Crucible’s Edge, Canvas, Frontier Territory, Late Autumn, 1596 PTS
How dreary, thought Yuenan Ding, glancing up at the darkened sky. Droplets fell on his face, falling into the wrinkles of his skin. When he had first left the sect, Yuenan had been hoping to see the sun for once, but it seemed that he would have to be disappointed. The past days of travel had been consistently stormy.
As he marched down the street, he was left with the all-too familiar sensation of rain dripping onto his waxed hood before slowly sliding down his back to splatter onto the cobblestones. Yuenan tightened his robes. The city was filled with mist from the bay, and the cool drizzle only served to increase the chill of the autumn winds.
It was late evening, and the street lights slowly flickered on as Yuenan ambled relaxedly down the avenue. He had already finished his business in the city, brokering a deal for a new provider of grain and vegetables for the sect. Their former provider had unfortunately lost his supplies after a roaming riverfiend destroyed his rice fields, and the sect could not wait for the next harvest. In the Downpour region, where there was never any sunlight, little that grew was edible for a Seiyal. Even the Tovus found the place inhospitable. To raise healthy disciples, the sect’s members had found that it was important to contract with merchants for ingredients.
Now that his work was done, Yuenan intended to relax for the evening in a teahouse. He wouldn’t mind a nice meal prepared with fresh ingredients, and a night’s stay in a place much warmer than his usual accommodations. There were many things the Downpour could be called, but pleasant was not one of them, even for those who had lived there for more than half a century.
As he walked, Yuenan sensed the movement of a soul to his right, evidence of someone skulking around in an alleyway. In the evening gloom, Yuenan could not make out any figure, but as the soul seemed to be that of a mortal, he paid it no mind.
Moments later, he realized with amusement that the soul’s bearer had fled the shadows. A youthful figure dashed in from a nearby alleyway, racing his way towards Yuenan and grasping with sticky fingers for his coin pouch. Before the child could react, Yuenan’s hand had grasped firmly around their wrist, shifting his weight to stall their momentum, and catch the would-be thief red-handed. He turned, smiling in amusement as he got a better look at the kid.
“You need to learn how to pick your targets better, you foolish child,” said Yuenan. “At this rate, I’m afraid you will not be long for this world.”
The boy, for that was what he seemed to be, was lean but not to the point of being sickly. Like Yuenan, he was a farsei, and his hair was short, likely shorn off by an unpracticed hand given its uneven cut. He was quite swift for a mortal child, Yuenan mused. Despite his youth, the boy had the build of a runner, evident to a trained gaze despite the clear signs of malnourishment.
Yuenan’s discerning eyes narrowed as he inspected the boy’s physique. With his other hand he slowly rubbed his thin white mustache. The child seemed to have potential, Yuenan thought. Perhaps he might have stumbled upon a treasure in the ricefield. If he brought the boy back, perhaps Riese would stop complaining to him. The boy squirmed, desperately attempting to free himself from Yuenan’s vice grip.
“Let me go, you old fart!” shouted the boy, causing a flicker of annoyance to cross Yuenan’s face.
“How impolite,” he muttered. “Do you have a name, child?”
A dark look flashed across the boy’s eyes, and he only redoubled his efforts, not bothering to answer Yuenan’s question. Yuenan’s eyes narrowed, and he squeezed tighter as the boy squirmed ever more desperately.
“This old man feels that you should consider answering his questions,” he said.
The child scowled.
“My name is Jin Luo. Now let. Me. Go!”
He kicked out, aiming his knee towards Yuenan’s crotch. Had Yuenan been of a lower realm, he might very well have succeeded. Yuenan caught the boy’s knee before it could make contact, before relaxing his grip. He sighed, remembering the words of his long-deceased master. Formless arts are the way of softness, the old lady had said. The hard approach is not always the best one. Despite Yuenan’s age, some lessons one could only continue to learn over and over again.
“If I wanted to kill you, boy, I would have done so already,” he said, exasperated. The boy frowned, clearly suspicious of Yuenan’s words. Children were always a handful, he thought, sighing. “Look, child” he said. “I have something I would like to discuss with you. If I buy you a meal, can we talk?”
The frown on Jin’s face remained as he considered the offer. He glanced down at his wrist, and Yuenan’s impossibly firm grip. The boy trembled as he perhaps finally realized what sort of person he was dealing with.
“Y-you promise you aren’t going to murder me?” he asked.
Yuenan couldn’t help but chuckle, an act which caused the child to cower. Yuenan’s expression softened.
“You can trust me, Jin. I promise you, you’re in no danger from me. I don’t have such filthy tastes as you might be imagining. So I’ll release you if you promise to sit down and talk. Alright?”
Jin nodded, and so Yuenan released his grip on the kid’s hand. The boy awkwardly rubbed his reddened wrist, and then looked up at Yuenan as if to ask him to lead the way.
“Good,” said Yuenan, continuing to walk forwards. They would surely stumble across an inn, tavern, or teahouse soon enough.
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The inn he eventually found did not stand out, but Yuenan felt that it would do. He had his sect’s limited finances to consider, and could not overspend too much. Riese would scold him if he were to waste the sect’s coin.
The interior was cozy, lit up by a fancy electric lightbulb. The illumination flickered, but was brighter than most lanterns. The room was uncrowded, and there were plenty of open tables available. Yuenan led the boy over to one, located off to the side of the room, and settled himself down onto one of the stools.
“I suppose I should introduce myself,” he said. “My name is Yuenan Ding. I’m an Elder from the Downpour Sect.”
“I haven’t heard of it,” the boy replied, not missing a beat.
Yuenan chuckled, amused.
“Few have. We’re considered ascetics, and we rarely venture out beyond our lands.”
Before he could continue, a woman wearing simple garb stopped by their table.
“Would the masters like to rest for the night?” she asked.
Yuenan nodded.
“We could use some dinner as well. It has been quite the long day for the both of us.”
“We can bring you something to eat if you wish, Great Elder, or we could prepare you a bath.”
“Do you serve Hakian tea?” he asked.
The serving woman shook her head apologetically, a nervous look in her eyes.
“My apologies, but we are a poor establishment. We couldn’t hope to import foreign leaves.”
Yuenan scowled, waving off the woman’s poor excuse. How hard was it to have some decent leaves on hand? They still tasted fine even if they were dried out.
“Bah,” he said dismissively, “I’ll just have some wine. I trust you have some of that?”
The woman’s brow was beaded with sweat, a matter which brought Yuenan some amusement. She at least would not willfully make his evening more difficult. On the other hand…
Yuenan looked over at Jin.
“Any preferences?” he asked.
“W-wine will do,” he said.
The serving woman bowed, and then quickly fled towards the kitchen. Her movements were just slightly too quick, betraying her anxiety.
“Does she know who you are?” asked Jin, his tone curious.
“That woman is a practitioner,” Yuenan replied. “I’m sure she bears quite the tale about how she ended up running an inn”.
“If she’s a martial artist, then why is she scared of you?”
Yuenan’s smile betrayed a deep meaning.
“Child, to someone of my level, a mere foundation refiner may as well be a mortal. She fears me because she understands that.”
Jin frowned, taken aback by Yuenan’s words. It seemed that he had not been exposed to many of the details of the martial world. Was the child an orphan, or was he a runaway, Yuenan wondered? There were scores of both in this city. Few of whom could be considered educated in any sense.
“Do you have any plans for your life, Jin?” asked Yuenan, shifting the conversation.
The boy thought for a moment, carefully formulating his response.
“I want… I want to be inside when it rains. To live inside a big house and eat all I want.”
Sometimes, Yuenan thought, kids really could be amusing. Now that he had been given food, drink and a respite from the weather, the boy’s fear had subsided, and he was speaking a bit less confrontationally. Yuenan chuckled.
“In that case, I’m afraid my offer might not be what you are looking for. If you accept, I can promise there will be a lot more water in your future. But I can offer you shelter, a house far bigger than those you’ll find in this part of the city. You can come to my sect. Jin,” he asked, “how would you like to be a martial artist?”
It was the offer he had been building up to, one that should have been obvious. But still, Jin’s eyes widened, taken aback by Yuenan’s words. They were the sort of offer that street children dreamed of, but few would ever bear the fortune to hear.
“I’m not falling for it,” said the boy, shutting Yuenan down. “I heard some kid down the lane went to ‘train’ with a practitioner and got eaten by the Blood Demon.”
Yuenan sighed. He had heard of that incident. The rogue practitioner in question had been subsequently hunted down by the alliance. How long ago had it been? A decade? It seemed the rumors had yet to die off among the urchins.
“I’m not a demon, and nor am I even a sanguine practitioner,” he explained patiently. When dealing with the uneducated, it was best to be willing to serve as a teacher. At least, so long as the other person was willing to learn. “As I said before, I’m an Elder of the Downpour Sect, and I feel you have potential. I’m offering to take you on as a personal disciple, Jin Luo. The choice will be left to you. If you refuse, I’ll still let you eat a meal and return to the streets, if you so wish. Yours would be a hard life, but I cannot guarantee that of a practitioner would be any easier.”
Yuenan watched as Jin furiously considered the offer. They were not words the child would have ever expected to hear, and Yuenan knew the response would depend not on his desire to practice the arts, but whether or not he decided to trust in Yuenan’s word. Trust was perhaps the most valuable of gifts a child could give, and it was in short supply among the streets of Crucible's Edge.
“I- I’ll be in your care, Master,” said Jin after a few moments' consideration, awkwardly attempting to bow despite the presence of the table before him.
His response did not surprise Yuenan, and nor did the swiftness at which he had arrived at it. Perhaps it was boldness, and perhaps it was rashness, but Jin Luo seemed to be a decisive young man. If not, he would never have taken the foolish risk of attempting to rob a man in the robes of a martial artist.
“Don’t be hasty, child,” said Yuenan, his face bearing a fatherly smile. “You’re not yet my disciple. Once we reach the sect, you’ll need to perform the ritual.”
“The… ritual?” Jin asked, an undercurrent of fear in his voice.
“Indeed,” Yuenan replied. “You’ll have to prepare and serve me some Hakian tea.”
The boy frowned, as if confused.
“Why Hakian tea?”
Yuenan chuckled.
“You’ll come to know it quite well,” he promised, a smirk on his lips as he winked, whispering conspiratorially as if he were sharing some great secret. “It’s my preferred flavor.”
Crucible’s Edge: [The first Seiyal settlement on the eastern edge of the continent known as the Crucible of the Worthy, Crucible’s Edge is a port city historically dominated by the Unorthodox Alliance, who were later pushed out by Orthodox forces during the Second Orthodox-Unorthodox War. The largest city on the continent, Crucible’s Edge is also the bridgehead of technological development on the continent, though it lags behind the development of the Halls of the Sun. Historically, the city was known for its criminal activity.]