Chapter 726
If audio player doesn't work, press Stop then Play button again
Chapter 726
The battle was going to shit, but Jorani had a plan.
Course, he always went in with a plan, scheme, or strategy in mind, and they rarely ever worked out as intended, but he had a good feeling about this one even if it was a bit of a gamble. A tricky thing, gambling, especially when betting something as precious as human lives, because it was all too easy to get hooked on chasing the thrill of victory rather than playing for the payout itself. Hed seen it countless times before, rogues and bandits losing entire fortunes theyd just looted only to go out and risk their lives to accumulate more wealth to try and win it all back, and win or lose, theyd just do it all over again. Good fortune rarely lasted a lifetime, and for most, winning big only meant theyd have more to lose the next time their luck ran out. In his transition from street rat to forest bandit, Jorani never got sucked into the allure of dicing, horse-racing, archery contests, or whatever vice the others were into that week, but only because he was too miserly to risk his meagre savings. The pickings were few and far between, and the pauper in him hated not knowing where his next meal would come from, so he always kept what little earnings he had stashed away for a rainy day.
Then Mister Rustram got promoted and left to run his own retinue, so Jorani was given command of the old one, a promotion which came with a sizable pay bump and an unwelcome association with his second-in-command. The vile and villainous Old Bulat was a man whose moniker didnt match his age as he was probably younger than Jorani, nor did it match his appearance. A strapping, burly bastard he was, one almost as wide as he was tall with a prodigious appetite to boot, with belly a plenty to eat Ral for breakfast and still have room left for dessert. The man turned fat and corpulent in less than a year of retirement, with more chins than most mountain ranges have peaks, though to give credit where it was due, Bulat only needed a few weeks to transform most of his fat into muscle again. Hed never be anything short of hefty though, not even if he ran for a thousand years without stopping, but that wasnt the important part. No, the thing Jorani both hated and loved about the man was how Old Bulat was always calculating the odds, though he rarely used any sort of math Jorani was familiar with. Bet against the man, Old Bulat would say, Not the dice. The dice will do as they please, but the man? The right mans a mark just beggin to give ye coin.
Words of wisdom, or at least so it seemed at the time, which was always the problem with Old Bulat. You never knew how wrong he was until things went to shit, which they did more often than not, except Old Bulat always came out smelling like roses. After a few bad bets which cost him a veritable fortune, Jorani finally figured out that he was Old Bulats mark and quit wagering in the mans games, but the damage was already done. The thrill of the gamble had taken root in Joranis soul and left him with a mighty thirst for action. Oh how he yearned to hear the tumbling dice, stampeding hooves, or even the clickity clack of the shuffling Mahjong tiles, a game hed always figured was for the rich and mighty, except he was one of them now and had the coin to spare. What was he saving it for anyways? Retirement? Hardly the most sound investment for a man in his line of work, since a soldier in war time didnt have the best odds of surviving to a ripe old age. His future wife? Even wealth and status hadnt helped him none with that, and the girls in the fancy brothels werent much better than the cheaper ones he was used to, just wearing nicer clothes and better make up is all.
So why not use his money to make more money and get out of the game early? Thats how Old Bulat framed it, which made sense at the time, but then Jorani put a bit of thought into it and realized how full of shit the fat man really was. If gambling was so easy, like Old Bulat said it was, how come hed come back from retirement? Loyalty to the bossman, sure, but even a District Mayor couldnt be makin too much more than the second in command to the Legates retinue. Besides, while it seemed silly to save up for a retirement which might never come, if Jorani wanted to ever be anything besides a soldier, then hed need coin to get out. If he just gambled away his sizable salary month after month, then hed have no choice but to keep soldiering on until his luck ran out and he went the way of the soldier at the pointy end of a Defiled spear, a self-fulfilling prophecy as it were.
But now, he was not just a soldier anymore, he was a commander of five-thousand men, one addicted to gambling their lives away and none too good at it either. Cept this time he had a plan, a good one even, and he figured there was no better time than right now to test it. Centre, fall back fifty paces, he commanded, and Silva Sent the orders out, even though Jorani couldve Sent it himself. Left and right flanks, press in hard. A basic maneuver to encompass the enemy forces, but simple and easy didnt mean it wouldnt work. Werent nothing fancy about clubbing a man over the back of the head, but that didnt mean it wasnt effective. Across the field, Joranis counterpart responded by ordering his soldiers to flare out on either side, delaying the flanking maneuver while his centre advanced, again, nothing too fancy or out of place. A standard counter to a standard move, which meant so far, things were going well, though one wouldnt know it from looking. Despite having inherited a crack fighting force thatd been through the Fathers Maw and back, the Warriors of the bossmans retinue seemed wild and reckless compared to the disciplined forces they faced. Try as he might, Jorani couldnt keep his lines neat and orderly in the chaos of battle, unlike the enemy forces who fought in straight, uncluttered lines, packed in shoulder to shoulder with barely enough room to swing their weapons. Which they didnt. Swing that is, as they were armed with spears and shields which they used to great effect by attacking with measured thrusts while hiding behind a wall of steel that only a Honed Spiritual Weapon could cut through.
Time and time again, Joranis soldiers threw themselves at the enemy forces to no avail, his numbers in the centre steadily dwindling as his opponent held the flanks and advanced, but he treated the losses as the price of baiting the trap, one which would pay off in spades if everything went according to plan. The biggest issue wasnt the troop movements, but the individuals making up each formation, because even though Joranis blackguards were individually stronger than their opponents, their foes were much better at fighting in groups, even when scaled down to mere three or five man engagements. The seemingly solid wall of steel would bend and curve like a snake undulating across the ground, their foes withdrawing from one fight so their allies could attack the same target in another, and Joranis people were getting beat down through superior focus of effort.
Liu Xuandes work that, with his training exercises that focused more on timing and teamwork than individual strength. If they were to take theses two forces and break this battle down into a series of one on one matches, Jorani was confident his people would come out with an overwhelming victory, but the face of war was changing, which meant it was time to adapt or die.
There was nothing he could do about getting his soldiers to work together, not from where he stood now, so he needed the enemy to over-extend, but the enemy commander was too cunning to do so without reason, which meant timing was key here. Watching with bated breath, Jorani almost gave the order three times before deciding to wait, and then almost missed the perfect opportunity as the enemy vanguard got a little overeager and broke formation to try and finish his centre off. Split the flanks, he said, and this time, Silva looked to him in question before passing along the order. Half from each side fall back to collapse on the centre. Hit them hard and fast, wholesale slaughter.
A big gamble, abandoning the flanks to hammer the centre, as it could all go pear shaped and end with his forces surrounded on all sides, but he had faith his superior Warriors would hold the line and deal with the centre in good time. Understanding his intentions upon receiving his orders, Chey held the left flank and sent Ral to spearhead the charge, and it was a real treat to watch the big guy crash into the enemy centre like thunder on a dry summer night. On the right, Wang Bao held firm while Ulfsaar fell back to meet up with Ral, the two mighty behemoths making short work of their foes with axe and staff respectively. That was Joranis advantage here, the superior quality of his troops, which he needed to use in order to overcome his opponents first-rate discipline and impeccable formations. Even under the weight of so many attacks, the enemy centre held fast and formed up in a checker-board square. It was strange seeing so few soldiers make efficient use of what was primarily a large-scale formation, but the principles behind the tactic were sound regardless if it was used by three soldiers or a thousand. Giving ground in one area to take ground in three, the enemy formation wavered but never broke as they bought precious seconds which turned into agonizing minutes as both forces teetered on the brink of victory and defeat. It all came down to this, because if the centre held, then Joranis flanks would soon be overrun, but if the centre folded, then the battle was all but won.
Both sides took massive casualties as dead and defeated filed out of the battlefield, some grumbling and others laughing at a match well fought, but Jorani could not afford to let his focus slip. He still had soldiers in reserve which he sent to shore up the flanks, directing them on circuitous routes to try and hit the enemy where it would hurt the most, but his counterpart matched his movements and probed his weaknesses as well, so there was no advantage to be gained by either side. After a long, hard-fought battle, the horn sounded to signal the end of todays match, and Jorani was left staring at the battered remnants of his retinue and yearning for the sweet taste of victory which had just been denied him. Then again, he hadnt lost either, as the enemy lines were just as ragged and sparse, with only a few hundred survivors in total on both sides being cheered on by their dead comrades on the sidelines.
A pyrrhic victory for both sides, as the bossman would say, though he never did explain what the word meant. At least the troops were in good spirits, as these tactical maneuvers were a lot more fun than the endless, monotonous training exercises theyd taken the place of. Tomorrow, theyd go back to marching and drilling, but today, they got to sweat and spar on the battlefield in a massive, chaotic melee with no threat of death or dismemberment. There were bruises and broken bones aplenty, but those were all either easily fixed or good practice now that the bossmans Panacea Healing method was so widespread. Though the soldiers were all free to rest and Heal up, Jorani still had his part to play, so he marched over to the staging table with Old Bulat and Silva to shake hands with his opposing commander. Thought I really had ye this time around, Jorani began, shaking his head with a wry smile. Gotta say, ye turned them Stormguards into somethin fierce in so short a time.
Not fierce enough, Mister Rustram replied, though Jorani noted the mans aide and second-in-command were both beaming from the praise. Victory should have been yours, but Lixian here was fortunate enough to send Ulfsaar off the field early on, else the centre wouldve collapsed much sooner.
Was that what happened? Damn it, Jorani had missed seeing Ulfsaar exit the field, though it could be forgiven considering the sheer number of bodies streaming off the field at the same time. Eyeing Mister Rustrams second more closely, Jorani took stock of the grizzled Lixian, who had the worn, weathered look of a farmer or sheep-herder who spent his days out under the burning hot sun. It made him look much older than Jorani, but there was a good chance Lixian was only in his early to late twenties, or maybe even around the same age. Commoners aged faster than Martial Warriors, and the Stormguard only formed their Cores recently, just over a year ago in fact, which made his achievement all the more impressive. Ulfsaar was a Domain-capable veteran who ranked amongst the strongest Warriors in Joranis unit, and even he would think twice before engaging the berserk half-bear in single combat, but Lixian here had done it while looking like hed be more comfortable leaning on a pitchfork than standing at full attention with spear and shield in hand.
Despite not having seen the fight firsthand, Jorani had to give credit where credit was due. Damned fine job out there, he said, offering his hand for Lixian to shake, and Mother bless the poor man, his eyes went so wide he looked ready to bolt or bow as if Jorani were a proper noble or something. It took a little doing, but any man who could face off against Ulfsaar wasnt lacking in courage, so Lixian eventually found his bearings and took Joranis hand in his own. A cold and clammy handshake ensued, but firm and unyielding at the same time, which told Jorani that Lixian had seen some shit before and would bounce back from his awe soon enough.
Got lucky, mlord, the gruff man said, unable to meet Joranis eyes due to a lifetime of subservience. Hit him while he werent lookin is all.
Thats how Id hit him too, Jorani cracked, chuckling all the while. From a hundred paces with a crossbow if I could, but you? You were right there innit and didnt just hold yer ground, ye went head to head with Ulfsaar the Voracious and brought him down. Thats somethin to be proud of soldier, because between you and me, that man scares me more than most Defiled.
That earned him a grin from the plucky fellow, which made him look like a fresh-faced kid barely old enough to marry, as well as a subtle nod of thanks from Mister Rustram. The Stormguard were lacking in experience and confidence, which was the whole point of these tactical maneuvers, mock battles to put them through their paces before crossing blades with the Defiled. It wasnt as good as a real battle, but the Enemy wasnt so obliging as to send their troops out piecemeal so Mister Rustram could blood his new retinue. Then again, the Stormguard were hardly strangers to the battlefield, as they were Irregulars one and all, mostly volunteers who took up arms against the Enemy before even Forming a Core, which took more courage than sense.
Youre not giving Lixian here enough credit. Appearing out of nowhere, the bossman joined their conversation without so much as a how you do, looking regal and magnificent in his blue and white outfit, an embroidered affair full of animals aplenty. Hard to imagine this was the same sickly man from just over a year ago, but here he was, hale and healthy as can be, larger than life yet still humble and gracious enough to look Lixian in the eye and shake his hand, even if the other man tried to avoid his gaze. I remember you, the bossman said, emanating an Aura of pride and gratitude. I remember what you did during the withdrawal from JiangHu, and it is my regret to have not remembered sooner. Breaking eye contact from Lixian to let him weep tears of joy unnoticed, the bossman turned to face the others and said, You all know he served as an Irregular during that battle, but what you dont know is that this man was among the first to come to my aid. A commoner with nothing more than a crossbow and dagger, he sees a force of Demons break through the Death Corps lines to charge headlong at my carriage, and what does he do? He charges right at them to save me. No fear, no hesitation, just grit and courage, so how can he balk before a mere Ulfsaar? Turning back to Lixian who was all but glowing with pride, the bossman grinned and continued, I owe you a debt of gratitude, you and all your comrades who came to my aid. Without you, me and my loved ones might well have fallen that day, and I cannot thank you enough.
No, no, this lowly one does not dare. Were it not for the bossman forcibly holding him upright, Lixian might well have dropped to knees to grovel in the dirt. Legate has done so much for this lowly one, more than this lowly one can repay in a thousand lifetimes.
Wrong. Raising his voice so others could hear him, the bossman declared, Everything youve accomplished and attained was earned through your own efforts. That is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Take pride in yourselves, for you are not just Warriors now, but men and women who stood up for a cause before you had the strength of arm to defend it. Hold fast to those convictions, for they have brought you far and will continue to guide you ever forward along the Martial Path.
Jorani could almost see the pieces falling into place behind GangShus eyes, which widened in comprehension after some seconds of thought. Something to do with the Elemental Spirit? Or maybe the little friend he made out on the Azure Sea? Seeing as he had no idea what that was, Jorani didnt even have to feign ignorance, much to GangShus disappointment. Ye dont know, yet yer still so sure there wont be a purge? Seems strange is all.
I just know. Shrugging again, Jorani reached for his bowl again, having recovered his appetite alongside his good mood. If the bossman aint said anything, then it aint me place to wag me lips, but trust me when I say things wont play out the way ye expect. If ye dont trust me, then ye can just stay here instead of followin us to the Central Citadel. Ill explain things to the bossman, and hell understand. I doubt hes draggin ye into things like ye think, because he dont operate like that. Never has, and never will. If he wants yer help, hell ask fer it, plain and simple.
Trading a glance with Daxian, who remained indifferent to it all, GangShu sighed and ate the rest of his pig trotter, bones and all. Hope yer right, kiddo, he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. I really do, but I cant say Im confident. Either way, yer Legates got a lot of convincing to do if he intends to retake the West, and Im pretty sure he aint heading south to ask nicely. Dont matter much since my hands are tied, so just know me and mine will be close by during the trip.
Yer rivals really that bold as to try and kill ye outright?
Nah, but they aint against takin hostages. Offering a pained grimace in apology, GangShu explained, Some think I dote on ye, what with the Runic armour and whatnot, so they figure Id come out to save ye if ye were in any danger.
Jorani wouldve laughed if it wasnt so serious, because he found it absurd that anyone would believe that GangShu would risk his life for anyone, much less a son he barely even cared about. Well shit. Heaving a sigh, Jorani glanced at his set of Runic Armour which he kept locked away in the closet, hardly the most effective deterrent to Peak Expert thieves, but considering the bossmans reputation, there were few thieves foolish enough to risk his ire. If Jorani had known how much trouble itd bring him, he wouldve flat out refused to wear it when it was first offered to him, but it was too late for regret now. It would prove precious little protection against the might of a Divinity, but hed wear it anyways in the days ahead.
After dinner, Jorani parted ways with GangShu and Daxian to head over to the Brotherhood encampment, where the monks were gathered for their nightly routine of showing off their handiwork before consigning said works to the fire. There was something poignant about watching such beauty be destroyed, but it also added a pressing need for Jorani to come watch every night, lest he miss out on seeing those precious and short-lived works of art. It took a lot of effort on the bossmans part to convince Monk Happy to carve all those names into the Tombstone of Heroes, since taking part in the creation of such a monument might be seen as pursuing permanence in legacy, but after a lengthy discussion on the topic, the Brotherhood concluded that since the bossman only wanted Monk Happys help because he carved faster than anyone else, so long as he stayed anonymous and carved in a legible but unembellished font, then no harm would come of it. It made sense in a way, given how the monks destroyed their artwork to avoid yearning for permanence in fame, which was one of the three poisons. Jorani could see how a permanent stone marker might well be construed as just that, but it still seemed like a silly matter to lose sleep over.
That was the Brotherhood in a nutshell, so focused on getting the details of getting their Noble Eight-Fold right that it ate into the time needed to pursue it. Trial and error was unacceptable when it came to their Dao, because every step had to be taken with the Right View. In contrast, the bossman believed that the destination mattered less than the journey itself, a sentiment Jorani agreed with. Just because you had a set goal, didnt mean there was only one way to reach it, for all paths lead to the Dao in the end. Right View, Right Intention, Right Speech, and so on and so forth, those were merely guidelines to live by, not hard rules to stubbornly follow without thinking twice.
Take the Right Livelihood for example, which dictated that one should live a life free of harm brought about by ones decisions. This meant abstaining from eating meat, crafting weapons, or utilizing anything that had been produced through slavery or other means of coercion, which left the Brotherhood precious few options to work with after leaving their hidden monastery in the Arid Wastes. Everything they used had to be procured by hand, because otherwise, there was no guarantee that the products they needed were wholly free of harm. Thus, rather than buy vegetables at market, or even visit farms to procure product off the vine themselves, the monks insisted on foraging for their own food in the wild, which meant they had precious little to eat here on the border between West and Central. Despite subsisting on grass soups and tasteless tubers, the monks refused to stray from their beliefs and buy a cabbage or turnip from the market, even though the bossman went to great lengths to show that the farmers living along the Western were under no compulsion to work.
A statement the monks clearly didnt agree with, as they believed the debt incurred by the farmers to purchase their lots of land was coercion, plain and simple. It was in a way, but hardly any harm considering the bossman wasnt charging interest on a debt and had structured payments so that the farmers would never have to part with cold, hard coin. All they had to do was farm, and even then, if their crops took blight or rotted in the field, nothing would come of it since payments were a percentage of the harvest. The only issue would be if the farmers abandoned their plots of land, at which point the bossman would simply reclaim the land and sell it to someone else, but even this was enough for the Brotherhood to write off the farmers as under duress.
If that was the case, then the entire working sector was under duress, since you gotta work to eat, but no amount of arguments would convince the Brotherhood otherwise.
A stubborn, stuck in their ways bunch, the monks of the Brotherhood, but they made some beautiful art, which Jorani appreciated and mourned as the night wore on. Once the last monks artwork had been destroyed, Jorani approached Monk Happy and Monk Bones to let them know about his plans for the next few days, as well as his strange encounter with GangShu, mostly because he just wanted to talk about it. Monk Happy stayed silent throughout it all, listening intently until Jorani had little left to say, ending with, So er... yea. I dunno when Ill be back, if I even come back at all. Chances are well head straight fer SuiHua from the Central Citadel, so if I dont see ye, then I just wanted to say me farewells. Give me best to Asmani and the rest when ye see em, and err, well... farewell, I guess.
No need to bid me farewell, Monk Bones said, sucking his teeth in minor annoyance. Ill be coming along with.
As will I. Shrugging, Monk Happy sighed and added, Whether the rest of the Brotherhood accepts him as Wisdom or Junior Brother accepts his place with us, this monk cannot sit idly by in good conscience while matters of grave importance take place. GangShu is correct; Junior Brother is done asking nicely, and while this monk cannot claim knowledge of his intent, this monk knows that nothing good will come from conflict between the Legate and Commander General.
Stomach roiling with worry, Jorani swallowed hard and wondered if maybe things were more serious than he thought. Surely the bossman had some plan in mind, something to win Shuai Jiao over without butting heads with the man. There was no way hed risk falling out with the Commander General just before a major engagement, one that needed the support of all three provinces to succeed, so with that in mind, Jorani headed home to rest his head and woke up bright and early to catch the ship.
And upon arriving at the docks in full Runic Armour, he felt the world crumble away beneath his feet as he spotted a familiar face waiting to board the bossmans ship. Siyar, Jorani said, hoping against all hopes that his fears were for naught. What are ye doin here? Got a message fer me or the bossman?
Nah, the hardened killer replied, standing at what appeared to be ease but with one hand always close to his sword. The bossman asked me to come along with. You too huh?
Yea. Hard to believe that Siyar was coming along for the same reasons, or at least not the ones the bossman admitted to. Resisting the urge to close his eyes and weep, Jorani scanned his surroundings and found several more familiar faces waiting nearby. Some stood out at first glance, famous figures like Colonel General Nian Zu, Lieutenant General Akanai, Lieutenant General Baatar, and other notable Warriors, but it was the figures who didnt stand out that scared Jorani so. Some were sailors, and others were dockworkers, and still some posing as generic soldiers alongside Siyar, but none of them were truly what they appeared to be, nor were they members of the bossmans retinue. Though Jorani had only seen them once or twice before, hed marked their faces as ones to remember, because they were fanatical members of the Aspirants, the Bloody Confessors former base of power. Most telling of all was the presence of the spymaster MuYang, disguised as a porter moving cargo aboard the ship wearing a fake beard and dirty eye-patch. With these disguised fanatics riding alongside the heaviest hitters the bossman could call upon, it showed that he was truly on the warpath, only a war of a different sorts. Though done in service to the war against the Enemy, the bossman was prepared for a war in the shadows, which was exactly where a stone-cold killer like Siyar excelled. Try as he might, Jorani could think of no other target at the Central Citadel besides a particularly stubborn Commander General who refused to support the bossmans efforts to retake the West.
Mother have mercy on them all if their conflict should come to daggers in the dark, but Jorani could see no other explanation. The bossman would try everything short of bloodshed to accomplish his goals, but if push came to shove, then perhaps as early as tomorrow morning, the Empire might well be mourning the loss of yet another Colonel General.
And for the life of him, Jorani couldnt understand why things had to be this way.
Chapter Meme
Please report us if you find any errors so we can fix it asap!
Chapter 726
The battle was going to shit, but Jorani had a plan.
Course, he always went in with a plan, scheme, or strategy in mind, and they rarely ever worked out as intended, but he had a good feeling about this one even if it was a bit of a gamble. A tricky thing, gambling, especially when betting something as precious as human lives, because it was all too easy to get hooked on chasing the thrill of victory rather than playing for the payout itself. Hed seen it countless times before, rogues and bandits losing entire fortunes theyd just looted only to go out and risk their lives to accumulate more wealth to try and win it all back, and win or lose, theyd just do it all over again. Good fortune rarely lasted a lifetime, and for most, winning big only meant theyd have more to lose the next time their luck ran out. In his transition from street rat to forest bandit, Jorani never got sucked into the allure of dicing, horse-racing, archery contests, or whatever vice the others were into that week, but only because he was too miserly to risk his meagre savings. The pickings were few and far between, and the pauper in him hated not knowing where his next meal would come from, so he always kept what little earnings he had stashed away for a rainy day.
Then Mister Rustram got promoted and left to run his own retinue, so Jorani was given command of the old one, a promotion which came with a sizable pay bump and an unwelcome association with his second-in-command. The vile and villainous Old Bulat was a man whose moniker didnt match his age as he was probably younger than Jorani, nor did it match his appearance. A strapping, burly bastard he was, one almost as wide as he was tall with a prodigious appetite to boot, with belly a plenty to eat Ral for breakfast and still have room left for dessert. The man turned fat and corpulent in less than a year of retirement, with more chins than most mountain ranges have peaks, though to give credit where it was due, Bulat only needed a few weeks to transform most of his fat into muscle again. Hed never be anything short of hefty though, not even if he ran for a thousand years without stopping, but that wasnt the important part. No, the thing Jorani both hated and loved about the man was how Old Bulat was always calculating the odds, though he rarely used any sort of math Jorani was familiar with. Bet against the man, Old Bulat would say, Not the dice. The dice will do as they please, but the man? The right mans a mark just beggin to give ye coin.
Words of wisdom, or at least so it seemed at the time, which was always the problem with Old Bulat. You never knew how wrong he was until things went to shit, which they did more often than not, except Old Bulat always came out smelling like roses. After a few bad bets which cost him a veritable fortune, Jorani finally figured out that he was Old Bulats mark and quit wagering in the mans games, but the damage was already done. The thrill of the gamble had taken root in Joranis soul and left him with a mighty thirst for action. Oh how he yearned to hear the tumbling dice, stampeding hooves, or even the clickity clack of the shuffling Mahjong tiles, a game hed always figured was for the rich and mighty, except he was one of them now and had the coin to spare. What was he saving it for anyways? Retirement? Hardly the most sound investment for a man in his line of work, since a soldier in war time didnt have the best odds of surviving to a ripe old age. His future wife? Even wealth and status hadnt helped him none with that, and the girls in the fancy brothels werent much better than the cheaper ones he was used to, just wearing nicer clothes and better make up is all.
So why not use his money to make more money and get out of the game early? Thats how Old Bulat framed it, which made sense at the time, but then Jorani put a bit of thought into it and realized how full of shit the fat man really was. If gambling was so easy, like Old Bulat said it was, how come hed come back from retirement? Loyalty to the bossman, sure, but even a District Mayor couldnt be makin too much more than the second in command to the Legates retinue. Besides, while it seemed silly to save up for a retirement which might never come, if Jorani wanted to ever be anything besides a soldier, then hed need coin to get out. If he just gambled away his sizable salary month after month, then hed have no choice but to keep soldiering on until his luck ran out and he went the way of the soldier at the pointy end of a Defiled spear, a self-fulfilling prophecy as it were.
But now, he was not just a soldier anymore, he was a commander of five-thousand men, one addicted to gambling their lives away and none too good at it either. Cept this time he had a plan, a good one even, and he figured there was no better time than right now to test it. Centre, fall back fifty paces, he commanded, and Silva Sent the orders out, even though Jorani couldve Sent it himself. Left and right flanks, press in hard. A basic maneuver to encompass the enemy forces, but simple and easy didnt mean it wouldnt work. Werent nothing fancy about clubbing a man over the back of the head, but that didnt mean it wasnt effective. Across the field, Joranis counterpart responded by ordering his soldiers to flare out on either side, delaying the flanking maneuver while his centre advanced, again, nothing too fancy or out of place. A standard counter to a standard move, which meant so far, things were going well, though one wouldnt know it from looking. Despite having inherited a crack fighting force thatd been through the Fathers Maw and back, the Warriors of the bossmans retinue seemed wild and reckless compared to the disciplined forces they faced. Try as he might, Jorani couldnt keep his lines neat and orderly in the chaos of battle, unlike the enemy forces who fought in straight, uncluttered lines, packed in shoulder to shoulder with barely enough room to swing their weapons. Which they didnt. Swing that is, as they were armed with spears and shields which they used to great effect by attacking with measured thrusts while hiding behind a wall of steel that only a Honed Spiritual Weapon could cut through.
Time and time again, Joranis soldiers threw themselves at the enemy forces to no avail, his numbers in the centre steadily dwindling as his opponent held the flanks and advanced, but he treated the losses as the price of baiting the trap, one which would pay off in spades if everything went according to plan. The biggest issue wasnt the troop movements, but the individuals making up each formation, because even though Joranis blackguards were individually stronger than their opponents, their foes were much better at fighting in groups, even when scaled down to mere three or five man engagements. The seemingly solid wall of steel would bend and curve like a snake undulating across the ground, their foes withdrawing from one fight so their allies could attack the same target in another, and Joranis people were getting beat down through superior focus of effort.
Liu Xuandes work that, with his training exercises that focused more on timing and teamwork than individual strength. If they were to take theses two forces and break this battle down into a series of one on one matches, Jorani was confident his people would come out with an overwhelming victory, but the face of war was changing, which meant it was time to adapt or die.
There was nothing he could do about getting his soldiers to work together, not from where he stood now, so he needed the enemy to over-extend, but the enemy commander was too cunning to do so without reason, which meant timing was key here. Watching with bated breath, Jorani almost gave the order three times before deciding to wait, and then almost missed the perfect opportunity as the enemy vanguard got a little overeager and broke formation to try and finish his centre off. Split the flanks, he said, and this time, Silva looked to him in question before passing along the order. Half from each side fall back to collapse on the centre. Hit them hard and fast, wholesale slaughter.
A big gamble, abandoning the flanks to hammer the centre, as it could all go pear shaped and end with his forces surrounded on all sides, but he had faith his superior Warriors would hold the line and deal with the centre in good time. Understanding his intentions upon receiving his orders, Chey held the left flank and sent Ral to spearhead the charge, and it was a real treat to watch the big guy crash into the enemy centre like thunder on a dry summer night. On the right, Wang Bao held firm while Ulfsaar fell back to meet up with Ral, the two mighty behemoths making short work of their foes with axe and staff respectively. That was Joranis advantage here, the superior quality of his troops, which he needed to use in order to overcome his opponents first-rate discipline and impeccable formations. Even under the weight of so many attacks, the enemy centre held fast and formed up in a checker-board square. It was strange seeing so few soldiers make efficient use of what was primarily a large-scale formation, but the principles behind the tactic were sound regardless if it was used by three soldiers or a thousand. Giving ground in one area to take ground in three, the enemy formation wavered but never broke as they bought precious seconds which turned into agonizing minutes as both forces teetered on the brink of victory and defeat. It all came down to this, because if the centre held, then Joranis flanks would soon be overrun, but if the centre folded, then the battle was all but won.
Both sides took massive casualties as dead and defeated filed out of the battlefield, some grumbling and others laughing at a match well fought, but Jorani could not afford to let his focus slip. He still had soldiers in reserve which he sent to shore up the flanks, directing them on circuitous routes to try and hit the enemy where it would hurt the most, but his counterpart matched his movements and probed his weaknesses as well, so there was no advantage to be gained by either side. After a long, hard-fought battle, the horn sounded to signal the end of todays match, and Jorani was left staring at the battered remnants of his retinue and yearning for the sweet taste of victory which had just been denied him. Then again, he hadnt lost either, as the enemy lines were just as ragged and sparse, with only a few hundred survivors in total on both sides being cheered on by their dead comrades on the sidelines.
A pyrrhic victory for both sides, as the bossman would say, though he never did explain what the word meant. At least the troops were in good spirits, as these tactical maneuvers were a lot more fun than the endless, monotonous training exercises theyd taken the place of. Tomorrow, theyd go back to marching and drilling, but today, they got to sweat and spar on the battlefield in a massive, chaotic melee with no threat of death or dismemberment. There were bruises and broken bones aplenty, but those were all either easily fixed or good practice now that the bossmans Panacea Healing method was so widespread. Though the soldiers were all free to rest and Heal up, Jorani still had his part to play, so he marched over to the staging table with Old Bulat and Silva to shake hands with his opposing commander. Thought I really had ye this time around, Jorani began, shaking his head with a wry smile. Gotta say, ye turned them Stormguards into somethin fierce in so short a time.
Not fierce enough, Mister Rustram replied, though Jorani noted the mans aide and second-in-command were both beaming from the praise. Victory should have been yours, but Lixian here was fortunate enough to send Ulfsaar off the field early on, else the centre wouldve collapsed much sooner.
Was that what happened? Damn it, Jorani had missed seeing Ulfsaar exit the field, though it could be forgiven considering the sheer number of bodies streaming off the field at the same time. Eyeing Mister Rustrams second more closely, Jorani took stock of the grizzled Lixian, who had the worn, weathered look of a farmer or sheep-herder who spent his days out under the burning hot sun. It made him look much older than Jorani, but there was a good chance Lixian was only in his early to late twenties, or maybe even around the same age. Commoners aged faster than Martial Warriors, and the Stormguard only formed their Cores recently, just over a year ago in fact, which made his achievement all the more impressive. Ulfsaar was a Domain-capable veteran who ranked amongst the strongest Warriors in Joranis unit, and even he would think twice before engaging the berserk half-bear in single combat, but Lixian here had done it while looking like hed be more comfortable leaning on a pitchfork than standing at full attention with spear and shield in hand.
Despite not having seen the fight firsthand, Jorani had to give credit where credit was due. Damned fine job out there, he said, offering his hand for Lixian to shake, and Mother bless the poor man, his eyes went so wide he looked ready to bolt or bow as if Jorani were a proper noble or something. It took a little doing, but any man who could face off against Ulfsaar wasnt lacking in courage, so Lixian eventually found his bearings and took Joranis hand in his own. A cold and clammy handshake ensued, but firm and unyielding at the same time, which told Jorani that Lixian had seen some shit before and would bounce back from his awe soon enough.
Got lucky, mlord, the gruff man said, unable to meet Joranis eyes due to a lifetime of subservience. Hit him while he werent lookin is all.
Thats how Id hit him too, Jorani cracked, chuckling all the while. From a hundred paces with a crossbow if I could, but you? You were right there innit and didnt just hold yer ground, ye went head to head with Ulfsaar the Voracious and brought him down. Thats somethin to be proud of soldier, because between you and me, that man scares me more than most Defiled.
That earned him a grin from the plucky fellow, which made him look like a fresh-faced kid barely old enough to marry, as well as a subtle nod of thanks from Mister Rustram. The Stormguard were lacking in experience and confidence, which was the whole point of these tactical maneuvers, mock battles to put them through their paces before crossing blades with the Defiled. It wasnt as good as a real battle, but the Enemy wasnt so obliging as to send their troops out piecemeal so Mister Rustram could blood his new retinue. Then again, the Stormguard were hardly strangers to the battlefield, as they were Irregulars one and all, mostly volunteers who took up arms against the Enemy before even Forming a Core, which took more courage than sense.
Youre not giving Lixian here enough credit. Appearing out of nowhere, the bossman joined their conversation without so much as a how you do, looking regal and magnificent in his blue and white outfit, an embroidered affair full of animals aplenty. Hard to imagine this was the same sickly man from just over a year ago, but here he was, hale and healthy as can be, larger than life yet still humble and gracious enough to look Lixian in the eye and shake his hand, even if the other man tried to avoid his gaze. I remember you, the bossman said, emanating an Aura of pride and gratitude. I remember what you did during the withdrawal from JiangHu, and it is my regret to have not remembered sooner. Breaking eye contact from Lixian to let him weep tears of joy unnoticed, the bossman turned to face the others and said, You all know he served as an Irregular during that battle, but what you dont know is that this man was among the first to come to my aid. A commoner with nothing more than a crossbow and dagger, he sees a force of Demons break through the Death Corps lines to charge headlong at my carriage, and what does he do? He charges right at them to save me. No fear, no hesitation, just grit and courage, so how can he balk before a mere Ulfsaar? Turning back to Lixian who was all but glowing with pride, the bossman grinned and continued, I owe you a debt of gratitude, you and all your comrades who came to my aid. Without you, me and my loved ones might well have fallen that day, and I cannot thank you enough.
No, no, this lowly one does not dare. Were it not for the bossman forcibly holding him upright, Lixian might well have dropped to knees to grovel in the dirt. Legate has done so much for this lowly one, more than this lowly one can repay in a thousand lifetimes.
Wrong. Raising his voice so others could hear him, the bossman declared, Everything youve accomplished and attained was earned through your own efforts. That is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Take pride in yourselves, for you are not just Warriors now, but men and women who stood up for a cause before you had the strength of arm to defend it. Hold fast to those convictions, for they have brought you far and will continue to guide you ever forward along the Martial Path.
Jorani could almost see the pieces falling into place behind GangShus eyes, which widened in comprehension after some seconds of thought. Something to do with the Elemental Spirit? Or maybe the little friend he made out on the Azure Sea? Seeing as he had no idea what that was, Jorani didnt even have to feign ignorance, much to GangShus disappointment. Ye dont know, yet yer still so sure there wont be a purge? Seems strange is all.
I just know. Shrugging again, Jorani reached for his bowl again, having recovered his appetite alongside his good mood. If the bossman aint said anything, then it aint me place to wag me lips, but trust me when I say things wont play out the way ye expect. If ye dont trust me, then ye can just stay here instead of followin us to the Central Citadel. Ill explain things to the bossman, and hell understand. I doubt hes draggin ye into things like ye think, because he dont operate like that. Never has, and never will. If he wants yer help, hell ask fer it, plain and simple.
Trading a glance with Daxian, who remained indifferent to it all, GangShu sighed and ate the rest of his pig trotter, bones and all. Hope yer right, kiddo, he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. I really do, but I cant say Im confident. Either way, yer Legates got a lot of convincing to do if he intends to retake the West, and Im pretty sure he aint heading south to ask nicely. Dont matter much since my hands are tied, so just know me and mine will be close by during the trip.
Yer rivals really that bold as to try and kill ye outright?
Nah, but they aint against takin hostages. Offering a pained grimace in apology, GangShu explained, Some think I dote on ye, what with the Runic armour and whatnot, so they figure Id come out to save ye if ye were in any danger.
Jorani wouldve laughed if it wasnt so serious, because he found it absurd that anyone would believe that GangShu would risk his life for anyone, much less a son he barely even cared about. Well shit. Heaving a sigh, Jorani glanced at his set of Runic Armour which he kept locked away in the closet, hardly the most effective deterrent to Peak Expert thieves, but considering the bossmans reputation, there were few thieves foolish enough to risk his ire. If Jorani had known how much trouble itd bring him, he wouldve flat out refused to wear it when it was first offered to him, but it was too late for regret now. It would prove precious little protection against the might of a Divinity, but hed wear it anyways in the days ahead.
After dinner, Jorani parted ways with GangShu and Daxian to head over to the Brotherhood encampment, where the monks were gathered for their nightly routine of showing off their handiwork before consigning said works to the fire. There was something poignant about watching such beauty be destroyed, but it also added a pressing need for Jorani to come watch every night, lest he miss out on seeing those precious and short-lived works of art. It took a lot of effort on the bossmans part to convince Monk Happy to carve all those names into the Tombstone of Heroes, since taking part in the creation of such a monument might be seen as pursuing permanence in legacy, but after a lengthy discussion on the topic, the Brotherhood concluded that since the bossman only wanted Monk Happys help because he carved faster than anyone else, so long as he stayed anonymous and carved in a legible but unembellished font, then no harm would come of it. It made sense in a way, given how the monks destroyed their artwork to avoid yearning for permanence in fame, which was one of the three poisons. Jorani could see how a permanent stone marker might well be construed as just that, but it still seemed like a silly matter to lose sleep over.
That was the Brotherhood in a nutshell, so focused on getting the details of getting their Noble Eight-Fold right that it ate into the time needed to pursue it. Trial and error was unacceptable when it came to their Dao, because every step had to be taken with the Right View. In contrast, the bossman believed that the destination mattered less than the journey itself, a sentiment Jorani agreed with. Just because you had a set goal, didnt mean there was only one way to reach it, for all paths lead to the Dao in the end. Right View, Right Intention, Right Speech, and so on and so forth, those were merely guidelines to live by, not hard rules to stubbornly follow without thinking twice.
Take the Right Livelihood for example, which dictated that one should live a life free of harm brought about by ones decisions. This meant abstaining from eating meat, crafting weapons, or utilizing anything that had been produced through slavery or other means of coercion, which left the Brotherhood precious few options to work with after leaving their hidden monastery in the Arid Wastes. Everything they used had to be procured by hand, because otherwise, there was no guarantee that the products they needed were wholly free of harm. Thus, rather than buy vegetables at market, or even visit farms to procure product off the vine themselves, the monks insisted on foraging for their own food in the wild, which meant they had precious little to eat here on the border between West and Central. Despite subsisting on grass soups and tasteless tubers, the monks refused to stray from their beliefs and buy a cabbage or turnip from the market, even though the bossman went to great lengths to show that the farmers living along the Western were under no compulsion to work.
A statement the monks clearly didnt agree with, as they believed the debt incurred by the farmers to purchase their lots of land was coercion, plain and simple. It was in a way, but hardly any harm considering the bossman wasnt charging interest on a debt and had structured payments so that the farmers would never have to part with cold, hard coin. All they had to do was farm, and even then, if their crops took blight or rotted in the field, nothing would come of it since payments were a percentage of the harvest. The only issue would be if the farmers abandoned their plots of land, at which point the bossman would simply reclaim the land and sell it to someone else, but even this was enough for the Brotherhood to write off the farmers as under duress.
If that was the case, then the entire working sector was under duress, since you gotta work to eat, but no amount of arguments would convince the Brotherhood otherwise.
A stubborn, stuck in their ways bunch, the monks of the Brotherhood, but they made some beautiful art, which Jorani appreciated and mourned as the night wore on. Once the last monks artwork had been destroyed, Jorani approached Monk Happy and Monk Bones to let them know about his plans for the next few days, as well as his strange encounter with GangShu, mostly because he just wanted to talk about it. Monk Happy stayed silent throughout it all, listening intently until Jorani had little left to say, ending with, So er... yea. I dunno when Ill be back, if I even come back at all. Chances are well head straight fer SuiHua from the Central Citadel, so if I dont see ye, then I just wanted to say me farewells. Give me best to Asmani and the rest when ye see em, and err, well... farewell, I guess.
No need to bid me farewell, Monk Bones said, sucking his teeth in minor annoyance. Ill be coming along with.
As will I. Shrugging, Monk Happy sighed and added, Whether the rest of the Brotherhood accepts him as Wisdom or Junior Brother accepts his place with us, this monk cannot sit idly by in good conscience while matters of grave importance take place. GangShu is correct; Junior Brother is done asking nicely, and while this monk cannot claim knowledge of his intent, this monk knows that nothing good will come from conflict between the Legate and Commander General.
Stomach roiling with worry, Jorani swallowed hard and wondered if maybe things were more serious than he thought. Surely the bossman had some plan in mind, something to win Shuai Jiao over without butting heads with the man. There was no way hed risk falling out with the Commander General just before a major engagement, one that needed the support of all three provinces to succeed, so with that in mind, Jorani headed home to rest his head and woke up bright and early to catch the ship.
And upon arriving at the docks in full Runic Armour, he felt the world crumble away beneath his feet as he spotted a familiar face waiting to board the bossmans ship. Siyar, Jorani said, hoping against all hopes that his fears were for naught. What are ye doin here? Got a message fer me or the bossman?
Nah, the hardened killer replied, standing at what appeared to be ease but with one hand always close to his sword. The bossman asked me to come along with. You too huh?
Yea. Hard to believe that Siyar was coming along for the same reasons, or at least not the ones the bossman admitted to. Resisting the urge to close his eyes and weep, Jorani scanned his surroundings and found several more familiar faces waiting nearby. Some stood out at first glance, famous figures like Colonel General Nian Zu, Lieutenant General Akanai, Lieutenant General Baatar, and other notable Warriors, but it was the figures who didnt stand out that scared Jorani so. Some were sailors, and others were dockworkers, and still some posing as generic soldiers alongside Siyar, but none of them were truly what they appeared to be, nor were they members of the bossmans retinue. Though Jorani had only seen them once or twice before, hed marked their faces as ones to remember, because they were fanatical members of the Aspirants, the Bloody Confessors former base of power. Most telling of all was the presence of the spymaster MuYang, disguised as a porter moving cargo aboard the ship wearing a fake beard and dirty eye-patch. With these disguised fanatics riding alongside the heaviest hitters the bossman could call upon, it showed that he was truly on the warpath, only a war of a different sorts. Though done in service to the war against the Enemy, the bossman was prepared for a war in the shadows, which was exactly where a stone-cold killer like Siyar excelled. Try as he might, Jorani could think of no other target at the Central Citadel besides a particularly stubborn Commander General who refused to support the bossmans efforts to retake the West.
Mother have mercy on them all if their conflict should come to daggers in the dark, but Jorani could see no other explanation. The bossman would try everything short of bloodshed to accomplish his goals, but if push came to shove, then perhaps as early as tomorrow morning, the Empire might well be mourning the loss of yet another Colonel General.
And for the life of him, Jorani couldnt understand why things had to be this way.
Chapter Meme
Chapter 726The battle was going to shit, but Jorani had a plan.Course, he always went in with a plan, scheme, or strategy in mind, and they rarely ever worked out as intended, but he had a good feeling about this one even if it was a bit of a gamble. A tricky thing, gambling, especially when betting something as precious as human lives, because it was all too easy to get hooked on chasing the thrill of victory rather than playing for the payout itself. Hed seen it countless times before, rogues and bandits losing entire fortunes theyd just looted only to go out and risk their lives to accumulate more wealth to try and win it all back, and win or lose, theyd just do it all over again. Good fortune rarely lasted a lifetime, and for most, winning big only meant theyd have more to lose the next time their luck ran out. In his transition from street rat to forest bandit, Jorani never got sucked into the allure of dicing, horse-racing, archery contests, or whatever vice the others were into that week, but only because he was too miserly to risk his meagre savings. The pickings were few and far between, and the pauper in him hated not knowing where his next meal would come from, so he always kept what little earnings he had stashed away for a rainy day.Then Mister Rustram got promoted and left to run his own retinue, so Jorani was given command of the old one, a promotion which came with a sizable pay bump and an unwelcome association with his second-in-command. The vile and villainous Old Bulat was a man whose moniker didnt match his age as he was probably younger than Jorani, nor did it match his appearance. A strapping, burly bastard he was, one almost as wide as he was tall with a prodigious appetite to boot, with belly a plenty to eat Ral for breakfast and still have room left for dessert. The man turned fat and corpulent in less than a year of retirement, with more chins than most mountain ranges have peaks, though to give credit where it was due, Bulat only needed a few weeks to transform most of his fat into muscle again. Hed never be anything short of hefty though, not even if he ran for a thousand years without stopping, but that wasnt the important part. No, the thing Jorani both hated and loved about the man was how Old Bulat was always calculating the odds, though he rarely used any sort of math Jorani was familiar with. Bet against the man, Old Bulat would say, Not the dice. The dice will do as they please, but the man? The right mans a mark just beggin to give ye coin.Words of wisdom, or at least so it seemed at the time, which was always the problem with Old Bulat. You never knew how wrong he was until things went to shit, which they did more often than not, except Old Bulat always came out smelling like roses. After a few bad bets which cost him a veritable fortune, Jorani finally figured out that he was Old Bulats mark and quit wagering in the mans games, but the damage was already done. The thrill of the gamble had taken root in Joranis soul and left him with a mighty thirst for action. Oh how he yearned to hear the tumbling dice, stampeding hooves, or even the clickity clack of the shuffling Mahjong tiles, a game hed always figured was for the rich and mighty, except he was one of them now and had the coin to spare. What was he saving it for anyways? Retirement? Hardly the most sound investment for a man in his line of work, since a soldier in war time didnt have the best odds of surviving to a ripe old age. His future wife? Even wealth and status hadnt helped him none with that, and the girls in the fancy brothels werent much better than the cheaper ones he was used to, just wearing nicer clothes and better make up is all.So why not use his money to make more money and get out of the game early? Thats how Old Bulat framed it, which made sense at the time, but then Jorani put a bit of thought into it and realized how full of shit the fat man really was. If gambling was so easy, like Old Bulat said it was, how come hed come back from retirement? Loyalty to the bossman, sure, but even a District Mayor couldnt be makin too much more than the second in command to the Legates retinue. Besides, while it seemed silly to save up for a retirement which might never come, if Jorani wanted to ever be anything besides a soldier, then hed need coin to get out. If he just gambled away his sizable salary month after month, then hed have no choice but to keep soldiering on until his luck ran out and he went the way of the soldier at the pointy end of a Defiled spear, a self-fulfilling prophecy as it were.But now, he was not just a soldier anymore, he was a commander of five-thousand men, one addicted to gambling their lives away and none too good at it either. Cept this time he had a plan, a good one even, and he figured there was no better time than right now to test it. Centre, fall back fifty paces, he commanded, and Silva Sent the orders out, even though Jorani couldve Sent it himself. Left and right flanks, press in hard. A basic maneuver to encompass the enemy forces, but simple and easy didnt mean it wouldnt work. Werent nothing fancy about clubbing a man over the back of the head, but that didnt mean it wasnt effective. Across the field, Joranis counterpart responded by ordering his soldiers to flare out on either side, delaying the flanking maneuver while his centre advanced, again, nothing too fancy or out of place. A standard counter to a standard move, which meant so far, things were going well, though one wouldnt know it from looking. Despite having inherited a crack fighting force thatd been through the Fathers Maw and back, the Warriors of the bossmans retinue seemed wild and reckless compared to the disciplined forces they faced. Try as he might, Jorani couldnt keep his lines neat and orderly in the chaos of battle, unlike the enemy forces who fought in straight, uncluttered lines, packed in shoulder to shoulder with barely enough room to swing their weapons. Which they didnt. Swing that is, as they were armed with spears and shields which they used to great effect by attacking with measured thrusts while hiding behind a wall of steel that only a Honed Spiritual Weapon could cut through.Time and time again, Joranis soldiers threw themselves at the enemy forces to no avail, his numbers in the centre steadily dwindling as his opponent held the flanks and advanced, but he treated the losses as the price of baiting the trap, one which would pay off in spades if everything went according to plan. The biggest issue wasnt the troop movements, but the individuals making up each formation, because even though Joranis blackguards were individually stronger than their opponents, their foes were much better at fighting in groups, even when scaled down to mere three or five man engagements. The seemingly solid wall of steel would bend and curve like a snake undulating across the ground, their foes withdrawing from one fight so their allies could attack the same target in another, and Joranis people were getting beat down through superior focus of effort.Liu Xuandes work that, with his training exercises that focused more on timing and teamwork than individual strength. If they were to take theses two forces and break this battle down into a series of one on one matches, Jorani was confident his people would come out with an overwhelming victory, but the face of war was changing, which meant it was time to adapt or die.There was nothing he could do about getting his soldiers to work together, not from where he stood now, so he needed the enemy to over-extend, but the enemy commander was too cunning to do so without reason, which meant timing was key here. Watching with bated breath, Jorani almost gave the order three times before deciding to wait, and then almost missed the perfect opportunity as the enemy vanguard got a little overeager and broke formation to try and finish his centre off. Split the flanks, he said, and this time, Silva looked to him in question before passing along the order. Half from each side fall back to collapse on the centre. Hit them hard and fast, wholesale slaughter.A big gamble, abandoning the flanks to hammer the centre, as it could all go pear shaped and end with his forces surrounded on all sides, but he had faith his superior Warriors would hold the line and deal with the centre in good time. Understanding his intentions upon receiving his orders, Chey held the left flank and sent Ral to spearhead the charge, and it was a real treat to watch the big guy crash into the enemy centre like thunder on a dry summer night. On the right, Wang Bao held firm while Ulfsaar fell back to meet up with Ral, the two mighty behemoths making short work of their foes with axe and staff respectively. That was Joranis advantage here, the superior quality of his troops, which he needed to use in order to overcome his opponents first-rate discipline and impeccable formations. Even under the weight of so many attacks, the enemy centre held fast and formed up in a checker-board square. It was strange seeing so few soldiers make efficient use of what was primarily a large-scale formation, but the principles behind the tactic were sound regardless if it was used by three soldiers or a thousand. Giving ground in one area to take ground in three, the enemy formation wavered but never broke as they bought precious seconds which turned into agonizing minutes as both forces teetered on the brink of victory and defeat. It all came down to this, because if the centre held, then Joranis flanks would soon be overrun, but if the centre folded, then the battle was all but won.Both sides took massive casualties as dead and defeated filed out of the battlefield, some grumbling and others laughing at a match well fought, but Jorani could not afford to let his focus slip. He still had soldiers in reserve which he sent to shore up the flanks, directing them on circuitous routes to try and hit the enemy where it would hurt the most, but his counterpart matched his movements and probed his weaknesses as well, so there was no advantage to be gained by either side. After a long, hard-fought battle, the horn sounded to signal the end of todays match, and Jorani was left staring at the battered remnants of his retinue and yearning for the sweet taste of victory which had just been denied him. Then again, he hadnt lost either, as the enemy lines were just as ragged and sparse, with only a few hundred survivors in total on both sides being cheered on by their dead comrades on the sidelines.A pyrrhic victory for both sides, as the bossman would say, though he never did explain what the word meant. At least the troops were in good spirits, as these tactical maneuvers were a lot more fun than the endless, monotonous training exercises theyd taken the place of. Tomorrow, theyd go back to marching and drilling, but today, they got to sweat and spar on the battlefield in a massive, chaotic melee with no threat of death or dismemberment. There were bruises and broken bones aplenty, but those were all either easily fixed or good practice now that the bossmans Panacea Healing method was so widespread. Though the soldiers were all free to rest and Heal up, Jorani still had his part to play, so he marched over to the staging table with Old Bulat and Silva to shake hands with his opposing commander. Thought I really had ye this time around, Jorani began, shaking his head with a wry smile. Gotta say, ye turned them Stormguards into somethin fierce in so short a time.Not fierce enough, Mister Rustram replied, though Jorani noted the mans aide and second-in-command were both beaming from the praise. Victory should have been yours, but Lixian here was fortunate enough to send Ulfsaar off the field early on, else the centre wouldve collapsed much sooner.Was that what happened? Damn it, Jorani had missed seeing Ulfsaar exit the field, though it could be forgiven considering the sheer number of bodies streaming off the field at the same time. Eyeing Mister Rustrams second more closely, Jorani took stock of the grizzled Lixian, who had the worn, weathered look of a farmer or sheep-herder who spent his days out under the burning hot sun. It made him look much older than Jorani, but there was a good chance Lixian was only in his early to late twenties, or maybe even around the same age. Commoners aged faster than Martial Warriors, and the Stormguard only formed their Cores recently, just over a year ago in fact, which made his achievement all the more impressive. Ulfsaar was a Domain-capable veteran who ranked amongst the strongest Warriors in Joranis unit, and even he would think twice before engaging the berserk half-bear in single combat, but Lixian here had done it while looking like hed be more comfortable leaning on a pitchfork than standing at full attention with spear and shield in hand.Despite not having seen the fight firsthand, Jorani had to give credit where credit was due. Damned fine job out there, he said, offering his hand for Lixian to shake, and Mother bless the poor man, his eyes went so wide he looked ready to bolt or bow as if Jorani were a proper noble or something. It took a little doing, but any man who could face off against Ulfsaar wasnt lacking in courage, so Lixian eventually found his bearings and took Joranis hand in his own. A cold and clammy handshake ensued, but firm and unyielding at the same time, which told Jorani that Lixian had seen some shit before and would bounce back from his awe soon enough.Got lucky, mlord, the gruff man said, unable to meet Joranis eyes due to a lifetime of subservience. Hit him while he werent lookin is all.Thats how Id hit him too, Jorani cracked, chuckling all the while. From a hundred paces with a crossbow if I could, but you? You were right there innit and didnt just hold yer ground, ye went head to head with Ulfsaar the Voracious and brought him down. Thats somethin to be proud of soldier, because between you and me, that man scares me more than most Defiled.That earned him a grin from the plucky fellow, which made him look like a fresh-faced kid barely old enough to marry, as well as a subtle nod of thanks from Mister Rustram. The Stormguard were lacking in experience and confidence, which was the whole point of these tactical maneuvers, mock battles to put them through their paces before crossing blades with the Defiled. It wasnt as good as a real battle, but the Enemy wasnt so obliging as to send their troops out piecemeal so Mister Rustram could blood his new retinue. Then again, the Stormguard were hardly strangers to the battlefield, as they were Irregulars one and all, mostly volunteers who took up arms against the Enemy before even Forming a Core, which took more courage than sense.Youre not giving Lixian here enough credit. Appearing out of nowhere, the bossman joined their conversation without so much as a how you do, looking regal and magnificent in his blue and white outfit, an embroidered affair full of animals aplenty. Hard to imagine this was the same sickly man from just over a year ago, but here he was, hale and healthy as can be, larger than life yet still humble and gracious enough to look Lixian in the eye and shake his hand, even if the other man tried to avoid his gaze. I remember you, the bossman said, emanating an Aura of pride and gratitude. I remember what you did during the withdrawal from JiangHu, and it is my regret to have not remembered sooner. Breaking eye contact from Lixian to let him weep tears of joy unnoticed, the bossman turned to face the others and said, You all know he served as an Irregular during that battle, but what you dont know is that this man was among the first to come to my aid. A commoner with nothing more than a crossbow and dagger, he sees a force of Demons break through the Death Corps lines to charge headlong at my carriage, and what does he do? He charges right at them to save me. No fear, no hesitation, just grit and courage, so how can he balk before a mere Ulfsaar? Turning back to Lixian who was all but glowing with pride, the bossman grinned and continued, I owe you a debt of gratitude, you and all your comrades who came to my aid. Without you, me and my loved ones might well have fallen that day, and I cannot thank you enough.No, no, this lowly one does not dare. Were it not for the bossman forcibly holding him upright, Lixian might well have dropped to knees to grovel in the dirt. Legate has done so much for this lowly one, more than this lowly one can repay in a thousand lifetimes.Wrong. Raising his voice so others could hear him, the bossman declared, Everything youve accomplished and attained was earned through your own efforts. That is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Take pride in yourselves, for you are not just Warriors now, but men and women who stood up for a cause before you had the strength of arm to defend it. Hold fast to those convictions, for they have brought you far and will continue to guide you ever forward along the Martial Path.Jorani could almost see the pieces falling into place behind GangShus eyes, which widened in comprehension after some seconds of thought. Something to do with the Elemental Spirit? Or maybe the little friend he made out on the Azure Sea? Seeing as he had no idea what that was, Jorani didnt even have to feign ignorance, much to GangShus disappointment. Ye dont know, yet yer still so sure there wont be a purge? Seems strange is all.I just know. Shrugging again, Jorani reached for his bowl again, having recovered his appetite alongside his good mood. If the bossman aint said anything, then it aint me place to wag me lips, but trust me when I say things wont play out the way ye expect. If ye dont trust me, then ye can just stay here instead of followin us to the Central Citadel. Ill explain things to the bossman, and hell understand. I doubt hes draggin ye into things like ye think, because he dont operate like that. Never has, and never will. If he wants yer help, hell ask fer it, plain and simple.Trading a glance with Daxian, who remained indifferent to it all, GangShu sighed and ate the rest of his pig trotter, bones and all. Hope yer right, kiddo, he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. I really do, but I cant say Im confident. Either way, yer Legates got a lot of convincing to do if he intends to retake the West, and Im pretty sure he aint heading south to ask nicely. Dont matter much since my hands are tied, so just know me and mine will be close by during the trip.Yer rivals really that bold as to try and kill ye outright?Nah, but they aint against takin hostages. Offering a pained grimace in apology, GangShu explained, Some think I dote on ye, what with the Runic armour and whatnot, so they figure Id come out to save ye if ye were in any danger.Jorani wouldve laughed if it wasnt so serious, because he found it absurd that anyone would believe that GangShu would risk his life for anyone, much less a son he barely even cared about. Well shit. Heaving a sigh, Jorani glanced at his set of Runic Armour which he kept locked away in the closet, hardly the most effective deterrent to Peak Expert thieves, but considering the bossmans reputation, there were few thieves foolish enough to risk his ire. If Jorani had known how much trouble itd bring him, he wouldve flat out refused to wear it when it was first offered to him, but it was too late for regret now. It would prove precious little protection against the might of a Divinity, but hed wear it anyways in the days ahead.After dinner, Jorani parted ways with GangShu and Daxian to head over to the Brotherhood encampment, where the monks were gathered for their nightly routine of showing off their handiwork before consigning said works to the fire. There was something poignant about watching such beauty be destroyed, but it also added a pressing need for Jorani to come watch every night, lest he miss out on seeing those precious and short-lived works of art. It took a lot of effort on the bossmans part to convince Monk Happy to carve all those names into the Tombstone of Heroes, since taking part in the creation of such a monument might be seen as pursuing permanence in legacy, but after a lengthy discussion on the topic, the Brotherhood concluded that since the bossman only wanted Monk Happys help because he carved faster than anyone else, so long as he stayed anonymous and carved in a legible but unembellished font, then no harm would come of it. It made sense in a way, given how the monks destroyed their artwork to avoid yearning for permanence in fame, which was one of the three poisons. Jorani could see how a permanent stone marker might well be construed as just that, but it still seemed like a silly matter to lose sleep over.That was the Brotherhood in a nutshell, so focused on getting the details of getting their Noble Eight-Fold right that it ate into the time needed to pursue it. Trial and error was unacceptable when it came to their Dao, because every step had to be taken with the Right View. In contrast, the bossman believed that the destination mattered less than the journey itself, a sentiment Jorani agreed with. Just because you had a set goal, didnt mean there was only one way to reach it, for all paths lead to the Dao in the end. Right View, Right Intention, Right Speech, and so on and so forth, those were merely guidelines to live by, not hard rules to stubbornly follow without thinking twice.Take the Right Livelihood for example, which dictated that one should live a life free of harm brought about by ones decisions. This meant abstaining from eating meat, crafting weapons, or utilizing anything that had been produced through slavery or other means of coercion, which left the Brotherhood precious few options to work with after leaving their hidden monastery in the Arid Wastes. Everything they used had to be procured by hand, because otherwise, there was no guarantee that the products they needed were wholly free of harm. Thus, rather than buy vegetables at market, or even visit farms to procure product off the vine themselves, the monks insisted on foraging for their own food in the wild, which meant they had precious little to eat here on the border between West and Central. Despite subsisting on grass soups and tasteless tubers, the monks refused to stray from their beliefs and buy a cabbage or turnip from the market, even though the bossman went to great lengths to show that the farmers living along the Western were under no compulsion to work.A statement the monks clearly didnt agree with, as they believed the debt incurred by the farmers to purchase their lots of land was coercion, plain and simple. It was in a way, but hardly any harm considering the bossman wasnt charging interest on a debt and had structured payments so that the farmers would never have to part with cold, hard coin. All they had to do was farm, and even then, if their crops took blight or rotted in the field, nothing would come of it since payments were a percentage of the harvest. The only issue would be if the farmers abandoned their plots of land, at which point the bossman would simply reclaim the land and sell it to someone else, but even this was enough for the Brotherhood to write off the farmers as under duress.If that was the case, then the entire working sector was under duress, since you gotta work to eat, but no amount of arguments would convince the Brotherhood otherwise.A stubborn, stuck in their ways bunch, the monks of the Brotherhood, but they made some beautiful art, which Jorani appreciated and mourned as the night wore on. Once the last monks artwork had been destroyed, Jorani approached Monk Happy and Monk Bones to let them know about his plans for the next few days, as well as his strange encounter with GangShu, mostly because he just wanted to talk about it. Monk Happy stayed silent throughout it all, listening intently until Jorani had little left to say, ending with, So er... yea. I dunno when Ill be back, if I even come back at all. Chances are well head straight fer SuiHua from the Central Citadel, so if I dont see ye, then I just wanted to say me farewells. Give me best to Asmani and the rest when ye see em, and err, well... farewell, I guess.No need to bid me farewell, Monk Bones said, sucking his teeth in minor annoyance. Ill be coming along with.As will I. Shrugging, Monk Happy sighed and added, Whether the rest of the Brotherhood accepts him as Wisdom or Junior Brother accepts his place with us, this monk cannot sit idly by in good conscience while matters of grave importance take place. GangShu is correct; Junior Brother is done asking nicely, and while this monk cannot claim knowledge of his intent, this monk knows that nothing good will come from conflict between the Legate and Commander General.Stomach roiling with worry, Jorani swallowed hard and wondered if maybe things were more serious than he thought. Surely the bossman had some plan in mind, something to win Shuai Jiao over without butting heads with the man. There was no way hed risk falling out with the Commander General just before a major engagement, one that needed the support of all three provinces to succeed, so with that in mind, Jorani headed home to rest his head and woke up bright and early to catch the ship.And upon arriving at the docks in full Runic Armour, he felt the world crumble away beneath his feet as he spotted a familiar face waiting to board the bossmans ship. Siyar, Jorani said, hoping against all hopes that his fears were for naught. What are ye doin here? Got a message fer me or the bossman?Nah, the hardened killer replied, standing at what appeared to be ease but with one hand always close to his sword. The bossman asked me to come along with. You too huh?Yea. Hard to believe that Siyar was coming along for the same reasons, or at least not the ones the bossman admitted to. Resisting the urge to close his eyes and weep, Jorani scanned his surroundings and found several more familiar faces waiting nearby. Some stood out at first glance, famous figures like Colonel General Nian Zu, Lieutenant General Akanai, Lieutenant General Baatar, and other notable Warriors, but it was the figures who didnt stand out that scared Jorani so. Some were sailors, and others were dockworkers, and still some posing as generic soldiers alongside Siyar, but none of them were truly what they appeared to be, nor were they members of the bossmans retinue. Though Jorani had only seen them once or twice before, hed marked their faces as ones to remember, because they were fanatical members of the Aspirants, the Bloody Confessors former base of power. Most telling of all was the presence of the spymaster MuYang, disguised as a porter moving cargo aboard the ship wearing a fake beard and dirty eye-patch. With these disguised fanatics riding alongside the heaviest hitters the bossman could call upon, it showed that he was truly on the warpath, only a war of a different sorts. Though done in service to the war against the Enemy, the bossman was prepared for a war in the shadows, which was exactly where a stone-cold killer like Siyar excelled. Try as he might, Jorani could think of no other target at the Central Citadel besides a particularly stubborn Commander General who refused to support the bossmans efforts to retake the West.Mother have mercy on them all if their conflict should come to daggers in the dark, but Jorani could see no other explanation. The bossman would try everything short of bloodshed to accomplish his goals, but if push came to shove, then perhaps as early as tomorrow morning, the Empire might well be mourning the loss of yet another Colonel General.And for the life of him, Jorani couldnt understand why things had to be this way.Chapter Meme
