Savage Divinity

After a long, tense, and taxing week of vigilance and preparation, Binesi set aside an hour to meditate in the courtyard before it came time for the banquet.

Tonight’s festivities could very well devolve into a bloodbath of mythical proportions, but Nian Zu and the foundling could hardly arrive with swords drawn and bows bent. This was the true challenge which lay before him, to guard against enemies while maintaining a false air of harmonious unity. Ask any good soldier, and they would tell you fighting is easy. Despite what most nobles would have commoners believe, any fool could fight. It was his belief that this was by design, and that the Mother tailor-made humanity for this very purpose. Some might see wolves, tigers, bears, and other formidable predators of the wilds and believe otherwise, but they would be wrong. Hunting and fighting were two different matters, because one required skill, patience, forethought, and experience, while the latter just needed a reason.

And not even a good reason, at that. Of all the Mother’s Children, humans were the only ones who fought and killed for their own murderous delight.

Well, aside from cats, but they fit in their own special category...

Humans were the Mother’s soldiers in the battle against the Enemy, and Binesi was nothing if not a good soldier. Fighting was what he signed on for, what he trained for, what he thought about during the day and what he dreamt about at night. He loved his family, but despite what he might say otherwise, in his heart of hearts, he knew battle would always be his first and greatest love. He’d lived a good life, full of love and laughter, from his first kiss with Asane, bringing Aska and Teekway home from the orphanage, and watching his sons grow into men and become fathers themselves. He cherished these memories, and he missed his family dearly every time he had to leave them behind, but it shamed him to admit all this paled in comparison to how he came alive in battle.

Binesi called Baatar a mad wolf who fought only for the thrill of battle, and he knew this because they were two men cut from the same cloth. So many ignorant people believed demi-humans were wild, unpredictable creatures driven by bloodlust and instinct, but Binesi knew differently. If a demi-human was driven wild by bloodlust, then it was their human blood to blame, for humans were the most brutal and bloodthirsty creatures of them all. One only needed to look at the Enemy’s armies to know this for true, because while they had animals to ride and fight alongside them, only humans were ever truly Defiled by the Father’s whispered lies.

As such, fighting was easy. The second hardest part of Binesi’s job was waiting, but a life-long career in the Imperial Army had given him plenty of time to practice, and it was almost second nature by now. As for the hardest part of Binesi’s job, that was following orders which went against his instincts, such as marching himself into a likely death-trap to let his fragile ward rub shoulders with his enemies. Might as well send the lamb out to greet the tiger, though in the foundling’s defence, he was no helpless lamb, which was little consolation considering his foes were no mere tigers either. The Supreme Families were dragons standing above other dragons, second only to the Emperor Himself, and the foundling had somehow become embroiled in their schemes. Binesi knew now that it wasn’t entirely the foundling’s fault, as Imperial Scions and politics were akin to ducks and water, but Falling Rain still had some blame for this mess he’d gotten himself into.

He should have given up his rank the second he was crippled and run back home to the mountains. Hard to use him as a playing piece while sitting six weeks away from the action, and if someone should try to take him off the board, well... they would be in for a rude awakening indeed...

Still, there was something to be said about adversity and forges, as an argument could be made that the foundling’s trials and tribulations had helped speed him along in his recovery, but it hardly mattered anymore. The foundling was here in the Central Citadel, not back in the North and safe among friends, but deep in the thick of things from the look of it. Binesi was never one for politics or strategies, which was why he was only a Major after so many decades of service, but he knew better than to reach beyond his station. Still, he could see that the foundling played the game well, instinctively knowing when to heed sound advice from the Imperial Servant beside him, and when to disregard her entirely and go about things in his own unique and surprisingly effective manner. Between his impressive demonstration at the opera house and his subsequent hard work winning over allies and support, the foundling had done what Benesi had thought was impossible: he’d given himself a fighting chance.

And when it came right down to it, Binesi had fought and won with less.

Hearing the foundling’s door swing open, Binesi suppressed a sigh, for he knew the time had come to march into the jaws of the enemy. Coming to his feet, he gazed upon the foundling with a critical eye, studying his Sentinel armour worn over his fashionable clothes and the fur-lined steel helmet tucked into the crook of his arm. With a sword on his hip, a shield slung over his back, and spear in hand, one might think him a soldier marching off to war instead of a young dandy attending a banquet, and for once, Binesi approved.

Right up until the she-bunny hopped into the foundling’s arms and he crooned in delight, followed by a series of sickeningly moist kissy noises punctuated with actual kisses. Disgraceful is what that was, but at least the animals weren’t coming to the banquet with them...

“I’m sorry Mama Bun,” the foundling began, cradling the over-sized rabbit like a fussy baby. “I know you’re mad about being left behind all the time, but I can’t bring you with me today. It’s a cruel, floof-shaming world out there and I have an image to uphold, so you need to tough it out and stay home, okay?”

The rabbit didn’t answer, because it was a rabbit, though it did seem mighty upset when the foundling passed her over to one of the half-rat handmaidens. “Don’t ye worry about a thing Master Rain,” she said, rocking the perturbed rabbit in her arms like a fussy baby. “We’ll take right good care of them, Sorya and I will, and Big Brother Jorani will keep us all safe.”

“Thank you.” Turning to the Hangman, the foundling nodded and said, “Remember, Junior Yimu will be in touch, so let him know if anything suspicious crops up. You got everything you need here?”

“Wouldn’t say no to a Divinity or three,” Jorani quipped, and Binesi found himself agreeing with the sentiment. Then again, if matters got so far out of hand that a Divinity needed to step in, then chances were they’d all die regardless. “But yea, unless ye changed yer mind about Siyar.”

“He has other duties to attend to tonight,” the foundling replied, and from the stilted tone of his voice, he was none too pleased at the Hangman for mentioning the man, which was curious indeed. Who was Siyar and why didn’t the foundling want Binesi hearing about him?

“Sorry bossman,” Jorani whispered, before snapping to attention. “But Anrhi’s right. Me, Ral, and the boys here’ll die before letting anything happen to yer pets, ye can count on that.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Though obviously conflicted, the foundling said, “Do what you can to get my pets out safe, but don’t die for them. If push comes to shove then... then set them free and run. Maybe they’ll escape on their own, or I can come back and get them later.”

Might as well try and drag a soul back from the Father’s Maw, but from the looks of things, the foundling knew as much and was only saying it to keep his soldiers from dying for rabbits, which was the right call. They wouldn’t even have this problem if the foundling trained his pets right, or kept to raising proper animals like horses and quins, but it was far too late for regrets.

Still, it was clear the foundling loved all his critters, and it was mildly distressing to watch him say farewell to each of them in turn, enough so that Binesi didn’t snap and hurry him along. Once finished with his pets, he said his silent farewells to his family and betrotheds, as was the way of the mountains. There was a time when navigating through the treacherous snowy passes ended in death more often than not, so wakes were held before the explorers set out so as to get it all over and done with. Then, if the explorers did return, then mere survival was worth celebrating, for it was a return from near certain death itself. Much better than clinging to fragile hopes for years without end, or worse, falling to pieces if the party returned without your loved ones. It was all about managing expectations and giving people something to hope for, because Mother knows Binesi was looking forward to reuniting with his loved ones back at the Northern Citadel as soon as this whole mess was over.

Since most of the foundling’s loved ones were still muddled with Insight, it didn’t take long to get through his goodbyes, and all too soon, he stood sloppily at attention in front of Binesi and snapped off a lacklustre salute. “Major Binesi,” he said, with a half-smile that would have any sergeant worth his salt fuming at this flagrant lack of respect, “Private Falling Rain, reporting for duty.”

It was so strange to look down at the foundling and work through all these conflicting emotions. By all rights, he should have long since succumbed to the trials and tribulations behind him, whether it be his arrogant and outrageous behaviour during the Society contests, his near suicidal attempt to kill the Butcher Yo Ling, his contemptuous showing at the Imperial Grand Conference, his protracted tour out beyond the front lines, and a thousand other steps along his Path which should have seen him stumble and fall, yet here he was, as bold and brazen as ever. The foundling was an idiot, an endless font of needless frustration who spat in the eye of conventional wisdom and survived only by the mercy of the Mother Above.

But damn if the boy’s style wasn’t starting to grow on Binesi...

“At ease, private,” he began, pushing his inner conflict aside. “You sure you want things to go down this way?”

“Don’t see any alternative.”

“The Martial Dao is endless and all-encompassing,” Binesi quoted, though he couldn’t for the life of him remember who said it first. Probably the founding demi-god Emperor, or one of his generals, the superhuman progenitors of the Five Supreme Families themselves. “There is always an alternative path.”

“Sure, but only one of those paths is the best one, and this is the best I could come up with.”

“You could leave your honour guards behind and bring twenty of the Colonel General’s Famed Fifty instead.” Cracking a half-smile of his own, Binesi joked, “I know you and yours don’t think much of Army training, but we’re still Peak Experts one and all.”

“Much as I’d like to, I can’t.” Shaking his head with a sigh, the foundling shrugged and explained, “We’ve been through this before. I don’t trust the Death Corps, but I need them. Appearances must be kept, because a lowly Imperial Consort without a Death Corps escort is no Imperial at all. Until the Legate states otherwise, I am most certainly an Imperial Scion, a fact which I intend to hammer home tonight.”

Damn if that didn’t send chills down his spine, but Binesi wasn’t sure if it was from fear or excitement. “And what about them?” Jerking his thumb at the surviving slave soldiers from Sanshu, all dressed up in standard-issue cavalry armour the Marshal procured for them, Binesi said, “You could leave them behind and bring seven Peak Experts instead.”

“True, but the banquet tonight is to celebrate the Heroes of Sinuji,” the foundling said, narrowing his eyes in challenge as he continued, “And they most certainly qualify as such. More than some people seated at the table of honour, in fact.”

The worst part was, Binesi agreed. Dastan Zhandos and his soldiers had earned their place at tonight’s banquet, even if the world would never acknowledge them as anything more than slaves. In contrast, the guest of honour and ‘commanding officer’ Mitsue Watanabe would be celebrated tonight, but everyone knew he was both a coward and a fool. A shame the craven cur found the courage to return to his posting after the Divinities dispersed, else Colonel General Nian Zu could have had the idiot drawn up on charges and summarily judged while Watanabe was absent from his post. If found guilty of dereliction of duty during a battle, the most Mitsue Juichi could have done was help Watanabe keep his dog life, but now there was no point even bringing it up, because any soldier in their right mind would have fled from a clash between Divinities.

Which said a lot about Nian Zu and his Famed Fifty considering they all stuck around to the bitter end...

The last three spots in the foundling’s honour guard had been taken up by Bekhai warriors. The only one Binesi recognized was the scarred Bekhai trueblood, Naaran the Unyielding, a storied Martial Warrior who earned many of those scars during the battle of Shrouded Peak. There, outside the broken walls of a beleaguered Imperial fort, Naaran and a thousand Sentinels held the line against an army of fifty-thousand screaming Defiled, dancing back and forth while fighting like Demons themselves to keep the tide from engulfing Akanai and her two-thousand archers behind him. Naaran survived where so many others fell, and led the final charge himself, a heroic, near suicidal assault which broke the Enemy horde’s spirit and sent them scurrying back into the wastes. In return for his service and sacrifice, Naaran was laughed out of Central alongside Akanai, and almost died to Central Assassins before escaping back home.

The old man was an Imperial Hero and could have been a Living Legend in his own right, but after that disastrous trip to Central, Naaran the Unyielding put aside his spear and took up farming instead. Now he was back, standing alongside another potential Imperial Hero, and Binesi could only pray the old warrior kept his skills sharp after all this time.

The other two guards were veiled and unrecognizable as anyone besides being vaguely feminine, but the Bekhai did so love their mysterious ways. From what he could tell, the veiled guards were there to watch over the Medical Saint’s daughter, which baffled Binesi to the extreme. If the Medical Saint was so concerned with his daughter’s safety, then why still bring her along at all? Better to leave the half-hare behind alongside the Insight addled women and the darling half-goat children, but no matter how many times he brought it up, Sarnai and the foundling refused to listen. “Get this through your thick skull, you faint-hearted goat of a man,” Sarnai had begun, before tacking on another half-dozen insults which set Binesi’s blood to boiling. “This banquet is to honour my son’s accomplishments, and we will be there to support him. You just worry about keeping your own worthless hide intact, as there is no need for you to concern yourself with me and mine.”

Hateful woman, but Binesi knew better than to step on Sarnai’s toes. Not because he feared Baatar, but because women didn’t fight fair. Even if he was stronger than her, and he was fairly certain he wasn’t, she would not be gracious in defeat. He could easily see her raising hell about how Binesi was bullying a poor old woman and maybe even turn his sweet Asane against him. The Thorny Rose might do that regardless, stomping all over his poor bones while complaining about how men lacked chivalry and courage.

With not much time left to them, Binesi simply saluted the foundling and said, “We’ve done all we can, so let us hope it is enough. Come. I will escort you to the banquet, but I cannot accompany you inside. I’ll enter soon after as part of the Colonel General’s Honour Guard, so try not to die before I get there.”

“I’ll do my best, Major,” the foundling replied, with yet another wry smile. Turning to the side, he faced an empty area and asked, “Monk Happy, are you sure you can get in without an invitation?”

“Eh-Mi-Tuo-Fuo.” To Binesi’s credit, he kept his nerve and didn’t flinch when the monk appeared out of thin air. There was no call for ascetic pacifists to be so damned sneaky, but he supposed it was a side effect of spending all their time tempering their mind, bodies, and spirits. Gone were the rags the monk usually wore, and in their place was a set of ceremonial robes, bright yellow silk under a vibrant red sash, with a metallic headpiece reminiscent of a rooster’s comb sitting atop his bald head. “When the Mother closes a door, She always leaves an open window,” the monk intoned, his palms pressed together in prayer while cradling an octagonal bo-staff in the crook of his arm. Odd for a peace-loving monk to carry what was clearly a Spiritual Weapon, but perhaps this Monk Happy came to the Brotherhood later in life, or maybe it was a tool for beating his fellow brothers. “And more to the point, there are few who can see through Kukku’s Concealment, so sneaking in should not be a problem at all.”

Kukku? The giant silkie chicken the foundling chased about back in Sinuji? “If the beast is so adept at Concealment,” Binesi interrupted, going over the beginnings of a new plan, “Then could we not use it to sneak in more Peak Experts?”

“Eh-Mi-Tuo-Fuo, such deceit, such sin.” Shaking his head with a smile, Monk Happy said, “Friend Binesi, in the Abbot’s absence, it falls upon this monk to watch over Brother Rain, which is why this monk seeks entry in such a roundabout way. Given the likelihood of bloodshed on this night, this monk is not comfortable with aiding others in similar such endeavours, unless they would be willing to swear an Oath of non-violence until tonight’s events come to a close. What’s more,” he added with a shrug, gesturing at an empty corner of the courtyard where the giant chicken was supposedly Concealed, “This monk has no say on who may or may not come with us, as the final decision lays with Kukku, and he is cautious by nature.”

Damn it all to hell. Not comfortable, what a load of dog farts. The monk’s vaunted Abbot seemed comfortable enough about doling out an ass-kicking on his wayward Brother...

Grumbling beneath his breath as he stomped out the manor, Binesi kept a careful watch on the surroundings while the foundling and his guests boarded their respective carriages, driven by three drivers who looked suspiciously like MuYang and his companions, those non-Bekhai guards who jealously watched over the foundling. There were still many secrets surrounding Falling Rain which Binesi had yet to crack, but idle curiosity aside, he didn’t have much reason to care.

Another curious matter he noted was how Du Min Gyu and his adopted grandchildren rode in the foundling’s carriage instead of taking their own, a move which was sure to have some political implications, as if betrothing his adopted grand-daughter to the foundling wasn’t message enough. Again, Binesi put this matter aside, because he was not one for politics, but even he had to admit the foundling’s golden-wood ‘Imperial’ carriages were a nice touch. Escorted by Dastan’s cavalry, forty quin-mounted Sentinel riders, and his full complement of three hundred and sixty Death Corps soldiers, their convoy made for a regal and imposing sight as they wound their way through the twisted Citadel streets, their route made all the more circuitous due to the need to account for the Guardian Turtle’s massive bulk.

Less experienced soldiers might relax this close to the goal, but Binesi knew better than to count his chickens before they were hatched. As they turned out onto the main avenue, he spotted their destination off in the distance, a massive dome which housed a sprawling complex of buildings sitting at the heart of the Citadel itself. There were eight avenues like the one they currently rode upon, all which led directly to the roundabout encircling the imposing architectural accomplishment, but pleasing as the view might be, Binesi could only shake his head in stark disappointment. They built this Citadel from the ground up, yet the Central-born fool who planned it out not only left eight wide, unobstructed avenues to the central command centre for the sake of appearances, he also failed to keep the interconnecting routes between said avenues from devolving into a twisted mess, routes Imperial soldiers would use to move through the city if the Defiled should ever breach the walls. The flat Central Plains required building fortifications in grids to form choke-points aplenty, yet these fools couldn’t even get that much right.

So wide it could easily fit eight wagons abreast, the avenue was packed with crowds of curious onlookers hoping for a glimpse into the lives of the wealthy elites. Curiously enough, a good number of them cheered as the foundling’s convoy passed by, with cries of ‘Falling Rain’, ‘Undying Savage’, ‘Imperial Consort’ and ‘Guardian Attendant’ aplenty. There were more cheers for the turtle herself, but from the sounds of things, she was probably the most popular guest at the banquet by far. Strange to see how he still had the love of the people, but Binesi never did understand why people loved cheering for a dark horse.

Aside from a handful of devout Mother-Lovers who Binesi almost mistook for assassins, and a whole host of dark glares from less important nobles who had not been invited to join in the festivities, the convoy soon arrived at their destination without incident. Breaking away from the group, Binesi retreated into Concealment and watched the foundling ascend the carpeted stairs with his family and guards, strolling into the massive banquet hall with head held high and posture utterly relaxed, as if he truly believed this banquet was being thrown in his honour. Behind him, the Guardian Turtle played her part perfectly by sticking close like a jealous lover, encircling the foundling so that anyone attacking from any angle risked striking her instead.

If Binesi didn’t know any better, he might’ve thought the foundling trained the Guardian Turtle to protect him, but he wasn’t the type. He loved his pets, every last one of them, and despite what he told his man Jorani, the foundling was unquestionably willing to die for them. Stupid, but loving someone too much was hardly a fault worth criticizing, even if said someone was an idiot rabbit.

As the foundling entered the banquet hall and moved out of Binesi’s sight, he cursed the little fool once more for not making room in his honour guard for at least one more Peak Expert. It was nerve-wracking not being able to see what was going on, but at least he could still hear. The Herald was announcing the foundling now, but no one else, not Sarnai as Baatar’s wife or Alsantset as a Major herself. The first hidden barb of the night, snubbing the foundling’s family, but he took it in stride and corrected the Herald in a polite and almost apologetic tone while also handing him a pre-written guest-list which he politely requested be read exactly as written. Good, good, the foundling expected this to happen and reacted appropriately, and while some would mock him for being so thoroughly prepared, one could hardly fault a soldier for anticipating his enemy’s moves and reacting accordingly. Still, Binesi didn’t agree with the foundling’s tone while correcting the Herald, for the man had no doubt taken a bribe to snub them. Anger would only give the foundling’s enemies reason to laugh, but act too timid and the predators would sense blood in the water and pounce. Wait, perhaps that’s what he wanted, and he was merely baiting the hook in advance, but if Binesi could see this, then those practised politicians inside could probably do the same, and the foundling knew it, so what was the point?

...This was why Binesi stayed away from politics. He hated reading into every gesture and action, or putting up with idiots he wouldn’t cross the street to piss on if someone set them ablaze.

Cracking the barest hint of a smile as the Herald announced the foundling’s family, Binesi celebrated the minor victory, but once the Herald was done, the foundling disappeared into the sea of noise clamouring from within the banquet hall. With nothing to do besides twiddle his thumbs, he counted the long seconds and waited for the Colonel General to arrive, but Central Nobles had an obsession with hierarchy and procedure, and since Nian Zu was set to arrive with the highest guest of honour, Chen Hongji, this meant they would be the very last group to enter.

Which, now that he thought about it, meant the foundling’s early arrival was yet another snub. Hmph, let these Central bastards play their childish games, Falling Rain would see his way through them, just like he turned things so neatly against that idiot opera singer, Ken-Shibu.

As the night wore on, various hotshots of the Empire arrived in staggered fashion, mostly a bunch of self-important coin-counters who had no place in a military celebration, but it was less about what one did than who one knew. More foolish games, excluding the same men and women this banquet was meant to honour and celebrate, but no decent soldier would care to rub elbows with the idiots inside anyways. Except of course for Binesi, who desperately hoped the foundling would have the decency to at least wait until the Colonel General arrived before metaphorically shitting the bed, for distant waters could not quench a nearby fire.

Finally, the stream of guests slowed down to a trickle, and it was finally the Colonel General’s turn to go in. First was Shuai Jiao, marching inside with his Disciple, Yong-Jin, at his side, a poor entourage for someone of his status, but rather fitting in terms of disposition. Central’s ‘Nian Zu’ had barely even dressed up for the occasion and arrived in plain brown robes, though these ones were made of silk rather than his usual hemp. In contrast, the soft-spoken Yong-Jin, wore much more luxurious clothes, including a colourfully embroidered yellow robe under a fine red-silk vest which bore his name on both shoulders. Though common-born, Yong-Jin certainly looked like a spoiled young master, even if he lacked the customary entitled arrogance which came with the territory, and seemed a mite uncomfortable in his voluminous trappings.

Next to enter was the Sword King, Ryo Dae Jung, alongside his talented family and a full complement of high-status warriors, though none had served at Sinuji as far as Binesi could tell. Even from afar, the Ryo’s looked like the perfect Martial Family, with two Peak Expert parents and three phenomenally talented youngsters, all of whom were elaborately dressed, coiffed, and bejewelled. Barring catastrophe, the Ryo family’s rise was all but unstoppable, save for the slow emergence of a third generation to carry on the family name and legacy.

In contrast, the Mitsue Family’s star was quickly fading from sight, but that didn’t stop the Obsidian Shadow from strutting about as he led his peacocked children and grandchildren out to the banquet. Three generations of Mitsue family scions, and both younger generations made for a sorry sight indeed, wastrels one and all with not a single spine between the lot of them. A damn shame about Mitsue Hideo, for there was a boy who showed promise, but it was strange that the boy’s civilian father had died in Sinuji as well. What was he even doing there? Helping Watanabe with the logistics perhaps? Mother knows the idiot could barely read a map, so that was probably it.

And honestly, why did Central, the safest of all the outer provinces, need three Colonel Generals when the other outer provinces made do with one? Hell, the Southern Colonel General was so busy he wasn’t even coming to the banquet, and instead dispatched his second-in-command here to represent him.

At long last, Colonel General Nian Zu finally arrived, riding atop the behemoth warhorse he secured from Mother knows where. The Living Legend was many things, but a practised equestrian he was not, which made sense since he had little reason to ever ride out beyond the Wall. Regardless of his lacking skills, he did a passable job pretending to be one as he sat still and gave the beast free rein, who was more than happy to follow the mare bearing Chen Hongji beside him. All around the avenue, the crowd let loose with deafening cheers for the Architect of Sinuji, the man who set in motion a plan which killed a half-million Defiled in a single blow.

What a blaze that was, like a fiery inferno sent down by the Mother Above, all thanks to Chen Hongji’s tireless efforts and Falling Rain’s curious mind.

Oddly enough, the man of the hour was here alone, with no other members of the Chen family to accompany him. Were his wife and children safely hidden away, or had some Imperial already taken them hostage? Difficult to say, but Binesi hoped it was the former, rather than the latter. Moving in to take his place in the honour guard, he fell in line as the Colonel General Sent, “Well done getting the boy this far. I know it could not have been easy.”

“By your will, Colonel General,” Binesi Sent, flushing with pride from the simple compliment. Thirty-seven years, he’d served at Nian Zu’s side, and still the Living Legend filled him with awe. “With luck, the foundling might even make it out alive, though I confess I’ll feel much better once I have him back in my sights.”

“One thing, Major,” Nian Zu Sent, half-turning in his saddle before thinking better of it. “Once we are inside, make no moves without my express orders, understood?”

Binesi’s acknowledgement was halfway out before the Colonel General’s orders sank in, and he did something he’d never done before. He hesitated, balked at a direct order, just to consider what the Colonel General intended. “...Sir. You mean to abandon the foundling?”

“No, of course not.” Taking no offence at Binesi’s reservations, the Colonel General’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly. “...But we’ve done all we can for the boy. Anything that happens in there, happens by the will of the Legate, you understand?” Without waiting for an answer, Nian Zu continued, “You and I both know Falling Rain deserves better, but I fear he will be sorely disappointed tonight. No matter how sharp his eyes and mind prove to be, the Supreme Families still seek to discredit him, if not worse. Even if the boy survives, which I worry is not likely, how much longer do you think Baatar will stand silently by while his son’s reputation is tarnished and smeared?”

“Sir... What do you know that you aren’t telling me? That you haven’t told him?”

“Binesi, old friend.” Having reached the stairs, Nian Zu dismounted from his horse and took in Binesi’s crestfallen expression, and for a moment, the Colonel General looked... defeated. Then he steeled his resolve, and he was the Living Legend Nian Zu once more, as valiant and honourable as ever. “I’ve no information, but there is nothing more I can do for the boy. Things have gone well for him thus far and I hope for the best, but I also fear the worst. I’ve no proof of what lies ahead, just a gut instinct which warns of danger, and I haven’t survived this long by ignoring my instincts. Tomorrow, I might well be forced to march against my second-in-command and put down his ill-fated rebellion. I cannot afford to lose anyone else, whether it be you or any of the fine soldiers under my command, not in service to what might well be a lost cause. I pray for the boy’s success, but his life is in the Mother’s hands now, so you will not act without my express orders, understood?”

“...By your command, Colonel General.”

A phrase Binesi had lived by for thirty-seven years, but tonight, the words rang... hollow.

Chapter Meme