Chapter 586 unedited, unmemed (Patreon)

It's Mother's day today, so remember to call the woman who gave birth to you and let her know you're thinking of her.

While you're at it, let her know that I too am thinking of her.

Word to your mothers, all. Happy Mother's Day. :D

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1IyD1HL39LB5e8cbRSSwX4MlArKD1b6fuYwE4rScaGsQ/edit?usp=sharing

“You heard right, my friend, this rock sugar was locally produced and is currently priced at one-tenth the cost of honey. There’s a sample in your gift bag, among other things, as well as instructions on how to make a purchase if you so desire it. Impersonal I know, but necessity demands it, as this is my wedding banquet after all.”

“Correct, good sir. We will be auctioning War Bonds in a handful of days, provided the Master of Coin’s Seal arrives in good condition. If you are interested in learning more, there is a pamphlet outlining the pertinent details inside your gift bag, alongside various other small gifts to thank you for your attendance.”

“Debt? No, you are gravely mistaken. War Bonds are no debt. Would you consider wages paid to farm hands before the harvest a ‘debt’? No, of course not, it is an investment which has yet to be realized, and the same too goes for War Bonds. Simply put, they are an investment into the safety and well-being of the Empire.”

“Our brave Martial Warriors are giving it their all battling the Defiled on the front lines, so we mortal men and women must also do our part, and War Bonds are a means to do so. This is personal for me, as I can no longer contribute through strength of arm, and I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to help the noble patriots of the Empire contribute as well.”

“Yes, only five-hundred War Bonds, but we won’t be auctioning all of them off. I already purchased the first hundred and invested almost one-million gold out of my own pocket, so there will only be four-hundred going into circulation until the next batch is readied. True, five million is a laughable amount in the grand scheme of things, but many hands make light work and every copper counts. What’s more, much like one Warrior guides the spear and one General guides an army, we will now have one mind guiding these funds in a concentrated effort to better the Empire.”

“No need for compensation? I highly disagree, it is only right that War Bonds should promise a profit. Do Martial Warriors not draw a salary? This is far from comparable, for it is dead gold rather than living blood, but purchasing a War Bond still requires some small sacrifice on our part, and it is not a venture entirely without risk. Minimal risk, of course, as the investment is backed by the Empire, so I’ll say no more, but you understand.”

Directing my latest guest to the collect their gift bag, I take a moment to massage my cheeks before signalling Kuang Biao to let the next guests through while telling me everything I need to know about them through Sending. All this fake smiling and enthusiastic pitching makes me feel like a slimy salesman trying to unload trash onto unsuspecting idiots. Make no mistake, it turns out I’m a damned good salesman, but I shouldn’t need to ‘sell’ War Bonds. They’re a legitimate investment tool, one which is not only economically and financially viable, but also backed by the Empire itself. So long as the Defiled don’t raze the Empire to the ground, the investment will be realized one year from sale date, but everyone expects it to be a scam and is trying to figure out my angle. Problem is, I don’t have an angle, because there’s no scam and no need to pull the wool over their eyes, which for some idiotic reason makes everyone uncomfortable. It’s like I’m speaking to them in a foreign language, one they have a tenuous grasp of at best, because they don’t understand why I would work so hard to take their money at no benefit to myself.

Well... some small benefit. Okay, a large benefit, but I’m not taking their money. I’ll just be using it for my own purposes, which coincide with the betterment of the Empire for all it’s citizens, and not just the wealthy bourgeois. Honestly, it would probably be easier to actually scam these rich idiots. All I’d have to do is set up a pyramid scheme and collect a ‘nominal fee’ for myself, and I could be richer than rich by next week, but nooo, I just had to be fiscally responsible and try to actually make things better. No one believes me when I tell them truth, and I know this because no one has asked me how I intend to spend the War Bond money. That would literally give the game away, because I’d have to honestly tell them, but even the Legate hasn’t said anything about the money, because he, like everyone else, assumes I’ll be pocketing the coin, at which point he will swoop in for his cut.

I doubt he’ll be happy to learn what I have planned, but I firmly believe it is always easier to ask forgiveness than it is to get permission. Besides, by the time it becomes an issue, I’ll have already spent all the coin and set the precedent, so even if he doesn’t like it, there’s nothing he can do besides kill me, which I hope he won’t because I’ll have proved myself of value.

There’s little time to dwell on my mortality, because there it’s only three in the afternoon and there are still plenty of guests to greet, and the questions come hard and fast here at the entrance to my banquet venue. Technically, the flower archway isn’t really an entrance seeing how we’re doing this in the park outside Dad’s manor. There are no walls to speak of and the two-thousand plus invited guests are free to come and go as they please, but manners demand I greet the guests as they ‘enter’ so here I stand at this arbitrary end of the field. Not alone, since I have an army of clerks cataloguing my many gifts so I know who gifted what and where to send thank you notes, and Monk Happy is also standing directly behind me in full monk regalia. Unlike Mahakala, who sort of loomed in place chanting Sutras, Happy is much more open to about approaching my the guests to preach about Nirvana and the eight-fold path, which ensures they don’t linger around to bother me with more questions after they’ve picked up their gift bags.

I like Happy. He’s good people, but he’s not much fun to debate, always shutting down the conversation just when things get interesting...

The tepid response from my guests is a little disheartening though. I’ve been pushing beet sugar all day and no one seems to care, not here at the banquet at least. The civilians went crazy for it when they found out I was handing out free samples alongside the food and red pockets, which I guess makes sense. Rich people have access to honey and cane sugar, so beet sugar must seem beneath them. My mistake there, as I could’ve saved money by not provided free samples of cheap sugar to rich people who aren’t my target market, but live and learn. On the plus side, I’ve already made a decent amount of money supplying beet sugar to restaurants, so now that we’re ready to sell to individual households, I’ve got yet another massive stream of revenue incoming, and maybe this time I can even keep it for myself, instead of spending it all right away.

Side note: I really should come up with a better way to hand out free stuff, because tossing it out into crowds isn’t the best solution. I’m thinking like household delivery or personalized packages for people to pick up, but that would take more organization and information, which will hopefully come when your average Joe can read, write, and fill out census forms.

Yep. That’s the dream. Widespread literacy to enable additional bureaucracy.

...

This new dream sucks. I want my fucking bear hands!

I really gotta hand it to Mom and the party planning committee. They did an incredible job arranging all this in minimal time, and it looks amazing. Rather than single tables, I convinced Luo-Luo to accept round group tables, which saves on the cost of buying thousands of single tables and matching chairs. There’s something immensely satisfying about how round tables are neatly arranged in long rows, with plenty of space between them for flowers, ornaments, sculptures and other beautiful pieces of artwork, several of which were crafted by Monk Happy himself. Then there’s the livery, uniforms for the servants designed by Eun based on my suggestions, plain, unmarked shirts in a dark-green cotton, and dark, flowing pants to help them blend into the background, as well as a grey half-apron and matching neck scarf tied off like a modern tie. Don’t know why I feel so proud about this, but I do, because there’s been a lot of chatter about the servants’ uniforms and how businesslike they look.

So if this Minister of Finance thing doesn’t work out, at least now I know I have ‘fashion designer’ as a fall-back career.

Every detail about the banquet has been planned out, including a rope fence to keep the quins from sneaking into the banquet from the pond, where they are currently having a ball by splashing around with Ping Ping. Sir Inky and Pong Pong are in there too, but it’s impossible to spot them even with my anti-Concealment hacks. I also managed to foil Lin-Lin’s plan to seat our enemies underneath the trees, because the last thing I need is for some upset noble to throw a tantrum because a Laughing Bird pooped in his tea, which I admit would be hilarious, especially if said noble the poop noticed too late, but still.

As the day wears on, I grow increasingly irked by this stupid custom of greeting all my guests, as well as my decision to do so on my feet. I mean, the Legate met everyone while sitting on a throne and I thought that was ‘too impersonal’, but now I see it was almost by necessity. Lucky for Mila, she doesn’t have to be out here, because she’s waiting for the big reveal on stage at dinner-time, which, as I check my pocket-watch, is still several hours away. With nothing to do but soldier on, I carry on with greeting veritable strangers like close friends and extolling the virtues of War Bonds at every given opportunity.

Everything goes well until a familiar face arrives, and I’m forced to greet the Situ Patriarch with a smile. “Uncle Rang Min! Little Gulong!” I exclaim, spreading my arms for a hug. “Glad to see you could make it.” The warm greeting and over-familiar form of address was a calculated insult meant to throw them off their game, and it works beautifully. Unable to refuse and unwilling to move, Rang Min freezes up as I embrace him, with my arms over his, and the tension is palpable. A tall, slender man with salt and pepper in his long hair and medium-length beard, the Situ Patriarch possesses an owl’s gaze and a hawk’s nose, sharp and strong on both accounts. At first glance, he appears like an austere older gentleman lacking in cheer and good humour, a persona which appeals to soldier and merchant alike. There’s a quality about him which lends itself to trust, a sense of honour and integrity which could not be further from the truth, but he has his virtues. A creature of ambition and opportunity, he is someone who throws himself into his work and doesn’t let emotion get in the way of success. There is no failure in his eyes, only temporary setbacks, for once he sets himself upon a goal, he will not stop until he realizes it.

Situ Patriarch Rang Min has long been an enemy of mine, but one I have only really recently come to understand, and what I have learned terrifies me to no end. A devious schemer with ties all across the Empire, treachery comes second nature to Situ Rang Min, a man who is believed to have killed his own grandfather to seize his current position, and attempted to kill Nian Zu more times than even the Legate knows. What we do know is that Zian’s father was likely killed on Rang Min’s orders, and the divide between Patriarch Han BoDing and his brother Major General Han BoHai was probably engineered by him too. For the above statements, the Legate provided no proof and plenty of conjecture, but he did have more to share. Rang Min pulled strings to have Han BoLao dispatched to deal with a problematic group of bandits, bandits who later turned out to be Defiled. Caught up in the Purge, Han BoLao, a promising young girl of great Martial Talent, was lost, and the Shrike emerged in her place.

This is how Rang Min deals with his enemies. Like a snake hidden in the grass, he strikes from the shadows and aims at weaknesses in unintuitive and imaginative ways, drawing his foes out of position before they realize battle lines have already been drawn. Until last year, I was nothing but a minor irritation to Situ Rang Min, the fly in his ointment which he could not extract. He tried, oh how he tried, first with the grand chase after the Society Contest and the subsequent trials at the Northern Wall, but then he struck again in Sanshu, when he made sure the Shrike would respond to the Purge. Granted, that might not have been a move solely directed at myself, since Zian also got caught up in that mess, but there’s more to the whole mess which even the Legate can’t be certain of.

When Yo Ling almost took Sanshu and the Golden Highlands Coalition was revealed to be a Defiled front, Yuzhen vetted everyone who had business dealings in Sanshu to make certain there were no more hidden Defiled cells to uncover. The Situ Clan was amongst the first to be given a pass, because they had zero commercial interests in Sanshu, which in and of itself is suspicious. Colloquially deemed the rice bowl of the North, Sanshu alone provides more than half the rice consumed by the Northern Province every year, but Rang Min bought all his rice from more expensive Central sources. On it’s own, this means nothing, but the records show that the Situ Clan had gone to great efforts to cut all ties with Sanshu’s Merchant Council, a move which cost them greatly and only paid off when Yo Ling rose up in rebellion almost a year later.

It’s not proof, but from what I can tell, it kinda looks like Rang Min knew about Sanshu’s Defiled problem well in advance. Even more telling is the fact that the initial reports of bandit activity in Sanshu were sent in by companies with close ties to Rang Min’s allies, in a concentrated effort to get Marshal Shing Du Yi to do something about the growing problem, which eventually led to me and eleven other young Warrant Officers being dispatched to Sanshu. Now, it might seem paranoid to say Rang Min manipulated events to have me, Zian, BoShui, BoLao, ZhiLan, and other problem children killed, but... well... what can I say? I’m a paranoid guy.

And everything I’ve learned since being raised to office has only made me more wary of this man I’ve been hugging for far longer than is comfortable or appropriate. This is really the only move I have, making him grossly uncomfortable in public, and I follow it up by tossing Gulong a red pocket like I would to a young child. “I was worried you’d both be too busy to come celebrate, what with that horrible scandal back home.”

Too experienced to let his anger show, Rang Min curls his lip in contempt and shakes his head, the very picture of an irate patriot. “The nerve of those greedy bastards, falsifying inspection documents and supplying underweight shipments. During a time of war, no less, truly deserving of death.”

A sentence many caravan masters, official inspectors, overseers, and one Administrator Zei received, all of whom were scapegoats connected the quarries, farms, and timber yards I’d pointed out to Luo-Luo just a few days ago. We, along with Marshal Yuzhen, had agreed to sit on the information and gather more proof before bringing our findings to a Justicar, but something must have tipped our enemies off. The owners of each business brought charges to the Justicar’s themselves, who swiftly dispensed justice upon all ‘guilty parties’, namely the aforementioned scapegoats set up to take the fall. The big fish, the owners and business partners who run things from the shadows, they all got away clean, just like I was worried they would. The silver lining is that the Disciplinary Corps ‘recovered’ some of the ill-gotten gains, but the Empire is still out a decent chunk of change.

Which I think is lining Situ Rang Min’s pockets, for no reason than a gut instinct. “Despicable behaviour, but the scheme was rather well-thought out.” Studying Gulong’s expression out of the corner of my eye, I lean close to Rang Min and whisper, “And it’s not over yet. I have it on good authority that Marshal Yuzhen does not intend to drop this case.”

“Oh?” Raising an eyebrow in a passable show of confusion, Rang Min drawls, “What more is there to do? Was this not all arranged by the infamous Administrator Zei? Though she took her own life before the Justicar’s could take her into custody, they found a fortune in coin, art, and luxuries scattered throughout her residence, all to the tune of thirty-thousand gold and change, not to mention several of her co-conspirators named her as the mastermind before their execution.”

I’m sure they did, since that’s the highest point of contact those patsies knew about, but there’s no way the buck stops at a lowly Administrator. While it’s possible she actually committed suicide, I believe she was killed because she could name names, but since I have no proof, it’s time for a gamble. “And how, pray tell, did an Administrator manage to counterfeit Seals from multiple Magistrates and a whole slew of Inspectors? What’s more, thirty-thousand gold is nothing. I ran the numbers, and this scheme would have earned that in two months, and this has been going on since the beginning of the war.” No doubt the coin and art was all planted in the Administrator’s house after the fact, since she was still living is a very modest, two room suite. Hardly the place one would hang silk sheets or priceless artwork, where any of her neighbours might have accidentally seen.

Rather than try and paint Administrator Zei as the culprit, Rang Min stops to think before asking, “And for what reason is Minister Rain sharing sharing this information?”

“Minister Falling Rain,” I correct, which earns me the faintest hint of a scowl from Rang Min and an outraged glare from Gulong. Worth it. “And I am sharing this because not only has Marshal Yuzhen requested I delve deeper into the matter, but Marshal Yo and Marshal Quyen want assurances that these same crimes are not happening in their provinces.” This is tacitly admitting I was the one who uncovered the conspiracy in the first place, but Rang Min gives nothing away. Neither does Gulong though, which means he probably has no idea what we’re talking about. Smart. I wouldn’t tell Gulong anything either, because he can’t give away what he doesn’t know. “Unfortunately, with the introduction of War Bonds soon upon us, the Legate has ordered me to drop all other matters until further notice, but it makes me sick to know there is a criminal enterprise out there that profiteered from the war efforts and risked the safety of the entire Empire to do so. Worse, they might actually get away with it, which I cannot abide. Thus, I can only turn to you for help, and hope you succeed where I have thus far failed.”

The wheels are turning in Rang Min’s head, while tumbleweeds bounce through Gulong’s. The Situ Patriarch is hooked though, because he doesn’t believe for a second I’m asking for his help. This is a trap, and an obvious one at that, but there’s nothing Rang Min can do besides step in. I’m asking for his help to bring a criminal to justice, and he has no good reason to refuse, because anyone else would literally leap at this chance to ensure Imperial Justice is properly dispensed, unless of course said Justice would come down on their own head. So now, Rang Min knows I suspect him, which I do, but he doesn’t know what I know, or more precisely, what I don’t know. What I’m hoping is that Rang Min thinks I’m a big brain individual who already has enough evidence to arrest the culprits responsible, but now I’m giving him enough rope to hang himself by appointing him in charge of this case. If he comes back with nothing, and I pull out a whole slew of evidence he missed, then best case scenario, he looks incompetent, and worst case, like an accomplice.

With luck, I won’t have to lift a finger and Rang Min will bring me everything I need to arrest the parties responsible, either voluntarily to prove his innocence, or involuntarily when he makes moves to cover up his involvement. Problem is, my plan falls through if Rang Min thinks I’m incompetent, but then I’m just back to square one with nothing gained or lost. I was lying about the Legate telling me to drop everything, but I want a few days off to enjoy married life with Mila, assuming she doesn’t go straight back to meditating in the bamboo grove come tomorrow morning.

Wrapping up our conversation by promising to send him all the information I have, I step back and wait for Rang Min to present me my gift. Inclining his head to the exact degree of required respect, the Situ Patriarch hands me a wooden lattice box with both hands. “When searching for a wedding gift, I recalled Minister Falling Rain’s love of animals,” he says with a smarmy smile. “Inside you will find a wondrous creature which is rarely seen, but I should warn Minister Falling Rain that its bite is most deadly, even to Martial Warriors, so handle the beast carefully.”

“Oh... you... really shouldn’t have.” I’ve been saying this all day, and while I meant it a few times, this time I really, really, really mean it, because every primal instinct I have is screaming at me to throw the box away. The lattice framework lets air in so the creature won’t suffocate, but it also lets in light and I can see the beast peering out. Hear it too, as it hisses in warning, with yellow, serpentine eyes glaring furiously in my direction. “Thank you for this thoughtful gift. Please accept this bag as a token of my thanks...”

Gingerly placing the snake-in-a-box down on the table of gifts, I stare at the little beastie in mild distress. Seriously, I thought everyone was going to gift me with floofs, and I was looking forward to having pet rhinos, elephants, red pandas, and other exotic tamed beasts, but we’re more than halfway through the guest list and this stupid snake is the only pet I’ve been gifted so far. Worst of all, it came from my greatest enemy, which means the little snake is probably angry and starving to boot. Oh god, am I going to have to feed it live rodents? I can’t do that! Maybe it eats eggs or something, because if not, then this little gift is going to become one real spicy danger noodle for Roc to chow down on.

I guess it’s true. Your enemies really know you best. Still though... snake. Why’d it have to be a snake?

The rest of the afternoon flies by as I welcome my friends and enemies alike, but there are no more pets to be had. All the gifts are boring things like art, armour, tea, and incense, which undoubtedly cost a fortune when put together, which I will invariably pay back through some means or another. There are plenty of questions regarding War Bonds, and I’ve gifted a fair number of them myself, though they technically have no value until I stamp them with the Minister of Coin’s new Seal. Still no questions about what I intend to do with the money though, and not even from the Marshals, which just goes to show how different this world really is.

A public servant who actually wants to serve the public is a foreign concept. Ridiculous.

Last to enter as always is the Imperial Legate, looking all high and mighty atop his stupid palanquin. His gift is actually pretty nice, a Runic bangle meant to enhance one’s skill with Lightening and Cloud-Stepping. While not exactly useful for me, Taduk will get a real kick out of studying the piece, as he’s been yearning to study Imperial Runic craftsmanship for some time now. When he’s done with it, I’ll talk to Mila and see if she’s okay with gifting the Runic Bangle to Lin-Lin, so she has a reason to keep practising her Martial Skills. My sweet wifey is great at Lightening, but I’ve never seen her practice anything else, which is fine since she doesn’t want to fight, but I would like her to have some means of self-defence, even if it is just a method to run away.

With the Legate seated on his raised dais behind my massive table, I stand by to welcome my family on stage, arriving by seniority in their family units. Akanai, Husolt, and Song are first, followed by Taduk and Lin-Lin, but only because Grandpa Du insisted on coming in behind the Medical Saint. Yan struts out beside her beloved Grandpa and adopted brother, followed by my parents, who look as proud as can be, accompanied by Luo-Luo looking suitably subdued. Then comes Alsantset, Charok, and the twins who all greet me with a group hug, and the crowd falls silent in anticipation of the star of tonight’s show.

And my wife does not disappoint. No longer does the beaded veil hide her adorably freckled expression, for this is the big reveal, and the sight of her radiant smile is a memory I will cherish for the rest of my days. The stress from today and all other days simply melts from my bones as she makes her way over to me, so beautiful and dazzling, confident and capable. Mila is queen and goddess, wife and companion, rival and idol, and so much more. As she reaches my side, we lock eyes and her smile brightens even more, a feat I would have said was impossible only seconds before. “Dear husband,” she whispers, taking my hand. “I do believe you are drooling.”

“Can’t help it, dear wife.” Raising both her hands to my lips, I hear an audible gasp behind me as the audience is shocked by the scandal of this public display of affection, but I don’t care. “To simply call you beautiful is a disservice, but I lack the words to describe you. You are the sun in my sky, the air that I breathe, the rain on my skin and the ground beneath my feet. I love you, Sumila, my wife, my beloved, and I promise to spend the rest of my days proving it.”

With that said, I bring my wife to greet the Legate, before introducing her to the crowd, as Sumila of the People, Wife of Falling Rain, and Expert of the Empire.

And for the rest of the night, nothing else matters, not dangerous gifts or Defiled schemes, impending complications or Imperial plots, not even my broken Core or inner anguish. So long as my wife is here by my side, then I can take on anything.

A feeling which lasts throughout the entire banquet and right up until we return to our borrowed manor, a gift from both our parents which sits close to my old home. Drunk with lust for my blushing bride, I can barely keep up as she drags me into our new bedroom, at which point my mistaken sense of invincibility is crushed underfoot as I lay eyes on a monstrous steel contraption which looks like it sprung fully formed from the stuff of nightmares.

So... I’m guess this behemoth is what Mila conjured up to keep me safe on our wedding night, but somehow, I am far from reassured.

Opening my mouth to give voice to my concerns, the words die in my throat as I turn to find Mila standing with her silken dress in a pile around her ankles while she looks away with a shy, beguiling look.

...You know what? I’ve lived a long and rewarding life. No regrets.