Chapter 361
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Chapter 361
The world of the wealthy was entirely different from the world everyone else lived in.
This didnt come as a surprise, because on a basic level, Jorani had always known this was the way things were, but having never been a wealthy man, this was his first experience with just how different their lives really were. Like this carriage for example, a beautiful, gilded piece of art on the outside and a sturdy, spacious, luxurious affair on the inside, bedecked in so much silk, leather, and cotton he worried hed foul the whole thing just by sweating. The interior was so big, all four passengers could lay down and sleep comfortably, or rather as comfortable as Jorani could be considering present company. Then there was the table he was using, a polished, hardwood piece which probably cost more than ten of his watches. When not in use, the table came apart in the middle and folded into the sides of the carriage through a bit of clever carpentry and, for all he knew, impossible magic.
Despite all the bells and whistles, the carriage wasnt even unique. Another just like this one was following behind and Mother knew how many more in the Legates convoy. Each one was pulled by a team of six creatures which were probably horses, but looked so arrogant and condescending theyd probably be offended if ever called one. Prancing, long-maned, white-coated buggers, they set a speedy pace, pulling the carriage over grass and stone so smoothly his inkwell barely trembled. Hell, if it werent for the sound of synchronized hoof beats and the parted curtains revealing grasslands passing by at breakneck speeds, Jorani would have thought their carriage had yet to set out, still sitting in the courtyard hed been ordered to report to early this morning.
Reminded of said orders, he went back to mapping the Canston Winery and noted down everything he remembered, from guard positions and patrol timings to obvious and possibly hidden defences. Sitting beside him, Siyar did the same, expertly waving his brush to create a shockingly detailed rendition of the outpost, so neat and orderly, Jorani suspected this wasnt Siyars first time doing something like this, not too far a stretch considering his former profession. Memorizing layouts to draw them out later seemed like a useful skill for a smuggler and sneak thief, but seemed just as useful to a military scout.
Seeing his ugly scrawls laid out next to Siyars masterly strokes had Jorani burning with shame, and he wasnt the only one who noticed. Sitting across from him, the nameless old man peered at Joranis work with both disgust and interest, like hed been presented with one of them lewd drawings the bossman seemed so fond of collecting. What are those? he asked, pointing at Joranis markings.
Err, thems represent the guards, Ser. Eight swords, eight guards, out on patrol.
Mhmm... And this line is their route?
Yes ser.
This... this is a clock? Indicating they complete the patrol in a half hour?
Yes ser.
Proud someone could parse through his scribbles, Joranis ego deflated as the old man asked, And youre the superior officer? A commander of a hundred men? Gesturing at Siyars work which included what Jorani assumed were detailed written instructions at the side, he added, More specifically, his superior?
...yes ser. This old wet-nurse... Dont show the anger Jor. Smile and nod.
Shaking his old, wrinkled head, the Legates Seneschal fell back into his cushions with a sigh. The Bekhai are truly an unorthodox bunch. Strength is important, this I do not dispute, but to have an illiterate warrior in command of a hundred soldiers? How is he supposed to write an after-action report or read sealed orders?
Hes no Bekhai. The fourth occupant of their carriage was another old man, one whose name Jorani knew well. With a look of disdain, Old Du sneered and said, You can see it in how respectful he is, like a proper subordinate in the presence of his superiors. Were he a true Bekhai warrior, hed outright ignore your questions or answer them in obvious irritation, as if you were a simpleton wondering why the sky was blue or water is wet. A cold and arrogant bunch, with little respect for status and no love of courtesy. Besides, Old Du added, showing signs of a smile before catching himself, The Bekhai teach their children how to read and write, even their orphans. Least theres one thing they do right.
The old Seneschal fixed Jorani with a stare and raised his eyebrow in question. Is he right, soldier?
Lieutenant General Du is correct, this one be Sanshu born and raised.
Jorani could almost see the old Seneschal put the pieces together, his eyes widening as he said, Ah, I thought the name sounded familiar. Glancing at the Spiritual Weapon looped over Joranis shoulder, he added, Should have noticed it sooner, but you werent carrying the weapon first time we met. A smart move, its not exactly subtle, now is it? Put the brush down, youve wasted enough ink and parchment. Instead, tell me how a righteous bandit like yourself ended up in Falling Rains retinue?
Er... Well, I suppose Ill start from the beginning. See, I used to be a Freebooter... Cursing his stupidity for forgetting the bossmans orders to keep his weapon hidden, Jorani launched into the prearranged version of their tale, how he evaded capture from Falling Rains forces by sheer luck and returned home to find honest work. Disgusted by the blatant exploitation and abuse of his fellow commoners, he gathered his like-minded cronies and formed the Mothers Militia to strike back against the greed and tyranny of the Merchant Council of Sanshu. Privy to their back room dealings with bandits, he developed informants amongst their paid thugs and thus knew exactly when, where, and how to strike at the Councils shipments. The rest of his mythos he attributed to rumour and hearsay, the idle talk of drunkards and housewives, while barely touching on his part in the defence of Sanshu.
Yes, yes, youre a loyal, devoted soldier who would die for him, but what of the man himself? Elbows resting on the table, Old Du tented his fingers and awaited Joranis answer.
Beggin your pardon, Jorani began, scratching his head in discomfort. But the Lieutenant General is wrong. I wouldnt die for him. Ignoring their puzzled expressions, Jorani pushed on. See, the bossman aint like the rumours. Yea, hes a little hot-blooded and aint afraid to step on toes or make enemies, but truth is, he aint a man in love with bloodshed. Hes damned good at it, true enough, but hell always try to solve his problems without killing anyone. Chuckling, Jorani added, Even though lot of the time, thingsd go easier if he did.
Taking a second to gather his thoughts, Jorani carefully chose his next words. You know he lost a good half of his soldiers in Sanshu? Its why he took me and mine in, but when he got home, he didnt forget about his people. He saw to it their families were taken care of, fed and clothed, educated and employed, a damn sight more than the army does. Shaking his head, Joranis voice dropped to a whisper. The way I sees it, If I die, Id be a burden to him, a debt owed. I wont die for him, because hed be happier if I lived and looked after me people meself, ye get me?
Scowling, Old Du shook his head. The boy shows weakness unbecoming of a commander. Death is unavoidable in war, and sometimes hard decisions must be made in the heat of battle. What good does it do to save a handful of soldiers if it dooms his entire retinue, or worse?
Glancing at his rival, Old Zhang shrugged and asked, Why are you so interested anyway? Youve already poached one Bekhai talent, surely your skin isnt thick enough to poach a second?
Never you mind why Im interested, Old Du snapped, before turning his attention to Siyar. You done drawing the map? Good. Explain it in detail. Jorani, chime in if you see anything he missed.
They spent the next few hours poring over the map and answering Old Dus questions while Old Zhang sat and watched in silence. The thickness of the door, the density of the buildings, how many slaves and how many guards, Old Du was relentless in his quest for knowledge, full of scathing condemnations and blistering retorts each time Jorani failed to give a satisfactory answer. Luckily, Siyar had a sharp eye and a sharper memory, and while he couldnt answer Old Dus answers directly, he supplied enough information to silence the cantankerous bastards venomous tongue.
Truth be told, Jorani wasnt sure what they were here to do. Even though the bossman seemed convinced the Canston Trading Group were Defiled traitors, he wasnt exactly what youd call an unbiased bystander. Then again, the reports spoke of stone walls crumbling to dust at dawn, and now they found the Canston Trading Group had a substance which ate stone in the light of day, but it was still a leap of logic to go straight to traitors of the Empire. For one, how were a bunch of merchants supposed to spread their black gunk over the fort walls without anyone noticing? Maybe Old Du was here to investigate, with Old Zhang to oversee everything?
When the carriage rolled to a stop, Jorani followed Old Dus instructions and left his Spiritual Weapon in the carriage. Hiding his rat-ears under a metal helmet, he stepped out into the mid-afternoon sun and blinked in surprise at the familiar fort standing before him. A distance which took him three days to cover on foot only took the Legates super horses six hours, and they werent even breathing heavily. Granted, hed been taking his time and had to live off the land, but still...
Hands clasped behind his back, Old Du strode towards the door with Old Zhang at his side, followed promptly by a fox-eared vagrant in dirty robes and a colourfully armoured southerner wearing a fearsome, metal mask. Around them, the Death Corps dismounted from their utilitarian wagons and spread out, surrounding the fort in short order as the Bristleboar guards watched on from the parapets, with their weapons at the ready and their steel-reinforced doors shut tight.
The moment the Death Corps finished encircling the fort, Old Du spoke in a quiet, yet commanding voice, using Chi to relay his words to every ear inside. This one is Lieutenant General Du Min Gyu, here on orders from the Emperor. Lay down your arms, open the gates, and prepare to receive the Imperial Inspector.
The Canston Trading Groups reply was utter silence, the tension settling uncomfortably on Joranis shoulders. Dammit, how was he supposed to fight without a weapon? The only weapon he had was a dagger, though to be fair, it was almost as long as the bossmans sword. Glancing around in search of a spare spear or bow, he prayed the bristleboars didnt see fit to use their horrific gunk against them. Even with two living legends at his side, Jorani had no confidence to face the Canston Trading Groups flesh-eating sludge in full daylight.
After five minutes without a response, Old Du turned and glanced at the half-fox vagrant. It appears they do not mean to comply. Eccentric Gam, if you would be so kind as to open the gates?
While Jorani reeled at meeting a third living legend, Eccentric Gam replied, Hmph. How typical, send the half-beast in to do all the heavy lifting while the humans stand around with their thumbs in their asses. Perhaps youd like me to curtsy too, and afterwards, I can have the honour of sucking your shrivelled cock. Without uttering a word, the armoured southerner strode off and Eccentric Gams rant came to an early end as he asked, Wheres he going?
Picking up speed with every step, the armoured southerner sprinted towards the towering gates. Reaching back with both hands, he grabbed hold of his massive, long-handled scimitar and brought it over his shoulder in a powerful slash. The fort trembled at the impact and several bristleboar guards at the top lost their footing, but still the gates stood. Undeterred, the armoured southerner struck a second time, then raised his foot and kicked the gate with a resounding boom. With a tortured shriek metal, a triangular section fell to the ground, revealing an opening large enough for three men abreast to walk through. The armoured southerner disappeared into the opening and soon after, the sounds of slaughter drifted out.
Hmph. Mouth set in a pout, the Eccentric marched up to the broken gate, and Old Du, Zhang, Siyar, and Jorani all followed behind. Glaring at the opening made by the southerner, the strange half-fox moved to the other half of the gate and threw a half-hearted punch, more of a knocking gesture really. Although the execution was rather lacklustre, the results were anything but as the gate splintered and exploded inwards from the touch, leaving an opening twice the size of the southerners. Sniffing primly, Eccentric Gam strode through with his head held high, almost as if out on a stroll instead of wading through a battlefield. Any bristleboar who came too close received one of his half-hearted slaps and smashed into the ground, their bodies pulped beyond recognition by the Earth-blessed warriors prodigious strength.
Old Du and Old Zhang traded grins and shrugs before running off to join the fray, and Jorani watched as the four experts ran roughshod over the defenders, leaving little for the Death Corps to do but clean up the remains. Awed as he was by this display of overwhelming strength, he was curious to know: If this was their plan all along, why was he even here?
Chapter Meme
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Chapter 361
The world of the wealthy was entirely different from the world everyone else lived in.
This didnt come as a surprise, because on a basic level, Jorani had always known this was the way things were, but having never been a wealthy man, this was his first experience with just how different their lives really were. Like this carriage for example, a beautiful, gilded piece of art on the outside and a sturdy, spacious, luxurious affair on the inside, bedecked in so much silk, leather, and cotton he worried hed foul the whole thing just by sweating. The interior was so big, all four passengers could lay down and sleep comfortably, or rather as comfortable as Jorani could be considering present company. Then there was the table he was using, a polished, hardwood piece which probably cost more than ten of his watches. When not in use, the table came apart in the middle and folded into the sides of the carriage through a bit of clever carpentry and, for all he knew, impossible magic.
Despite all the bells and whistles, the carriage wasnt even unique. Another just like this one was following behind and Mother knew how many more in the Legates convoy. Each one was pulled by a team of six creatures which were probably horses, but looked so arrogant and condescending theyd probably be offended if ever called one. Prancing, long-maned, white-coated buggers, they set a speedy pace, pulling the carriage over grass and stone so smoothly his inkwell barely trembled. Hell, if it werent for the sound of synchronized hoof beats and the parted curtains revealing grasslands passing by at breakneck speeds, Jorani would have thought their carriage had yet to set out, still sitting in the courtyard hed been ordered to report to early this morning.
Reminded of said orders, he went back to mapping the Canston Winery and noted down everything he remembered, from guard positions and patrol timings to obvious and possibly hidden defences. Sitting beside him, Siyar did the same, expertly waving his brush to create a shockingly detailed rendition of the outpost, so neat and orderly, Jorani suspected this wasnt Siyars first time doing something like this, not too far a stretch considering his former profession. Memorizing layouts to draw them out later seemed like a useful skill for a smuggler and sneak thief, but seemed just as useful to a military scout.
Seeing his ugly scrawls laid out next to Siyars masterly strokes had Jorani burning with shame, and he wasnt the only one who noticed. Sitting across from him, the nameless old man peered at Joranis work with both disgust and interest, like hed been presented with one of them lewd drawings the bossman seemed so fond of collecting. What are those? he asked, pointing at Joranis markings.
Err, thems represent the guards, Ser. Eight swords, eight guards, out on patrol.
Mhmm... And this line is their route?
Yes ser.
This... this is a clock? Indicating they complete the patrol in a half hour?
Yes ser.
Proud someone could parse through his scribbles, Joranis ego deflated as the old man asked, And youre the superior officer? A commander of a hundred men? Gesturing at Siyars work which included what Jorani assumed were detailed written instructions at the side, he added, More specifically, his superior?
...yes ser. This old wet-nurse... Dont show the anger Jor. Smile and nod.
Shaking his old, wrinkled head, the Legates Seneschal fell back into his cushions with a sigh. The Bekhai are truly an unorthodox bunch. Strength is important, this I do not dispute, but to have an illiterate warrior in command of a hundred soldiers? How is he supposed to write an after-action report or read sealed orders?
Hes no Bekhai. The fourth occupant of their carriage was another old man, one whose name Jorani knew well. With a look of disdain, Old Du sneered and said, You can see it in how respectful he is, like a proper subordinate in the presence of his superiors. Were he a true Bekhai warrior, hed outright ignore your questions or answer them in obvious irritation, as if you were a simpleton wondering why the sky was blue or water is wet. A cold and arrogant bunch, with little respect for status and no love of courtesy. Besides, Old Du added, showing signs of a smile before catching himself, The Bekhai teach their children how to read and write, even their orphans. Least theres one thing they do right.
The old Seneschal fixed Jorani with a stare and raised his eyebrow in question. Is he right, soldier?
Lieutenant General Du is correct, this one be Sanshu born and raised.
Jorani could almost see the old Seneschal put the pieces together, his eyes widening as he said, Ah, I thought the name sounded familiar. Glancing at the Spiritual Weapon looped over Joranis shoulder, he added, Should have noticed it sooner, but you werent carrying the weapon first time we met. A smart move, its not exactly subtle, now is it? Put the brush down, youve wasted enough ink and parchment. Instead, tell me how a righteous bandit like yourself ended up in Falling Rains retinue?
Er... Well, I suppose Ill start from the beginning. See, I used to be a Freebooter... Cursing his stupidity for forgetting the bossmans orders to keep his weapon hidden, Jorani launched into the prearranged version of their tale, how he evaded capture from Falling Rains forces by sheer luck and returned home to find honest work. Disgusted by the blatant exploitation and abuse of his fellow commoners, he gathered his like-minded cronies and formed the Mothers Militia to strike back against the greed and tyranny of the Merchant Council of Sanshu. Privy to their back room dealings with bandits, he developed informants amongst their paid thugs and thus knew exactly when, where, and how to strike at the Councils shipments. The rest of his mythos he attributed to rumour and hearsay, the idle talk of drunkards and housewives, while barely touching on his part in the defence of Sanshu.
Yes, yes, youre a loyal, devoted soldier who would die for him, but what of the man himself? Elbows resting on the table, Old Du tented his fingers and awaited Joranis answer.
Beggin your pardon, Jorani began, scratching his head in discomfort. But the Lieutenant General is wrong. I wouldnt die for him. Ignoring their puzzled expressions, Jorani pushed on. See, the bossman aint like the rumours. Yea, hes a little hot-blooded and aint afraid to step on toes or make enemies, but truth is, he aint a man in love with bloodshed. Hes damned good at it, true enough, but hell always try to solve his problems without killing anyone. Chuckling, Jorani added, Even though lot of the time, thingsd go easier if he did.
Taking a second to gather his thoughts, Jorani carefully chose his next words. You know he lost a good half of his soldiers in Sanshu? Its why he took me and mine in, but when he got home, he didnt forget about his people. He saw to it their families were taken care of, fed and clothed, educated and employed, a damn sight more than the army does. Shaking his head, Joranis voice dropped to a whisper. The way I sees it, If I die, Id be a burden to him, a debt owed. I wont die for him, because hed be happier if I lived and looked after me people meself, ye get me?
Scowling, Old Du shook his head. The boy shows weakness unbecoming of a commander. Death is unavoidable in war, and sometimes hard decisions must be made in the heat of battle. What good does it do to save a handful of soldiers if it dooms his entire retinue, or worse?
Glancing at his rival, Old Zhang shrugged and asked, Why are you so interested anyway? Youve already poached one Bekhai talent, surely your skin isnt thick enough to poach a second?
Never you mind why Im interested, Old Du snapped, before turning his attention to Siyar. You done drawing the map? Good. Explain it in detail. Jorani, chime in if you see anything he missed.
They spent the next few hours poring over the map and answering Old Dus questions while Old Zhang sat and watched in silence. The thickness of the door, the density of the buildings, how many slaves and how many guards, Old Du was relentless in his quest for knowledge, full of scathing condemnations and blistering retorts each time Jorani failed to give a satisfactory answer. Luckily, Siyar had a sharp eye and a sharper memory, and while he couldnt answer Old Dus answers directly, he supplied enough information to silence the cantankerous bastards venomous tongue.
Truth be told, Jorani wasnt sure what they were here to do. Even though the bossman seemed convinced the Canston Trading Group were Defiled traitors, he wasnt exactly what youd call an unbiased bystander. Then again, the reports spoke of stone walls crumbling to dust at dawn, and now they found the Canston Trading Group had a substance which ate stone in the light of day, but it was still a leap of logic to go straight to traitors of the Empire. For one, how were a bunch of merchants supposed to spread their black gunk over the fort walls without anyone noticing? Maybe Old Du was here to investigate, with Old Zhang to oversee everything?
When the carriage rolled to a stop, Jorani followed Old Dus instructions and left his Spiritual Weapon in the carriage. Hiding his rat-ears under a metal helmet, he stepped out into the mid-afternoon sun and blinked in surprise at the familiar fort standing before him. A distance which took him three days to cover on foot only took the Legates super horses six hours, and they werent even breathing heavily. Granted, hed been taking his time and had to live off the land, but still...
Hands clasped behind his back, Old Du strode towards the door with Old Zhang at his side, followed promptly by a fox-eared vagrant in dirty robes and a colourfully armoured southerner wearing a fearsome, metal mask. Around them, the Death Corps dismounted from their utilitarian wagons and spread out, surrounding the fort in short order as the Bristleboar guards watched on from the parapets, with their weapons at the ready and their steel-reinforced doors shut tight.
The moment the Death Corps finished encircling the fort, Old Du spoke in a quiet, yet commanding voice, using Chi to relay his words to every ear inside. This one is Lieutenant General Du Min Gyu, here on orders from the Emperor. Lay down your arms, open the gates, and prepare to receive the Imperial Inspector.
The Canston Trading Groups reply was utter silence, the tension settling uncomfortably on Joranis shoulders. Dammit, how was he supposed to fight without a weapon? The only weapon he had was a dagger, though to be fair, it was almost as long as the bossmans sword. Glancing around in search of a spare spear or bow, he prayed the bristleboars didnt see fit to use their horrific gunk against them. Even with two living legends at his side, Jorani had no confidence to face the Canston Trading Groups flesh-eating sludge in full daylight.
After five minutes without a response, Old Du turned and glanced at the half-fox vagrant. It appears they do not mean to comply. Eccentric Gam, if you would be so kind as to open the gates?
While Jorani reeled at meeting a third living legend, Eccentric Gam replied, Hmph. How typical, send the half-beast in to do all the heavy lifting while the humans stand around with their thumbs in their asses. Perhaps youd like me to curtsy too, and afterwards, I can have the honour of sucking your shrivelled cock. Without uttering a word, the armoured southerner strode off and Eccentric Gams rant came to an early end as he asked, Wheres he going?
Picking up speed with every step, the armoured southerner sprinted towards the towering gates. Reaching back with both hands, he grabbed hold of his massive, long-handled scimitar and brought it over his shoulder in a powerful slash. The fort trembled at the impact and several bristleboar guards at the top lost their footing, but still the gates stood. Undeterred, the armoured southerner struck a second time, then raised his foot and kicked the gate with a resounding boom. With a tortured shriek metal, a triangular section fell to the ground, revealing an opening large enough for three men abreast to walk through. The armoured southerner disappeared into the opening and soon after, the sounds of slaughter drifted out.
Hmph. Mouth set in a pout, the Eccentric marched up to the broken gate, and Old Du, Zhang, Siyar, and Jorani all followed behind. Glaring at the opening made by the southerner, the strange half-fox moved to the other half of the gate and threw a half-hearted punch, more of a knocking gesture really. Although the execution was rather lacklustre, the results were anything but as the gate splintered and exploded inwards from the touch, leaving an opening twice the size of the southerners. Sniffing primly, Eccentric Gam strode through with his head held high, almost as if out on a stroll instead of wading through a battlefield. Any bristleboar who came too close received one of his half-hearted slaps and smashed into the ground, their bodies pulped beyond recognition by the Earth-blessed warriors prodigious strength.
Old Du and Old Zhang traded grins and shrugs before running off to join the fray, and Jorani watched as the four experts ran roughshod over the defenders, leaving little for the Death Corps to do but clean up the remains. Awed as he was by this display of overwhelming strength, he was curious to know: If this was their plan all along, why was he even here?
Chapter Meme
Chapter 361The world of the wealthy was entirely different from the world everyone else lived in.This didnt come as a surprise, because on a basic level, Jorani had always known this was the way things were, but having never been a wealthy man, this was his first experience with just how different their lives really were. Like this carriage for example, a beautiful, gilded piece of art on the outside and a sturdy, spacious, luxurious affair on the inside, bedecked in so much silk, leather, and cotton he worried hed foul the whole thing just by sweating. The interior was so big, all four passengers could lay down and sleep comfortably, or rather as comfortable as Jorani could be considering present company. Then there was the table he was using, a polished, hardwood piece which probably cost more than ten of his watches. When not in use, the table came apart in the middle and folded into the sides of the carriage through a bit of clever carpentry and, for all he knew, impossible magic.Despite all the bells and whistles, the carriage wasnt even unique. Another just like this one was following behind and Mother knew how many more in the Legates convoy. Each one was pulled by a team of six creatures which were probably horses, but looked so arrogant and condescending theyd probably be offended if ever called one. Prancing, long-maned, white-coated buggers, they set a speedy pace, pulling the carriage over grass and stone so smoothly his inkwell barely trembled. Hell, if it werent for the sound of synchronized hoof beats and the parted curtains revealing grasslands passing by at breakneck speeds, Jorani would have thought their carriage had yet to set out, still sitting in the courtyard hed been ordered to report to early this morning.Reminded of said orders, he went back to mapping the Canston Winery and noted down everything he remembered, from guard positions and patrol timings to obvious and possibly hidden defences. Sitting beside him, Siyar did the same, expertly waving his brush to create a shockingly detailed rendition of the outpost, so neat and orderly, Jorani suspected this wasnt Siyars first time doing something like this, not too far a stretch considering his former profession. Memorizing layouts to draw them out later seemed like a useful skill for a smuggler and sneak thief, but seemed just as useful to a military scout.Seeing his ugly scrawls laid out next to Siyars masterly strokes had Jorani burning with shame, and he wasnt the only one who noticed. Sitting across from him, the nameless old man peered at Joranis work with both disgust and interest, like hed been presented with one of them lewd drawings the bossman seemed so fond of collecting. What are those? he asked, pointing at Joranis markings.Err, thems represent the guards, Ser. Eight swords, eight guards, out on patrol.Mhmm... And this line is their route?Yes ser.This... this is a clock? Indicating they complete the patrol in a half hour?Yes ser.Proud someone could parse through his scribbles, Joranis ego deflated as the old man asked, And youre the superior officer? A commander of a hundred men? Gesturing at Siyars work which included what Jorani assumed were detailed written instructions at the side, he added, More specifically, his superior?...yes ser. This old wet-nurse... Dont show the anger Jor. Smile and nod.Shaking his old, wrinkled head, the Legates Seneschal fell back into his cushions with a sigh. The Bekhai are truly an unorthodox bunch. Strength is important, this I do not dispute, but to have an illiterate warrior in command of a hundred soldiers? How is he supposed to write an after-action report or read sealed orders?Hes no Bekhai. The fourth occupant of their carriage was another old man, one whose name Jorani knew well. With a look of disdain, Old Du sneered and said, You can see it in how respectful he is, like a proper subordinate in the presence of his superiors. Were he a true Bekhai warrior, hed outright ignore your questions or answer them in obvious irritation, as if you were a simpleton wondering why the sky was blue or water is wet. A cold and arrogant bunch, with little respect for status and no love of courtesy. Besides, Old Du added, showing signs of a smile before catching himself, The Bekhai teach their children how to read and write, even their orphans. Least theres one thing they do right.The old Seneschal fixed Jorani with a stare and raised his eyebrow in question. Is he right, soldier?Lieutenant General Du is correct, this one be Sanshu born and raised.Jorani could almost see the old Seneschal put the pieces together, his eyes widening as he said, Ah, I thought the name sounded familiar. Glancing at the Spiritual Weapon looped over Joranis shoulder, he added, Should have noticed it sooner, but you werent carrying the weapon first time we met. A smart move, its not exactly subtle, now is it? Put the brush down, youve wasted enough ink and parchment. Instead, tell me how a righteous bandit like yourself ended up in Falling Rains retinue?Er... Well, I suppose Ill start from the beginning. See, I used to be a Freebooter... Cursing his stupidity for forgetting the bossmans orders to keep his weapon hidden, Jorani launched into the prearranged version of their tale, how he evaded capture from Falling Rains forces by sheer luck and returned home to find honest work. Disgusted by the blatant exploitation and abuse of his fellow commoners, he gathered his like-minded cronies and formed the Mothers Militia to strike back against the greed and tyranny of the Merchant Council of Sanshu. Privy to their back room dealings with bandits, he developed informants amongst their paid thugs and thus knew exactly when, where, and how to strike at the Councils shipments. The rest of his mythos he attributed to rumour and hearsay, the idle talk of drunkards and housewives, while barely touching on his part in the defence of Sanshu.Yes, yes, youre a loyal, devoted soldier who would die for him, but what of the man himself? Elbows resting on the table, Old Du tented his fingers and awaited Joranis answer.Beggin your pardon, Jorani began, scratching his head in discomfort. But the Lieutenant General is wrong. I wouldnt die for him. Ignoring their puzzled expressions, Jorani pushed on. See, the bossman aint like the rumours. Yea, hes a little hot-blooded and aint afraid to step on toes or make enemies, but truth is, he aint a man in love with bloodshed. Hes damned good at it, true enough, but hell always try to solve his problems without killing anyone. Chuckling, Jorani added, Even though lot of the time, thingsd go easier if he did.Taking a second to gather his thoughts, Jorani carefully chose his next words. You know he lost a good half of his soldiers in Sanshu? Its why he took me and mine in, but when he got home, he didnt forget about his people. He saw to it their families were taken care of, fed and clothed, educated and employed, a damn sight more than the army does. Shaking his head, Joranis voice dropped to a whisper. The way I sees it, If I die, Id be a burden to him, a debt owed. I wont die for him, because hed be happier if I lived and looked after me people meself, ye get me?Scowling, Old Du shook his head. The boy shows weakness unbecoming of a commander. Death is unavoidable in war, and sometimes hard decisions must be made in the heat of battle. What good does it do to save a handful of soldiers if it dooms his entire retinue, or worse?Glancing at his rival, Old Zhang shrugged and asked, Why are you so interested anyway? Youve already poached one Bekhai talent, surely your skin isnt thick enough to poach a second?Never you mind why Im interested, Old Du snapped, before turning his attention to Siyar. You done drawing the map? Good. Explain it in detail. Jorani, chime in if you see anything he missed.They spent the next few hours poring over the map and answering Old Dus questions while Old Zhang sat and watched in silence. The thickness of the door, the density of the buildings, how many slaves and how many guards, Old Du was relentless in his quest for knowledge, full of scathing condemnations and blistering retorts each time Jorani failed to give a satisfactory answer. Luckily, Siyar had a sharp eye and a sharper memory, and while he couldnt answer Old Dus answers directly, he supplied enough information to silence the cantankerous bastards venomous tongue.Truth be told, Jorani wasnt sure what they were here to do. Even though the bossman seemed convinced the Canston Trading Group were Defiled traitors, he wasnt exactly what youd call an unbiased bystander. Then again, the reports spoke of stone walls crumbling to dust at dawn, and now they found the Canston Trading Group had a substance which ate stone in the light of day, but it was still a leap of logic to go straight to traitors of the Empire. For one, how were a bunch of merchants supposed to spread their black gunk over the fort walls without anyone noticing? Maybe Old Du was here to investigate, with Old Zhang to oversee everything?When the carriage rolled to a stop, Jorani followed Old Dus instructions and left his Spiritual Weapon in the carriage. Hiding his rat-ears under a metal helmet, he stepped out into the mid-afternoon sun and blinked in surprise at the familiar fort standing before him. A distance which took him three days to cover on foot only took the Legates super horses six hours, and they werent even breathing heavily. Granted, hed been taking his time and had to live off the land, but still...Hands clasped behind his back, Old Du strode towards the door with Old Zhang at his side, followed promptly by a fox-eared vagrant in dirty robes and a colourfully armoured southerner wearing a fearsome, metal mask. Around them, the Death Corps dismounted from their utilitarian wagons and spread out, surrounding the fort in short order as the Bristleboar guards watched on from the parapets, with their weapons at the ready and their steel-reinforced doors shut tight.The moment the Death Corps finished encircling the fort, Old Du spoke in a quiet, yet commanding voice, using Chi to relay his words to every ear inside. This one is Lieutenant General Du Min Gyu, here on orders from the Emperor. Lay down your arms, open the gates, and prepare to receive the Imperial Inspector.The Canston Trading Groups reply was utter silence, the tension settling uncomfortably on Joranis shoulders. Dammit, how was he supposed to fight without a weapon? The only weapon he had was a dagger, though to be fair, it was almost as long as the bossmans sword. Glancing around in search of a spare spear or bow, he prayed the bristleboars didnt see fit to use their horrific gunk against them. Even with two living legends at his side, Jorani had no confidence to face the Canston Trading Groups flesh-eating sludge in full daylight.After five minutes without a response, Old Du turned and glanced at the half-fox vagrant. It appears they do not mean to comply. Eccentric Gam, if you would be so kind as to open the gates?While Jorani reeled at meeting a third living legend, Eccentric Gam replied, Hmph. How typical, send the half-beast in to do all the heavy lifting while the humans stand around with their thumbs in their asses. Perhaps youd like me to curtsy too, and afterwards, I can have the honour of sucking your shrivelled cock. Without uttering a word, the armoured southerner strode off and Eccentric Gams rant came to an early end as he asked, Wheres he going?Picking up speed with every step, the armoured southerner sprinted towards the towering gates. Reaching back with both hands, he grabbed hold of his massive, long-handled scimitar and brought it over his shoulder in a powerful slash. The fort trembled at the impact and several bristleboar guards at the top lost their footing, but still the gates stood. Undeterred, the armoured southerner struck a second time, then raised his foot and kicked the gate with a resounding boom. With a tortured shriek metal, a triangular section fell to the ground, revealing an opening large enough for three men abreast to walk through. The armoured southerner disappeared into the opening and soon after, the sounds of slaughter drifted out.Hmph. Mouth set in a pout, the Eccentric marched up to the broken gate, and Old Du, Zhang, Siyar, and Jorani all followed behind. Glaring at the opening made by the southerner, the strange half-fox moved to the other half of the gate and threw a half-hearted punch, more of a knocking gesture really. Although the execution was rather lacklustre, the results were anything but as the gate splintered and exploded inwards from the touch, leaving an opening twice the size of the southerners. Sniffing primly, Eccentric Gam strode through with his head held high, almost as if out on a stroll instead of wading through a battlefield. Any bristleboar who came too close received one of his half-hearted slaps and smashed into the ground, their bodies pulped beyond recognition by the Earth-blessed warriors prodigious strength.Old Du and Old Zhang traded grins and shrugs before running off to join the fray, and Jorani watched as the four experts ran roughshod over the defenders, leaving little for the Death Corps to do but clean up the remains. Awed as he was by this display of overwhelming strength, he was curious to know: If this was their plan all along, why was he even here?Chapter Meme
