Savage Divinity

There was a time when Jorani was more than happy to idle his days away, doing nothing until circumstances demanded otherwise, because he loved just doing nothing. There were those who liked dicing or drinking, boasting or brawling, and even the rare quirky coot who enjoyed their work, but there was nothing Jorani loved more than sitting back and doing nothing except taking in the sights, sounds, scents, and whatever might else catch his fancy.

These days however, he had precious little time for idling. As a Field Officer in command of five-thousand troops, there was always more work to do than hours a day to do it, especially while out on campaign. It wasn’t so bad though, as after the first day or two of hectic activity in which the Peak Experts overran four Western harbours and left the cleanup to the grunts, there wasn’t much else for the army to do except dig in and fortify, but it was rare for soldiers to be as easy going as Jorani, and bored soldiers were troublesome soldiers. While the bossman brought in plenty of professionals to do all the constructing, Lieutenant General Akanai was not a woman to let her soldiers sit idle, and Jorani wholeheartedly approved. For the last month, the soldiers of this conquering army toiled in the dust, digging ditches, hauling blocks, patrolling the area, and more, with each and every Warrior expected to put in a solid eight hours of work each and every day.

That being said, most soldiers weren’t all too accustomed to a life of hard labour, on account of them being either nobles, bandits, or just plain spoiled by circumstance. Even the poorest, most incompetent Martial Warrior was better off than most, since there was always someone willing to pay decent wages just to have them stand around and look intimidating, so this last month proved a rude awakening to the majority of soldiers here in Meng Sha, but a much needed one in Jorani’s eyes. A bit of sweat never hurt no one, and Jorani even kinda enjoyed it, as it reminded him of the weeks he spent in the Arid Wastes helping Asmani’s tribe build their new village. It was nice to do something that mattered, aside from just wasting his time doing nothing, and much as he enjoyed the latter, the former was starting to grow on him too.

For the last thirty days, Jorani fell into a routine of taking his breakfast outside while taking in the sights, and it was almost inspiring to see the fort walls and towers shoot up and up and up before his eyes. He wasn’t the only one to appreciate the fruits of their labours in this way either, with many a soldier stopping to take in the sights whenever they had a moment to spare, and he imagined the awe, pride, and satisfaction he saw there was mirrored in his own eyes every morning. The walls, the towers, the gates, the traps, every soldier here had a part in building the defences that would keep them safe, and knowing this gave them all a grand sense of accomplishment. There was magic in creation, of taking something that was there and turning it into something else altogether, and though he’d seen this sort of magic at work with Asmani’s tribe, Jorani hadn’t wholly recognized it until now.

“Ye know,” he began, turning towards Monk Happy without taking his eyes off the landscape, “I think I understand why ye all like making things so much.” The smiling monk sipped at his breakfast congee without uttering a word, but Jorani knew the man was listening, because that was what the monks did best. “Feels good seeing what me own two hands have built, to be able to point at that tower and know me sweat is mixed into the mortar or that gate and remember how I bled gettin’ them hinges on straight.”

“That is a part of it yes,” Monk Happy replied, after taking a second to swallow the last of his breakfast. “Gratification from seeing the fruits of one’s labour is undeniably enjoyable, a lesson Junior Brother would have learned much earlier if not for your...indolent tendencies. There is more to it than personal fulfillment however, and you must not forget to be wary of indulging the desire for existence.”

The second of the Three Desires, the craving for existence, which Jorani didn’t entirely understand. The gist of it was that one should do good things because it was right to do so, rather than out of any innate desire to be known as a good person. A fine line to walk, and truth be told, he didn’t see the harm in letting someone hold their head held high if they were doing good things, but to the Monks of the Brotherhood, intent was every bit as important as the action itself. The right action with the wrong intent could be just as damaging as being wrong both ways, or so they claimed. Monk Bones gave many examples, but the one that stuck with Jorani was the parable of a landowner who subsidized his farmers by giving them oxen free of charge so they could take responsibility for more farmland. The oxen enabled the farmers to till larger fields and harvest more crops, thereby increasing the landowner’s profits, but the farmers soon discovered that their oxen were old with not many years left to them. What’s more, when they went to the landowner to seek out a replacement, he charged them an exorbitant amount which the farmers had no choice but to pay because there was no way to work their large fields without one.

The Empire was filled with schemers looking to squeeze every possible copper out of their workforce, but that one was a particularly devious ploy that made Jorani sick to his stomach. It wasn’t a tall tale made up to prove the Brotherhood’s point either, but something that had actually happened, and for all Jorani knew, was still happening somewhere in the world today.

“So what’s the rest of it?” Jorani asked, always curious to learn more. “The reasoning to why ye monks put so much effort into craftin’ and paintin’ and whatnot?”

While he didn’t wholly agree with all of the Brotherhood’s viewpoints or even most of them, they always had at least a few good points in their favour and helped him see the world in a new light, and Monk Happy did not disappoint. “We of the Brotherhood value not the end result of our labours, but the act of creation itself. As someone whose livelihood is steeped in violence and destruction, you already know that such ordeals demand a hefty price, a butcher’s bill paid not in coin or lives but rather an individual’s mental well-being.” Something in the monk’s voice made Jorani finally turn to face him, and what he saw was a man who’d paid that price many times over and was still burdened by the loss. “You know as well as any that it takes something from a person to kill another living being, to look into someone’s eyes and watch the life fade away, even someone who meant you harm. Though most struggle to manage this debt at first, it becomes easier and easier to ignore the cost as you grow numb to the effort, until there comes a time when you no longer notice the burden or even stop caring altogether. To create something is almost the complete opposite, a soothing balm for the mind and soul that serves as an act of balance not in the metaphysical sense, but mentally and morally.”

Having said his piece, Monk Happy fell silent once again to reflect on his inner turmoil, some memories of the past which still haunted him so, and Jorani stared at his hands to give the man what little privacy he could. He knew the struggle well enough, as he’d never come to love this life of combat and bloodshed, not the way the bossman and so many others did. There was nothing quite like the thrill of combat, but while the heady highs were good and all, it never lasted long and in no way made up for the steep fall after, and he knew he wasn’t the only one who felt this way. Most never cared to admit their woes because to do so would be ‘unbecoming’, but he’d seen many a soldier turn to drink, drugs, or pleasurable company just so they could rest easy at night, a different sort of coping system from the Brotherhood’s, but a solution nonetheless. Hell, Jorani himself had gotten to the point where he’d almost forgotten the burdens of war weighing down on his conscience, a dilemma made doubly difficult after meeting Asmani and her tribesmen. What if there were more Defiled tribesmen like them, ones who fought and killed only because they knew no other way to live? If one tribe could change, surely so could others, which made the Imperial policy of taking no prisoners a prickly prospect, conscientiously speaking. It was an issue he’d been ignoring for the last few weeks, mostly because he had no idea what to do about it. There was a time when he could’ve just kept his mouth shut and followed orders, but now he’d be the one issuing those orders, which made things just all that much worse.

...

Maybe he could try his hand at pottery. That looked like fun, playing with mud and all. Ral would probably enjoy it too, so maybe they could learn together. They had precious little time to spend with one another in recent days, mostly because Jorani was too busy learning the ins and outs of command, so it wouldn’t hurt to set an hour or twos aside to spend with his best friend.

Making a mental note to ask Ral about it, Jorani bade Monk Happy farewell and headed off to start his day. Unlike previous days, the camp was abuzz with anticipation because everyone and their mother knew orders were soon to come down from above. They were about to make some big moves from the looks of it, a difficult thing to hide considering the preparations an army in the field needed, so it wouldn’t be long before they resumed their campaign to retake the West. Jorani had hoped the bossman would be back on his feet before things got underway, but that wasn’t looking likely, especially when he arrived at his Officer’s tent and found Old Bulat already puttering about. The man was clever and all, but most of his efforts were spent trying to come up with new and inventive ways to be lazy, so for him to be ready and waiting before Jorani arrived was a portent of trouble ahead. Rather than say anything, Jorani simply raised an eyebrow to greet the man, who pursed his lips and held up a scroll sealed in wax stamped with the character ‘Herald’, indicating this came from the desk of Lieutenant General Akanai herself.

Marching orders then, which explained why Old Bulat was here bright and early. Jorani pitched his yurt closer to where the Brotherhood were encamped, mostly so he could spend his nights deep in discussion and not have to trek back to bed in the dark. While it kept him safe from Wraiths and from having to deal with overzealous sentries, it also meant that any official messengers would be unable to find him unless they were told exactly where he slept. That was why he had Old Bulat for, his somewhat dependable second-in-command, though there was plenty of room for improvement to be made. “Well, no time like the present,” Jorani began, trying not to appear too worried or distraught. “Read it out fer me, will ye?”

It took an effort of will not to smile at the brief flash of panic which crossed the man’s face, but Jorani didn’t want to shame them man or discourage him from trying his best. Settling into his chair, he leaned back and waited as the burly man unfurled the scroll and slowly parsed the words together before finally finding the courage to start, but Mother knows the man needed the practice. Thus far, he’d gotten away by relying on Silva to do all his reading, but there were some orders which should only be read by the commander in charge, and there might come a day when that burden fell to Old Bulat.

Hopefully that day wouldn’t be soon, as it would only happen if Jorani was out of the picture, but like the bossman liked to say, “Hope for the best, but plan for the worst.”

Though Old Bulat struggled to get through it without stumbling, he’d improved a fair bit since Jorani took over for Mister Rustram. Even better was the fact that for once, the dice had come out in their favour as the scroll held nothing but good news. Soldiers were to deploy in the morning, with Colonel General Nian Zu leading the charge to retake the border city of Shi Bei, while Lieutenant General Akanai set out with a second army to guard his flank from Defiled reinforcements. The best part was that Jorani and his boys weren’t joining either of them however, as they’d been placed under Lieutenant General Baatar who was still recovering from injuries sustained in Huang Hai during that first, hectic night of the offensive, and thus would be stationed right here in Meng Sha to cover everyone’s collective asses.

Guard duty. Not the most glorious work, but it meant they would be safely away from the fighting for now. Course the downside was that there would be some bloody work ahead once the war reached their walls, which it inevitably would. Meng Sha was the only harbour they’d fortified thus far, at least to the point where they’d have an advantage against the Enemy’s overwhelming numbers. The construction workers were already fortifying Dong Jiang, while LuZhuo to the south would come next, but progress would be slower at both locations since the workers would only have a token defence division to ensure their safety rather than the full force of the crusading army sitting idle in the wings. This left Meng Sha as a pivotal point to hold and a tempting target for the Defiled, since capturing the harbour meant the Imperial army would no longer have a fortified base to resupply from. This was even more important here in the West than elsewhere due to the scarcity of food and water out in the sandy desert dunes which comprised most of the province, so any fighting here would be bitter indeed. That being said, it should be at least another week before the Enemy could safely besiege the harbour, since moving out any sooner risked their forces getting pinched between the harbour fort and the two Imperial armies moving out into the field, which meant Jorani and his people could sit pretty until then.

A good move from a brilliant commander, and Jorani breathed easy knowing that this battle-plan would put to rest all the muttered comments about the bossman’s decision to leave his fearsome Mother-in-Law in charge.

Never for a moment did Jorani dare doubt the woman’s competence or prowess. There were few Warriors capable of matching Lieutenant General Akanai’s strength, as many had seen her trading blows with Bai Qi first in JiangHu and later in the Central Citadel. A feat not even the famed Shuai Jiao could match mind you, but while commoners and Martial Warriors the Empire around venerated her for her personal strength, soldiers knew that the best commander wasn’t always the strongest Warrior around. Brigadier Hongji was the perfect example, as his personal strength was admittedly lacking, yet he held the front lines for longer than anyone believed possible thanks to his devious tactics and staggering foresight, abilities which had soldiers the Empire round praying to work under him. Then there was Nian Zu, who was the complete package, powerful duellist, formidable force on the battlefield, and a cunning tactician who held the Northern Wall for decades without incident, a tried and true commander that any soldier would be proud to serve. There were also many other weather-worn commanders lurking about, so a good number of soldiers were less than pleased when word spread that the bossman had appointed his gorgeous Grand Mentor as his second in command, meaning she now held the ultimate authority over the Army’s next move. Many a whinging Warrior was heard questioning her ability to lead soldiers in war, because to hear them talk, every other Officer in the Imperial Army had earned their rank through merit alone, as opposed to having the right connections or just being strong enough to deserve it. Other, more reasonable voices made no effort to disparage the Bekkie Commander, but they did wonder why the Legate chose her over a more... palatable choice like Nian Zu who outranked her or Liu Xuande, the Imperial Scion turned brilliant strategist who was fast becoming a household name when it came to battlefield tactics.

In truth, the best choice would have been to hand control over to Nian Zu, as not only was it the most obvious choice, it was also the most politically correct option, but the bossman never was one to care much about what others thought of his decisions. Then again, if the rest of the Empire knew what Jorani knew about Lieutenant General Akanai, then maybe they wouldn’t be so fussed about handing her command. There was no disputing her qualifications as not only had she united the Saint’s Tribulations Mountains and safeguarded it for hundreds of years, she also had a hand in raising many of the Khishig Peak Experts alive today. Then there was the fact that she raised the Bloody-Fanged Wolf himself, who in turn raised the fearsome and miraculous Falling Rain, which meant only a blind fool would dare claim she wasn’t qualified to lead, for as the nobles of the Empire were always quick to point out, a sparrow could never beget a hawk.

Course, this didn’t mean Jorani didn’t have any doubts at all, for he knew how fierce and vengeful the Bekkies could be, a spirit embodied by their beloved Commander, Akanai. Seeing how the Enemy had almost killed her son and put her grand-disciple/grandson/son-in-law into a coma, Jorani spent the last few weeks terrified that she would immediately launch an all-out counter-offensive against the Enemy in reprisal for their crimes, but thankfully, she seemed content to wait until all her pieces were in place before making a move. These new orders proved that she’d been the right person for the job, and while Jorani had faith in both the bossman’s decision and the Lieutenant General’s abilities, it was always best when faith was backed by cold hard facts.

To think, he’d read fierce and icy Akanai so wrong, having pegged her as a dormant volcano of righteous retribution just waiting for an excuse to erupt in violence and fury, when in fact she was a doting mother who wanted to make sure her boy was safe and sound after his close run in with death. It was almost adorable when you stopped to think about it, that even a Warrior as old and accomplished as Baatar was naught but a pup in his mother’s eye. A thought which filled Jorani with a longing to see his Ma again, if only to tell her he loved her so, for he knew she would’ve felt the same way as Akanai. To say he’d been an ungrateful son would be a massive understatement, and it wasn’t until after he lost her that he realized how much she did to keep him safe, fed, and happy. Alas, there was no pill for regret and no way to go back and tell her how much she meant to him, so all he could do was cherish the few happy memories he still had. There was a time when he only felt anger when thinking about her abhorrent end, even after he avenged her by hanging the damnable noble who had her caned to death, but vengeance alone wasn’t enough to quell his rage, and not without reason. While Councilman Chao Ban was the man responsible for her death, that was just the last on a long list of grievances Jorani held fast in his mother’s stead, and he lay most of the blame for her rough and wretched life at the feet of none other than his absentee sire, Gang Shu.

A grievance for another day though, as Jorani had more pressing matters to attend to, namely a meeting with the bossman’s father to get everyone up to speed. That’d been at the end of the missive and Old Bulat had almost missed it in his relief, which left Jorani precious little time to make his way across the damned fortress with his barely literate and somewhat out of shape second in tow. As a commander of five-thousand soldiers, he couldn’t be seen running around like a chicken with its head cut off without setting off a panic, but seeing as he was the Officer in charge of the Legate’s retinue, he could hardly afford to show up late either, so he power-walked as quickly as he dared without breaking into a full on sprint. Even then, he was among the last to arrive at the towering canvas command tent, one ringed by so many guards that it set off warning bells in Jorani’s mind as he slowed to catch his breath. Why did a customary Officer’s meeting need so much security? This wasn’t an honour guard sort of situation either, since the majority of guards were Bekkies rather than the Imperial soldiers one would normally expect. Then again, maybe the Lieutenant General was just being overprotective of her son, which would be understandable considering he’d almost died taking Huang Hai.

Course, that theory went right out the window once Jorani made his way into the command tent and saw the company he was in, a gathering of Northern heroes who he knew all too well. There at the front was the Bloody Fanged Wolf himself, looking healthy as an ox while clad in Bekkie leathers with his Officer’s token on full display. There he stood with his massive honking pole-axe in hand, one which was aptly named the Crescent Moon for the shape of its wickedly curved blade. With his snow-silver hair and piercing blue eyes, he looked every bit the part of blessed Son of the Mother Above, a Divine Agent here to dispatch the Enemy in Her name. Though his achievements had thus far been overshadowed by others, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Baatar of the Bekhai was a Warrior to be reckoned with, a rising Dragon who stood well above his peers. A rare, apolitical military Officer, it was almost comical to think he’d been but a lowly Captain only a few years prior to today, a grand hero of the Empire whose talents and accomplishments had largely gone unnoticed. Thus far, he was mostly known for his connections, as Akanai’s son and Disciple, Nian Zu’s protege and successor, and the bossman’s father and Mentor, but it was only a matter of time before his actions would speak for themselves.

A shame to sideline so great a man, but Jorani had a sinking suspicion that all was not as it seemed.

One reason was that next to the Bloody Fanged Wolf stood none other than Situ Jia Yang, which by itself wasn’t worthy of note. Though once fierce enemies, the Situ Clan and the Bekkies were now the staunchest of allies, mostly thanks to the bond of friendship between the bossman and Situ Jia Zian, but Jia Yang was still the same relentless political animal and would not be so pleased to have been sidelined during such an important offensive. Even more suspicious was the fact that Brigadier Chen Hongji was also present at the front of the tent, humbly positioned a half-step back so as not to overshadow anyone else and wholly comfortable in the arrangement. Hell, knowing Baatar, Hongji had probably moved himself back without the half-wolf noticing, though Jia Yang no doubt saw and appreciated the gesture and would repay it in private.

Jia Yang the politician, Hongji the tactician, and Baatar the stalwart leader, a perfect balance of Officers with each one covering for the weaknesses of the others and poised to bolster their strengths as well. A solid foundation of a command structure indeed...

That wasn’t all. The tent was packed with recognizable faces, Heroes of the Empire one and all. The Wedded Exarches Bralton and Erienne looked savagely resplendent in their tribal garb complete with feathers and face paint aplenty, standing with arms crossed and spears resting as if without a care in the world. Golden Eyed Taiyi ZhuShen was present too, a moniker which fell out of use when his medicinal tests ruined the bright futures of his promising Disciples, but had returned in full force now that Iron Crutch Li TieGuai and the Devilish Duo Tao Zi and Ping Guo were back in fighting form and standing dutifully at their teacher’s side. Won Gwang the Lawgiver lurked in the shadows with his iconic man-catcher polearm at his side, a man who worked in obscurity and renounced all riches so as to avoid any possible accusations of bribery or corruption whilst dispensing justice.

Then Jorani laid eyes on someone who might well be the most dangerous Warrior present. None would think it to look at him, but everyone knew one did not cross the Society and survive through mere luck alone, and this man had done more than cross them. Situ Rang Min, the deposed Patriarch turned Lieutenant Marshal was also present here today, clad in full Runic plate armour even flashier than Jorani’s that made the aged Warrior look no less heroic than Nian Zu himself. Though little was known about the strength of the former Situ Patriarch, this was a man who remained at odds with the Greatest Living Legend of the North for nigh on eight decades now, so one could only assume he could at least put up a good fight, a claim few others could make.

Those were the biggest names in the room that Jorani recognized, but there were plenty of other Warriors of note. Such as the Bekkie Khishigs who were sometimes responsible for guarding the bossman, like the formidable half-bear woman who made Ulfsaar look like a tamed circus bear, standing behind her son the young wolf Huushal. Also present was the tanned, staff-wielding Warrior who spoke with a Western Cant and insisted his name was ‘Gao Liang’ and that he hailed from the North, as well as two Warriors who were so plain and nondescript Jorani just knew they had to be people of note, a suspicion reinforced by how quickly they noticed his eyes upon them. Glancing away, he scanned through the crowd and picked out everyone else he knew, listing them one by one in his mind and putting the pieces of this puzzle together. Chu XinYue, a young up and coming cavalry officer and friend of the bossman. Tam Taewoong, former member of the Hwarang and aide to Hongji. Tong Da Fung, playboy and drunkard capable of trading blows with the Defiled traitor Mitsue Hideo who even Ryo Geom-Chi could not overcome. Li Song, younger sister of Baatar and possibly the bossman’s fifth love interest, sitting primly with her scowling weasel bear dangling from her arms. Situ Jia Zian, looking like a mini Rang Min in his young Patriarch’s armour, a Runic breastplate emblazoned with the ‘Situ’ character across the chest, with a small, engraved ‘Lu’ situated just above the heart, a filial son who respected both his Clan and father.

Add in Jorani himself, the commander of the bossman’s retinue, as well as Mister Rustram, commander of the Legate’s Stormguard, and there was no denying it. The Warriors gathered here were not suitable for defence, or rather were too exceptional to be wasted holding a static and easily defended position.

“Welp,” Old Bulat muttered, his voice low and meant only for Jorani to hear. “Guess we won’t be twiddlin’ our thumbs after all.”

The man was sharp as a spear alright, and it was gratifying to have his suspicions confirmed, so Jorani merely gave his second a knowing smile while wishing he’d thought to dress up like everyone else. When he turned back to face the front however, he caught Lieutenant General Baatar’s eye, and there was a hint of appreciation in those icy orbs of his, so piercing it was as if they never missed a thing. “Thank you all for coming,” he began, and a hush fell over the tent. “As some of you have already surmised, our orders to hold Meng Sha are a ruse. We set out on the morrow. Speed is of the essence, so we travel light. Have your men ready their personal kits and nothing else, as all other necessities will be provided for along the way.” Straight to the point, not at all like how the bossman would do it, dancing around the subject for his own personal enjoyment, which admittedly was one of his worst qualities. The bossman’s father was a no nonsense sort, same as his mother and every other Bekkie it seemed, which really begged the question of where the bossman learned to be so flippant, but that was neither here nor there.

“Where are we going?”

Exarch Bralton was the first to chime in, and while some of the gathered Officers seemed offended by this breach in protocol, Baatar nodded at his old comrade and replied, “Pan Si Xing.” Jia Yang and Hongji both seemed surprised that Baatar would reveal their destination so readily, especially after the great lengths they’d gone to in order to cover their tracks. “I tell you this because every Warrior present is worthy of trust and knows when to hold their tongues, because if you were not, you would not have been chosen to come along.” That won the bossman’s father more than a few points, and Jorani could see why his soldiers respected the man, a straightforward and forthright man who did things in an aboveboard manner. Besides, there was no harm in sharing, because there was no turning back now, as things were already in motion if Jorani’s suspicions were correct.

“We are to take the city with this paltry force alone?”

This time, it was Rang Min who spoke up, and to his credit, Baatar reacted no differently from when Bralton chimed in. “No.” Leaning forward to cast his gaze across the room, Baatar had a way of making eye contact that made it feel as if he was speaking directly to you rather than an entire roomful of people. “Make no mistake, our mission is a difficult one, but one well worth the risk. Rang Min’s implication is correct. We alone are not enough to take and hold Pan Si Xing, nor will we be able to liberate the citizens within from the Enemy’s grasp. Their freedom will have to wait for another day, for our goal is a simple one. Tomorrow, we set out to claim a single head before making our way back to Meng Sha intact. No more, no less, but I believe the Warriors gathered here are more than up to the task.”

The room collectively inhaled as they took in Baatar’s declaration, and the same name likely crossed everyone’s mind, but no one had the courage to say it. Flashing a wolfish grin that sent chills down Jorani’s spine, the Bloody Fanged Wolf nodded in confirmation. “Yes, my Warriors, my soldiers, my heroes of the Empire. Tomorrow, we set out to take the head of none other than the traitor general Bai Qi himself, while Colonel General Nian Zu’s army does battle with Mao Jianghong in Gan Shi and my Mentor trades blows with the Mataram Patriarch in Tian Zangli. Should all three of our forces succeed, then we will have struck a decisive blow and crippled the Defiled command structure in one fell swoop.”

Well damn. Turned out, Jorani was right. Akanai was a damned dormant volcano, only he’d underestimated her ability to hold onto her grievances without erupting. The bossman once said that revenge was a dish best served cold, and Jorani saw that his Grand-Mentor had taken the advice to heart.

There were a few more details to discuss, but Jorani stood silent through it all, because he more or less understood the gist of things. This wasn’t quite a suicide mission, but because as difficult as it would be to bring Bai Qi down, the tricky part of the mission was getting back to Meng Sha in one piece. Though he feared for his life, Jorani found that he was more concerned about the lives of his soldiers, as well as the comrades who would be marching alongside him. There was something else bothering him, something he couldn’t quite figure out, not until long after the meeting was over. He left in muted spirits and set to work readying his troops, but it wasn’t until after dinner was done and he sat down to see what the Monks had crafted today that he realized what was bothering him.

The civilians in Pan Si Xing. They were just going to be left there to suffer under Defiled rule, one which was sure to worsen once Bai Qi was killed. Say what you will about the Lord of Martial Peace, but the title was well deserved, for though he was merciless to his enemies, his people were kept safe so long as they abides by his rules. This didn’t sit right with Jorani, and he knew it wouldn’t sit right with the bossman, but the bossman’s father was in charge, so he didn’t dare bring the matter up.

“You are conflicted.”

Lost in his thoughts, the words didn’t register until long seconds after, at which point he finally responded. “Huh?”

Monk Bones sat down beside Jorani before repeating himself, gesturing at the current monk showing off his latest artwork, a beautifully lifelike painting of a scenic mountain forest. “You’ve not given a single piece a good look, when most nights you stand among the most appreciative of observers. Some of our fellow brothers are understandably upset and wondering if their work is not up to standard.”

“Can’t make nothin’ even a tenth as good as what you all can,” Jorani replied, offering a sheepish shrug to hide his embarrassment. “Just distracted is all.”

“By inner conflict, yes. We established this already.” Pausing to give Jorani a chance to speak, Monk Bones only continued when it was clear he had nothing else to say. “So the bloodshed is set to begin anew, and you will be leaving us soon enough eh?”

“What? No.” How did he know? Was Monk Bones spying on him?

Seeing through Jorani’s suspicion, Monk Bones rolled his eyes and shook his head. “The whole fortress has been abuzz about their deployment orders, and I am not so old as to go blind and deaf just yet. You spent the day preparing your troops for travel, so it’s not a far stretch to assume you’re going somewhere. That’s what soldiers do, is it not? March and kill, kill and march. Hardly the best use of your limited time on this material world or your miraculous ability to wield the Energies of the Heavens, is it not?”

Picturing the atrocities he saw take place on the fields outside Castle JiangHu, Jorani’s throat tightened in rage at the memory of how far the traitor general had fallen. “Well, some men need killing.”

“It pains this monk to hear you speak these words with such conviction. All life is sacred, and any harm you inflict upon others will quickly be reflected back to you, if not in a physical manner, then a spiritual one.”

The monk showing off his painting had long since stopped, and they were all watching Jorani instead now, so he shook his head to clear his thoughts and said, “Yea, I don’t disagree, but even then, it’s a price worth paying.”

“And what will this killing accomplish?”

“The death of a faithless murderer.”

Jorani was careful not to go into specifics, but he had a feeling that Monk Bones already knew it all as he shrugged and said, “Another will take his place.”

“Then I will take up arms against them as well, until there are none left to succeed.”

“Or there is nothing left of yourself to give.” Giving it a moment of thought, Jorani simply nodded in agreement, to which Monk Bones responded, “And how do you reconcile this killing with your conscience? You have seen firsthand that the Defiled are not monsters in human flesh as the Empire would have you believe, yet now you embark upon a journey to slaughter them wholesale.”

“Aye, yer right there, but I ain’t got an answer to share. There’s killing to be done, and I’ll not take any joy from it, but even if there are Defiled out there who could be convinced to change their ways, I would sooner kill them to save the innocent civilians suffering under their rule instead.”

“And if you save someone who should not be saved? Someone who later goes on to commit some heinous atrocity?”

“I can only take responsibility fer my own actions,” Jorani replied, shaking his head at how ridiculous the question was. “I see a person in need, then I’ll save em. Ain’t my fault if he sets a town on fire later on.” Then again, knowing the bossman, he probably would feel responsible and blame himself for not seeing through a stranger’s moral fibre before saving them. The idiot.

“So is this why you fight, Jorani of Sanshu? To save others? How many have you saved with your spears and swords?” Throwing his hands up in the air, Monk Bones snarled and said, “If you wish to save people, then you would be better served pursuing a different Path instead, but still you insist on this one. You have no love for this soldier’s life you’ve embarked on, no lust for glory and bloodshed, yet you resist all attempts to sway you from it. You are a man in love with life itself, still yet to experience all it has to offer, and yet you run headlong down this Path which even you yourself know you are unsuited for. Why put yourself through this pain? Why pursue this Path to its inevitable end when you could instead seek out a new Path and purpose?”

This time, Jorani was at a loss for words, because never before had the monks put him on the spot like this. It was always, ‘Why do you seek strength’, an almost rhetorical question meant to make him think about his motivations, but now, Monk Bones was all but demanding an answer. Justice? No, he wasn’t that good a person, driven by a need to help others. Duty? Ha. If the Mother Above wanted him to fight the Defiled, then She should have made him stronger and braver to begin with. Obligation?

...

Yea... that was pretty much it.

“I walk this Path because the bossman needs me,” Jorani said, marvelling at how the answer had been right before his eyes all this time and still somehow escaped his notice. “He has his Path, and it just so happens, I want to help him along it.”

“We all must walk our own Path,” Monk Bones intoned, and Jorani nodded in agreement.

“True enough.” Since he didn’t know where the bossman was at the moment, Jorani leaned back and looked up at the night sky, feeling a sense of relief and contentment he hadn’t even known he needed before sharing his driving motivation to the Brotherhood. “But that don’t mean we can’t all use a helping hand every once in a while. The bossman would probably laugh if he heard this, and he’d be the first to tell me I’m a fool for tryin’ to follow him. Ye know he offered to let me out of my contract? Said he’d be happy to set me up fer a cushy life away from soldierin’ if that’s what I wanted, and damned if he didn’t mean it.” Chuckling under his breath, Jorani reminisced about those dark days with a smile, because now he could wholly appreciate what the bossman had done for him, and the faith the man still had even after all that.

“So why did you refuse?” Monk Happy asked.

“Because like I said, the bossman needs me.” Shrugging, Jorani continued, “He’s the type to shoulder the world’s burdens on his own without so much as a peep, then complain about how difficult it was once the danger passes. He’s a strange sort ye know, real similar to you lot, except where you all work to elevate yerselves above the red dust of the lowly mortal world, he strives to improve the world itself as a whole. That’s why I respect him so much, because his grand vision ain’t just focused on him.”

“You think our Path selfish?”

Monk Bones asked the question without heat or accusation, but the other monks stiffened in defensive silence. That didn’t dissuade Jorani one bit though, because he felt it truly needed to be said. “Ain’t it? Ye’ve cut yerselves off from the rest of the world in order to pursue the Noble Eight-fold Path, because ye think living around other mortals makes it too difficult to succeed. The former Wisdom even went so far as to believe the world would be better off if everythin’ was rendered into nihility, because either we’d all be freed from this mortal prison or he’d be left undisturbed to pursue his Path.” Holding up a hand to forestall Monk Bones’ argument, Jorani added, “I know, I know, none of ye here agree with his take, else ye’d have run off to join him, but none of ye are doin’ anything to stop him either.” Casting his gaze across the crowd in his best imitation of the bossman’s father, Jorani chose his next words carefully. “Ye all go on and on about the Right View, Right Intent, Right Speech, and whatnot, but ain’t none of you stopped to consider what’s right. The former Wisdom has joined hands with a monster in an effort to eradicate all life. The way I see it, the right thing to do would be stand up and stop him, and I only know one way how.”

“If our aid is needed, then the Heavens will guide us there.”

“Maybe I’m wrong and yer right.” Shrugging, Jorani scratched his chin and said, “But what if the Heavens have been tryin’ to do just that, but you lot are just refusing to move? I mean, yer all here because the Enemy came to yer doorstep in an attempt to kill the Abbot. Ye’ve seen the death and sufferin’ the Enemy is dealin’ out firsthand, but all ye do is beat yer drums and say yer prayers. Don’t know about you, but I’d say them poor souls in LuZhou needed a damn sight more than just prayers.” A hurtful statement Jorani never intended to make, but it slipped out amidst his frustrations. Still, he didn’t want to hurt the monks or guilt them to action, so he lowered his head in shame and continued, “I dunno. It ain’t yer fault, but I’m just a simple bandit turned soldier, ye know? Someone draws a blade on me or mine, well, I only know how to draw a blade to match. That’s me, but the bossman, at least he draws his blade with purpose. The rest of the province turned a blind eye to the West, but the bossman, he ain’t one to rest on his laurels and only do what’s good fer him. It’s mostly a matter of motivation, ye know? You all see the world fer what it is, and ask ‘why?’. The bossman sees what could be, and asks, ‘why not?’. He’s more than a little in love with bloodshed, but knowin’ him, he’d happily hang his weapons on the wall and do good instead if there weren’t any need for conflict. That’s why I follow him, because he means to change the world for the better, and I think I can help get him just a little bit closer to his goal, even if it costs me somethin’ I can never get back.”

“And what will you do when he fails or succeeds?” Monk Bones asked, ignoring the silent exchange going on around him to focus solely on Jorani alone. “Should you both survive to the ends of your lives, chances are you will outlive him by four centuries at the least.”

“Dunno.” Shrugging, Jorani said, “I’ll figure it out when I get there, ye know? One step at a time, ye know?”

And there was the answer to the question he had yet to ask, of what he would do when he arrived in Pan Si Xing and saw all those people suffering under Defiled rule. It was still a hypothetical for now, so he’d answer that question if it came up later and just do as his conscience demanded. That’s what the bossman would do, so if it was good enough for him, then it sure as hell was good enough for Jorani. “Alright,” he said, after a few minutes passed without any questions from the Brotherhood. Dusting his hands off as he came to his feet, he knelt down to look Monk Bones in the eyes. “I know I said some things that might ruffle some feathers, but that’s just the way I see em. You have your right view, and I’ve settled on mine, because even though I ain’t cut out fer the soldierin’ life, a soldier is what I am. That’s the plain and simple truth it is, and so’s this. I respect ye all and what yer tryin’ to do, but yer Path just ain’t fer me, not now, ye know? I can’t just walk away from the people who depend on me, especially not now.” Without Jorani around, the retinue would have to rely on Old Bulat to get them home in one piece, and Jorani shuddered to think of the disaster just waiting to happen. Plus, Ral wouldn’t go, he was born to soldier, no rising dragon but a fierce guard dog at the very least, a Warrior Jorani was proud to call friend. Taking Monk Bones’ hand, Jorani clasped it in both of his own and said, “Welp... guess this is goodbye. If I make it back from this alive and outlive the bossman, then maybe I’ll come find ye and give the monk life a real try. I’d like that, I think, and it’d be nice if it fit, but who knows, ye know?”

Jorani was rambling now, but only because he didn’t know how to say what he truly wanted to say, to thank Monk Bones and the other monks of the Brotherhood for showing him so much care. That he so desperately wanted to want to be a monk, but even putting castration aside, it didn’t make sense for him to try. That if not for the war and the bossman’s needs, Jorani would still give it a shot anyways, because the monks were like a second family to him, one he was loath to part with under such strained terms. So instead, he bowed over the monk’s hands as a show of contrition, and then quickly walked away before his emotions got the better of him. Sleep was what he needed now, restful, peaceful sleep in his officer’s tent, because Heavens knows there’d be precious little of it in the days to come.

Come morning, Jorani woke with the rising sun and emerged from his tent to find Monk Bones and most of the other monks waiting outside. “Ye here to see me off?” he asked, touched by the gesture and choking back a sob. “Well, ye shouldn’t. My leavin’ is supposed to be a secret and all, so ye’ll get me in trouble if ye give the game away.”

“No,” Monk Bones replied, and Jorani’s stomach flip-flopped in nervous anxiety, worried they were here to denounce him instead. “You are a most promising initiate of the Brotherhood, so how can we let you march into danger unassisted?”

“What?”

“We cannot and will not fight unless forced to,” Monk Bones continued, ignoring Jorani’s dumbstruck expression. “But we will not slow the army down and can assist with Healing and scouting if need be, so do not hesitate to make use of us in such a manner.” Smiling as he patted Jorani on the shoulder, Monk Bone’s switched to Sending and said, “You did well, convincing the Brotherhood to revise our views. We sought to elevate ourselves above the red dust of the mortal world, but while our goal most certainly sits high overhead, we ourselves are still mortal yet, and thus undeniably have a stake in the world below. Recent events have shown us as much, but we have been too stubborn to see it, much less respond to the call to act, but you are right. While conducting funeral rites is a hallowed duty, I do believe we can be of more use in other ways, and our brothers agree.”

Leaving Jorani no room to dispute, Monk Bones stepped aside and disappeared into Concealment, bringing with him the rest of the monks as well save for Happy, who was standing slightly askew because Kukky was pressed up against him with eyes wide in concern. Glancing up at the smiling, rotund man, Jorani opened his mouth to say something, closed it, then opened it again before finally opting to keep his mouth shut. Whatever. If the monks were willing to help, then who was he to reject them? “C’mon,” he said, trudging over to where Old Bulat and Daxian were already hard at work getting the retinue ready to set out. “Got a long trip ahead of us, so don’t say I didn’t warn ye.”

At the very least, Jorani could rest easy knowing there’d be a second Divinity looking out for him, one far more reliable than his sire. Amazing that, Jorani of Sanshu, a half-rat Warrior of no renown having not one, but two Divinities to guard him. Such was life. He wasn’t sure where this Path would lead him, but he intended to follow it through, not just for the bossman’s sake, but for his own too, because hopefully, at the end of it all, he would find that he had become a better man.

Chapter Meme