Chapter 558 (Patreon)

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In thirty-nine years of military service, Binesi had seen countless young talents come and go.

Most were a disappointing lot, a bunch of peacocked fops who bought into their lickspittles’ lies and believed they were destined to become the next Lu An Jing or DuGu Tian Sha. Most lacked the skills and talents required to go so far, but if Binesi had a copper for every time he’d heard a recruit reference one or both of those names, then he would be the wealthiest man in his village by far. What those starry-eyed ponces failed to realize was that they were merely frogs stuck in a well, unable to see how wide the heavens truly are. They believed that in time, they would ascend into the skies with a single bound to become the Mother’s Chosen Child, but fame and misfortune often walked hand in hand.

Once a budding young talent himself, Binesi had the good fortune to meet both storied heroes before they rose to fame. DuGu Tian Sha was a talented peasant turned arrogant ass, but reasonably so considering his phenomenal sword skills which helped keep his head attached to his shoulders. A scoundrel of a womanizer, he left a trail of dead husbands, brothers, and fathers behind him, emerging victorious in nineteen life and death duels before the age of twenty-five, and Binesi had gone to great efforts to keep him from meeting his then-future wife, Asane.

Back then, the Northern Province was in the midst of a minor crisis since the Defiled had found a path through the mountains which to bypassed Imperial patrols and defenses, allowing them to sneak into the province undetected. Fortunately, they could only ferry small warbands through rather than entire armies, and the heroes of the Empire had worked tirelessly to hunt every last one of them down. Given the circumstances, Binesi had thought they’d done a decent job of it overall, but in light of recent events in Sanshu, he wasn’t so sure anymore. Regardless, in those trying times, the Army offered many young heroes a Warrant Officer’s commission, an offer DuGu Tian Sha accepted, and the rest was history. He won every battle he took part in, often snatching victory from the jaws of defeat, and grew into a household name until a mere ten years later, when he came up against a powerful and ancient Demon who’d already killed six Peak Experts and was positioned to overrun the Imperial Defenses along the Northern Wall. With his over-sized broadsword in hand, he single-handedly held back the Demon and its Defiled companions long enough for reinforcements to arrive, but not before DuGu Tian Sha became the seventh victim to fall beneath the Demon’s wicked, serrated glaive.

The Empire wept, but more than one spurned daughter or disgraced widow pranced through the streets, or at least they would have if not for the sake of decorum.

As for Lu An Jing, his story was even more tragic, simply because of how damned charismatic the man was. A modest and unpretentious man, he cared not for the status or wealth of his friends and companions, only their character and integrity. Though cool and aloof, he had a way about him which made other warriors yearn to impress him, as if they felt an instinctive need to obtain his approval. Where Tian Sha made enemies like drinking water, An Jing made friends as easily as turning a hand. True friends, mind you, loyal battle brothers and stalwart companions who would happily follow him into the Father’s Maw while laughing and cheering all the while. Though already under Nian Zu at the time, Binesi had been so charmed by the young hero’s demeanour that he accepted the offer for a friendly spar, where he was handily defeated in less than twenty moves during their first match. Still, it was a tale he would tell until he was old and grey, for Lu An Jing was magnanimous in victory and gracious in defeat. When news came of his death from a Defiled ambush, Binesi visited the local tavern and hefted far too many cups to the young hero who’d been taken from them far too soon, and woke up to the lash for arriving late and drunk for duty. Those scars still remained, embedded in his flesh as a physical reminder of his fury and wrath, but he counted it a small price to pay to honour such a distinguished young hero.

Were Lu An Jing still alive, Binesi had no doubt he would have become Colonel General Nian Zu’s second-in-command, instead of that brutish upstart Baatar who hungered for the thrill of battle like a drunk thirsts for wine.

History was filled with similar such tales, and DuGu Tian Sha and Lu An Jing were merely the most recent stand-out talents to suffer this tragic fate. Both were of unremarkable birth and rose to become the preeminent talents of their generation, and both died young and left grieving widows and fatherless children behind. What’s more, they were both victims of their own success, because if they had been men of lesser talents, then they might still be alive today. A lesser warrior would not have been called to fight such a powerful Demon, and a lesser commander would not have been dispatched to stop such a dangerous Defiled incursion without support, but alas, such is life. The Mother favoured some children over the others, but only because She held high expectations from her chosen few, and there was no better example than the Bekhai foundling, Falling Rain.

The orphan who became a foundling, the foundling who became a warrior, and the warrior who became the Number One Talent in the Empire. Had things continued in this manner, then there was no doubt in Binesi’s mind that Falling Rain had it in him to become one of the greatest duellists of his generation and perhaps even the next DuGu Tian Sha, which was ironic considering the foundling’s part in eradicating the DuGu family line. Unlike DuGu Tian Sha, Falling Rain had the Bekhai to back him instead of a powerless peasant family, or a merchant family and hostile in-laws as was the case with Lu An Jing, so young Rain had the potential to go further than either of his predecessors. Then, disaster struck and he shattered his Core in Sinuji, causing his star to fall from lofty heights into a midden heap of tragic calamity.

Or so most of the Empire believed, Binesi included, until just over a week ago when he watched the ‘frail’ and ‘crippled’ young foundling slaughter three Demon with his bare hands, and send several more fleeing in what could only be described as terror. Forget becoming the next storied hero of the Empire. Falling Rain might well already be one, but to say this left Binesi with conflicted feelings would be a gross understatement.

As a proud, mountain warrior, Binesi never shied from sharing his origins with strangers until recently. Now, whenever he mentioned hailing the Saint’s Tribulations Mountains, he would inevitably be labelled as Bekhai, a misconception which vexed him to no end because he had no simple way to explain it. The Bekhai were but one of dozens of communities who called those northernmost mountain ranges home, and the only ones who felt the need to label themselves as anything besides ‘citizen of the Empire’. Pretentious and unpatriotic is what it was, calling themselves ‘Bekhai’ as if it somehow elevated them beyond other citizens of the Empire, and Binesi would have no part of it. Except now, with their star on the rise and their warriors making names for themselves, the Bekhai label was being stamped on every denizen of the Saint’s Tribulations Mountains simply because they all gathered under the Khishig banner, who were in turn led by their respected Bekhai founder, Herald of the Storms Akanai.

The unfamiliar words were to blame, more evidence of the Bekhai’s lacking nationalism. ‘Khishig’ was merely ‘Sentinel’ by another name, yet they refused to use the Common variant out of sheer stubbornness. As outsiders, the people of the Saint’s Tribulations Mountains had enough difficulty integrating with city-born citizens of the Empire, and calling themselves by a different name in a different language only exacerbated those woes. That’s why Binesi refused to join the Khishigs even though they did good work keeping the people of the mountains safe and happy, and it was why his children and grandchildren would never join them, not so long as the Khishigs retained their separatist bias.

Unity above all else. That was the Empire’s greatest weapon against the Enemy, and the Bekhai’s actions threatened to ruin it all. They could barely keep their own community together without resorting to infighting and exile, so how could they ever hope to integrate with the rest of the Empire?

Despite Binesi’s issues with the general Bekhai’s attitude, he always respected their martial spirit, for many a heroic warrior had emerged from their ranks. Thus, imagine his confusion upon meeting young Falling Rain, a foundling who perhaps wasn’t the best example of Bekhai upbringing, yet a disaster of such massive proportions that Binesi had no choice but to question what those Bekhai fools were doing. His mysterious strength aside, Falling Rain behaved like a feckless, mule-brained man-child who was every bit as spoiled as those poncy noble fops who spent their days idling about the citadel so they could later claim to have been a part of the defence efforts. Granted, he contributed more than his fair share of blood, sweat, and coin towards keeping the Empire safe, but it was hard for Binesi to match the peerless young warrior’s deeds and reputation with the giggling fool seated in the grass before him, even though they were undoubtedly one and the same.

“You want a treat?” Falling Rain asked, speaking in a sickly sweet voice while bringing his half-closed hands to his lips and nuzzling it like cat cleaning its paw. “This is how you ask. Paw to mouth, and you get a treat."

Predictably, the bears and wildcats ignored the foundling’s words and actions to stare at the treat in his hands, and the rabbits were even less composed as they incessantly pawed at his legs, but Falling Rain was patient and determined, if nothing else. “Stop,” he admonished, and miracle of miracles, the rabbits actually listened, settling back on their haunches while continuing to paw at empty air. It reminded Binesi of how panhandlers on the streets would press their palms together and beg for alms, which apparently was on point since Rain shook his head and said, “No, not beg. That’s for attention and to look cute. If you want a treat, you do this.” Putting hand to lips again, he then pantomimed eating the treat with a silly smile before continuing, “See? Tap your mouth to show you’re hungry, and then you get a treat. Easy peasy.”

This was Falling Rain, son of the Bloody Fanged Wolf and the Piercing Rose, Grand Disciple of the Herald of the Storms, and a warrior standing at the forefront of his generation.

How... disconcerting.

Though Binesi understood the foundling’s circumstances better than most, he couldn’t understand why the Bekhai gave Falling Rain so much leeway. Perhaps it had something to do with his parents, but Binesi had no idea who they might be, except that they had to be amber-eyed exiles else there would be no amber-eyed foundling to bring him. Regardless of his parentage, if the Bekhai were willing to overlook Rain’s origins as a child of exiles and bring him back into the fold, then they should have worked harder to help him integrate with their people. As things stood, the foundling was neither wholly Bekhai nor was he a true citizen of the Empire, and his lacking sense of belonging was sorely felt by all sides. The citizens of the Empire couldn’t wholly accept him because his behaviour was too incomprehensible to see him as one of their own. He didn’t carry himself like a peasant or even a noble, but more like a foreign savage who knew nothing of local customs or etiquette and felt like he could march in and criticize their way of life. Make no mistake, his gift to the Legate was filled with commendable ideas, including cast iron, cheap paper, clear glass, and more, but the manner in which he presented it was almost offensive. All these brilliant ideas had been thrown to the masses like scraps to beggars, and even the lowliest peasant had their pride.

None of this kept people from using his ideas, but it made them feel less than grateful for the opportunity. Ironically, the foundling’s methods would have spread faster if he’d simply kept them secret and used them to earn himself a staggering fortune, because then he would have every noble and merchant in the Empire breathing down his neck while desperately working to uncover his secrets.

The source of so many of Rain’s woes boiled down to his inability to understand the simple concept of face. It was aggravating to watch in action, whether it be through his accidental insults like not offering tea to Colonel General Nian Zu, or the offence he gave in dismissing the advice of Peak Experts with a wave of his hand. No wonder he made enemies so easily and counted animals as his closest friends, but as the recovering Number One Talent in the Empire, Falling Rain could not afford to be so... polarizing. Even the Bekhai themselves couldn’t make heads or tails of his eccentric behaviour, but what else could they expect from the Medical Saint’s one and only student?

It didn’t help that the Medical Saint’s daughter was equally incomprehensible. “Hubby,” little Mei Lin began, giggling into her sleeve at the sight of sixteen frustrated rabbits begging for treats. “Maybe you should take a break and try again later, ya? It takes time and repetition to teach them tricks, especially if it’s something they wouldn’t usually do.”

“Yea, you’re right.” Surrendering his fistful of dried fruit to the rabbits, he sighed and doled out meaty treats to the bears and wildcats one by one while the long-eared vermin viciously fought over scraps. “I’m just sad you know? I thought I’d teach them like two or three tricks today, but I forgot how stubborn and distracting the bunnies can be.”

“Try teaching them when they’re hungrier and sleepier,” little Mei Lin suggested, grabbing the foundling’s arm and pulling him to his feet. “They’ll pay more attention then, and have less energy to throw tantrums. Let’s take them for a walk around the lake and say hi to Ping Ping.”

“Good idea wifey.” Grinning like the fool he was, Falling Rain whistled at his pets to follow and set off for the manor doors without a care in the world. “I wanted to take a nap with her anyways, just to test a theory out.”

If that theory was how far he could go before Binesi beat him senseless, then the foundling would be sorely disappointed. Resisting the urge to grab him by the scruff of his neck, Binesi stepped out of Concealment and barred their path to the door. “Where,” he said, clenching his teeth so hard he worried he might crack them, “Do You Think. You Are Going?”

“Outside. To the lake. To see the Guardian Turtle. And nap, I guess. Major Binesi, sir.” Belatedly offering a one-handed salute, the foundling rolled his eyes and added, “Sorry, I figured you were listening in and already heard our plans. Next time I’ll make sure to report to the empty air and hope you’re there.”

Mother Above, give your child the strength and restraint needed not to beat this fool into the ground...

“What measures have you taken to ensure your safety?”

Taken aback by the question, the foundling raised a single eyebrow while matching Binesi’s gaze, no mean feat for a child of his age, stature, and relative strength. “Uhh... isn’t that your job?” The foundling fop asked, before holding up a hand and lowering his head in wordless apology. “That wasn’t an accusation or anything, I just thought... you know... that’s why you’re here? To make sure I’m protected? Major Binesi, sir.”

Eventually, the foundling would forget proper military protocol and Binesi would take great delight in making him run laps until he threw up. “Correct, but not in the way you imagine.” Leaning closer to subject him with a glowering snarl, Binesi explained, “I am not your nursemaid, here to wipe your ass and tell you what a good job you are doing. I am your superior officer, tasked with ensuring you are not killed by your own stupidity. Those are my orders, word for word, and I will fulfill my duty as I see fit, soldier.”

“...Fair enough.” Credit where credit was due, the foundling didn’t bat an eye before Binesi’s intimidating glare, and even had the audacity to scowl back. Easy to forget this scrawny little brat had earned a title of his own, one he richly deserved after emerging victorious from four exhilarating duels against the young talents of the Society. Binesi had watched those matches firsthand and had written the foundling off from the start, but time had proved him wrong. Truth be told, he admired the ‘Undying Savage’ quite a bit, or at least he had until he got to know him on a more personal level, and it felt wrong to lay all blame at the foundling’s feet for Imperial Scions being a bunch of backbiting snakes.

The thing is, the Imperials weren’t threatening to flip the board and ruin the game for the entire Empire like Baatar and the Bekhai seemed so eager to do...

“So... er... if it’s alright with you, I’m going to go now, Major Binesi?”

“No, it is not ‘all right’.” Jabbing a finger into the foundling’s chest, Binesi growled, “Not two hours ago, the Colonel General himself sat you down and ordered you to guard your life more carefully, but since then, you’ve done nothing but splash around in some water and play with your pets. Now here you are, about to saunter out into danger without batting an eye. Are you daft? How many guards do you have waiting to receive you? How are they arranged? Were you even going to give them fair warning before throwing open the manor doors?”

“Brother Biao?” In response to the foundling’s call, the Peak Expert Death Corps guard stepped out of Concealment. Had he been an assassin, Binesi would have never seen the former Royal Guardian coming, so he raised his already high estimation of the Bekhai defenses. Impatient to be gone from here, the foundling addressed his guard and said, “Would you be so kind as to share the details of your arrangements with the good Major here?”

“By your command, Imperial Consort.” Without offering a salute, ‘Brother’ Biao made his report in a professional, stoic manner. “We have a team of sixty Death Corps soldiers on duty at any given time, with six teams in total spread out across three shifts, so no team works full shifts on two consecutive days. The current team is arranged around the manor, with two thirds holding the perimeter a hundred meters out in every direction and preventing civilian traffic from coming close to the manor itself. Two guards are stationed at the front, side, and back doors, respectively, while the remainder are divided into three patrols moving along erratic and unpredictable routes around the manor proper.” Offering the barest hint of a smug smile, the Death Corps guard added, “This one informed the gate guards of Imperial Consort’s impending arrival, and the perimeter guards are moving to clear a path to the lake, where the Guardian Turtle eagerly awaits Imperial Consort’s presence.”

Given the tools at their disposal, there was nothing more the Death Corps guards could have done to ensure the foundling’s safety, but Binesi was far from pleased. Fixing Falling Rain with another glare, he asked, “And how many of these precautions were you aware of?”

That took the wind out of the foundling’s sails. “Well, if I’m being honest... I knew there were Death Corps guards standing at the doors.” Sheepishly scratching his nose, he added, “Didn’t know we had a side door though.”

At least he was willing to admit fault, which was more than Binesi expected. “Have you personally taken any extra precautions to ensure your safety?” Falling Rain shook his head, and Binesi pressed on. “This is exactly what the Colonel General lecture you about, personal responsibility. There are many things which can be delegated to others, but why would you not take a vested interest in your own safety? You cannot always assume your guards and protectors will be ready for whatever may come, so you must make allowances and give them reasonable time to prepare.” Eyeing the foundling’s fine silken clothes and unadorned belt, Binesi added, “Armour and a weapon would help too, so if the worst should come to pass, then at least you can greet your foes with more than stern language and a heated glare.”

“Armour is pointless against Spiritual Weapons, and I have a few daggers hidden away.” With a flick of the wrist, the foundling brandished an oversized dinner knife which had been tucked in his sleeve. A terrible place to keep a weapon, especially since half the reason for carrying one was to dissuade assassins from launching an attack. A hidden weapon might well save his life someday, but an open one would most certainly make any would-be assailants think twice about his rumoured miraculous recovery.

However, Binesi’s patience had long since worn thin, and he was in no mood to explain his every thought. “Not all assassins carry Spiritual Weapons.” This one was too basic to ignore however, and the foundling’s surprise only served to vex Binesi even further. “What’s more, you are a soldier in the Imperial Army currently stationed in an Imperial Citadel, so from here on out, you will wear armour and carry a proper weapon at all times outside the manor.”

Pretending he couldn’t hear the foundling’s grumbling, Binesi closed his eyes and massaged his temples while waiting for Rain to return. He was beginning to understand why the Bekhai gave him so much free rein, because it might almost be easier to clean up the foundling’s messes and be done with it.

The next few hours went without incident, with the foundling spending an inordinate amount of time out by the lake, and even making good on his promise of a nap. Perhaps he stayed out so long to annoy Binesi, but it was akin to biting his own nose off to spite his face. It was his life in danger, not Binesi’s, and the foundling’s unruly behaviour really only added undue stress to his own guards. Not entirely above spite himself, Binesi decided he would wait until later to tell the foundling as much, and he idled the time away in Concealed silence until Divine Blacksmith Husolt arrived with his half-cat daughter in tow. Narrowing his eyes, the formidable man moved in front of the girl and pointed his staff directly at Binesi. “Who are ye and what are ye doin’ there?”

For a moment, he almost thought he’d accidentally revealed himself while distracted, but it appeared that Blacksmith Husolt had discovered him through other means. Keeping his hands in plain view, Binesi dropped Concealment and said, “I am Major Binesi of the Imperial Army, here on Colonel General Nian Zu’s orders to supervise private Falling Rain.” The Divine Blacksmith kept his guard up and even shifted over to stand between Binesi and the foundling, so Binesi added, “I am also husband to Asane, father to Aska and Teekway, grandfather to Mani, Matchi, and Ayas.”

The traditional greeting of a fellow mountain seemed to put the Blacksmith at ease, but not by much. “I see ye, Binesi,” the Blacksmith Husolt replied, though he left out the traditional offer of home and hearth one presented to a visitor from afar. Typical Bekhai arrogance, never one to trust anyone who didn’t ascribe to their ideals. “Don’t see much need for ye, if I’m speakin’ true. The lad’s safe here in the citadel, and ye can be damned sure we’ll keep him safe wherever we send him.”

Swallowing his arguments to the contrary, Binesi shrugged and foisted all responsibility off to the Colonel General. “I am but a humble soldier carrying out his sworn duties.”

“Aye ye are, which is why you’re still standin’ there instead of out taking a swim in the lake.” Nodding as if he hadn’t just threatened an Imperial soldier, a Major no less, Blacksmith Husolt promptly ignored Binesi and turned around to face his daughter. “Alright then. Give your pappy a hug now lass. Thank ye for lunch, thoughtful child. Even Mila ain’t ever bought me a meal before, so bless your sweet heart.” Turning to the napping foundling tucked in the Guardian Turtle’s giant arms, he shook his head and sighed. “Sometimes, I wonder if the lad’s got himself a death wish, sleeping out in plain sight where any fool with a bow could end him.”

“Rain doesn’t want to die,” the half-cat replied, treating the obvious joke with matter-of-fact concern. “He works very hard at staying alive.”

“True, true.” Giving his daughter a kiss on the forehead, Blacksmith Husolt gave Binesi one last warning look before sauntering away to continue his mission of single-handedly arming each and every Khishig with a Spiritual Weapon. It was so extravagant, Binesi was almost tempted to send his family to join up, but his sons already had a Spiritual Weapon each, and his oldest grandchild was only seven and years away from needing one of her own.

Since the half-cat seemed wary of his presence, Binesi thought it would be best to remain in plain sight, if only so the girl would feel reassured with him standing there. It didn’t work of course, and she didn’t relax until Tenjin and Tursinai came over to exchange greetings. He didn’t know either of these younglings well, but had seen them both fight in Sinuji, and they were a promising pair, so he swallowed his pride and accepted his lot as the suspicious stranger amongst them.

It would seem Falling Rain was not the only member of the Bekhai who didn’t understand the concept of giving face. Then again, perhaps it was just that this entire family simply didn’t care to. They were certainly powerful enough to disregard face, civility, and decorum, so it could be that Rain and the other youngsters were simply following suit. Powerful parents who doted on their children and turned them into spoiled little monsters was a tale as old as humanity itself, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise to learn that the most prominent warriors amongst the Bekhai were terrible and over-indulgent parents.

With Tenjin and Tursinai flanking him, the half-cat girl no longer paid Binesi any mind and sat down with little Mei Lin to chat. Like the foundling, this ‘Li-Li’ spoiled those animals rotten, but she was a far more effective teacher than he was. After a quarter hour of steady and incremental improvement, she finally taught the white wildcat Sarankho to ask for a treat, and the other wildcats picked it up soon after. The bears were next, but they took a little longer, and by the time they were patting their muzzles for food, Binesi’s patience was a thing of the past. “Enough playtime,” he snapped, marching over to give the foundling a rude awakening. “He can nap inside the manor as easily as outside.” While Imperials looked down on using ranged weapons, Blacksmith Husolt’s errant comment and subsequent inaction had struck a nerve, as it perfectly encapsulated the Bekhai policy of ‘leave Rain to fuck things up’.

Except now Binesi’s job was to keep Rain from fucking things up. Having never failed the Colonel General before, he’d be damned if he failed the Living Legend today.

Oddly enough, it wasn’t Tenjin or Tursinai who stood in his way, nor was it any number of hidden Bekhai guards, or even the Death Corps standing idly about. Instead, it was ‘Li-Li’ who moved to bar his path, and coincidentally was perhaps the only person present who might give him pause. Blacksmith Husolt was intimidating enough, and Binesi had no intention of crossing him or his terrifying she-devil of a wife. “Easy girl,” he cautioned, again keeping his hands in plain view to show he meant no harm, even though ‘Li-Li’ was clearly ready to draw and strike. “I mean him no harm. The foundling is under threat of assassination, and it does no one any good to tempt fate like this.”

“I mean you no harm either,” ‘Li-Li’ replied, though her firm grip wrapped around her sabre’s hilt said otherwise. “I stopped you for your sake. Ping Ping does not react well to angry strangers who approach Rain.”

Only then did Binesi realize the sleeping turtle was not actually sleeping, and was instead watching his every move with a suspicious glare. Like those three unfortunate assassins who died at the Bekhai farm, he’d underestimated how protective the Guardian Turtle was of her Divine Attendant, and he broke out into a cold sweat imagining which might have happened next. “Thank you, girl.” Backing away slowly, he nodded at ‘Li-Li’ and repeated himself when he heard Tursinai giggling behind him. “Thank you.”

Even the Death Corps guards were smirking at Benisi’s expense, and he briefly considered abandoning his rank and this thankless duty to go serve under one of his sons instead. Fucking Bekhai. Fucking brats. Fucking giant pets. This was, without a doubt, the worst task Binesi ever had the misfortune to take on, and while his loyalty to Colonel General Nian Zu had once seemed boundless and immeasurable, Falling Rain and the Bekhai were quickly draining away any and all goodwill he had for his once lofty hero.

This next week might very well be the longest week of his life, but hopefully not the last week in Falling Rain’s. While Binesi would love nothing more than to smother the runt himself, the Empire needed him and his Bekhai family now more than ever.

Unity above all else. No matter the cost. Only then could they emerge victorious against the Enemy.

Or at least that’s what Binesi kept telling himself, while also imagining what he would do if given five minutes alone with the little shit...

Chapter Meme