess judged her servants too harshly. The daughter of an emperor had many chances at fortune, guaranteed luxury even in modest disgrace. A soldier or maid could overextend but once, and lose their head for it.
“I understand my place beneath the heavens.” Chen Yu finally said. “My duty is to serve the Empire of Qin, at the command of the line of Qin Longwei.”
“Oh, little captain. I don’t understand my place beneath the heavens. I’m sure you’ve heard plenty from the court. The arrogant, prodigal daughter whose talent earned her a place amongst the glass flowers, until she offended the mistress of the sect. The hateful shrew whose tremendous talent was not incentive enough to see her married. The spiteful princess who thinks she should have been born a man.”
Princess Xifeng turned back to face him again, and this time, she smiled. It was a radiant, happy thing that did not suit the heavy conversation.
“By the time I’m through with you, you won’t understand your position beneath them either. And you’ll be better for it. Now, go forth, you have a century to recruit.”
Chen Yu obeyed.