Savage Divinity

Early morning summons are the worst. No one ever wakes up and calls for a meeting because they have good news to share. That’s not how it works. Meetings at the crack of dawn are reserved for those difficult decisions made after a long, sleepless night, when you want to get whatever it is over and done with so you can go about the rest of your day. Thus, I was none too pleased to find the Legate’s Seneschal waiting outside my yurt in the early morning gloom, and even less pleased to kneel and accept an official summons from the Legate while holding a pan of turtle poop. There are no more easy smiles or friendly pats from the immaculately dressed senior, his eyes cold and lips pursed as he invites himself inside to rummage through my wardrobe. While he searches for what he deems as ‘appropriate attire’ and mumbles what I can only assume are uncomplimentary remarks beneath his breath, I casually bring Mama Bun and Pong Pong out of the yurt and place them into the enclosure, hoping the Seneschal overlooks my tiny turtle friend.

Everyone says Pong Pong is indistinguishable from a regular turtle, but they also can’t explain how the Legate ‘sees’ my Natal Palace, so better play it safe and keep him away from Imperial eyes.

After making arrangements for the rest of my pets, I put on the clothes picked out by the Seneschal, which is the same outfit I wore during my wedding banquet, albeit with a new pair of pants since the old ones were covered in blood. The black, high-collared shirt is one of the nicest shirts I own and perfectly compliments the new gold and black bindings Mila wrapped around Peace’s hilt, though the Seneschal seems wholly displeased by my lack of fancy robes and hair ornaments. Audibly sucking his teeth as I slip into my boots, he ignores my confused look and gestures for me to hurry. The moment I’m dressed, he motions for me to grab my weapons before rushing us out the door and into a waiting palanquin, barking orders for the Death Corps to double time it to the palace.

Oh no... am I being summoned for an early morning duel to the death? Can’t I at least have a last meal?

Wishing Akanai and Baatar were around to pull my ass out of the fire, I peek out the curtains and take solace in Ping-Ping’s presence and knowing Guan Suo won’t be far behind. While he’s not as dependable as family, his gruff tsundere act has grown on me during our time together, and I think I’ve grown on him. Besides, he’s an ocean-exploding bad-ass with balls big enough to sit at a table of Divinities, which makes him awesome. If there’s anyone in Nan Ping strong enough to give the Legate pause, Guan Suo sits high on the list, not to mention Ping Ping’s beloved status as a Divine Guardian.

Which is why it’s so disheartening when the Seneschal specifically orders Guan Suo, Ping Ping, and my Death Corps Guards to remain behind while I head inside for my meeting with the Legate.

After bidding them both a fond farewell, in which Ping-Ping pouts and Guan Suo (hopefully) feigns indifference, I follow the Seneschal up the carpeted stairs and into the palace proper. After a long, circuitous route through the beautiful marble hallways, the Seneschal brings me into a small, but opulent dining room, where he instructs me to remain standing and wait before disappearing through a side door. Wondering how many different rooms the Legate stays in, I study my surroundings to keep my mind off my possibly impending doom. An exquisite, wooden square table for two sits in the centre of the room, its polished red surface and elegant, carved edges making it more work of art than simple furniture. Two equally impressive wooden chairs are positioned across from one another on the left and right sides of the room respectively, and laid out before each are a pair of ivory chopsticks, a white-jade bowl, and an alabaster porcelain teacup. The back wall is adorned with two calligraphy scrolls on either side of a painting, the ‘One Hundred Horses’ Yuzhen gifted the Legate with no less. In front of it stands the jade rooster I sent him, though the calligraphy scrolls are unfamiliar, but beautifully written. Each bears a popular idiom in stylish, flowing script, the left one reading, ‘Topple Mountains; Overturn Seas’, and the right, ‘Rebuke Heaven and Earth’.

The Legate’s propensity for inspirational posters amuses me. I bet he’d love a ‘hang in there’ kitty poster.

Wishing I were instead having a nice, relaxing swim through the terrifying depths of the Azure Sea, I keep both hands firmly clenched around Unity and hold it perfectly upright, worried my attention will slip or my new hand will cramp and I’ll accidentally drop it on a priceless work of art. Honestly, if I’d known the Legate loved art so much, I’d have given him an entire wagon of sculptures instead of one jade rooster. Hell, I only picked the rooster because I was miffed about the whole apology thing and my drunk brain found it funny because it’s a jade cock, but I’ll never admit it out loud. Glad he likes it, though I doubt it’s enough to sway his mind.

Breathe, buddy. Just breathe. If the Legate wants you dead, this is hardly the way he’d go about it. It’s been two weeks and you’re still alive, which is good news, right?

The minutes pass and I become acutely aware I had no chance to use the bathroom become coming here. What’s the protocol on slipping out for a bio break? I doubt the Legate will be pleased if he shows up and I’m not here, so I’ve no choice but to hold it. Oh gods, now I have to poop too. Why body? Why are you doing this to me? I passed multiple giant vases on the way here, maybe I can duck out and -

The side door opens and the Seneschal returns, soon followed by the Legate himself. Dressed in a casual red and gold robe, he takes his seat as I remember my manners and fall to my knees. “Imperial Consort greets Imperial Legate,” I utter, having been coached briefly by Luo-Luo on the basics of etiquette. Head bowed, eyes down, don’t look up until he says you can rise, and even then, don’t look directly at him or hold your head high. Seriously, the amount of subservience expected of us is ridiculous, but everyone in the world seems to think it’s appropriate, as if Imperial Scions are inherently better than the rest of humanity because of their lineage.

I’ll never understand this reverence for nobility, but I don’t understand a lot of things, so it’s not exactly new.

Long seconds pass before the Legate says, “Rise.” Like the Seneschal, the Legate is all business today, wearing the ghost of a scowl as he directs me to the chair across from him. Hands folded atop the table, he waits in stoic silence as I take my seat, belatedly wondering what I’m supposed to do with Unity. Do people hold onto their massive polearms while eating? No don’t be silly, I should put it down, but where and how? On the floor, pointed away from the Legate? Maybe, but won’t it get in the way of the servants? I could lay it across my knees I suppose, but with how the chair and table are built, it means I’d have to sit on the edge of my seat and at arm’s length from the table, which seems rude. Overhead hangs a massive, wooden candelabra, which means cradling Unity upright is also out of the question, and probably dangerous since it could easily slip and brain the Legate or worse. Eventually, I conclude my only option is to get up and leave Unity by the door, though it takes longer than I’d like to admit to make sure it won’t slide down and break anything of value.

Not a great start.

Taking my seat once more, I sit as straight while keeping my eyes fixated on the cutlery, which are every bit as exquisite as everything else in this room. Who uses chopsticks carved to resemble a long, sinuous dragon or teacups sculpted in the likeness of a phoenix? Even the bowls are shaped like the two legendary animals, their painstakingly detailed bodies coiled around a circular object which may or may not be the planet. Seems a bit much for eating off of and I’d rather starve than risk accidentally breaking anything here. Unsure if I should hunch my shoulders to appear more respectful or keep my perfect posture like Luo-Luo keeps reminding me. The silence is overwhelming as the Legate’s gaze bores through my skull and the Seneschal looms foreboding at the side, but I was specifically warned against speaking before I’m spoken to, so the ball is firmly in the Legate’s court.

Why won’t he say something? Is he studying my Natal Palace? Did he notice the Keystones? Oh Mother in Heaven, I didn’t make anything traitorous or blasphemous, did I?

“I called you here to speak about my disappointment,” the Legate says, his clear, resonant voice shattering the awkward silence. Drumming his fingers across the table, he continues, “Yet now I see you weren’t speaking out of hand when you said you desired a change of scenery in your Natal Palace.” Shaking his head, he slumps in his chair and sighs, his chin propped on one hand as he studies my innermost secrets. “So young, yet so talented, but what I find most exceptional  is your bold confidence, willing to try what others dare not even dream of. I’ve known Experts twice your age with half your courage and it would pain me to deprive the world of such a rare and commendable individual.”

Well... I guess today’s not a day for subtlety. I suppose I should gloss over the blatant death threat and focus on the rest. “Imperial Legate’s praise is too much.” What else am I supposed to say? It’s not like I meant to do any of this, it all sort of happened, and I’m not exactly sure why he’s so impressed by my Natal Palace. It’s grown since he last saw me, but only by a little, and still a long way from reaching its former village-sized status. Besides, I don’t see what’s so impressive about visualizing rooms in my imaginary happy place. Sure, it takes focus and concentration, but once you get the hang of it, it’s not so hard.

“Praise is it?” With a wry smile, the Legate shakes his head and says, “You are a difficult man to read. Is this false modesty or genuine humility? Are you a brilliant tactician or a bumbling fool? I separated you from Yuzhen and your Grand-Mentor to see how you’d fare without them, but if anything, your movements have become even more incomprehensible. Why have you stopped exploring the bay? Did you find what you were looking for or did you satisfy your curiosity for the unknown? What do you mean to do with your cast iron venture? It’s not wealth you’re after, else you wouldn’t have signed such an unfavourable contract or given out your secrets for free. Why do you pursue strength with such enthusiasm, yet barely bat an eye when offered Imperial Secrets? For the life of me, I, Shen ZhenWu, cannot make sense of your motivations.”

Belatedly realizing his questions aren’t rhetorical, I shrug and answer to the best of my abilities. “Going out into the bay was mostly to feed the Guardian Turtle, but since there’s not enough wildlife in there to sustain her and it’s too dangerous outside the bay, now I bring her out for fun and buy more food.” A lie, but wrapped in enough truth that I hope he believes it. I also stopped exploring because I’m pretty sure Blobby is forever lost to me, but I’ve accepted it and moved on. “The cast iron thing is to show my ideas are financially viable so people will take them seriously. I meant what I said when I presented my book on stage. Education is the first step to a more prosperous Empire, but it’s a massive first step which I have no hopes of accomplishing on my own.” Again, entirely true, but omitting a few important details, like how I hope it’ll give more power to the lower classes and eventually bring equality to the Azure Empire.

“So you mean to say I’m reading too much into your actions?” The Legate’s mocking tone indicates he has yet to be persuaded. “That you are more brilliant and far thinking than any who’ve come before you?”

“Hardly. Like I said, the book is a collaborative effort, and most of those inventions have been created before, except the knowledge was largely lost to history.” Technically true again, woo! I’m getting good at this lying business. “I still make a small fortune selling medicines which were called miraculous and never before seen, except I found instructions to make them in a dusty book sitting in my Teacher’s library. There is a wealth of knowledge out there, but most lack the means to share it. I’m hoping education will fix this, but I could be wrong.”

“Your answer is reasonable and compelling, yet I still find myself unconvinced. Logically, it makes no sense to believe you, because your actions reek of ulterior motives. Buying partnerships with influential merchants, securing goodwill with the common people, and most telling of all, gathering powerful allies to champion your cause, you’ve fashioned yourself a most formidable host, yet still I’m tempted to trust you. How puzzling.” Gesturing for silence, he straightens up and looks regal as the main doors open and servants bring in breakfast, leaving me to wonder what in the hell he’s going on about.

Well, I get the first two things, but what powerful allies?

Unable to make heads or tails of the situation, I turn my attention to more immediate matters. My mouth waters as each delectable dish is placed before me, a cornucopia of enticing aromas and palatable sights. Wide noodles in twice-boiled fish soup followed by steamed shrimp dumplings, black fungus and pork, and grilled turnip cakes to whet the appetite. A bowl of stone pot rice with an egg, a haunch of grilled lamb, and half a fried chicken make up the main course, garnished with one plate of stir-fried mixed vegetables and another plate of steamed lotus roots.

Not the fanciest breakfast I’ve seen, but it’s robust. I wonder if he has dessert afterwards or if that’s not a thing here...

Indicating I should eat, the Legate digs in without a word and I follow suit, freed of any obligations to pour tea or whatever since the Seneschal is right beside us. Though nervous about eating in such prestigious company, I figure I’ve already made an ass of myself in front of him before, so I might as well enjoy what might well be my final meal. Putting aside all my worries and fears, I sample each dish with a sip of tea in between and parse through the flavours, thoroughly appreciating the hard work and effort which went into this meal. Even better is how the food has already been portioned out for each of us, so I don’t have to worry about contesting with the Legate over the best parts, and soon, I almost forget I’m stuck in a room with the most powerful man in Central, someone who probably wants me dead.

Honestly, life’s not terrible right now. Things could be worse. I hope someone made food for Guan Suo, but if not, we’ll stop and get something on the way back. I could probably still eat after all this, regenerating flesh is hungry work.

Making sure to eat at the same pace as the Legate, we finish our meal in comfortable silence, but things get awkward again while the servants clear the table. Then again, I’m almost positive he doesn’t intend to kill me, because this doesn’t feel like a tense, murderous meal. Maybe this is all a ploy to lower my guard, but I can’t see why he’d bother, which means he’s trying to make nice. Again, I don’t understand why, but ignorance is a state I’m well-used to by now, and I’m slowly learning not to stress about it.

Very slowly. Glacial even, but it’s still progress.

Once the three of us are alone again, the Legate resumes our conversation with a question. “Tell me, why do you think I haven’t killed you?”

Oh fun. “Morale, I suppose, or perhaps you’ve had more important matters to deal with, like the Treaty and whatnot. I haven’t given it too much thought.” I sorta accepted it and carried on. I like to think it’s a part of Baledagh’s legacy, because he always had the strength to move forward regardless of the odds. Despite being burdened with all my flaws, Baledagh also had many admirable qualities about him. Daring, determined, and ruthless, he was the person I wanted to become, the person I thought best equipped to survive life in this new and terrifying world.

Baledagh alone wasn’t enough, but maybe if I keep the best from both of us, I can become someone better, the best person I can be.

“Not even close.” Proud and aloof, the Legate’s gaze no longer lingers on me, his apathy so clear it’s almost hurtful. “You live because you may still be of value. Though you refuse to work with me, you can still be used to my advantage. So long as my enemies believe you are my pawn, they will waste their efforts trying to turn you, and in doing so, will expose their hand. Not only will your continued existence conceal my actions, I will also benefit from your actions. In the eyes of the world, your successes will be my successes, and should you fail, then I lose nothing by cutting all ties and leaving you to the mercy of my enemies.”

I think this is all meant to scare me, but I don’t know who his enemies are or what his goal is, so honestly, it’s all white noise and static. Resisting the urge to shrug, I ask, “Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because,” he says, with a self-satisfied grin, “I expect your aid in carrying out this deception.” He doesn’t bother adding ‘or else’, but it’s implied. “Assuming your final answer is to my liking.” Noticing my confusion, his eyebrow rises as he clarifies, “You care nothing for Imperial Secrets. Why?”

Oh. This one’s the easiest to answer, because there’s nothing to hide. “I pursue strength so I may remain free, free from conflict, free from strife, free from worry, just... free. The Martial Dao is merely a means to an end, so you see why I refuse to trade my freedom for more strength.”

Taken aback by my answer, the Legate studies my expression for long seconds, and I do my best not to squirm. With a look almost approaching pity, he shakes his head and speaks softly. “I almost admire your foolish simplicity, Falling Rain. The freedom you seek does not exist, not for men like you or I. Service to a person, service to a cause, or service to your conscience, in the end, you are bound by circumstances beyond your control. You wish for true freedom, power enough to remain unfettered from all conflict or struggle? Not even the Emperor could grant you this request, for you’ll soon find that the more power you amass, the more fetters you accrue. There will always be a person, a cause, or a principle which you will serve, even if you think it’s of your own volition.” Dismissing me with a wave of his hand, he waits until I’m at the door to add, “I have a soft spot for dreamers, so my offer remains, though for how long I cannot say. Think on it, but not too long.”

After escorting me back to Ping-Ping, the Seneschal hands me a scroll with an Imperial seal, eschewing all the ceremony which usually goes with it. “I urge you to accept my young master’s offer. While it’s possible to find yourself a more benevolent master, no person alive will make for a more fearsome foe.” On that ominous note, the Seneschal holds open the drapes to my palanquin and I get in to leave, still reeling from the events of today. Logically, the best choice is to ally myself with the Legate, because I’m already suffering all the drawbacks and reaping none of the rewards, which is probably what he meant to highlight regardless.

Ugh. It’s too early for decisions like this.

Breaking the wax seal, I unfurl the scroll to read my orders and almost cheer with relief.

Finally. Deployment orders.

Enough politics. It’s time for war.

Chapter Meme