Savage Divinity

Despite the dire circumstances and calamitous tribulations to come, Du Min Gyu looked forward to meeting this latest challenge head on, namely keeping the five Supreme Families from quietly assassinating his future grandson-in-law.

A seasoned veteran of hundreds, if not thousands of battles, he well remembered the thrill of combat and rush of victory, and for many decades, he sought to relive his glory days as a military officer. Though his leg was crippled and largely useless, his mind was as sharp as ever, but despite his constant requests for assignment, the higher-ups, led by Colonel General Shuai Jiao, refused to give Min Gyu the chance he so desperately desired.

For good reason. Contrary to his beliefs at the time, his Dream Smoke addiction had left him addled, irritable, and easily distracted, which made for a poor commanding officer and an even worse supporting one. Looking back on it now, he realized his many public curses directed towards Shuai Jiao had been unwarranted and ungenerous, because Min Gyu had clearly been unfit for duty. In fact, despite not drawing a salary, he should have been stripped of his rank long ago, but he recently learned that Shuai Jiao had staunchly opposed it for several decades because he saw no need to ‘trample over the reputation of a Hero of the Empire’. When Yan and Da’in dragged him to Shuai Jiao’s hosted luncheon during new years a few weeks past, Min Gyu had offered the stately Colonel General his heartfelt thanks and apologies, but the magnanimous warrior refused to accept any and all gifts, save for the token string of coppers usually gifted to servants and peasants. “You earned your rank,” Shuai Jiao had said, treating Min Gyu’s gratitude as air. “I merely did what was right.”

Which was essentially the Colonel General’s storied history summed up in a single sentence. Much like his Northern counterpart Nian Zu, Shuai Jiao kept away from politics and alliances, and spent most of his career hunting Defiled, pirates, bandits, and rebels with ruthless efficiency. Unlike the other two Colonel Generals of Central, Shuai Jiao had been born into poverty and lived a modest private life, far from destitute but well below his station with the bulk of his salary donated to the coffers of various temples and monasteries scattered about the Empire. Even his hosted luncheon was little more than a token gathering, arranged and paid for by Marshal Yo Jeong-Hun for the sole purpose of reminding power-hungry officers and overzealous nobles of Central that Grasping Vine Shuai Jiao still lived, and they should temper their ambitions accordingly.

A selfless man with a brilliant mind, Min Gyu respected and even admired Shuai Jiao’s ethics and accomplishments, but personally, he couldn’t stand the uptight, sanctimonious prig, no matter how much he tried.

Shuai Jiao’s continued refusal to assign Min Gyu any military duties didn’t help much either, especially now that he was truly in good health and no longer addicted or even using Dream Smoke. When he brought up the matter of military assignment during that most boring and stifling of luncheons, the bald Colonel General shook his head and said, “You are not yet ready, Lieutenant General. Reflect on your excursion to the Canston Winery, and you will understand why.”

It irked Min Gyu to be spoken down to like a pupil in need of lessons, especially by a man three decades his junior, but Shuai Jiao had a point. The Canston Winery had been a failure on so many levels, and not just because his forces would have been wiped out if not for the timely arrival of several friendly Divinities. While the appearance of a Defiled Divinity had sealed the fate of Min Gyu’s expedition, their outcome had been bleak even before the crazed Ancestral Beast made her ghastly appearance, and the fault lay at his feet. He’d forgotten too much in the long years since he last served, and so much more had changed, but his mistakes at the winery were almost too numerous to name. One mistake stood out above all others, however, for Min Gyu should have sent scouts into the winery to assess the situation before committing his entire force like a hot-headed young bull, but after so many long years of inactivity, Min Gyu had been overeager to prove himself once again.

Now, he had another chance to prove his worth, but this time the stakes went beyond the revitalization of his once illustrious career. Should he fail in this task at hand, Min Gyu might well find himself at odds with not only Shuai Jiao, but also every other Colonel General of the Empire, including his current ally and camp commander, Nian Zu. Grateful as Min Gyu was to have earned Baatar’s trust, he knew he was no match for the sharpest military minds of the Empire, and if it should come to open rebellion, he and the Bekhai would find themselves crushed with little more than a whimper.

Though the odds were stacked against them, Min Gyu was determined not to let things get so far, and not just because he didn’t want his precious grand-daughter to die an unmarried widow. Optimism aside however, their journey to the Central Citadel had gotten off to a rocky start, what with him being occupied with caring for Yan’s needs while she meditated in the Medical Saint’s meditation garden. Oh what a trial it had been resisting the urge to step into the grove himself, and the temptation had nearly done him in, but he held fast and stayed strong until it was finally time to leave. Past time, in truth, but he’d forgotten to account for Bekhai obstinance in his down-to-the-minute plans. Were it not for his constant reminders that Rain needed them, Yan, Sumila, Alsantset, and Sarnai would all still be back at the garden, meditating without a care in the world while the amber-eyed rascal rode towards his imminent doom.

No, that was defeatist thinking, and Min Gyu would not allow himself to succumb to doom and gloom. Falling Rain was a child of miracles, so while his chances of survival seemed slim at best, if anyone could emerge whole from this, it would be him. Although Min Gyu lacked a personal army to lend to the cause and had been too preoccupied to make advanced preparations, he intended to do everything in his power to make sure the boy made it to the battlefield in one piece, and then everything else was in the hands of the Mother Herself.

Fresh and well-rested after several days camped at the peaceful Bekhai farms, Min Gyu spent their first day of travel in a state of heightened awareness. Not only did he have his personal guards report in every quarter hour, he also raised a cordon of buffeting Wind Chi about the boy’s carriage to ensure no Concealed assassins approached his position. That turned out to be a grave mistake, because with so many Experts and Peak Experts watching over the boy in secret and reporting back to different commanders, it was all but impossible to keep track of all the Concealed comings and goings around Falling Rain’s carriage.

This, coupled with the stress of the whole situation and his personal struggle to reacquaint himself with the rigours of command, left Min Gyu in a less than ideal state by the end of the first day. Although nothing of significance had taken place, the calm day helped him re-learn a valuable lesson of command, and that was to always conserve your resources, including the attentions of the commanding officer. While Colonel General Nian Zu was ostensibly in charge of this convoy, and the Bekhai contingent were under Major Alsantset’s command, Baatar had personally entrusted his family’s safety to Min Gyu, which, more than anything, spoke of the half-wolf’s poor judgment. Regardless of his misgivings, Min Gyu intended to do everything in his power to keep the boy alive, but he would be of no use to anyone if he exhausted himself with his hyper-vigilant ways.

Thus, he approached their second day of travel with a different mindset, intending to leave Nian Zu to handle the day to day minutiae while Min Gyu himself waited on standby in case of emergency. Waking naturally at the break of dawn, he forced himself to relax and remain in bed for a few minutes longer, if only to enjoy what might well be his last moments of peace. Considering the strength of their foes, there was a decent chance that despite all their best efforts, the boy could have died sometime during the night. If this were the case, then there was nothing Min Gyu could do for him now, so there was no point rushing over to make sure Rain was still alive.

Instead, he lay in the dim darkness of his officer’s tent and took stock of his surroundings, finding Kyung conspicuously absent and another personal guard standing in his place at the front of the tent. One of Kang’s boys, or perhaps a nephew or grandson, Min Gyu couldn’t remember the exact details, only that he had blood ties to the boy in some way. Why couldn’t he remember the boy’s name? A terrible sign of things to come if his mind was starting to slip, but was this truly a lapse in memory due to advanced age, or had he never bothered to learn the boy’s name in the first place? Thankfully, Kyung returned in short order and sent the guard away, and Min Gyu sat up the moment they were alone. “What was that guard’s name?” he Sent, hoping it would be an unfamiliar one.

“Xiao Qi. Grandfather,” Kyung replied, stooping to help Min Gyu onto his feet. “Duan Xiao Qi.”

Little Seven? What an asinine name, but then again, some people had so many children, a simple naming scheme probably made it easier to keep track of all the brats. “Duan? I thought we were related in some way?”

“By marriage, Grandfather.” Though the tent was almost uncomfortably warm thanks to the already lit braziers, Kyung took no chances with Min Gyu’s health and wrapped a thick, heavy cloak around his shoulders before helping him out of his nightclothes. “Xiao Qi is the cousin of Du Kang Bin’s third Consort.”

Who himself was the grandson of a second cousin, which meant Xiao Qi was barely a relation at all. “Third Consort? Seven wives aren’t enough for Kang Bin, and now he needs consorts as well? No wonder his progress has stalled this last decade, it’s a miracle he even has time to eat and bathe.” Still, blood wasn’t everything, or even of importance, for family was so much more that mere relation. Kang Bin was family not because of blood, but because he’d been one of the few who stayed loyal after Min Gyu declared Yan as his heir and Disciple, and loyalty should always be rewarded. “How are Xiao Qi’s skills?”

“Lacklustre, but he works hard even without guidance.” Coming from Kyung, this was almost a scathing reproach, implying Min Gyu had neglected his personal guards of late, most of whom were only here to learn from ‘Great Teacher’ Du. “Xiao Qi’s father tried to convince him to leave last year. The boy refused. Vehemently.”

“So chatty today.” Chuckling to take the bite out of his words, Min Gyu let the cloak slide off his shoulders as he slipped into the robes Kyung held out for him. “You’ve been teaching the guards in my absence, I take it?” Kyung hesitated briefly before nodding ever so slightly, and Min Gyu beamed in delight. “Then there is nothing to worry about, for you are my most prized pupil and only grandson.”

And damned if it wasn’t true. The boy was fierce as any warrior, not quite a Peak Expert, but so very close, and he soaked up instruction like a dry desert soaked up rain. Cupping Kyung’s cheeks in both hands, he took a moment to study this recently acknowledged grandson, with pride and guilt intermingling in his chest. It felt so strange to look back on his memories and see how he’d neglected this poor boy, never treating him like the promising young man he’d been, or even as a person at all, only a tool to be shaped and otherwise a silent guard at his side.

Kyung was there during those hard days when Min Gyu’s stomach rebelled and refused to keep anything down, and there during those long nights when chills and withdrawal kept him awake and ranting all night. The boy had never seen Min Gyu in his prime, yet still he revered him, a crippled, drug-addled fool who could do nothing but teach. That was the worst part, in Min Gyu’s eyes, because while Yan shared his Blessing, it was Kyung who inherited the essence of his teachings, a warrior who struck first, struck hard, and moved on to the next battle, leaving naught but destruction in his wake. How had he not seen this sooner? “Is there anything you wish to do, grandson of mine?” Min Gyu asked, his heart aching at how foolish he’d been to be blinded by mere labels. “Any dream you wish to pursue or ambition you hope to fulfill? A wife, a family, a career, a passion?” Anything to help assuage this guilt...

“Nothing Grandfather. This one is content as he is, serving at Grandfather’s side.” Though Kyung’s words were intended to reassure, they weighed heavily on Min Gyu’s heart and made him worry for the future.

“There will come a time soon when I am dead and gone,” he said, and Kyung flinched in place as if he’d been struck. “You, on the other hand, still have many centuries of life ahead. What will you do then?”

“Whatever my new Master dictates.”

Now it was Min Gyu’s turn to flinch, followed by a long, dejected sigh. “Yan is set to inherit your Oaths. She already treats you well and sees you as a brother, so she will respect your wishes in the future. Should you have any requests, either now or after I’m gone, you make sure to speak your mind, understood? And no more ‘this one’s anymore, use ‘I’ in informal settings and with people of lower rank. You’re Du Min Gyu’s star pupil and grandson, so it’s time you behaved like it.”

“...Yes Grandfather.”

It would take time for Kyung to come to terms with his new life, because he’d been conditioned to take solace in service. A few months ago, Min Gyu suggested hiring a servant to take over Kyung’s duties, and the poor boy had looked so afraid and betrayed, it was as if he thought he himself were being replaced. Yan said Kyung just needed time to adjust, but what Min Gyu lacked most of all was time itself. Ten years at most, and likely far less, time which would pass in the blink of an eye, or be cut short in the heat of battle. Perhaps this was too little too late, and Min Gyu would die having never met Kyung the man, and only knowing Kyung the slave, but if so, then he had no one to blame but himself.

Feeling maudlin from thinking about what could have been, Min Gyu mussed Kyung’s flickering cat-ears and shuffled over to the washbasin. “Where did you head off to this morning?” he asked, if only to fill the silence.

“...To protect Li Song.” Sheepishly refusing to make eye contact, Kyung grumbled, “She left camp again, with no guards or escorts to speak of. The Bekhai are too lax with their children, letting them wander about as they please.”

Min Gyu didn’t disagree, but it was hard to tell with the Bekhai. Last night, he’d watched Li Song leave with a bucket of meat and walk almost a full kilometre away from camp, just to scatter it across the ground and come back. The girl had no visible escorts, and upon her return, Min Gyu only found two trailing behind, whom he later identified as Fire-bird Tenjin and his wife, Tursinai. This wasn’t to say there weren’t more guards hidden around her during those twice-daily excursions, but either this was the most poorly presented bait in the world, or the Bekhai were all idiots who didn’t keep track of their important children.

Probably the latter, which was frankly horrifying. While Baatar intended to rebel if Rain should die, Min Gyu suspected Akanai would overthrow the Emperor Himself if her sweet daughter suffered so much as a single scratch...

There was nothing to be done except ask his guards to keep an eye on Li Song, a task Kyung had apparently taken on for himself. It seemed he believed Akanai had poached Li Song away and that the girl belonged with Min Gyu instead of the Bekhai, but on this, they disagreed. He barely remembered teaching the girl, as she’d been one of many in a batch of warrior slaves he’d intended to sell or gift away. The first real memory he had of the green-eyed half-cat was after she emerged victorious from a sparring tournament meant to determine which of his students would go along with Jin Tok to the Society Contests. The slaves had been added simply to pad the numbers and simulate the consecutive duels of the Contests, but then Song emerged victorious with humiliating ease. Oh how he’d berated his students for losing so readily to a slave, but now, that slave stood higher than any of his students in both skill and social status, aside from his loyal god-daughter Da’in.

At least he didn’t have to feel bad about snatching away his sweet granddaughter from the Bekhai anymore, for he surely had more to do with shaping Li Song’s Martial Path than Akanai had with Yan.

On that cheery note, he sauntered out of his tent where he was greeted by sweet Kishi waiting for breakfast. The affectionate quin pup had slept in Yan’s yurt last night, which meant Eun was already up and about and they would both be out shortly. Settling into his chair to hand feed little Kishi, he spotted Xiao Qi tending to the kettle over a nearby fire, while the rest of his personal guards puttered about in an attempt to look busy.

Well, no time like the present. “Xiao Qi,” he called, and the young man leaped to attention. “Demonstrate the Forms. You favour the Oriole, correct? Start there.”

“Yes, Lieutenant General.”

Grinning from ear to ear, Xiao Qi launched into a passable Demonstration, while Min Gyu evaluated his performance harshly, which for some reason made the young fool smile even more. “The Oriole is a bird, Xiao Qi, not a fish floundering on dry land. As the Tiger embodies Honing and the Bull Reinforcement, the Oriole Forms are intertwined with Lightening at their core. This isn’t to say you must be Lightened to use them, or that you cannot apply other Chi skills to these movements, but they are meant to familiarize yourself with their use, yet...”

All of his guards listened closely, and when Xiao Qi finished, Min Gyu subtly looked to Kyung for another name, which he promptly provided through Sending. Three more guards were called out, and Min Gyu made an effort not only to remember their names, but to learn the others as well. He’d neglected his guards and students too much since taking Yan in as his Disciple, but if he put things off any longer, then these young men and women would have devoted themselves to his service for nothing. They were a good bunch, loyal and hardworking, traits Min Gyu now realized were far more valuable than talent, so he offered them what wisdom he could in the short time they had left before setting out on their journey once more.

And truth be told, he would have need of their skills soon enough, for it was only a matter of time before everything went to shit, regardless if Rain lived or died...

With Yan still immersed in the mysteries of Insight, there was little for Min Gyu to do all day save lecture guards and play with little Kishi, and the second day of travel went by without incident. After stopping to make camp, he sauntered over to Rain’s carriage to speak with the boy, mostly on the matter of the Guardian Turtle. “You cannot allow your movements to become too predictable,” he warned, while Rain nodded along like a chicken pecking grains from inside his stately carriage. “Our enemy holds the initiative, so we must be on our guard at all times. A single careless moment is all the opening our foes need to strike.”

“Understood Grandfather.”

“If the Guardian Turtle wants to frolic in the river, then let her go on her own. There’s no need for you to accompany her every day, is there?”

“Not at all Grandfather.”

“Good, good. This might seem too alarmist and cowardly, but this is for the best. Also, speak with Li Song and ask her to stop leaving camp on her own. She might not realize it yet, but as Akanai’s daughter, she makes a tempting target of opportunity for our enemies, and she would not be the first noble lady to be kidnapped and ransomed.”

“I will be sure to share your concern, Grandfather.”

All in all, Rain was attentive, polite, and deferential throughout their entire conversation, which should have immediately raised alarms in Min Gyu’s mind, yet it still came as a complete shock when, not one hour later, Kyung informed him that Rain was on his way down to the river with the Guardian Turtle in tow. Muttering a stream of obscenities under his breath, Min Gyu gathered his guards and hurried over to pull the boy’s ass out of the fire if need be, but under a cloak of Concealment so not to spook off any enemy combatants who were already in motion.

Since Rain insisted on dangling himself out as tempting bait, then Min Gyu would be remiss not to take advantage, which he would have suggested if Rain hadn’t been such a wilful brat and shared his plans in the first place. Either way, the Medical Saint was only a hop and a skip away, and the boy wasn’t called the ‘Undying Savage’ for nothing.

Running at full sprint, he and his guards caught up to the boy in short order and found him riding his quin at a slow, sedate pace while the Guardian Turtle trundled along behind. An improvement from yesterday, bringing the mount instead of going on foot, and there were thirty-two more quin-riders there with him. This was in addition to his standard escort of sixty Death Corps guards, so perhaps some of Min Gyu’s warnings had gotten through his thick head, but not much. Worse, the quin-riders were decidedly not Bekhai, as evidenced by their less than natural posture in the harness. The longbows and leathers might be enough to fool an outsider, but Min Gyu’s experienced eyes revealed these riders to be Falling Rain’s riffraff rather than Akanai’s elite Khishigs.

Well, perhaps riffraff was too ungenerous. Truth be told, the boy had done an admirable job turning his motley crew of cripples, misfits, and bandits into a disciplined fighting force, and he had a surprising number of Experts emerge from under his command. Like their commander, Rain’s retinue had plenty of experience and potential, but they were sorely lacking in immediate strength, which was what the boy needed the most of all.

Then again, an entire thousand-man retinue of Peak Experts might not be enough to keep him out of trouble...

As if matters were not dire enough, a handful of those riders carried lit torches, and others iron torch stands, an extravagance which would have been laughed at only two years ago before the boy introduced cast iron to the Empire. Since the sun had yet to set, this meant Rain intended to spend several hours keeping the Guardian Turtle by the riverside, as if he felt he weren’t tempting fate enough already. This went beyond mere idiocy and into the realm of suicidal stubbornness, or at least he thought as much until the boy stopped a quarter kilometre away from the water and his mounted archers formed up in front of him.

Scanning the riverbank in search of whatever had spooked the boy, Min Gyu was at a loss to explain it. It looked like it always did at this time of the day, with ships and barges pulling ashore while sailors and soldiers made camp for the night. A waste of time in Min Gyu’s opinion, for the soldiers could easily sleep in hammocks while the ship continued sailing through the night, but the captains of these boats were not the seasoned sailors of Yantai and not used to navigating by anything but sunlight.

Putting aside his pride for his hometown, Min Gyu went back to looking for danger, but again, found nothing amiss. There was no obvious trap on the way down to the river, or armed soldiers suspiciously gathering around them, or any other discernible reason for Falling Rain’s riders to draw their bows, yet they did so all the same. Those carrying the torches and stands arranged them between the riders so there were eight riders surrounding each stand, and it soon became apparent why as the riders brought out their cloth-wrapped, pitch-soaked arrows held them ready to light and loose at a moment’s notice.

Mother in Heaven... had the boy gone mad? Did he intend to attack a ship? They were all under military contracts, which meant an assault on one was tantamount to rebellion, even if the passengers intended to assassinate him.

Noticing the commotion, the soldiers and sailors were quick to scatter, save for those Min Gyu presumed had come in on the ship Rain was currently threatening, though how they knew they were the target was anyone’s guess. These fellows drew their weapons and... milled about, neither charging ahead nor moving to defend their ship and the precious cargo within, which was... curious to say the least. Orders from someone Scrying nearby, perhaps hoping Rain would dig his own grave? As for the boy, he sat on his quin and paid the ships and sailors no mind while patting the Guardian Turtle’s cheek to keep her in place. “It’s okay Ping Ping,” the boy crooned, his quiet words so distinct on these otherwise silent plains. “We’ll get you to the river soon enough. I just have one thing to take care of first, and then we’re good to go.”

“Private Falling Rain.” So focused on what was happening before him, Min Gyu failed to notice the Justicar’s arrival, marching in from Nian Zu’s camp with a dozen Enforcers at his side. Eyeing the arrows and torches from behind his expressionless steel mask, the Justicar continued in a wry tone, “When your Death Corps guard informed me of a crime in progress, I did not expect to find the culprit would be you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Justicar.” Dismounting to salute as his rank required, Rain smiled and gestured towards the ship. “The culprits are over there, on the ‘Vast Distance’.” The ship’s name was painted in bright colours and bold characters on the hull and two sides, as per navy regulations, though as far as Min Gyu could tell, no crime had been committed just yet. Even if they intended to assassinate Rain, they had yet to act, which meant Rain had called the Justicar over far too early.

Strange that he would trust them still, even after they all but forced him to his death in Sinuji, but this was a matter for another time.

Evidently, the Justicar had come to the same conclusions Min Gyu had. “And what crime have these sailors committed? Did they attack you?”

“No, but they probably intended to.”

“Have you any proof of your allegations? Written orders? An informant willing to swear an Oath?”

“Nope.”

“...” The pregnant pause spoke for everyone present, even the soldiers under Rain’s command as they turned to gawk at their commander. Visibly repressing a laugh, the Justicar coughed and said, “Then no crime has been committed, save for your own.”

“The Vast Distance has committed a crime, I’m merely here to ensure they don’t escape justice.” Reaching into his saddlebags, Rain pulled out a stack of papers and brought them to the Justicar, explaining the contents of each page as he handed them over one by one. “This is a copy of the ship’s manifest, from when it put in at SuiHua seven days ago. This is the harbormaster signing off on the delivery, tools and construction materials, mostly. Then, the ship was commissioned to deliver a shipment of food to the Northern Citadel. Here are those papers, as well as the loading documents and new manifest. The ship then docked in the Northern Citadel for three days, ostensibly to resupply, but instead they sat idle in the harbour with only a handful of people embarking and disembarking each day, according to the daily reports here, here, and here.” Grinning like a fiend, Falling Rain handed over the last document in the stack and said, “But early this morning, the ship left on first tide, carrying a shipment of, and I quote, ‘personal effects’, to be delivered to one ‘nameless recipient’ in the Central Citadel.”

...This was it? This was Rain’s grand reveal? Mother in Heaven, Min Gyu had failed yet again...

“A most grievous crime indeed.” Nodding at the boy as if everything made perfect sense, the Justicar continued, “Tell your soldiers to lower their weapons. The Disciplinary Corps will handle things from here.”

“Would you mind if I escorted you down to the river?” Gesturing at the Divine Turtle, Rain shrugged and explained, “She’s thirsty.”

“So long as you and your men do not interfere with my duties.”

With that, the Justicar set off with his Enforcers shouting for the sailors to drop their weapons and surrender into Imperial custody, while Rain fell in behind them, so proud of his work that even his quin seemed to strut his way down. Shaking off his disbelief, Min Gyu Cloud-Stepped over to the boy’s side before thinking better of it and raised his hands to placate the startled Enforcers who noticed. “What a fine, dutiful grandson-in-law you are. Hmph.”

“Oh hi Grandpa Du.” Shrinking back in the harness, Rain at least had the grace to look ashamed. “To be fair, I never actually said I wasn’t coming down to the river, just that I understood your concerns and that I didn’t have to go with her every day. Today will probably be the last, since I doubt the same trick will work again.”

Snorting in anger, Min Gyu glowered until he couldn’t keep silent any longer. “Well? What are you waiting for? A pat on the back and a kiss on the cheek? Explain.”

“With the ship? Oh, the ship-master violated Imperial Mandate.” Seeing Min Gyu didn’t understand, Rain smiled. “Marshal Yuzhen noticed it before we left, that someone was pulling strings to keep the Vast Distance docked. Turns out, it was to deliver assassins here to kill me, but they screwed up. The ship-master had to write something in the manifest, or the harbormaster wouldn’t let him out, so he claimed he was carrying ‘personal effects’. Problem is, the Legate mandated that all ships above a certain size were to make themselves available for military shipments, and military shipments only.”

“So? Plenty of military officers have commandeered ships to deliver personal effects in the past.”

“Yea, but they used their actual name and rank to do so, making it a legitimate military shipment.” Shrugging, Rain explained, “I’m guessing some spoiled Imperial brat thought his Imperial Privilege superseded military regulations, and it probably does, but now he’ll have to send a representative to inform the Disciplinary Corps and lose face from taking such overt actions. Not a huge deal in my opinion, but by the time these assassins are released, my people will have memorized their appearance and we’ll have pictures of them distributed to every soldier in camp, so this lot won’t find it so easy to hide in plain sight again.”

Not a huge deal? The boy’s opinion was utter dog-shit. For an Imperial Noble, losing a band of assassins was but a minor setback, while publicly losing face was proof of ineptitude, a far more grievous sin in many eyes. This blunder could set off a chain reaction as other families and factions took note of this disgraceful display, for now the lowliest Imperial Consort had bested a tried and true Noble in a game of wits. Still, no point letting Rain grow conceited, especially since it sounded like Marshal Yuzhen had done all the work. Carefully hiding his pride and amusement, Min Gyu shook his head in disbelief and said, “You intentionally rode out to confront a ship filled with assassins with less than a hundred soldiers at your side. Why not tell me in advance so I can safeguard you, boy?”

“Er...” Casting his gaze around as if in search of something, Rain frowned, then shrugged and whispered, “I thought if you or the Colonel General disappeared from camp the same time I set out on my jaunt, then the assassins might’ve lost their nerve and scattered to the winds. Same deal with more soldiers, so this was the best I could do. Thanks for your concern, but don’t worry Grandpa. I didn’t come out without making other arrangements.”

As soon as the boy finished speaking, Min Gyu swept the area for Concealed Khishigs, but despite looking high and low, he found nothing amiss. “Are you certain you have guards lurking about?”

“He is safe in my hands.” Jumping at the sound of her voice, Min Gyu spun around to find the Medical Saint’s mysterious companion standing directly behind him. “Take pride, Du Min Gyu,” She Sent, her smirk coming in clear despite the dark veil covering her face. “Your method of detection is unique and effective. It took several days to come up with a means to overcome it. A most interesting puzzle you presented me with, and for this, I offer you my thanks.”

A few short days ago, Min Gyu had cautioned himself against ego, even while celebrating how he’d uncovered these same guards, but now...

Perhaps circumstances were not as dire as he once thought. If nothing else, the presence of this mysterious warrior meant the Bekhai hidden depths were deeper than anyone ever imagined, so it was possible their ill-fated rebellion would do more than just whimper...

Assuming the worst of course. Hell, with this woman guarding him, Falling Rain might even make it back to Baatar in one piece, or breathing at least.

Chapter Meme