Savage Divinity

Indecision was a formidable foe, one whose poisonous fangs were sunk deep into Song’s flesh.

This was not an issue she’d been trained to deal with. Choice was not a luxury afforded to most slaves, and truth be told, she almost missed its absence. Being a slave was simple and straightforward, and the lack of decisions was almost reassuring at times, so long as she didn’t dwell on all the horrible things she might be ordered to do. She found no sense in worrying though, because trials and tribulations would come regardless if she worried or not, so she had long since learned to focus on the moment and prepare for whatever the Heavens might throw her way. Being Oath-bound did not equate to a miserable existence, only the potential for one, and while it would be a lie to say she was never concerned or anxious about anything, she never allowed her misgivings to overwhelm her, like Rain so often did.

It was one of his greatest flaws, a desperate need for answers to all of life’s questions. Today, however, she sympathized with his difficulties as she came across a dilemma she never thought she’d have to face, one she spent long minutes wrestling with while standing in the empty dining room of her Citadel suite.

What was she supposed to do about breakfast?

Normally, Mama made this decision for her, after they watched the sunrise together while brushing her hair. Most of the time they would either head over to Brother Baatar’s manor or go out to the market for breakfast, but on rare occasions, Mama would cook and the two of them would enjoy a nice, quiet breakfast together at home. Song enjoyed those tranquil mornings the most, but she kept it to herself because she didn’t want to impose. Mama wouldn’t see it that way and would probably beam with delight if Song spoke up, but she was a busy woman with many duties and responsibilities, and cooking breakfast every morning would only add to her many burdens.

Besides, Song also enjoyed eating with Brother Baatar and the rest of her extended family every now and then...

Realizing she was procrastinating about making an actual decision, Song refocused her thoughts on the issue at hand. The easiest solution was to do nothing, and wait for someone to decide for her, which was only indecision by another name. Going over to Brother Baatar’s manor would be presumptuous, because even though nephew-in-law Charok always served breakfast warmly with a smile, Song was still an extra mouth to feed and therefore represented more work for him. However, if she went to the market of her own volition, she might inadvertently snub the considerate and good-natured cook if he expected her to come over for breakfast, which he might considering he knew Mama was absent and Song could not cook for herself. It would be best if he sent over an invitation, but the Bekhai were rarely so formal even with strangers, much less with family, so if she waited, then she might still be waiting several hours later when Papa finally woke from slumber.

Only now did she understand the meaning of being ‘spoiled for choice’, and Song inwardly apologized to Rain for all the times she’d scorned him for uncertainty.

In the end, Sarankho’s impatience forced Song into action, so she settled on a half-hearted compromise. After brushing the wildcat and feeding the Laughing Birds, she rode Erdene out to the market, where she purchased a roasted deer haunch for herself in case nephew-in-law didn’t account for her while cooking. If he had, then she could just feed the meat to the animals, as her quin and wildcat assumed she would, already squeaking and mewling in gluttonous harmony. While peeling strips off to share with them, Roc swooped down and landed atop Erdene’s head, greedily eyeing the roasted meat and giving Song a pleasant surprise. The other Laughing Birds were nowhere to be seen, but apparently Roc had grown tired of staying cooped up all winter and was ready to soar through the skies once again.

A decision Song somewhat envied the bird for, because she could never be unfettered and free...

Upon arriving at Brother Baatar’s manor, Song stopped outside to knock and wait. Mama usually just barged inside, so Song’s actions prompted questioning looks from the Death Corps slaves standing guard and a burst of Sent laughter from Tursinai who was Concealed somewhere nearby. Cheeks colouring in embarrassment, Song scolded herself for not considering her watchful guardians. If she’d thought to reach out regarding her breakfast dilemma, Tursinai would have responded, and then Song could’ve left the decision in the older Khishig’s hands. Before she could speak up, the double-doors cracked open a sliver before Tate threw them wide open and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Morning Li-Li,” he shouted, before leaning back so she could see his curious expression from over the haunch of meat. “Why d’you knock? Just come in, ya?” Fixing his eyes on the half-eaten haunch, he asked, “Can I have a piece?”

“Tate.” At the sound of his father’s stern disapproval emanating from the dining room, the darling boy shrank back in contrition, even though neither of them were visible. “What did we say about opening the door?”

“To not do it, because it could be dangerous.” Head lowered in shame, Tate added, “Sorry Papa, I forgot.”

Feeling terrible for having gotten him in trouble, Song handed him a long strip of meat and watched him stuff the whole piece into his mouth as if afraid the pets would steal it, but they were too well-trained for that. His voracious appetite put a smile on Song’s lips, but it didn’t last long as Charok said, “And did you also forget what I said about finishing what’s in your bowl before asking for more food?”

Having gotten Tate into trouble twice now in less than a minute, Song quickly ushered the boy back into the courtyard and tried to wordlessly convey that she was to blame, but nephew-in-law Charok flashed her an understanding smile before falling back into his stern, fatherly mannerisms. “Come back and finish your breakfast.” Glancing at her haunch of meat with a raised eyebrow, he refrained from commenting and added, “But Tate is right. You are family, so our home is your home.”

Unsure how to respond, Song merely nodded and checked the table to find more food than Charok, Tali, and Tate could finish. Bolstered by the knowledge that her presence had been expected, she fed the bulk of her backup breakfast to the animals while greeting them each in kind. The bunnies were all absent and probably still sleeping, but little Blackjack was here, as were the bears and wildcats. She offered some meat to Tali as well, but the darling girl shook her head and declared, “Papa’s cooking is yummier.” This earned her a smile and a pat on the head from her father and a jealous scowl from her brother, but Song had to agree, so she quickly put an end to the animal feeding session and stuffed the remaining strips of meat into her pouch for later.

Judging by the empty seats and used tableware, Brother Baatar and the Medical Saint had both already eaten and left, and there was no one else present besides Charok and the twins. It would be hours before Lin-Lin woke, and these days Rain slept in almost as much, so with everyone else still at the grove, it was just the four of them in the dining room today. She wasn’t accustomed to spending time with nephew-in-law Charok in such a close and intimate setting, but thankfully he didn’t press her for conversation or seem discomforted by her silence. Tate however, was another matter, and he bombarded her with question after question regarding yesterday’s trip to the farm and the incidents thereafter, while sweet Tali joined in with a wide-eyed, pleading gaze which Song found impossible to refuse. Luckily, they already heard most of the relevant details from their father and grandfather, so Song had little to add, but the twins still worked together to eke out every scrap of information she had to offer. Given his martial aspirations, Tate’s questions focused on the assassins and battles, so his enthusiasm dampened when she told him she didn’t take part in any combat. When he shifted focus to the grove and Insights, Charok stopped him short to warn him against over-reaching on the Martial Path, which was good because she wasn’t entirely sure how to answer Tate’s questions. Hearing Sister Mila, Yan, and Luo-Luo talk about their experiences in the grove left Song mildly unsettled, because while they were given a glimpse of what their Dao might be, she merely received a handful of basic Insights into the Forms, which was no different from what she could find through normal meditation. To make matters worse, Song was the only one to come out of her trance early, which together felt like it meant she was still sorely lacking in comparison to the others. It shouldn’t have mattered, for each must walk their own Path at their own pace, but it vexed her to know she’d been outdone by Yan and even Luo-Luo, who had only been taking the Martial Dao seriously for less than a year.

Pride in her martial skills was one of the few pleasures Song could enjoy when she’d been nothing more than a slave, and while she had so much more to appreciate now, she still yearned to follow the Martial Dao to the apex because...

Well... Like Rain, she wasn’t entirely sure why she sought strength, but she still wanted it.

“Why did the groundhog run away, Li-Li?” Tali’s innocuous question broke Song out of her reverie and she looked down at the sweet girl’s mournful pout. “He could’ve been like the quins and wildcats, ya? Our cute little friend, all happy and safe and fed.”

“He is a wild animal,” Song replied, and she thought of Roc soaring through the skies, though the fat bird was currently hopping around the courtyard and harassing the much larger, but more forgiving wildcats and bears. “One which has only ever known a life of freedom, so for him, captivity is a terrifying thing. Out there, he can follow his heart’s desires wherever they might bring him, and for some, danger and insecurity are a small price to pay for freedom and independence.”

A price which Song couldn’t pay even if she wanted to...

“Oh.” Perhaps sensing Song’s inner turmoil, Tali snuggled closer to her side and sighed. “I still think he’d be happier with us. Mama says Rainy spoils his pets, and who doesn’t wanna be spoiled, ya?”

A pampered pet was still a pet, just like a happy slave was still a slave, but Song refrained from sharing her bleak outlook with the darling half-goat girl and stroked her white hair instead. Why was she being so gloomy today? Song craved structure and routine, to the point where she had issues making minor decisions like what to do about breakfast, yet here she was jealous of a rodent’s freedom and celebrating its escape from Rain’s clutches. Things would likely not end well for the groundhog, because if he dared poke his adorable nose into the Medical Saint’s garden again, the eccentric half-hare would surely order his talented, veiled guards to dispatch the creature once and for all, so why envy a silly little beast destined for the cooking pot?

Song had a loving family, caring friends, adoring pets, and more freedom than she ever dreamed of having, yet still she yearned for more. Greed is what this was, plain and simple. Obstinance too, since she plainly knew complete freedom was utterly out of reach, because there was no way to break her slave Oaths which were enforced by the Heavens themselves. Even Ancestral Beasts couldn’t escape those bindings, and only a higher power like the Mother Herself could set Song free.

But She wouldn’t, because Song was no favoured child of Hers.

For the first time in living memory, Song skipped her morning practice and instead helped the twins wash the dishes. While up to her elbows in soapy, greasy water, she considered if she should abandon the Martial Dao all together. She had no great talent for it, as yesterday had shown, destined to be a mediocre Expert of limited prospect at best, so why should she continue down this dead-end path? Mama and Papa would understand, right? Song never chose the Martial Dao, it’d been chosen for her, so perhaps things just weren’t meant to be.

But... what would she do instead? Song couldn’t cook like nephew-in-law Charok, nor could she craft Spiritual Weapons like Papa and sister Mila. She had no talent for Healing, no ear for poetry, eye for art, or interest in music or dance. While she enjoyed brushing and caring for animals, she lacked any and all ability to train or discipline them because she loved spoiling them too much. Besides, truth be told, Song didn’t want to find a new Path. She loved the Martial Dao, even though it clearly didn’t love her back, and although she would always be an Oath-sworn slave, she was a warrior first, and no master or orders could ever change that.

This simple fact, more than anything, had helped her through some of her darkest times.

Despite having no other options left to her, Song continued to dither and delay her daily training by brushing the animals while watching the twins Demonstrate the Forms, which only served to reinforce her beliefs that she was not suited for the Martial Dao. Though only ten years old, it was clear the snowy-haired children were beloved by the Mother Above and bestowed with talents far and above their peers. Fierce Tate was a bold and relentless warrior, whose dynamic movements and forceful enthusiasm would translate well to closing in with future opponents to dispatch them in summary fashion. No doubt the boy aspired to be like Brother Baatar, or perhaps even his uncle Rainy, though she hoped for Tate’s sake that his Dao resembled the former’s, rather than the latter’s.

As for sweet Tali, she was less devoted to the Martial Path, but no less talented for it, and might even be superior to her brother in some ways. Unburdened by matters of competence or efficiency, she moved with a natural grace and beguiling finesse few could ever hope to match. Fluttering this way then sliding that, twirling aside then leaping ahead, Tali danced in time to a tune heard only by her, a beautiful and sublime performance which put Song to shame, because even though she recognized the Forms in the girl’s movements, she lacked the means to comprehend just what made Tali’s demonstration so exquisite. What’s more, there were times when the darling girl tapped into her latent abilities to Lighten and Stabilize, and though it might be another year or two before she learned to control those skills at will, she was well on her way to becoming a second Mei Lin, a cheery, carefree young woman who paid no mind to the Martial Dao, yet was blessed by it regardless.

Such is life. The Mother loved all Her children, but She loved some more than others.

Strangely enough, Song finally understood how Rain of all people could question the Mother’s existence. Rain only spoke of his time as a slave once, but one only needed to see his expression in the presence of a bristleboar half-beast to know he’d suffered at the hands of his slavers, for his wrath was terrible to behold. Perhaps he even reached out to Her while he suffered and begged Her to save him, but when she did not respond, he questioned everything he knew. If She was so benevolent and powerful, then how could She stand to let Her children suffer so? What he might not understand was that the Father’s foul minions had enslaved Rain, as recent events had handily proved, and the Mother saved him by guiding him to the Bekhai, but he refused to acknowledge all Her good work and blamed Her for his suffering instead.

Except what good was blame and vengeance? Song felt nothing when Jin Kai died, and cared nothing for Jin Tok’s disgrace, even though both men were responsible for the darkest years of her life. Their deaths changed nothing, for she was still a slave in the end, with several centuries of life ahead of her in which she might be acquired by any number of sadistic masters. In a way, being bound to Rain was almost a blessing, because she saw how much effort he put into making sure she felt safe and comfortable in his presence, yet she was still no different from one of his pets, kept happy, safe, and fed, but still a pet nonetheless.

Only yesterday, she’d compared herself to his pets and felt happier for it, but today, the same thought filled her with sombre melancholy. How strange. Perhaps that was why she struggled to adapt to her new, peaceful life, because she knew it could all be taken away at a moment’s notice...

Since Tali and Tate were still young, they couldn’t Demonstrate the Forms for long, so they soon returned to her side where they snuggled with the pets and caught their breath. Giggling as Roc leaned back in his embrace, Tate asked, “Li-Li, are you gonna practice with us today?”

The innocent question brought up a surge of guilt and shame, for she should have long since left for the training grounds to reinforce her Insights from yesterday’s excursion. “No,” she replied, though she didn’t elaborate and hoped Tate would assume she meant to go practice elsewhere.

Tali did, and as she was already bored of her morning practice, she saw this as an opportunity for fun and adventure even as Tate pouted in disappointment. “Then can we go watch you practice, Li-Li? With all the other Khishigs at the training grounds?” Turning her persuasive, pleading gaze upon her father, Tali added. “It’ll be good for our comprehension, ya?”

Unfortunately for Song, nephew-in-law Charok was not against bringing the twins to the training grounds, and she no longer had an excuse to stay away. As they stepped out of the manor, however, she discovered why Tate was warned not to open the manor doors, for there were all manner of people lingering outside the doors. Some were sightseers or honest admirers hoping for a glimpse of the controversial young hero Falling Rain, while others were enterprising merchants and hawkers looking to entice the wealthy young man to partner with them on one venture or another. There was even a vendor here with a hand-cart covered in canvas, but she couldn’t hear him over the clamouring crowd doing their best to get their attention, and she had more pressing matters to deal with as she spotted a handful of familiar faces. Lingering a good distance away was Rain’s ever present group of detractors, a band of worthless young fops who had taunted and insulted him almost every day during his crippled convalescence, no doubt finding great delight in stepping on someone so far above their station without fear of revenge or reprisal.

Right up until sister Mila slapped multiple teeth out of their mouths. Brave of them to return now, for she was not one to forgive or forget...

The Death Corps guards kept the crowd back without need for physical confrontation, but considering any one of them could be an assassin in disguise, they presented a dire threat to security by standing close enough to launch a fatal attack against anyone coming out the manor doors. Without bothering to consult nephew-in-law Charok, Song turned to the Death Corps guard and said, “Remove all unrelated people from the premises and set a perimeter one hundred metres in every direction to guard against assassins.”

“By your command, lady Song.” Accustomed to taking her orders on the field of battle, the Death Corps guards didn’t think twice about it before leaping into action, bellowing at the crowd to disperse while forcibly moving those too slow to obey. Let the merchants and citizens complain if they wanted to. Their presence here showed a marked disrespect for Brother Baatar and the Bekhai in general, for they would never dare approach a regular noble of the Empire in such a fashion. Though she felt bad for those few true admirers Rain might have, they would have to settle for admiring him from afar.

“My cart! Ye canna steal my property! Tieves! Tieves!” This time, Song heard the vendor above the crowd, shrieking shrilling about being robbed in daylight. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she waved Erdene over to bring the cart away, only to stop short as the cart shook.

And growled. A wet, guttural growl full of threat and warning which set Song’s nerves on edge.

“Back!” Song called, drawing her sabre and moving between the cart and the twins, but nephew-in-law Charok was two steps ahead as she heard the manor doors slam shut behind her. Abandoning the crowd, the Death Corps encircled the foreboding cart with their polearms at the ready, which the vendor somehow took as permission to run out in front to block them. The fool was lucky no one took his movements as a threat, else they’d have skewered him to the ground and left him for dead, but a quick look at the vendor showed nothing of note, only a common, working man who might not be a vendor by trade after all, judging by his threadbare clothes and uneducated accent. “What is in the cart?”

“Is weasel-bear,” the man said, holding his hands up as if he could forcibly hold the Death Corps back. “Furry beast, for sale, yes? It fall in pit, and this one think to sell to noble Rain.” While most would see nothing wrong with calling Rain a noble, the Death Corps saw it as an insult to their esteemed Imperial Consort, but the poor man mistook their collective displeasure for aggression. “No sell, gift, gift,” he stammered, wavering between standing his ground and falling to his knees as the Death Corps glowered as one. “Is gift. Please great ones, spare you this fool.”

Curiosity getting the better of her, Song ordered the man to remove the canvas cover, which he promptly did, and decided weasel-bear was an apt name. While only half as large as the adolescent Banjo and Baloo, the stocky beast trapped inside the wooden cage had a bulky and muscular torso like a bear, with the face of a weasel and a long, sinuous, and delightfully fluffy tail. With a golden brown coat and cavernous mouth, the weasel bear would be adorable if it didn’t have such an intimidating snarl and murderous glare, one which raised Erdene’s hackles even though the creature laid prone and bound from tail to snout. The sunlight did nothing to soothe the beast’s anger, and in fact seemed to enrage it even more as it struggled against its bonds and threatened to break rope, cage, and even the cart beneath it.

Then Song’s sweet mount offered a warning chitter in response which set the nearby quins to alert as they rushed over to help, which was somehow more reassuring than the Death Corps guards standing with her.

Honestly, if this man was an assassin, then he was a clever one indeed, for Rain would’ve taken one look at the weasel-bear and ignored the clear and present danger to free it from its bonds. Granted, Song wanted to do the same, but she was not so cavalier about regrowing lost body parts. After informing nephew-in-law Charok that there was no danger, Song got the full story from the nervous man. A hunter by trade, he found the beast in a pitfall trap he laid out on the plains to catch foxes. Instead of falling onto the spikes, the weasel-bear somehow latched onto the side, where it clung desperately for dear life since it lacked the ability to climb, jump, or burrow. By the time the hunter found it, it was weak with hunger and exhaustion, so seeing an opportunity to earn a fortune, he elicited help from his friends to capture the vicious and exotic creature alive. To bring it here, they kept it hungry and thirsty for twelve full days, never once giving it more than a morsel of meat and letting it drink by throwing water at its face. Small wonder the creature hated them and all of humanity in turn, which left Song with a pressing dilemma.

What to do with the beast now?

The hunter claimed the creature was not local to this region, nor had he or anyone he knew ever heard of such a ferocious beast, and Song was inclined to believe him. This weasel-bear was threatening enough to put a pack of roosequin on guard, who hunted wolves and bears on their own, much less as a group. Perhaps it had been displaced by all the turmoil in the west, or maybe it escaped from another enterprising animal seller who was less fortunate than this one, but either way, Song decided she had no choice but to buy it. The hunter tried to refuse, but he shut his mouth the moment she opened her pouch and revealed the gold coins sitting inside, which made her regret moving so quickly. Handing over five coins with a heavy heart, she waved the hunter away before turning to Tali and Tate. “I cannot join you at the training grounds,” she said, and they both nodded in mournful understanding, even as Tali handed over a bucket of water for the poor beast. They were a pragmatic pair and no doubt knew what needed to be done, but Song wasn’t expecting them to be so... understanding. Rain probably would have refused and tried to free the ‘pitiful floof’ from its bonds or something equally stupid. Leaving the other animals in their care, she brought the cart away to the eastern gates, where the weasel-bear’s threatening growls were quick to clear her path through the crowds and see her outside in record time.

Marching without thinking, she walked for the better part of an hour before realizing she couldn’t go any further, else she’d be late getting back to bring Papa his breakfast. Stopping in place, she turned to the poor weasel-bear which had stopped struggling some minutes past, panting as it lay weakly on its side and watched her with teary, brown eyes. Heart breaking at the sight of such surrender, she realized the creature would have long since turned Defiled if it were capable of human emotion, and might very well become a Demon if she delayed any longer, so the time to act was now.

Placing a hand on her sabre, Song closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then acted without thinking.

Steel thrummed and air hissed as her sabre cut through wood and rope.

Leaving fur and bones intact.

The creature recovered so quickly she worried it had been feigning its weakness, but instead of launching itself at her, it reared back and growled in threat. Knowing better than to show fear or back away, Song drew herself up to full height and stared the creature down.

Which was soon followed by a strip of venison tossed by its feet. Luckily she saved the scraps from her back-up breakfast, else she would’ve had to risk stopping at the market for more food.

The transformation was astounding as the weasel-bear pounced on the meat with ravenous hunger, and Song almost felt like she was watching sweet Tate gobbling down the same treat. Though she could have given the beast everything at once, she wanted to give it time to calm down and grow acclimated to her presence, so she waited for a steady count of three seconds after it finished eating before throwing the next piece. In truth, she intended to wait for five seconds, but even though the weasel-bear was only slightly larger than a child, it was at least thrice as heavy judging by how hard Song had worked to get here, and its focused gaze unnerved her more than a bit.

There they stood on the open fields of Central, one slave who was not really a slave and one weasel-bear which was neither weasel nor bear, with the former feeding the latter venison one strip at a time. As the beast snatched the last strip out of the air, Song prayed to the Mother Above to watch over Her furry child and make it walk away peaceably, else she would have no choice but to kill the ferocious and somewhat adorable creature. After eating its fill, it ambled over to the bucket and began lapping up water, but its eyes remained fixed on Song even as its sizable claws left cracks and gouges in the wooden bucket’s frame with careless ease.

All by accident, presumably, though it could be trying to threaten her by Honing its claws. If so, then it was certainly working...

Licking its muzzle clean of grease and water, the weasel-bear snuffled and growled for more, but Song shook her head and put hand to sabre. Recognizing her actions for the threat they were, the beast snarled and eyed her for long seconds before sneezing twice, transforming from threatening monster to innocent floof in the blink of an eye. Raising its snout to sniff the air, it burped and turned away before hopping off the cart, where it immediately disappeared into the grass as it rushed off in search of more water and food.

Mother in Heaven, the beast could Conceal. A good thing it ambled away then, because it might well have been strong enough to kill Song outright.

Though mildly upset the beast didn’t want to be friends, she did not begrudge its choice of freedom over comfort, for that was its nature, its Dao, even. Given the choice, she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t choose the same, even though Mama, Papa, Sister, and everyone else had been nothing but kind to her. She wanted this life she had now, but without her Oaths restraining her, except to do that, she needed to be powerful enough to resist the Heavens themselves. This was her reason for strength, she realized, so she might someday become powerful enough to free herself from her Oaths, even if it meant surpassing Ancestral Beasts and ascending to Divinity herself.

As she turned around for the lonely journey home, her regrets weighed heavily upon her. Setting the weasel-bear free was necessary, but she should have found somewhere further from the citadel and civilization. With the heavy human traffic in the area, there was a good chance the beast would find no prey to hunt. It might turn to raiding the few farms still in operation, farms guarded by Imperial soldiers to keep the workers from fleeing for safer pastures. This was as good as a death sentence for the beast, but she couldn’t have gone much further even if she had the time because her slave Oaths would have soon come into effect, so she resolved to come back tomorrow morning with more food and water for the beast. Perhaps that would keep it from raiding the nearby farms or caravans, but then how would it survive once she left for the Central Citadel?

Less than a minute later, her worries melted away as she spotted Tursinai, Tenjin, and Papa come out of Concealment only a short distance away, and Song amended her earlier statement. Freedom from her Oaths was not all she strove for, but she also wanted the strength to protect her beloved family and considerate friends, instead of always being protected by them instead.

A far more achievable goal than the former, but a worthy one indeed. Though her Dao remained shrouded in mystery, at least now Song knew why she sought strength, and any progress was a cause for celebration. Minor and inconsequential though it might be, it was still a step along her Martial Path, one which brought her that much closer to the Peak, and perhaps even freedom beyond it.

For like Mama said, where there is life, there is hope, and Song would never give up on either one ever again.

Chapter Meme