Savage Divinity

After ninety minutes of smiles and salutes, the stream of arriving guests finally slows to a trickle, giving me time to ease my tortured cheeks and soothe my parched throat. Draining the teacup in a single gulp, I subconsciously nod in thanks at the bowing dark-haired servant while returning the teacup to his proffered tray. As he scurries off to refill the teacup, I question if I’ll ever get used to high society living. It’s stupid, but thanking servants and treating them like people is ‘frowned upon’ and utterly unbecoming of the number one talent in the Empire. Honestly, I’d rather live without servants at all. While having people wait on you hand and foot sounds nice in practice, I’m too socially awkward to be comfortable having strangers lurking around all the time. Besides, knowing me, I’ll eventually make friends and then feel terrible about asking them to tidy up or do my laundry or whatever.

I’m not cut out for this shit, it’s way too stressful. I’d rather go back to washing my own undies back in the mountains.

Or you know... somewhere else equally isolated and more welcoming.

Andddd in classic Rain fashion, I am now depressed. Resting my forehead against Ping-Ping’s beak, I give the big turtle a conciliatory pat and sigh, wondering if she even cares about these tiny gestures of affection. It’s hard to gauge a turtle’s mood and doubly so when said turtle is so large you can’t really see her whole face at once. With all four legs spread out in a sploot, Ping-Ping is the epitome of chill as she rests her head on the neatly trimmed grass and ignores everything going on around us. Her dark, beady eyes pop open to see what all the fuss is about, revealing a glimmer of gold and maybe even a glimpse into her mind as she wonders why the tiny human is bothering her during nap time.

When Mila hugs Ping-Ping, the big stupid turtle gives her a hefty nudge and cute squeak, but all I get is patronizing tolerance. Maybe she’s mad because I haven’t given her any special water in a few days, or maybe the current environment is stressing her out and this is how she deals with it. She’s already snapped at more than one guest who strayed too close, though thankfully they were only warning snaps and not murderous ones. I wouldn’t blame her if she ate one of these pompous, stuck up nobles either, I’d like to bite one or two of the guests myself, and not in a sexual way. Well, maybe some of them, but this is my wedding banquet, so those kind of thoughts seem inappropriate.

I just want this day to end so I can get some sleep. I’m so exhausted. I can’t believe it’s been less than 24 hours since I discovered Baledagh wasn’t real, but it’s true.

Putting aside all my depressing thoughts, I try to focus on the positives. Today, I was crowned the Number One Talent in the Empire and I got to catch up with old acquaintances. Fung’s dad was proud as a peacock and greeted me with a warm hug, joking about how the Golden Swan Pavilion was still grieving over the loss of my patronage. My war buddies from Sanshu are doing well; Sovanna married Magistrate Chu Tongzu and they seem head over heels in love, with their first child on the way and hopefully more to come soon after. Chu XinYue condensed his Aura and was promoted to Major, while Chun Yimu is now Guard Captain of Sanshu, much more polite, and noticeably slimmer and stronger. Jin ZhiLan is still lovely as always and made a crack about how she’d missed her chance with me while Sang Ryong was visibly uncomfortable in my presence. He thinks I don’t like him, but honestly, I barely even remembered who he was. Still, it was fun watching him squirm.

Of all the people I know, only the Legate, Wu Gam, Mitsue Hideo, Huu, and Yan aren’t here. The first few don’t really matter, but it’s really bumming me out that Huu didn’t come. All three of his parents are here and so is the smelly old half-wolf, but no Huu. He’s clearly going out of his way to avoid me, probably because he found out about my brush with the dark side and doesn’t want my germs to get all over him. I joke, but his reaction is... pragmatic. I can’t blame him for not trusting me at my word when I say I’m no longer Defiled. If our roles were reversed, I wouldn’t trust a self-confessed Defiled either, not without a Heavenly Tear of my own to verify things.

Still, he could’ve said something to my face instead of ghosting me like a bad first date...

Yan and her adopted Granddaddy are also no-shows and I’m more than a little conflicted regarding her absence. On the one hand, this is a wedding banquet for my concubine and not exactly the best setting to reconnect with an old... slightly more than friend? Whatever, it’d be weird to toast my latest bride then go catch up with Yan, no matter how much I miss her. And I do miss her. I miss her wry humour and throaty laugh, her teasing taunts and knowing smirks. I miss sparring and chatting with her, but most importantly, I miss sitting around in relaxed silence with her. It’s rare to be able to spend hours beside someone without saying a word, so comfortable you don’t feel the need to fill the thundering silence.

It’s a strange thing to cherish, but in my eyes, talk is cheap and silence is golden.

Honestly, despite being crowned number one rookie, today’s been a really shitty day. None of the guests have even mentioned my book of inventions. I worked hard on that book, poured my heart and soul into writing the mission statement and making sure the instructions were as clear and concise as possible, but all these people want to talk about are women, weapons, martial arts, and runic shields. They’re a basic bunch of fat-cat socialites, short-sighted fools who can’t see beyond the tip of their noses and understand how game-changing my book really is.

So disappointing. I should’ve listened to Akanai and gifted the Legate some trash art or something. What a waste of effort and runic shields.

I don’t know if it’s my dark mood, lack of social grace, standard courtesy from my guests, or a combination of the above, but few guests linger to chat for long. Then again, it could also be thanks to the pungent cloud of pervasive smoke emanating from Guan Suo’s fancy pipe, puffing away nearby like he’s half-chimney rather than half-red panda. Personally, I kinda like the smell, a harsh, herbal scent which soothes the mind, but it’s exacerbating my dry throat and making me cough and wheeze. Plus, I’m worried about young Blackjack sitting atop Ping-Ping’s shell, nose twitching a mile a minute and inhaling all those nasty fumes. My tiniest of bunbuns appears entranced by the black, billowing mass of smoke, watching the cloud with a primal hunger and ambition as if dreaming of soaring through said cloud to take its rightful place as king (or queen) of the skies.

Or maybe Blackjack likes the smell too. Who knows. Either way, it can’t be healthy.

A short distance down the path, the monk stands dressed in clean red and yellow robes, a ceremonial mohawk headdress, and a string of giant wooden beads hanging from the shoulder. With his spade in one hand and a wooden bowl in the other, he stands with eyes closed and bowl held out while chanting sutras and passively soliciting donations from the guests as they walk by. Truth be told, it’s hard not to warn my guests to ignore him. Having seen his true face, it feels like he’s scamming them with an illusion of monk-like behaviour. That said, his chanting is pleasant and relaxing to the ear. He has a deep, resonant voice that’s soothing to listen to, almost like a musical bass line strumming at the strings of your subconscious mind. I have no idea what he’s saying or if he’s even trying to convey a message, but it sounds nice which is all that really matters. It’d probably sound better with a few harmonies chanting alongside him, but I don’t think monks do barbershop quartets.

“Enough idling about, look sharp young hero. The next guest is about to arrive. He’s a Lieutenant Colonel from the...”

Brusque as always, Fu Zhu Li, Fung’s manservant/torturer, Sends me the names and titles of my next group of guests. The man is a godsend, secretly info dumping everything he knows about each guest including stuff like past accomplishments and current interests. Honestly, I need someone like this to help me keep track of everyone I meet, and maybe keep me from sticking my foot in my mouth so often. He even offers advice and pointers, like how to win over a possible ally with a passing comment or meeting my closest allies halfway to show my commitment.

See, this is a voice in my head I could get behind.

Taking a deep breath which ends in a hacking cough, I put on a smile and turn to greet the guests, running through my mental checklist of proper behaviour and conduct. Back straight, head high, and shoulders square. Hands behind your back, feet shoulder width apart. Look the guest in the eye as he approaches, but not in a challenging fashion. Acknowledge the wife, but don’t stare. Ignore the daughter altogether, because your love life is complicated enough and you don’t want her father to get the wrong impression. Thank them for the gift, but stress how their presence itself is an honour. Make a little small talk and mention how you’ve heard of his accomplishments and how he looks even more heroic than described, then modestly accept his return compliment. Now, announce their names and titles, publicly welcome your ‘distinguished’ guests, and promptly forget all about them because who gives a shit.

Ugh. Get the rope. I don’t wanna do this anymore. I’m going hoarse from announcing all their stupid titles and accomplishments. Maybe I’m coming down with the flu or something, I can already feel a tickle in the back of my throat, but luckily, I have a servant waiting nearby whose sole purpose is to keep me hydrated. As my latest guests stride off to join the party, I drink my tea and ask, “Could you maybe use a bigger cup? And add a spoon of honey? My throat is really sore. Thanks.”

Freezing like a deer caught in headlights, dismay flashes across the dark-haired servant’s face as he glances up and around, likely wondering if he’s being played or about to get a lashing. Such is the life of a servant, where polite requests and thanks are reason enough to panic. Reassured by the lack of impending doom, the servant bows and speed-walks away to fulfill my request, wiping his brow as he disappears into the crowd. It’s sad how stressful his job must be, but I’d feel worse if he wasn’t such an idiot. I mean, his tiny tray clearly has enough room both teacup and teapot, but instead of being smart about it, he brings me one cup of tea at a time, running back and forth between his post and the kitchen. More work for him and less tea for me, a lose-lose situation all around.

Such inefficiency, such sin.

Chuckling beneath my breath, I step away from ‘Smokestack’ Guan Suo for some fresh air and take in the stunning view of the courtyard. Mom and Rustram did a phenomenal job organizing everything in a limited amount of time. Easily larger than a sports field, the venue is surrounded on all sides by elegant and luxurious manors, hidden behind low walls and decorated gates. The paper lanterns give off a muted, warm glow, creating a smooth, comfortable ambience beneath the setting sun while musicians hidden in the shadows play unobtrusive melodies on their stringed instruments. Rocks and trees dot the landscape and work with the babbling brooks and paved pathways to form numerous small, semi-secluded gathering spots for guests to mingle in, though there is a constant flow of people moving between each group. Laughing, gossiping, plotting, and planning, it all comes second nature to these aristocrats and socialites, forming alliances and enmities which could last several lifetimes over wine and idle chit-chat.

Nan Ping’s Magistrate has done so much for us, lending us his courtyard, servants, cooks, and musicians, but he declined the invitation and I don’t even know his name. I’ll need to send him a thank you gift, maybe a nice painting or a vase or something. A drop in the bucket compared to how much this all must cost, but thinking about how much all this must cost has me in a foul mood. I know Mom said she’d cover the costs, but after seeing how extravagant everything is, I fully intend to pay her back. It’s only right, but just thinking about the expenditure has me grinding my teeth in frustration. I hate parties. They’re the worst, but nooooo, Luo-Luo just had to have her wedding banquet. Dumb amazonian goddess with her stupid sexy body making things all complicated and troublesome...

Although I know it’s not fair to blame Luo-Luo, I still resent her for causing all this. I’d resent it even more if I were forced to mingle, but thankfully, greeting guests has a strict time limit on social interaction. Nian Zu, Dad, Yuzhen, and Gerel are all hard at work making connections, their bodies lost in the press of flesh and perfume. To avoid the same fate, Charok volunteered to oversee the kitchen while Sarnai, Alsantset, Lin, and Mila are all with Luo-Luo and getting ready to make their debut. Husolt and Taduk are hiding away somewhere or the other, but Fung, BoShui, and Zian are the centre of attention, drinking and laughing in one nearby clearing while surrounded by similarly-aged sons and daughters of affluence.

After greeting a few more guests, Fu Zhu Li informs me that greeting time is over and the banquet about to begin. Stifling a sigh, I clear my throat, accept that Yan and Huu aren’t coming, and silently curse the idiot servant who never returned with my honeyed tea. With Ping-Ping hot on my heels, I follow the winding path to the other end of the courtyard where my stage awaits. A literal stage mind you, built so my guests can watch me and my family eat while they dine at their own tables, all facing forward for their viewing pleasure. Super creepy, but I suppose it’s standard wedding behaviour.

Distracted by a pyramid of fruits, vegetable, and fish, Ping-Ping ambles over to dig into the offerings, abandoning me without a second thought. Dad, Charok, and the twins are waiting on stage, dressed in their Sunday best. The twins look more adorable than ever in their red and white silk outfits, clinging to their Papa’s leg as they stare at our guests with a mixture of curiosity and worry. Following their gazes out into the crowd, I sympathize with their trepidation as my throat closes and heartbeat races in response to the sea of eyes staring back at me. Sweet Mother in Heaven that’s a lot of people. Should I wave? Why aren’t they clapping? No, that’s stupid, why would they clap? Ugh, I don’t feel so good. Stomach’s queasy, bladder’s full, and I’m lightheaded to boot. Considering my sore throat, I might really be coming down with something. It shouldn’t be too surprising, the bay is pretty cold and I’ve been swimming every day for a week now. Or maybe it’s just the lack of sleep and the many startling revelations taking their toll on my body. What’s the word for that? Psychosomatic, yea that’s it. It’s just nerves and anxiety, it’ll pass.

Sensing my discomfort, Dad pats my shoulder in a rare show of affection. It’s still weird thinking of him as dad, but he’s always been a stern but loving father figure in my life. “You should smile more,” he Sends, face deadpan as ever. “Marshal Yuzhen says it makes us more approachable.”

“Butwhy do we need to be approachable?” Turning to face him, I add, “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful because I appreciate your efforts but it’s just... We’re throwing a party with money I don’t have, in honour of a concubine I don’t trust, so people we don’t know can get to know her. It’s so asinine, and besides, doesn’t everyone have more important things to do? Like figuring out how we’re supposed to deal with the millions of Defiled rampaging through the Western Province?”

Dad’s shrug is so imperceptible I almost miss it. “Such is life. Appearances must be kept.The expense is inconsequential, there is no cause for worry. As for your other concerns, few people of true importance are in attendance, mostly privileged sons and daughters here to socialize.”

“Isn’t Central’s Marshal here? And I greeted more than one Major General at the metaphorical door.”

“Yo Jeong-Hun is here as a show of solidarity between North and Central and will likely depart the moment decorum allows it. As for the Major Generals and other high ranking officers...” This time the shrug is more pronounced, with an eye roll for added effect. “I would not trust them to defend their plates from Jimu much less a city from the Defiled. Believe me, in keeping those fools distracted, we are rendering a great service for the Empire.”

Wow, emoting and cracking jokes. Dad really seems happy, which makes me feel pretty shitty about Rain-ing on his parade. Oof. I needed that. A pun-ishment to take my mind off my constant whining. Okay no more, I don’t think I could survive another. Faking yet another smile, I swallow the rest of my complaints and turn to face the crowd, wondering if I should try and convince Dad, Nian Zu, and Yuzhen to pull everyone out of Central and go back home. We don’t need the Emperor’s armies to hold the North, and even if we did, it’s not like they’re here to help defend Central either. The Defiled are coming and I’d rather not have to watch innocent civilians die in droves because the Empire failed to protect them.

No, I did more than watch.

A memory I tried my best to forget springs to mind, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. The smell of wood smoke permeates the air as I gaze upon a young girl no older than Tali, a native of the lands surrounding Sanshu. Cradled in her mama’s arms, the sweet child’s eyes are red and swollen as she shivers with fright, terrified by the distant flames and nearby strangers. The mother shifts uneasily and soothes her daughter but anger smoulders beneath the surface as Spectres whisper in her ears. I can see them, sense them, hear them coaxing and cajoling her, advising she surrender and accept their strength. ‘It’s the only way’, they whisper, a thousand voices speaking as one, and the mother considers it, but she’s too afraid. She’s alone and outnumbered, lacking weapons and martial training, so how is she supposed to fight us off? She thinks she knows what we want and tells herself she’s been through worse. I see it in her eyes and the set of her jaw, grim resignation and willingness to endure as she prays we leave her daughter alone and let them go free once we’re done.

But that’s not why I’m here. No, I’m going to do far worse.

I convince myself this isn’t me, that Baledagh’s the one making the decisions here. I can’t blame him either, there’s no other choice. The woman and child are Defiled, or so I thought. I didn’t know they were just Tainted and still able to resist temptation. I didn’t know I could Devour their Spectres and would soon find Blobby again and cleanse myself. Maybe if I were smarter or stronger, I wouldn’t have rejected Blobby in the first place and could have spared those people, but at the time, I had no other options. I couldn’t let them go free and I couldn’t bring them with me, so I did what had to be done.

No, not even. I gave the order to do what I couldn’t bring myself to do. My fingers flash and two Sentinels move to obey. I can see the hesitation in their eyes and gait, wondering if they’re doing the right thing. They’ve killed before, but never like this, executing defenceless villagers without trial or cause. I say these people are Defiled, but where’s the proof? All they see is a scared woman and a terrified child, but despite their reservations, they obey their orders. They march the woman and child out of sight, and after a moment, return without them, their eyes lowered and shoulders slumped, broken and burdened by what they were ordered to do.

Those men are dead now, fallen in the battle to retake Sanshu. I envy them, because at least they now know peace, freed from the sins I forced upon them.

I chose weakness and stupidity over facing the harsh truth, clinging to fantasy and pretending I was someone else while ordering the deaths of dozens of innocent people, all because I was worried about what crimes they might commit. Sure I could blame the Spectres or claim mental instability, but neither argument makes me feel any better about myself. I let my fear control me and nothing will ever bring back those poor people. Beggaring myself to provide charity is just me trying to drown my guilt with goodwill, but I don’t think this shame will ever wash away. When it comes right down to it, Martial might isn’t enough. I need to get my head screwed on right, and to do that, I need to... I need to find out how to do that and do it. Yes. Good goal. Much progress.

What a fun trip down memory lane. I suck, today sucks, life sucks, and positive mental attitude sucks.

Honestly, could this day get any worse?

...

Ah fuck me. That was not a challenge. You hear me universe? Please leave me alone.

Oh, but first, please guide that idiot servant back here with my honeyed tea. My throat is killing me. K thanks, bye.

Chapter Meme