Chapter 268
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Chapter 268
Tightening the straps of his weighted pack, Dastan sprinted down the mountain paths, following behind the Mothers chosen Son. Growing up around Uncle Diyako, Dastan was used to seeing new inventions each passing month, but rarely had he come across something so simple and effective. An incredible thing these strap buckles, far superior to drawstrings or fasteners. A pull of the strap to tighten and a lift of the buckle to loosen, these little rectangular objects allowed him to secure a two-hundred kilo pack to his back and waist in seconds with minimal discomfort, even whilst running full-tilt down uneven paths. Fathers letters were filled with praise for these buckles, using them in a myriad of ways from horse saddles to securing cargo.
Yet another ingenious innovation birthed from the brilliant mind of Falling Rain.
With a yearling cub draped over his shoulders in place of a weighted pack, the boss made for an outlandish sight, but such were the eccentricities of genius. It seemed he was always in the midst of Inspiration, even capable of Inspiring others with a casual observation or question, the Mothers attention was undoubtedly focused upon Her most favoured son and those around him. Dastan himself benefited first-hand from the bosss instruction, forming his Natal Palace a month before turning twenty-three, placing him near the forefront of historys youngest experts.
All thanks to a drunken slip of the tongue from Falling Rain, who at nineteen years of age, was the youngest person in the history of the Empire to Condense his Aura, become a Second Grade Warrant Officer, and form his Natal Palace.
The memory of Dastans first glimpse into the mind of a genius was still fresh. The boss invited him to a feast celebrating young magistrate Fung adding his name to the roll of experts of the Empire. Birds of a feather, the boss took great pains to never treat Dastan like a slave and Fung followed suit, even magnanimously overlooking Dastans part in the death of his retinue. Seated next to Han BoShui who similarly treated him like a comrade, Dastan feasted on delectable delicacies and drank expensive wines, laughing and chatting as if he still held his former status as a Warrant Officer of the Empire. As the hour grew late and guests adjourned for the night, only the boss, Han BoShui, and Dastan remained, with even the serving girls retiring at Lady Sumilas command. Even then Dastan wasnt relegated to the role of a servant, with each of them taking turns to pour wine for the others.
Though Dastan had resolved to not let his Oaths burden him, Falling Rain made it almost effortless. A better life than he deserved thanks to the Mothers Chosen Son, this was a debt he could never repay.
For how can you put a price on dignity?
Deep in his cups and barely able to sit upright, Fung lamented the lack of women as he lay at the bosss side. Dastan was accustomed to Fungs obvious pretense, playing the part of a womanizing young master who was rarely seen in the company of women. It was clear there was something going on between the boss and Fung, the two of them closer than appropriate for two young men, but Dastan didnt mind. It was a shame they felt the need to hide their affection for one another, but such was life.
Good. Send all the women away, better we suffer together, BoShui slurred as he filled everyones cup. Women are a distraction I can no longer afford. A Natal Palace at twenty years old, young magistrate Fung you make me feel ashamed for ever thinking myself a genius. In a few weeks, Ill be twenty-five and Ive yet to even touch upon forming my Natal Palace. I envy your good fortune, so as penance, drink this cup.
Good! More wine dribbled down Fungs chin than into his mouth, but not for lack of trying. Sighing mournfully, the young magistrate shook his head, his eyes staring off into the distance. You call it good fortune and I cannot refute, but know this: it did not come without cost. My Mentor is a harsh taskmistress.
Mhmm, and what a lovely taskmistress, BoShui snickered. Id gladly suffer her attentions even if it didnt help with my Natal Palace.
Striving to look offended, Fung pouted as they howled with laughter. See? Rain gasped, clapping Fung on the shoulder. BoShui gets it. A beautiful, stern, older woman teaching and guiding you, yet all you do is complain. You dont know how lucky you are.
Oh? Martial Nephew, if you feel so strongly about it, Ill speak with Mentor in the morning and tell her all about how much you miss her attentions.
Blanching, Rain shook his head and pleaded for mercy. Refilling everyones cups to distract from the bosss dilemma, Dastan lifted his cup for a toast. Drink, then share your wisdom with us poor uneducated souls. Draining his cup in one go, he wiped his chin and asked, What was it like, forming your Natal Palace? Without a Mentor, Dastan needed all the help he could get. Sparring with his peers and experts was a great help to his Martial Skills, but he was at a loss on how to proceed along the Martial Path.
Gruelling and exhausting, Fung replied.
Rain simultaneously answered, Pretty easy. Three sets of eyes stared at Rain in disbelief, as this was the first time hed ever spoken of his accomplishment. Slapping his forehead, he said, Oops. I wasnt supposed to tell anyone. Shhhh, its a secret. No Natal Palace here.
BoShui was the first to find his voice, speaking in a loud whisper. What? How? You.. Youre what? Eighteen years old? Must you be so domineering? Can you not leave me a shred of confidence?
Easy? Fung asked, his mouth agape. Do you know how much I suffered to build my mental fortitude and learn to split my focus? Walking across hot coals carrying buckets of wet sand, pummelled with paddles for hours while standing in horse-stance, treading water in full armour with Mentor standing on my shoulders, all while answering inane, complicated questions without rest?
Dastan had no questions to ask, as hed long grown accustomed to Rains greatness.
Or so he thought. Rains next sentence made Dastan choke on his drink. Huh... izzat how you do it? With suffering and split focus? I dont even know how I did it.
Situ Jia Zian arrived next, striding over with nose upturned and cloak flowing behind him. Will Sumila be joining us today? He spoke without sparing Song a glance, as if the withered, snow-covered branches held all the secrets to the Martial Path and he couldnt bear to look away.
Shifting so she could brush Erdenes belly, Song shrugged, knowing Zian wouldnt see her reply. After a long pause, he huffed in displeasure before storming inside with his lips curled in a snarl. Smiling, she brought to mind the look of shock on his girlish features after a defeat, hoping to see it once more during todays spar. This would mark their 116th match, with her record standing at 45 victories and 70 losses, not even a 40% win rate. Arrogant and girlish though he might be, Zian was a fearsome foe, his twin blades holding every advantage over her single saber.
It wasnt as simple as grabbing a second weapon to spar with. While she was capable of dual-wielding sabers with a modicum of competence, she suffered a net loss in overall strength. Her strongest attacks resulted from changing a one-handed grip to a two-handed grip, or vice versa. This allowed her to vary her range and angle of attack mid-strike, keeping her opponent on the defensive after seizing the initiative. Unfortunately, Zian was too adept at seeing through her attacks, able to block, parry, or Deflect her saber with ease.
Even Rain and BoShui were catching on, respectively winning 30 and 19 matches against her. BoShui was easily the worst of the seven, but not without reason. His twin gauntlets were excellent armor and weapons, but without greaves, knee, and elbow guards, he lacked the full range of options available to an empty-handed combatant. Rains poor results angered Mama and Mila beyond reason, but Song understood why. He used these spars to perfect a different style, a hyper-aggressive, overwhelming approach to combat. Extremely effective against weaker opponents, it suffered when used against a foe of equal or greater skill but his rate of improvement was astounding, clawing his way to the middle of the group after a long streak of early defeats.
Martial Brother Fung was another difficult opponent, sitting at 41 victories as he grew accustomed to abusing his superior range and power. Only his poor stamina held him back and Mama was working him hard to mend his failings, whereupon he would become a force to be reckoned with. Then there was the crafty, powerful Dastan, defeating her 56 times for an almost 50% win rate, the repeated blows of his powerful axe often smashing her saber from her shaky grasp. While Song ranked third behind Sister and Zian, her position was nowhere near unshakable. With each day, her opponents advanced in both strength and cunning while her progress had stalled, a troublesome development.
The question often crossed her mind these past weeks, wondering how she could improve her strength. Sister asked her to come up with a request for her second Spiritual Weapon, but Song didnt know what would be best. A second saber meant the end of her endless, ever-changing assault, while a different weapon would require time to master, as demonstrated by Martial Brother Fung. Perhaps she could be like Khishig Tursinai and learn the ways of the chain and sickle, or master Guiding and Rebounding with a throwing dagger like Khishig Tenjin. A polearm would help her fight from quinback, while a gauntlet would allow her to keep her saber style, but offer nothing else.
Song wasnt accustomed to making life-altering decisions. If only she could ask Teacher Du what he had planned for her, that would be the best.
Hello Song, sorry were late, Rain said, arriving slightly out of breath with Banjo peering out over his shoulder.
Laughing as the other animals rushed in to greet her, Song butted heads with the tired wildcats and gave the lazy Baloo a pat as he laid in the wagon, all while surrendering the treats she had stored on her person. Enough, she said as Aurie wrapped his paws around her waist, making little noises of protest. I've no more treats. Down. Nodding at Rain, she finally replied, Not late, but the others are waiting, aside from Sister.
Probably lost track of time again. I should get her a watch, but Im not sure I can afford one anymore. Ill check in on her after we spar, care to join me?
No, I have other plans. Papa was the same way. If it werent for the lack of binding materials, hed stay at the forge ten days a week, crafting until his arms gave out.
Busy, busy, busy, Rain said, oblivious to her thoughts. You never rest, do you? Well, to each their own. Shall we? Ignoring his gesture for her to proceed, she stood and watched his transformation. Closing his eyes, Rain exhaled slowly, a full count of five before he finished. Tranquil and carefree, he stood with shoulders slouched, hands open, knees bent, and smile wide, giving off the impression of a relaxed, harmless young man.
Then, in the blink of an eye, everything changed.
It was almost imperceptible, the differences negligible, but Song noticed them all the same. His body filled with tension as his muscles strained and stretched, a tiny vein in his neck set to pulsing. The smile flipped into subtle frown while the corner of his eyes tightened as he clenched his jaw. His previously dangling arms cocked and readied, with a hand on his sword hilt and the other free to strike. His posture straightened, shoulders squared, and knees locked as his nose pointed sky-ward, the harmless young man replaced by a bow drawn taut, a blade unsheathed, a dragon unrestrained.
Of course, Banjos silly, open-mouthed smile ruined the whole image, peering over Rain's shoulder as he clung to Rains torso with all four paws.
Opening his eyes, Rains gaze shot down towards her covered bosom and legs before turning aside, heading in without motioning for Dastan or the pets to follow. So strange. Which one was the real Rain? The kind, compassionate philanthropist who treated Sister so well, or the arrogant, domineering warrior who objectified Song and every other woman who entered his gaze? Was he even aware of the changes? Perhaps it was merely his warriors mindset, with bloodshed and lust so closely linked. Generously forgiving his errant glance, Song led the pets inside, focusing on the battles ahead.
After winning all her matches, Song hummed a little tune beneath her breath as she brought Erdene and Sarankho to the market, wondering what to buy for Papa. He often skipped lunch and dinner while working, so it had to be both filling and nourishing. After purchasing a large rice box with a double serving of meat and vegetables, she stopped to pick up a jar of fruit wine and some custard egg tarts to satisfy Papas sweet tooth, all paid for with her own coin.
By the end of the month, she hoped to stop flinching every time he moved within arms length.
Because like Mama and Sister, Papa was family too. She had nothing to fear from him.
Chapter Meme
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Chapter 268
Tightening the straps of his weighted pack, Dastan sprinted down the mountain paths, following behind the Mothers chosen Son. Growing up around Uncle Diyako, Dastan was used to seeing new inventions each passing month, but rarely had he come across something so simple and effective. An incredible thing these strap buckles, far superior to drawstrings or fasteners. A pull of the strap to tighten and a lift of the buckle to loosen, these little rectangular objects allowed him to secure a two-hundred kilo pack to his back and waist in seconds with minimal discomfort, even whilst running full-tilt down uneven paths. Fathers letters were filled with praise for these buckles, using them in a myriad of ways from horse saddles to securing cargo.
Yet another ingenious innovation birthed from the brilliant mind of Falling Rain.
With a yearling cub draped over his shoulders in place of a weighted pack, the boss made for an outlandish sight, but such were the eccentricities of genius. It seemed he was always in the midst of Inspiration, even capable of Inspiring others with a casual observation or question, the Mothers attention was undoubtedly focused upon Her most favoured son and those around him. Dastan himself benefited first-hand from the bosss instruction, forming his Natal Palace a month before turning twenty-three, placing him near the forefront of historys youngest experts.
All thanks to a drunken slip of the tongue from Falling Rain, who at nineteen years of age, was the youngest person in the history of the Empire to Condense his Aura, become a Second Grade Warrant Officer, and form his Natal Palace.
The memory of Dastans first glimpse into the mind of a genius was still fresh. The boss invited him to a feast celebrating young magistrate Fung adding his name to the roll of experts of the Empire. Birds of a feather, the boss took great pains to never treat Dastan like a slave and Fung followed suit, even magnanimously overlooking Dastans part in the death of his retinue. Seated next to Han BoShui who similarly treated him like a comrade, Dastan feasted on delectable delicacies and drank expensive wines, laughing and chatting as if he still held his former status as a Warrant Officer of the Empire. As the hour grew late and guests adjourned for the night, only the boss, Han BoShui, and Dastan remained, with even the serving girls retiring at Lady Sumilas command. Even then Dastan wasnt relegated to the role of a servant, with each of them taking turns to pour wine for the others.
Though Dastan had resolved to not let his Oaths burden him, Falling Rain made it almost effortless. A better life than he deserved thanks to the Mothers Chosen Son, this was a debt he could never repay.
For how can you put a price on dignity?
Deep in his cups and barely able to sit upright, Fung lamented the lack of women as he lay at the bosss side. Dastan was accustomed to Fungs obvious pretense, playing the part of a womanizing young master who was rarely seen in the company of women. It was clear there was something going on between the boss and Fung, the two of them closer than appropriate for two young men, but Dastan didnt mind. It was a shame they felt the need to hide their affection for one another, but such was life.
Good. Send all the women away, better we suffer together, BoShui slurred as he filled everyones cup. Women are a distraction I can no longer afford. A Natal Palace at twenty years old, young magistrate Fung you make me feel ashamed for ever thinking myself a genius. In a few weeks, Ill be twenty-five and Ive yet to even touch upon forming my Natal Palace. I envy your good fortune, so as penance, drink this cup.
Good! More wine dribbled down Fungs chin than into his mouth, but not for lack of trying. Sighing mournfully, the young magistrate shook his head, his eyes staring off into the distance. You call it good fortune and I cannot refute, but know this: it did not come without cost. My Mentor is a harsh taskmistress.
Mhmm, and what a lovely taskmistress, BoShui snickered. Id gladly suffer her attentions even if it didnt help with my Natal Palace.
Striving to look offended, Fung pouted as they howled with laughter. See? Rain gasped, clapping Fung on the shoulder. BoShui gets it. A beautiful, stern, older woman teaching and guiding you, yet all you do is complain. You dont know how lucky you are.
Oh? Martial Nephew, if you feel so strongly about it, Ill speak with Mentor in the morning and tell her all about how much you miss her attentions.
Blanching, Rain shook his head and pleaded for mercy. Refilling everyones cups to distract from the bosss dilemma, Dastan lifted his cup for a toast. Drink, then share your wisdom with us poor uneducated souls. Draining his cup in one go, he wiped his chin and asked, What was it like, forming your Natal Palace? Without a Mentor, Dastan needed all the help he could get. Sparring with his peers and experts was a great help to his Martial Skills, but he was at a loss on how to proceed along the Martial Path.
Gruelling and exhausting, Fung replied.
Rain simultaneously answered, Pretty easy. Three sets of eyes stared at Rain in disbelief, as this was the first time hed ever spoken of his accomplishment. Slapping his forehead, he said, Oops. I wasnt supposed to tell anyone. Shhhh, its a secret. No Natal Palace here.
BoShui was the first to find his voice, speaking in a loud whisper. What? How? You.. Youre what? Eighteen years old? Must you be so domineering? Can you not leave me a shred of confidence?
Easy? Fung asked, his mouth agape. Do you know how much I suffered to build my mental fortitude and learn to split my focus? Walking across hot coals carrying buckets of wet sand, pummelled with paddles for hours while standing in horse-stance, treading water in full armour with Mentor standing on my shoulders, all while answering inane, complicated questions without rest?
Dastan had no questions to ask, as hed long grown accustomed to Rains greatness.
Or so he thought. Rains next sentence made Dastan choke on his drink. Huh... izzat how you do it? With suffering and split focus? I dont even know how I did it.
Situ Jia Zian arrived next, striding over with nose upturned and cloak flowing behind him. Will Sumila be joining us today? He spoke without sparing Song a glance, as if the withered, snow-covered branches held all the secrets to the Martial Path and he couldnt bear to look away.
Shifting so she could brush Erdenes belly, Song shrugged, knowing Zian wouldnt see her reply. After a long pause, he huffed in displeasure before storming inside with his lips curled in a snarl. Smiling, she brought to mind the look of shock on his girlish features after a defeat, hoping to see it once more during todays spar. This would mark their 116th match, with her record standing at 45 victories and 70 losses, not even a 40% win rate. Arrogant and girlish though he might be, Zian was a fearsome foe, his twin blades holding every advantage over her single saber.
It wasnt as simple as grabbing a second weapon to spar with. While she was capable of dual-wielding sabers with a modicum of competence, she suffered a net loss in overall strength. Her strongest attacks resulted from changing a one-handed grip to a two-handed grip, or vice versa. This allowed her to vary her range and angle of attack mid-strike, keeping her opponent on the defensive after seizing the initiative. Unfortunately, Zian was too adept at seeing through her attacks, able to block, parry, or Deflect her saber with ease.
Even Rain and BoShui were catching on, respectively winning 30 and 19 matches against her. BoShui was easily the worst of the seven, but not without reason. His twin gauntlets were excellent armor and weapons, but without greaves, knee, and elbow guards, he lacked the full range of options available to an empty-handed combatant. Rains poor results angered Mama and Mila beyond reason, but Song understood why. He used these spars to perfect a different style, a hyper-aggressive, overwhelming approach to combat. Extremely effective against weaker opponents, it suffered when used against a foe of equal or greater skill but his rate of improvement was astounding, clawing his way to the middle of the group after a long streak of early defeats.
Martial Brother Fung was another difficult opponent, sitting at 41 victories as he grew accustomed to abusing his superior range and power. Only his poor stamina held him back and Mama was working him hard to mend his failings, whereupon he would become a force to be reckoned with. Then there was the crafty, powerful Dastan, defeating her 56 times for an almost 50% win rate, the repeated blows of his powerful axe often smashing her saber from her shaky grasp. While Song ranked third behind Sister and Zian, her position was nowhere near unshakable. With each day, her opponents advanced in both strength and cunning while her progress had stalled, a troublesome development.
The question often crossed her mind these past weeks, wondering how she could improve her strength. Sister asked her to come up with a request for her second Spiritual Weapon, but Song didnt know what would be best. A second saber meant the end of her endless, ever-changing assault, while a different weapon would require time to master, as demonstrated by Martial Brother Fung. Perhaps she could be like Khishig Tursinai and learn the ways of the chain and sickle, or master Guiding and Rebounding with a throwing dagger like Khishig Tenjin. A polearm would help her fight from quinback, while a gauntlet would allow her to keep her saber style, but offer nothing else.
Song wasnt accustomed to making life-altering decisions. If only she could ask Teacher Du what he had planned for her, that would be the best.
Hello Song, sorry were late, Rain said, arriving slightly out of breath with Banjo peering out over his shoulder.
Laughing as the other animals rushed in to greet her, Song butted heads with the tired wildcats and gave the lazy Baloo a pat as he laid in the wagon, all while surrendering the treats she had stored on her person. Enough, she said as Aurie wrapped his paws around her waist, making little noises of protest. I've no more treats. Down. Nodding at Rain, she finally replied, Not late, but the others are waiting, aside from Sister.
Probably lost track of time again. I should get her a watch, but Im not sure I can afford one anymore. Ill check in on her after we spar, care to join me?
No, I have other plans. Papa was the same way. If it werent for the lack of binding materials, hed stay at the forge ten days a week, crafting until his arms gave out.
Busy, busy, busy, Rain said, oblivious to her thoughts. You never rest, do you? Well, to each their own. Shall we? Ignoring his gesture for her to proceed, she stood and watched his transformation. Closing his eyes, Rain exhaled slowly, a full count of five before he finished. Tranquil and carefree, he stood with shoulders slouched, hands open, knees bent, and smile wide, giving off the impression of a relaxed, harmless young man.
Then, in the blink of an eye, everything changed.
It was almost imperceptible, the differences negligible, but Song noticed them all the same. His body filled with tension as his muscles strained and stretched, a tiny vein in his neck set to pulsing. The smile flipped into subtle frown while the corner of his eyes tightened as he clenched his jaw. His previously dangling arms cocked and readied, with a hand on his sword hilt and the other free to strike. His posture straightened, shoulders squared, and knees locked as his nose pointed sky-ward, the harmless young man replaced by a bow drawn taut, a blade unsheathed, a dragon unrestrained.
Of course, Banjos silly, open-mouthed smile ruined the whole image, peering over Rain's shoulder as he clung to Rains torso with all four paws.
Opening his eyes, Rains gaze shot down towards her covered bosom and legs before turning aside, heading in without motioning for Dastan or the pets to follow. So strange. Which one was the real Rain? The kind, compassionate philanthropist who treated Sister so well, or the arrogant, domineering warrior who objectified Song and every other woman who entered his gaze? Was he even aware of the changes? Perhaps it was merely his warriors mindset, with bloodshed and lust so closely linked. Generously forgiving his errant glance, Song led the pets inside, focusing on the battles ahead.
After winning all her matches, Song hummed a little tune beneath her breath as she brought Erdene and Sarankho to the market, wondering what to buy for Papa. He often skipped lunch and dinner while working, so it had to be both filling and nourishing. After purchasing a large rice box with a double serving of meat and vegetables, she stopped to pick up a jar of fruit wine and some custard egg tarts to satisfy Papas sweet tooth, all paid for with her own coin.
By the end of the month, she hoped to stop flinching every time he moved within arms length.
Because like Mama and Sister, Papa was family too. She had nothing to fear from him.
Chapter Meme
Chapter 268Tightening the straps of his weighted pack, Dastan sprinted down the mountain paths, following behind the Mothers chosen Son. Growing up around Uncle Diyako, Dastan was used to seeing new inventions each passing month, but rarely had he come across something so simple and effective. An incredible thing these strap buckles, far superior to drawstrings or fasteners. A pull of the strap to tighten and a lift of the buckle to loosen, these little rectangular objects allowed him to secure a two-hundred kilo pack to his back and waist in seconds with minimal discomfort, even whilst running full-tilt down uneven paths. Fathers letters were filled with praise for these buckles, using them in a myriad of ways from horse saddles to securing cargo.Yet another ingenious innovation birthed from the brilliant mind of Falling Rain.With a yearling cub draped over his shoulders in place of a weighted pack, the boss made for an outlandish sight, but such were the eccentricities of genius. It seemed he was always in the midst of Inspiration, even capable of Inspiring others with a casual observation or question, the Mothers attention was undoubtedly focused upon Her most favoured son and those around him. Dastan himself benefited first-hand from the bosss instruction, forming his Natal Palace a month before turning twenty-three, placing him near the forefront of historys youngest experts.All thanks to a drunken slip of the tongue from Falling Rain, who at nineteen years of age, was the youngest person in the history of the Empire to Condense his Aura, become a Second Grade Warrant Officer, and form his Natal Palace.The memory of Dastans first glimpse into the mind of a genius was still fresh. The boss invited him to a feast celebrating young magistrate Fung adding his name to the roll of experts of the Empire. Birds of a feather, the boss took great pains to never treat Dastan like a slave and Fung followed suit, even magnanimously overlooking Dastans part in the death of his retinue. Seated next to Han BoShui who similarly treated him like a comrade, Dastan feasted on delectable delicacies and drank expensive wines, laughing and chatting as if he still held his former status as a Warrant Officer of the Empire. As the hour grew late and guests adjourned for the night, only the boss, Han BoShui, and Dastan remained, with even the serving girls retiring at Lady Sumilas command. Even then Dastan wasnt relegated to the role of a servant, with each of them taking turns to pour wine for the others.Though Dastan had resolved to not let his Oaths burden him, Falling Rain made it almost effortless. A better life than he deserved thanks to the Mothers Chosen Son, this was a debt he could never repay.For how can you put a price on dignity?Deep in his cups and barely able to sit upright, Fung lamented the lack of women as he lay at the bosss side. Dastan was accustomed to Fungs obvious pretense, playing the part of a womanizing young master who was rarely seen in the company of women. It was clear there was something going on between the boss and Fung, the two of them closer than appropriate for two young men, but Dastan didnt mind. It was a shame they felt the need to hide their affection for one another, but such was life.Good. Send all the women away, better we suffer together, BoShui slurred as he filled everyones cup. Women are a distraction I can no longer afford. A Natal Palace at twenty years old, young magistrate Fung you make me feel ashamed for ever thinking myself a genius. In a few weeks, Ill be twenty-five and Ive yet to even touch upon forming my Natal Palace. I envy your good fortune, so as penance, drink this cup.Good! More wine dribbled down Fungs chin than into his mouth, but not for lack of trying. Sighing mournfully, the young magistrate shook his head, his eyes staring off into the distance. You call it good fortune and I cannot refute, but know this: it did not come without cost. My Mentor is a harsh taskmistress.Mhmm, and what a lovely taskmistress, BoShui snickered. Id gladly suffer her attentions even if it didnt help with my Natal Palace.Striving to look offended, Fung pouted as they howled with laughter. See? Rain gasped, clapping Fung on the shoulder. BoShui gets it. A beautiful, stern, older woman teaching and guiding you, yet all you do is complain. You dont know how lucky you are.Oh? Martial Nephew, if you feel so strongly about it, Ill speak with Mentor in the morning and tell her all about how much you miss her attentions.Blanching, Rain shook his head and pleaded for mercy. Refilling everyones cups to distract from the bosss dilemma, Dastan lifted his cup for a toast. Drink, then share your wisdom with us poor uneducated souls. Draining his cup in one go, he wiped his chin and asked, What was it like, forming your Natal Palace? Without a Mentor, Dastan needed all the help he could get. Sparring with his peers and experts was a great help to his Martial Skills, but he was at a loss on how to proceed along the Martial Path.Gruelling and exhausting, Fung replied.Rain simultaneously answered, Pretty easy. Three sets of eyes stared at Rain in disbelief, as this was the first time hed ever spoken of his accomplishment. Slapping his forehead, he said, Oops. I wasnt supposed to tell anyone. Shhhh, its a secret. No Natal Palace here.BoShui was the first to find his voice, speaking in a loud whisper. What? How? You.. Youre what? Eighteen years old? Must you be so domineering? Can you not leave me a shred of confidence?Easy? Fung asked, his mouth agape. Do you know how much I suffered to build my mental fortitude and learn to split my focus? Walking across hot coals carrying buckets of wet sand, pummelled with paddles for hours while standing in horse-stance, treading water in full armour with Mentor standing on my shoulders, all while answering inane, complicated questions without rest?Dastan had no questions to ask, as hed long grown accustomed to Rains greatness.Or so he thought. Rains next sentence made Dastan choke on his drink. Huh... izzat how you do it? With suffering and split focus? I dont even know how I did it.Situ Jia Zian arrived next, striding over with nose upturned and cloak flowing behind him. Will Sumila be joining us today? He spoke without sparing Song a glance, as if the withered, snow-covered branches held all the secrets to the Martial Path and he couldnt bear to look away.Shifting so she could brush Erdenes belly, Song shrugged, knowing Zian wouldnt see her reply. After a long pause, he huffed in displeasure before storming inside with his lips curled in a snarl. Smiling, she brought to mind the look of shock on his girlish features after a defeat, hoping to see it once more during todays spar. This would mark their 116th match, with her record standing at 45 victories and 70 losses, not even a 40% win rate. Arrogant and girlish though he might be, Zian was a fearsome foe, his twin blades holding every advantage over her single saber.It wasnt as simple as grabbing a second weapon to spar with. While she was capable of dual-wielding sabers with a modicum of competence, she suffered a net loss in overall strength. Her strongest attacks resulted from changing a one-handed grip to a two-handed grip, or vice versa. This allowed her to vary her range and angle of attack mid-strike, keeping her opponent on the defensive after seizing the initiative. Unfortunately, Zian was too adept at seeing through her attacks, able to block, parry, or Deflect her saber with ease.Even Rain and BoShui were catching on, respectively winning 30 and 19 matches against her. BoShui was easily the worst of the seven, but not without reason. His twin gauntlets were excellent armor and weapons, but without greaves, knee, and elbow guards, he lacked the full range of options available to an empty-handed combatant. Rains poor results angered Mama and Mila beyond reason, but Song understood why. He used these spars to perfect a different style, a hyper-aggressive, overwhelming approach to combat. Extremely effective against weaker opponents, it suffered when used against a foe of equal or greater skill but his rate of improvement was astounding, clawing his way to the middle of the group after a long streak of early defeats.Martial Brother Fung was another difficult opponent, sitting at 41 victories as he grew accustomed to abusing his superior range and power. Only his poor stamina held him back and Mama was working him hard to mend his failings, whereupon he would become a force to be reckoned with. Then there was the crafty, powerful Dastan, defeating her 56 times for an almost 50% win rate, the repeated blows of his powerful axe often smashing her saber from her shaky grasp. While Song ranked third behind Sister and Zian, her position was nowhere near unshakable. With each day, her opponents advanced in both strength and cunning while her progress had stalled, a troublesome development.The question often crossed her mind these past weeks, wondering how she could improve her strength. Sister asked her to come up with a request for her second Spiritual Weapon, but Song didnt know what would be best. A second saber meant the end of her endless, ever-changing assault, while a different weapon would require time to master, as demonstrated by Martial Brother Fung. Perhaps she could be like Khishig Tursinai and learn the ways of the chain and sickle, or master Guiding and Rebounding with a throwing dagger like Khishig Tenjin. A polearm would help her fight from quinback, while a gauntlet would allow her to keep her saber style, but offer nothing else.Song wasnt accustomed to making life-altering decisions. If only she could ask Teacher Du what he had planned for her, that would be the best.Hello Song, sorry were late, Rain said, arriving slightly out of breath with Banjo peering out over his shoulder.Laughing as the other animals rushed in to greet her, Song butted heads with the tired wildcats and gave the lazy Baloo a pat as he laid in the wagon, all while surrendering the treats she had stored on her person. Enough, she said as Aurie wrapped his paws around her waist, making little noises of protest. I've no more treats. Down. Nodding at Rain, she finally replied, Not late, but the others are waiting, aside from Sister.Probably lost track of time again. I should get her a watch, but Im not sure I can afford one anymore. Ill check in on her after we spar, care to join me?No, I have other plans. Papa was the same way. If it werent for the lack of binding materials, hed stay at the forge ten days a week, crafting until his arms gave out.Busy, busy, busy, Rain said, oblivious to her thoughts. You never rest, do you? Well, to each their own. Shall we? Ignoring his gesture for her to proceed, she stood and watched his transformation. Closing his eyes, Rain exhaled slowly, a full count of five before he finished. Tranquil and carefree, he stood with shoulders slouched, hands open, knees bent, and smile wide, giving off the impression of a relaxed, harmless young man.Then, in the blink of an eye, everything changed.It was almost imperceptible, the differences negligible, but Song noticed them all the same. His body filled with tension as his muscles strained and stretched, a tiny vein in his neck set to pulsing. The smile flipped into subtle frown while the corner of his eyes tightened as he clenched his jaw. His previously dangling arms cocked and readied, with a hand on his sword hilt and the other free to strike. His posture straightened, shoulders squared, and knees locked as his nose pointed sky-ward, the harmless young man replaced by a bow drawn taut, a blade unsheathed, a dragon unrestrained.Of course, Banjos silly, open-mouthed smile ruined the whole image, peering over Rain's shoulder as he clung to Rains torso with all four paws.Opening his eyes, Rains gaze shot down towards her covered bosom and legs before turning aside, heading in without motioning for Dastan or the pets to follow. So strange. Which one was the real Rain? The kind, compassionate philanthropist who treated Sister so well, or the arrogant, domineering warrior who objectified Song and every other woman who entered his gaze? Was he even aware of the changes? Perhaps it was merely his warriors mindset, with bloodshed and lust so closely linked. Generously forgiving his errant glance, Song led the pets inside, focusing on the battles ahead.After winning all her matches, Song hummed a little tune beneath her breath as she brought Erdene and Sarankho to the market, wondering what to buy for Papa. He often skipped lunch and dinner while working, so it had to be both filling and nourishing. After purchasing a large rice box with a double serving of meat and vegetables, she stopped to pick up a jar of fruit wine and some custard egg tarts to satisfy Papas sweet tooth, all paid for with her own coin.By the end of the month, she hoped to stop flinching every time he moved within arms length.Because like Mama and Sister, Papa was family too. She had nothing to fear from him.Chapter Meme
