Savage Divinity

It took a fair amount of research and testing to get done, but Charok, Song, and I eventually figured out the optimal nest-shape for Roc and his cronies where they can pass the winter in relative warmth and peace.

It’s a birdhouse.

Basic ass birds.

Poking his brown-and-white feathered head out of the circular entrance, Roc greets me with a trilling laugh as I enter the aviary, which is really just a wooden shack with a gap under the roof for easy bird access. Lining the walls are my laughing bird houses, large, rectangular block homes with slanted roofs which serve no purpose since they’re already indoors, but the birds love it, so who am I to judge. Unwilling to leave his cozy little birdhouse, Roc’s cries increase in intensity until I arrive at his ‘door’, quieting only when he finally gets his scritches and treat. The other laughing birds know their place and keep quiet inside their warm homes until their turn arrives, forcing me to amble about the hay-strewn room in a haphazard manner to accommodate their strict scritching hierarchy. I don’t mind, and to be fair, I’ve neglected my sweet birbs for too long now, mostly because they stopped coming out after they laid eggs and I hate taking the stairs, but I don’t know how long I’ll be gone this time around and I don’t want them to forget me.

I feel the same way about my kittens and bears, but the rabbits are a lost cause. Not because they’ve already forgotten me, but because they have no loyalty. Unlike my other floofs who are wary of strangers, the bunbuns will let anyone feed and hug them, those furry, long-eared traitors. Even Mama Bun isn’t immune to this, though she loves me most...

I hope. Whatever. I’ve already said goodbye to all of them, even Mama Bun and Pong Pong. Much as I’d like to bring them with me, I promised Pong Pong safety, so I cannot in good conscience bring him on this trip. Also, he’s worthless in a fight and I don’t want to ship his poop back to the citadel, so it’s better he stay with Taduk. It didn’t take much convincing either. All my teacher had to do was offer the turtle more shrimp and they became best friends forever.

Animals have no loyalty.

All too soon, a knock sounds at the door telling me time is up, so with a heavy heart, I say my last goodbyes to the birds and pray I’ll be back in time to see their babies hatch this spring, with Dastan and his retinue in good health to boot. Maybe it’s asking for too much considering they’re soldiers heading out to battle, but this whole kerfuffle with Jixing and the Disciplinary Corps has left a bad taste in my mouth, and not just because of the blatantly corrupt justice system. My friends, allies, and even subordinates have all offered their support and commiseration for my current ordeal, but I haven’t heard a single person say anything to defend or sympathize with Dastan, Sahb, or any of the other slave soldiers at the centre of this issue. No one cares that they’ve spent more time fighting on the front lines than most, or that they’ve been all but sentenced to death despite their heroics, or that these promising Martial Warriors will be wasted for nothing, because at the end of the day, they’re just traitors and slaves.

A sentiment which disgusts me, but no one else. Everyone just expects me to head out to the front lines and toss Dastan’s former retinue into the meatgrinder until they’re all dead so I can come back safe and sound, but they’re my friends and comrades. I can’t just let them die, but I also can’t protect them for long, or even at all considering my current condition. While Nian Zu will oversee things to keep me safe, he can’t protect my people forever, not that he seems willing to even try. Living Legend my ass, he was all gung-ho about straight up executing the ‘traitors’ until I pointed out the Emperor favours young talents, whatever that’s supposed to mean. Why does the big man on the throne care so much about rising dragons and what sort of protection does this offer? No one can say anything concrete aside from Justicars doling out harsh punishments for the murder of young warriors, or promising young talents being whisked away by Imperial Scions, but those sorts of thing should be the norm, not a privilege of youth and talent.

I hope it’s not because the Emperor likes having back-up bodies to steal...

Bah. This is the worst. I was actually enjoying my time as a cripple until stupid Jixing came along. Now I’m stressed and gloomy all the time again, not to mention the paranoia. I hate it.

Outside the laughing bird’s shack, Kuang Biao and my Death Corps escort greet me with a Martial salute while I shuffle over to my litter, which is essentially a chair on two poles. It’s not the most comfortable vehicle I’ve ever ridden in, but it beats being carried over Kuang Biao’s shoulder like a sack of rice, so I’ll take it. On the way down, we stop at Akanai’s apartment to pick up Song, who stands waiting outside the door with her hair braided in a bun, and armour polished like the good soldier she is. Wishing she’d waited inside or even came up to say goodbye to the birds so I’d feel less guilty, I say, “Is Grand-Mentor in? I wanted to say goodbye before I left.” And to Sarankho too, but since she’s not out here, then she’s probably curled up beside Mila.

“Mama is busy.” Though she doesn’t go as far as extending her arms, Song plants her feet in front of the door with hand on hilt, ready to fight the Death Corps back should they attempt to push past. To be fair, I’d be worried too if I were in her shoes, because you do not want to wake the bears. Lovely, hardworking, and talented she may be, Mila is not a morning person and Husolt is both less lovely and more liable to smash someone into a meat paste, so it’s best to tread lightly around them in the early hours of the day. I find it’s best to let them sleep in unless there are nearby enemies to eviscerate, and since I’d rather not start a rebellion, I’ll have to settle for last night’s farewells.

Honestly, I think Mila would love coffee almost as much as I do, but despite my frantic efforts to find this sweet, nourishing elixir of life, I’ve got bupkis to show for it. This world sucks in so many different ways.

Navigating the stairs in my litter doesn’t allow for easy conversation with companions, but once we’re out of the building, I clamber into my quin-drawn rickshaw and ask Song to join me, opening our conversation with, “Hi.” My stilted smile makes things even more awkward, but Song responds with a nod as the rickshaw pulls out of the courtyard and we set off on our merry way. “This all happened too quickly so I haven’t had time to talk about it, but I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into this mess.”

“Not an issue,” Song replies in her customary monotone, her eyes on the horizon instead of facing me. “I look forward to returning to the battlefield.”

Oh good, so I’m the only one who’s terrified. Cool, cool, cool. “Not gonna miss the relaxing rickshaw rides through the citadel?”

“I enjoyed these peaceful days.” To my surprise, Song even sounds like she means it as her expression takes on a wistful look in the reddish morning hue, her bangs fluttering in the wind for a picture perfect moment. Only a single moment though, before her gaze solidifies back into her standard, stony facade. “But I am a warrior, first and foremost.”

Warmed by her determination, I inwardly applaud her mental recovery, having come a long way from believing she was and would forever be little more than a slave. Hell, she’s come a long way in just three months and change, considering she seemed absolutely distraught when her token was destroyed in Sinuji, but it seems she’s come to terms with being bound to my side. A good thing too, because I’d feel terrible if she was miserable all the time, and doubly so for being the reason for her misery, but she’s taken it all in stride and even stopped avoiding me these last few weeks. While still bound to my service, I’m always careful to word things so I never give her orders, and she’s largely left to her own devices and does whatever she pleases. Five kilometres isn’t exactly a lot of room to work with, it also can’t be considered a short leash either, enough for her to go out riding with Akanai or spending lazy afternoons reading in her room.

Still a leash though, but unless she feels like shattering her Core, there’s nothing we can do about it.

That said, even though she has all the free time in the world, Song isn’t wired for lazy. If given the choice, Song probably would’ve spent most of her time fighting on the front lines anyways, because I’ve never met anyone more obsessed with the Martial Path. She practices more than anyone I know, is always full of questions, and she still finds time to wake Lin up every morning and help make my medicine, though I suspect it’s only because Song takes sinister delight in watching me choke down those foul-but-heartfelt concoctions.

Not gonna lie. I love Lin, but I’m not going to miss her medicine.

Out of petty revenge, I ask, “How’s your Aura coming along?” I already know the answer, but I like asking because when I do, Song always crinkles her nose and pouts in frustration. It’s adorable, and I can’t help myself when it comes to cute. It’s the same reason I’ll sometimes wake the sleeping bunbuns just to see them yawn, or wrap Aurie in a blanket burrito and laugh at his big, sad stare. Cruel, but I need the cute to survive. “No progress,” Song replies, her scowl so similar to Mila and Akanai’s. “Luo-Luo’s musical performances have done nothing to help, so Mama and Sister have been trying to teach me how to appreciate the arts, but I do not understand. Music is pleasant to the ear, but nothing else. A painting depicts an image, but unless it is informational, like a map or a portrait of a wanted criminal, then what is the point? A dance is simply wasted movement, and poetry wasted breath. What do the arts have to do with Aura and the Martial Path?”

That’s a pretty good question. With all the parties and excitement that’s been going on, I haven’t had a chance to think on it, especially since I agree with Song’s breakdown. “I don’t think it makes sense either, but from what I can gather, it has to do with eliciting a powerful emotional response to help Condense your Aura.” Shrugging at Song’s blank look, I explain, “Yea, I don’t know either. I was distracted by all the torture and suffering going on when I Condensed my Aura in the midst of overseeing a Purge, so I don’t remember the specifics. Mostly anger. Lots and lots of anger.”

Gotta say, it’s a nice change of pace, being able to talk about the horrific experience, even if only to a select few. Not everyone knows I swore an Oath to keep quiet, but if word got out that I was no longer restricted by Oaths in general, I’m pretty sure all hell will break loose and I’ll be labelled the anti-Mother or something.

Hmm... I wonder if the reason Defiled have so many Aura users is because they’re more in touch with their emotions? Anger is only one catalyst, because I know Yan Condensed her Aura using love, while Mila and the others Condensed their Aura listening to Luo-Luo’s musical performance. Granted, it could also be Spectres, but I don’t think all Defiled strengths can be attributed to the ghosties, else it wouldn’t explain why Lang Yi and the other former slaves from Yo Ling’s island proved to be such talented Martial Warriors. The Spectres are probably more of a catalyst, ones who lay the ground work for successful Core Creation and Aura Condensation. Hell, knowing what I know, they might even inhibit the Defiled from Natal Palace Formation, because there’s a good chance an Expert-level Martial Warrior could expel or even eliminate Spectres residing inside their Natal Palace. Take Bei for example, she went full Demon, but after I showed her she had nothing to fear from the Spectres, she cast them out of her Natal Palace where they’d been keeping her prisoner.

Piece by piece, I’m putting the puzzle together, but I still don’t see the big picture. I’ve got the ‘what’, but I still haven’t figured out the ‘how’ or ‘why’...

“Uhn.”

Song’s noncommittal grunt doesn’t mean much, but the tentative pat on my arm speaks volumes to her empathy, so strong it can overcome her aversion to physical contact after mistaking my distraction for melancholy. Smiling in thanks, I settle back in the rickshaw and sigh. “I don’t understand where Aura sits on the Martial Path. You need a Core to store Chi, a Natal Palace to practice and memorize Chi skills, and a Domain to keep your Chi skills from fizzling out.” I leave out the bit about one’s Domain being a manifestation of one’s Natal Palace because Akanai said everyone needs to realize this on their own, but my point still stands. “All three steps build upon one another, but Aura doesn’t fit into the progression. Even though everyone who has a Domain also has an Aura, I’m not entirely certain an Aura is necessary since animals don’t have Auras.” Besides Pong Pong, but he's a special case for obvious reasons. I’ll need to do some human testing, but I don’t want to ruin anyone’s Martial future. That’s the thing about having a conscience, sometimes it gets in the way of science...

Realizing I’ve deviated from the topic, I re-tell Yan’s Aura-success story even though Song’s heard it many times before. “...so her desire to protect her loved ones drew out her Aura, and I think something similar happened with Luo-Luo’s music. It helps the listener get in touch with their emotions, and then I guess Chi does the rest.” So successful at helping with Aura Condensation, my consort’s concerts are wildly popular events nowadays, with Mom in firm control of the guest list, but Song’s been to every one of those concerts and made zero progress.

“I want to protect Mama, Papa, and Sister.” In a tone I might almost call petulant, Song continues, “I do. I can even prove it under compulsion if needed, but I cannot Condense my Aura.”

“I know you do, and everyone else does too. Do you want to hear my best guess as to why you’re having difficulties?” At her nod, I ask Kuang Biao to put up a Sound Barrier around Song and I, out of respect for Song’s privacy. “I think your issues with Aura stem from your traumatic past.” Seeing her lack of anger and abundant confusion, I take the plunge and continue. “Aura is about the expression of one’s emotions, but you repress your emotions out of habit. You’ve gotten better, but you still default to your neutral expression, because you’re not used to letting your emotions show or affect you. I’ve seen you smile, but I’ve never seen you laugh, or scream, or even make a snide comment when annoyed, a habit which might be interfering with Aura Condensation.” Shrugging, I add, “I’ll be honest though, I could be talking out my ass. The Death Corps never show emotion either, but they have Auras.” Not including Kuang Biao, I have twelve out of three-hundred and sixty, which at one in thirty, is even higher than Defiled ratios for Aura users. Either Luo-Luo is much more important than I thought, or the Imperial Clan has been holding out on their Martial secrets.

Probably both. I didn’t think Luo-Luo was even remotely important before Jixing arrived, but I doubt he’d go to all this effort just because he has a crush. Besides, it’s public knowledge that Martial Warriors from the Imperial Clan are significantly stronger from natives of the outer provinces, so it’s a given they’re hoarding secrets.

“...How can I improve at showing emotions?”

Though not entirely convinced, Song still asks for advice. With another shrug, I say, “Maybe smile when you’re happy and frown when you’re sad? No idea. I’m not a big emotional sharer either, which is why I spend so much time with the floofs.” Since she doesn’t respond, I sigh and add, “I’m gonna miss their antics, but if last night taught me anything, it’s not safe to bring them into a war-zone.” Signalling to Kuang Biao he can drop the Sound Barrier, I tell Song about my run in with the Abbot, though I leave out Luo-Luo’s naked presence to spare her the embarrassment. Poor girl, she can’t catch a break. First the tandem pooping, then Zabu and Shana sleeping in my yurt with their pups, and now this. “... so I suppose Zabu will have to put up with my affection for the next few weeks. Ping Ping too, but she’s not exactly cuddly.”

Quietly marching along from behind our rickshaw, Ping Ping squeaks at the sound of her name which puts a rare smile on Song’s face. “She has a kind and gentle soul,” Song says, tossing a whole salted fish she had tucked away somewhere, which Ping Ping devours with delight. “She worries she might hurt you if she is over affectionate.”

“Fair enough.” I should give Ping Ping more hugs. She’s got no floof, but she’s floofy in spirit.

With nothing else to talk about, Song and I sit in comfortable silence while Ping Ping and the Death Corps escort us to the main gates, where Nian Zu, the Abbot, and the rest of my Honour Guard stand waiting for my arrival. Appalled by my lack of manners to keep the Colonel General waiting, I scramble to get off the rickshaw and greet him, but Nian Zu waves my efforts aside, saying “Don’t come down, we won’t be here long.” Looking like a true hero in his gold-embossed armour, with a dark cloak draped about his shoulders and a gleam in his sharp eyes, he seems more vigorous and imposing than the first time I saw him some three years ago, standing tall and proud despite having to look up to speak with me.

A true hero by any measure, even if he doesn’t quite live up to my exacting standards. Then again, neither does Dad, or anyone else for that matter, so it might be time I lowered the bar a little.

Since it’d be rude to go down after being told to stay, I hunch over so we’re almost eye to eye and offer a Martial salute. “Private Falling Rain, reporting for duty. Apologies for keeping Colonel General waiting.” Kinda sucks that I’m not even a ‘Private First Class’. My rank literally cannot go any lower and still exist. This sucks.

“No need to apologize, for you are not late. I merely came early out of habit.” Gesturing at my Death Corps waiting by their cattle-drawn wagons, Nian Zu asks, “You’ve everything you’ll need?”

“Yes, Colonel General.” A hint of pride creeps into my voice, because I know how impressive it looks. Thirty-one wagons for three-hundred and sixty Death Corps, thirteen slave soldiers, Song, Ping Ping, and myself. If we were standard army soldiers, we’d have double the number of wagons at the minimum, and there’d be no room for my soldiers to ride on. Technically, I should’ve left all this for Nian Zu to deal with, but since he didn’t mention it before leaving last night, I just had Red Two arrange everything and told him to send an itemized invoice to Yuzhen.

That’s the great thing about being drafted. Now that I’m part of the Imperial Army, technically the province has to foot all my expenses, including Ping Ping’s hefty meal bill.

“Eh-Mi-Tuo-Fuo.” Giving zero respect to Nian Zu’s rank, the Abbot inserts himself into the conversation to speak with Song. “Would the young miss care to exchange seats with this monk? There is much to teach and little time to do so.”

Ah shit. I didn’t account for the Abbot. Aside from Mahakala’s Spiritual Spade, the Abbot only carries a small rucksack and a water gourd, which is hardly enough for months on the front lines. He better have a change of clothes in there...

Luckily, Song never intended to sit with me in the first place, only keeping me company because I wanted to talk, so she climbs down to greet Erdene who’s trying to edge Zabu and Mafu out of the way so she can take over the rickshaw. Hopping up beside me with weightless ease, the Abbot settles in and closes his eyes without a word, leaving me free to continue my conversation with Nian Zu.

Wait. Was I supposed to pack food and stuff for the Colonel General too? Glancing around in vain hope, I realize the Hero of the Wall brought literally nothing aside from his weapons and armour, not even a horse to ride on or waterskin to drink from. Then again, I probably should’ve expected as much from a guy who defended a single, static position for most of his career. What does he know of supply lines? Wondering how to best politely word the question, I ask, “Colonel General, err, will you be... um... needing... anything?” Dude didn’t even bring any guards. Does he think this is a picnic or something? He is a hundred-and-one years old, even if he looks mid-fifties and can probably bench press Moomie...

“Comrade Du was kind enough to lend me his carriage, and it is waiting outside along with my guards and provisions,” Nian Zu replies, an answer which fills me with trepidation, but he reads my concerns like an open book. “No need to worry,” the Colonel General says, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “Unlike myself, Comrade Du has family and friends to think of, so he will not be joining us on this trip.”

...Well, this is awkward. “Then this soldier awaits your orders, Colonel General.”

“Let us head out and make room for others.” Climbing onto my rickshaw, he squeezes in beside me which makes for an awkward ride, but luckily the Abbot is much skinnier than Mahakala else we definitely wouldn’t have fit. Luckily, the gates are already open and it’s only a short ride across the bridge before Nian Zu dismounts and saunters over to his waiting carriage, ringed by no less than fifty heavily-armoured veteran soldiers each carrying a distinct Spiritual Weapon, or at least something that looks like one. A true elite force, but I hope they know what they’re getting into considering Jixing is liable to threaten and blackmail anyone on my side.

Praying I won’t have the deaths of innocents on my conscience or traitors to look out for, I turn to the Abbot and ask, “You said there was another monk from the Brotherhood with you? Is he staying at the citadel?”

“No, Jorani made arrangements for our Brother and Kukku, and they will arrive with the others.”

“...What others?”

Instead of answering, the Abbot gestures behind us and I lean out the rickshaw just in time to see Alsantset riding out the gates, followed by thousands of quin-mounted Bekhai and cattle-drawn wagons packed with soldiers, yurts, and provisions. Trotting up beside me, my sister scowls before my disapproval and says, “What? I hold the rank of Major and am free to visit the front lines as I please.” Softening her tone, if not her expression, she reaches up to pat my cheek and Sends, “I know you mean well little brother, and refused to ask for help out of concern, but you cannot play these games of politics without losing a few pieces. You are one of the People, and every one of these Sentinels is aware of the risks and here of their own free will. We will protect you little brother, or we will fight to the last to avenge you.”

Warmed by the sentiment, I look out at her retinue and find many familiar faces in the crowd, all here to help me fight against the odds. There’s Tenjin and Tursinai, here to protect Song as usual, and Argat and Jochi trying to blend into the crowd. Having changed out of his monk robes, Jorani rides at the head of them leading most of the former bandits from Sanshu, with Chey and Ral at his side. Lang Yi cuts a striking figure in his Khishig leathers, his eyes burning with anticipation as he stations himself close to me with the rest of the former miners, each one ready to lay down their lives in my defence. Next to arrive is Wang Bao leading his people in wagons and Ulfsaar on his charioteers, their morale high and spirits lively as always, scoundrels to the last, but my scoundrels. The eight survivors from Shen Huo are here too, each one grinning wildly as if setting off for adventure, though Rustram’s grin might have something to do with the lovely Sai Chou sitting beside him, with most of the Protectorate following along to boot. Aside from Chu Xinyue and his people, my entire retinue is here in full force, ready to fight alongside me once again and refusing to leave Dastan’s crew on their own.

Even the Sentinels came along, from Yan’s friends and fellow orphans Altan, Tomor, and Mugi, to Alsantset’s gorgeous-but-disapproving friend Maral and her grumpy, jealous husband Gansun, and even the Healers Jigari and Abjiya along with their medical aides. Orgaal is there, looking as bored as always, and so are Agadei, Kiril, Hadai, and Tuya, Charok’s friends who handled the powerful warriors in Gen’s retinue while I roughed up their leader. Not only that, but the Sentinels from Alsantset’s retinue are no less enthusiastic, returning my stare with grins and smiles a plenty, mostly unfamiliar faces, but supportive ones. There are even former members of the Iron Banner joining us, the same heroes who saved me from the mines and are now here to guard me against the Imperial Clan. The fierce, scarred Khagati, the kind and portly Mengu, stern Ghurda who always -

Hang on. Ghurda’s here?

It doesn’t take long to find who I’m looking for, and his hulking form brings a tear to my eye. Sitting atop a quin almost as large as Mafu, Huushal makes for an imposing sight with his massive sabre strapped to his back and single armoured shoulder guard to protect him. Radiating focus and ferocity, he doesn’t smile or say anything, but simply nods in response to my stare before following Ghurda away while his two wives trail behind.

Gotta say, the twin half-bear sisters Yesui and Yosai look less than pleased to join me, but they’re still here and I am grateful for it. Plus, this means Huu doesn’t hate me, so maybe we can be friends again. That’s the most important part.

Overwhelmed with emotion, I grin and wave to greet the new arrivals, though my good mood dissipates when I see two well-dressed quins pulling an all-too-familiar rickshaw. Waving back with both hands as if she’d done nothing wrong, Lin stands beside the seated Luo-Luo whose arms are wrapped tight around Lin’s waist, holding fast for fear my sweet wifey will fall out. Proud as can be, Lin directs her quins and comes to a stop directly beside me, beaming from ear to ear as she says, “Hi hubby.”

“No.” Using my strictest voice, I point at the gates and say, “Go back inside. This is not a game.”

“Don’t wanna!” Hands on her hips, my sweet wifey stands tall in defiance, something she’s never done before. “I’m coming, and you can’t make me leave. You’re weak now, and I’m strong, so you gotta listen to me, ya?”

...Shit, is this how marriage works? Am I being bullied?

Turning to Luo-Luo, I raise an eyebrow in silent question and she meekly replies, “Lord Husband, this one made the decision to come along after receiving advice from Mother-in-law. Since this one is the cause of strife between Lord Husband and Yang Jixing, then her presence may cause him to stay his hand, or at the very least restrain him from acting in too overbearing a manner.” Forestalling my argument, she adds, “This one took it upon herself to sublet all our business ventures to Marshal Yuzhen, allowing her to use the foundation we’ve built for military projects at the low cost of upkeep and a nominal fee.”

“Yup.” Pleased as can be, Lin grabs a pot from behind her and hands it over with both hands, the stench assaulting my nostrils and making my stomach turn. “And this way, I can keep making your medicine, ya?”

... Oh joy.

Still, this isn’t the worst thing in the world, especially since Mama Bun, Blackjack, and most of the bunbuns are also in Lin’s rickshaw, while the rest are with the bears and wildcats in a wagon with Luo-Luo’s handmaidens, and there’s still a giant rooster I have yet to meet. I don’t see Pong Pong, which means Taduk wisely kept the tiny turtle, but this is still infinitely more floofs than I expected to have, not to mention two out of four (or maybe three out of five) waifus and the overwhelming support from my retinue and the People, so things are looking up.

The People. Not the Bekhai, not anymore, because even though I was almost exiled, am currently crippled, and was drafted into the Army, I am, and always will be, Falling Rain of the People.

Chapter Meme