Savage Divinity

“Well... That’s less than ideal.”

An understatement if I’ve stated one, but a leader must always appear calm and in control, even when he has no idea what he’s doing. It’s how I’ve gotten where I am today, and honestly, I don’t really know what else I’m supposed to say in light of Zian, BoShui, and Yuhuan’s news. Two-thirds of the Society wants me dead and is collectively working towards it. Cool, cool, cool.

My matter-of-fact response earns me a wide-eyed look of reverence from BoShui and a muted scoff from Zian, while Yuhuan continues tapping her foot in barely restrained impatience. “Well?” She demands, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. “What do you intend to do?”

...Add the Society back onto my long list of enemies and continue training?

Somehow, I doubt that’s the answer she’s looking for. Taking a moment to think things through, I look around the table at my gathered allies for support, but there is none to be had. Lei Gong drinks his wine, Wu Gam sits in stony silence, and Dastan still refuses to look me in the eye. In the meantime, Yan is as lost as I am though she offers a supportive shoulder bump, and Zian is playing it cool, pretending he doesn’t care about my safety even though he’s clearly worried to the point of tapping his foot in sync with Yuhuan. As for Jing Fei, she actually doesn’t care and is more concerned with serving Yuhuan tea and pastries which the Tyrant promptly ignores, but Song shamelessly helps herself to the food while keeping Mama Bun and Blackjack off the table. To round things out, BoShui has the utmost confidence in my prowess and is utterly composed and relaxed, the air of maturity and gravitas given to him by his neat moustache and short goatee ruined by his worshipping gaze.

Man... he looks so cool with facial hair and muscles. Should I grow a beard too? If only I could... Then again, Zian is clean shaven and also looks awesome. I can’t wait till I’m older and look more mature and grown up. Rubbing my chin in thought, I count the few sparse hairs and try to remember the last time I shaved before noticing I’ve gotten off-topic. “Any suggestions?” I ask, hoping Yuhuan has an answer for me.

“Tch.” Annoyed by the delay to her studies, Yuhuan responds to my question with a question of her own. “You’ve sent word to your Mentor of the Wraith and Demon attacks, yes? What was his response?”

“Uh... It’s only been three days since the attack.” Seeing her nose wrinkle in confusion, I hesitantly explain, “It takes five days for a message to reach the Northern Citadel.” Which is what they’re calling the developing super-fortress where Dad is stationed at. Since Yuhuan is still not getting it, I add, “...and five days back, so I won’t hear back from them about the Wraiths for another seven days.” At the minimum, though I should be getting a letter from Mom and Dad regarding my failed patrol in two or three days.

Jaw clenched and teeth bared, Yuhuan growls, “I understand the logistics of message delivery, but do you not have a way to contact them quickly in case of an emergency, such as the situation you’ve found yourself in now? My brother might recuse himself and step away, but I doubt the other factions will heed my warning.”

“Uh... No?” I tried training Roc’s flock to deliver messages, but they’re not big on solitary, long distance flights, and I’m lacking in Cloud-Stepping Experts under my command, so as far as I know, the only way to reach Dad is by boring overland travel. Glancing at Song for confirmation, she subtly shakes her head and goes back to eating and soothing the grumpy Pong Pong, perched atop Mama Bun’s head as he glares this way and that, though most of his anger seems directed towards Fort Sinuji. He does this a lot lately, though I don’t know why. I’m not sure if it’s my paranoia getting the best of me, but sometimes, when I follow his gaze, I feel unsettled, or panicked even, like I’m staring at an invisible predator lurking in the shadows who’s waiting for an opening to strike. The feeling usually goes away after a few minutes, but the strangest thing is, once my paranoia settles, Pong Pong does too, though sometimes he finds a different direction to glare at and we start the whole process over again.

Muttering something about buffoons and amateurs, Yuhuan finishes massaging her temples and says, “Without support from your Mentor, then your options are limited.” Fixing Yan and Wu Gam with a look, she asks, “Since Zian and BoShui’s methods are undoubtedly compromised along with their retinues, what about you two? Have you the means to deliver a message to the Northern Citadel?”

“I could send Kyung,” Yan offers, but the rude half-cat immediately interjects with a pointed, “No, you can’t.”

The only person who hasn’t chimed in is Wu Gam, and from the looks of things, he hasn’t even been paying attention. Noting his covetous glance towards the pastries, I slide the plate over and offer him a snack, doing my best not to laugh as his ears wiggle in delight even though his expression remains as stoic as ever. Shoving a pastry in his mouth, he grabs one more in each hand and hesitates before sliding the plate away, though still keeping it within arms reach. “My Mentor is unwilling to make the journey,” he says, speaking around a mouthful of flaky dough. “He claims it is too dangerous to leave me unsupervised with mole-Demons lurking about.” With an apologetic shrug, he adds, “Besides, though it would not be the most heroic of victories, if you die to these political machinations, then I will be free to court Yan.”

Yan’s throaty laugh does nothing to dissuade Wu Gam, and as awkward as his forthright honesty is, there’s something refreshing about a foe who is upfront about his motives. “Well, thanks for asking.” I like him. Is Original Gam listening or can Wu Gam Send without physical contact? Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Stop comparing yourself to other people. Turning to Yuhuan, I ask, “Can’t we take this information to the Justicars and let them deal with it?”

“Naive.”

Since the Tyrant doesn’t seem willing to expound on her one-word reply, BoShui steps in to explain. “Technically, no one at the meeting admitted to conspiring to kill you, else they wouldn’t have let us leave so easily. Patriarch OuYang only said they were ‘tasked with the removal of a certain young warrior’, which could be interpreted in multiple ways. Though everyone present knew we were speaking of killing you, no one ever admitted it outright, so our suspicions will not be enough to convince a Justicar to compel an Oath. Even if we had enough proof, it’s highly likely our accusations would amount to nothing since they undoubtedly have an Imperial Scion guiding their actions, else they would never risk going against you considering your lofty status and powerful backer.”

Fun, fun, fun. Stupid Legate and his stupid rivals... “The Legate won’t help,” I say in answer to the implied suggestion. “Or he’d demand a price I’m not willing to pay, so it’s best if we handled things ourselves. If any of you want out, I’ll understand and won’t hold it against you.” Ignoring Jing Fei’s none-too-subtle signals for Zian to take me up on the offer, I continue, “For those of us who remain, everyone will have to stay on their toes and keep an eye out for assassins alongside Wraiths and Demons.” In addition to my mysterious protectors and poop-watching voyeurs. Grateful as I am for their assistance during the Demon attack, it’s been three days and I haven’t had a full night’s rest since, so my gratitude is wearing thin. What if they’ve already left and I never find them again? I’m going to spend the rest of my life searching the shadows for spies who don’t exist. I don’t think I can handle that sort of pressure and I definitely can’t perform under it, so how am I supposed to enjoy marital bliss in peace and privacy?

Trick question. I can’t, not until I develop an anti-Concealment, anti-Watching, and anti-Listening Chi trick. Anti-Smelling too, if that’s a thing, though it might be due to mundane half-beast biology.

“No need to worry about assassins,” Zian says, and for a second, I almost believe him until he adds, “Whatever the Society is planning, I doubt it would be as crude as a direct attack, especially now that you’re aware of their intentions. Even if the Emperor himself wanted you dead, His Imperial Majesty would find it difficult to explain why the Number One Talent in the Empire died to infighting whilst stationed on the front lines.”

“Not to mention the sheer cost and difficulty of raising untraceable, Oath-bound suicide assassins and sneaking them into Sinuji unnoticed,” Lei Gong adds, slapping my shoulder with a chuckle. “Doesn’t matter how talented and capable ye are, I’d hardly think ye worth the risk or expense.”

Bit of a backwards compliment, but I’ll take it. “So what should I be guarding against instead?”

“Could be anything.” Raising his hand, Lei Gong keeps count with his fingers while listing the possibilities. “Might be that they’ve already started, with all the rumours flyin’ about with the tongue removal and such. They could be fixin’ to force ye out on a suicide mission, entrap ye into committing a crime, frame ye fer a false one, or any number of plots and schemes.” With an indifferent shrug, he adds, “If it weren’t fer the lack of Defiled round these parts, I’d have figured they’d have Hongji replaced with one of their own, poison yer rations, then leave ye high and dry durin’ a battle or something.”

...Well then. That’s... terrifying.

As Lei Gong continues listing all the ways the Society can ruin my day, I drone his voice out and consider my options. Seeing how we lack the means to contest the Society’s scheming, the ball is mostly in Hongji’s court, since replacing him is probably the easiest way to deal with me. The good Colonel holds complete control over Sinuji, so even with three Patriarchs and however many Experts, the Society can’t act freely so long as he’s in power lest they be accused of treason or rebellion or whatever. That’s not to say they can’t act at all, so I’m still on full alert, but there comes a point when there are so many threats lurking about, my mind and body can’t keep up and full alert becomes the new standard. The threat provided by the Society is so indirect, I can’t even begin to plan against it, mostly because I have no idea what to do. Even after all of Luo-Luo’s lessons, I’m still a complete noob when it comes to politics. Do I need to win over my fellow soldiers in Sinuji? Offer Hongji something to tie him tighter to my ship? Play on my status as Imperial Consort and Turtle Attendant to court new allies?

Is there even anyone in Sinuji powerful enough to go against the Society?

...The Society, I guess.

“Hey,” I ask, interrupting Lei Gong’s morale crushing droning. “A full third of the Society abstained from the meeting right? What would happen if we drew the dissenters to our side?”

Yuhuan’s dismissive snort crushes my hopes and dreams. “Attempting to force a divide in the Society is the best way to unite them against you. Leave the dissenters be, because regardless of how they feel about you personally, they’ll work to hinder the majority out of spite.”

“True, but that’s not what I mean.” The plan comes together as I speak, the pieces falling neatly into place. “Instead of looking at it as ‘Falling Rain versus the Society’, we should instead turn this into an internal Society conflict. After all, we have three Society adherents at this table and it’s clear the Han and Situ Clans intend to sell their Young Patriarchs off to the other clans...”

Jing Fei understands what I’m saying and for once, lends a hand. “Of course. If Dear Husband and BoShui reach out to the Harmonious Unity Sect and the other dissenters to open a dialogue, then they’ll have more than enough justification to move camps to ‘protect’ you during negotiations as a show of good faith, not to mention how the factions will want to meet with Aunty Yuhuan. In doing so, their presence will restrict the majority from acting since the Society must appear united, and it might even draw other Patriarchs and Sect Leaders to the front lines to put pressure on Rang Min and BoDing.” Pleased by my brilliant idea, Jing Fei flashes Zian a look of victory, who studies me through narrowed eyes as if seeing me for the first time.

It’s kind of hurtful, actually. I have good ideas sometimes. It’s not that surprising...

Unfortunately, Yuhuan isn’t quite on board. “You ask too much,” she says with a huff of indignation. “Do you know how much of my precious time they’ll waste? Not just with their talks and meetings, but also their requests for Runic items. How am I to continue my studies with a constant stream of visitors knocking at my door, begging to have their trinkets made?”

Something tells me Yuhuan doesn’t know much about politics. “Why not appoint an intermediary to speak in your stead? You know, someone who has your ear but can’t make promises on your behalf. You’re the Tyrant, OuYang Yuhuan, the greatest Runic Craftsman in the North, so you only need to personally attend meetings if there is someone of equal or greater status to speak with.”

Lips pursed in a frown, Yuhuan wrinkles her nose and looks me up and down. “And I suppose you think I should appoint you, hmm?” Oh god no, but luckily, she feels the same way. “You are far too crafty for my liking, not at all like how you appear. Little Zian, lend me your concubine for these matters. She may represent my interests so long as you agree to match the price of any obligations she commits me to.”

...She’s a terrible judge of character if she thinks I’m craftier than Jing Fei, but credit where it’s due, Yuhuan is a cutthroat merchant, negotiating to get paid twice if she’s inconvenienced with the need to work. Dammit, I should’ve locked her in on a price for runic bullets and cannons before giving her all my ideas.

Zian immediately agrees, and while they discuss the details of their plan, I sit back and take a moment to breathe. I’ve been under so much stress and pressure, my constant paranoia is turning into the new normal. Taking a cue from Pong Pong, I follow his angry glare towards Sinuji and search for clues of what’s got his panties in a twist, but my search is fruitless aside from a fuzzy patch of clouds and a suspicious looking shadow. Aside from that, all there is to see is Zian’s camp to my south, then the walls of Sinuji beyond it, and a clearing which is bustling with activity. There’s nothing out of the ordinary for a military camp, but my mind continues to scream of indistinct danger, warning me to remain alert and guarded. Is that Han soldier staring at me? Are those craftsmen wandering by too often? Is that shadow moving? A full minute passes before my paranoia settles and fades, but it returns in full force a few seconds after I look away, only to disappear when I turn around once again.

What the hell is going on? Have I gone full crazy?

Not wanting to draw attention to Pong Pong, I keep a close eye on the tiny Divinity but all he does is glare at the clearing in Fort Sinuji. Minutes pass as I parse this latest mystery until Yan’s elbow jabs into my ribs. Keeping her forearm pressed against mine, she flashes a lovely yet dangerous smile and Sends, “Keep staring at Song’s breasts and you’ll wear a hole through her breastplate.”

What? No! “I’m not staring at her breasts, I’m staring at Pong Pong and trying to figure out why he’s angry.” Besides, Yan said it herself, Song’s wearing a breastplate so there’s nothing to see. It’s not boob-armour or anything, it’s a solid slab of curved metal covering Song’s large, weighty breasts beneath.

Okay, now I’m imagining them, but only because Yan brought it up.

Yan’s eye-roll tells me she doesn’t believe me, but protesting won’t help now that my cheeks are burning with shame. I told her about Pong Pong and how we met, but I don’t think she fully comprehends how incredible the tiny turtle really is. I’m not talking about his power level either. We only had the one encounter in his Natal Palace, but he understood enough to not only recognize me, but also make a request for more shrimp before sending me away. Understanding abstract concepts and utilizing non-verbal communication are huge steps in intelligence, to the point where most humans have enough trouble with either concept, but Pong Pong has proven himself capable of both.

Too bad I can’t muster the courage to visit his Natal Palace again, but I’d rather not risk finding out what happens if my spiritual body dies. For all I know, he’s grumpy because he wants more shrimp and Chi Tea.

With their plans laid out, the meeting comes to an abrupt end as everyone leaves to do their own thing, including Yan who shoots me a smoky glare before leaving arm in arm with Kyung and Song. Without Pong Pong to justify my paranoia, I push aside my delusions and head to my yurt, where Ping Ping lies in wait with a turtley smile as I get to work. My bathing area has become a permanent fixture in these past few days, as I spend most of my time inside practising how to materialize and Hone Water Chi. Progress is slow considering it takes ten percent of my maximum capacity every time I materialize Water Chi, but luckily it costs nothing to fail at that first step, which I do more often than not, else I’d be constantly taking baths to replenish my Water Chi reserves.

Well... more baths than I have been, which were a lot. Even with so many failures, it doesn’t take long to go through ten tries.

The most infuriating thing is how my Natal Palace is supposed to be used for efficient Chi practice, but it’s too easy materializing water in there to make improvements in the real world. I spoke with Song on this matter, but she doesn’t have the same problem. While she controls everything in her Natal Palace, she still has the same issues with Chi manipulation in there as she does out normally, which is supposedly normal. It seems my circumstances are unique, though how this prowess came about is a mystery. Maybe it has something to do with my Natal Palace diving abilities, or maybe it’s because of how I first formed it, while under the influence of the Demon formerly known as Vivek Daatei’s mind-fuckery. Either way, my Natal Palace is too malleable to be of use, so until I figure out how to limit my powers in the void, I’m stuck practising in stupid, inefficient reality.

It’d be so much better if I could bring my powers of imagination out into the real world. If I can’t have real bear arms, then I could at least craft bear arms out of water, which is at least dream-adjacent...

Maybe I’m oversimplifying things, but when you get down to the nitty-gritty of it, all of my problems stem from a lack of strength, whether it be personal or political. If I were strong enough to dominate my opponents instead of beating them by luck, then it wouldn’t matter if I behaved in a tyrannical and overbearing manner, because I’d have the capital to back it up. If I had a powerful political ally like the Ryo or Dienne families, then the Society wouldn’t have free rein to maneuver me into a dead end. If I had value beyond my talent, then the Empire would have no choice but to shelter me, because I’d be an invaluable asset in years to come, rather than the possible nuisance they view me as now. Look at the Tyrant; she walked into a meeting with three Patriarchs, called them all a bunch of idiots, and walked right back out without repercussion. When will I get to do the same?

As things stand, until Dad gets my latest letter, there’s nothing for me to do except train and tread lightly, so I continue my efforts until all my Water Chi is spent. Instead of asking my Death Corps to fill the tub again, I flop down next to Ping Ping and lean against her for a break. Sweet as usual, the big girl nuzzles me ever so gently, as if sensing my discouragement and cheering me on. Warmed by her affection, I pat her cheek and Send, “If only you could teach me your water-bending ways, Ping Ping.” She doesn’t understand my words and never Sends back, but giving voice to my frustrations makes me feel better and she recognizes the sound of her name and happily squeaks in response.

Three days without a significant breakthrough, so I suppose I should rethink my approach. Maybe it’s time I took another look at Chi-infused water...

Chapter Meme