Chapter 85 - Nobility, And Rot Beneath The Skin (Patreon)

Thank you for your patience! It's a bit late, but I finally got past a hurdle, and I hope this is as fun to read as it was fun to finally break through and create!

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It doesn’t take them too long to find a doctor. Medical pavilions may be a sect exclusive, but herbal remedies, surgeries and general practitioners are more than common enough in most major cities of the Empire. Occasionally a monopoly comes up, but with the Empire’s paid incentives for medical, logistical and agricultural training, it’s hard to keep any one group from forming that controls too much of the infrastructure without one of the Divisions stepping in.

As it turns out, Kaena actually has healing pills, because Kaena has a fucking spatial ring, with, apparently, absolutely zero awareness of how bougie that is. The third ring has larger cities like Cragend, more connected to the inner rings, but for the most part there’s more settlements and more space, but less advanced infrastructure, more piggybacking on older structures than spending resources to fully rebuild them. More sects, but less resources, save for a lucky or vicious few.

Raika, of course, part of the Hungering Roots sect, was not exactly in a prime position for a gods-damned spatial ring, so having a… partner? Ally? Friend? Who has absolutely no idea of the weight of it was a hell of a reveal. Then again, Imperial rules now, so… maybe she can ask for one when they get back.

Anyways, as it turns out, cultivator healing pills rated for Core Formation tiers aren’t exactly… healthy? To feed to a child. So off to a doctor they go.

The kid still seems shell shocked, but is walking steadier now that they have some food in their belly. One full bowl of soup, followed by some poultry dumplings and a scallion pancake: not exactly a world-ending quantity, but more than they’ve had in one sitting in probably weeks or longer. Raika can’t even tell their age, so severely has malnutrition stunted their growth. They still draw attention as they walk, and the kid’s presence only magnifies that for how out of place they are among the Imperial cultivators.

Maen bows politely as they cross the white curtains of the closest building of healing they find. Large, with three stories, each of them painted at least partially white, it’s definitely much higher end than what Raika expected. They are in the mercantile part of town, closer to the Palace, but it’s… dramatic. They walk through the curtains into pale wooden floors, simple but impactful decorations and splashes of red and green highlighting the aura of the room. Standing at attention, turning from paperwork to see them as soon as they come in, Raika sees that the only person present in this front area seems to be an old burn victim, his skin replaced with a sort of prosthetic replacement of chitin that moves like intricate armor over half his face and his left side.

“Greetings!” Says the worker in the entryway to the shop, just behind the curtains. “Esteemed cultivators, I see! How might this humble Jao Lan be of any aid to you, great sirs and madams?”

Raika looks down at the kid, frozen in place. Their eyes are wide, staring all around them. There are dozens of shelves, pills and potions and elixirs decorating the walls and behind fine glass, the light scent of jasmine and soap fluttering through the air, the natural light of outside filtered beautifully through white curtains that flutter gently in the wind.

They shuffle awkwardly, swaying on their feet and leaving a scuff mark from dirty bare feet on the floor.

“We heard that you provide medical services beyond the sale of pills here. Is this accurate?” she asks.

“It is, honored one,” he says with a smile. “This Jao Lan is responsible for the care of only the  simplest ministrations, but the healing palace of Ra Turoc is without equal in this city of Cragend. What services might you require?”

She goes to pat the kid, but stops herself. He’s still frozen stiff, and covered in bruises. Instead, she leans down a bit, startling him even with that small movement and meeting his eyes.

“You’re going to be alright, kid,” she says, quietly. “Calm, yeah?”

They nod, but she can see their pupils are still wide, their heartbeat still elevated.

“We’re looking for medical treatment for malnutrition, blunt force trauma, and possible internal damage,” Maen says while Raika comforts the kid. “For the young one we bring with us. And, if possible, we would like to trouble Ra Turoc’s healing palace for lodgings and an apprenticeship, should the child be deemed suitable.”

Raika looks at her, and Maen meets that look with a small smile. When she smiles back, it’s not the mask doing it.

“Ah,” Jao Lan says. “I understand. Sponsoring such a… lovely young gentleman, I believe? Yes, this is possible, though many of our apprenticeships are taken up by the noble and learned of the sects and noble districts. While I do not disparage the journey ahead the young one may have, I recommend a simpler sponsorship for now, if only to avoid excess difficulties with their fellows, perhaps?”

“Perhaps,” Kaena says, “but in the meantime, perhaps we may speak to the doctors responsible for treatment more directly?”

As Kaena and Maen take over from there, negotiating back and forth, Raika kneels next to the kid, ignoring their surroundings. He turns to face her, still smelling a bit of fear, his blood and systems slowed by exhaustion and a full belly- but he does focus, and there is a hint there of hope behind the fear.

“Here’s where we part ways, kid,” she says. “Food, rest, and healing. Freely offered. Take the opportunity for as long as you can, yeah?”

The kid nods, small. “I-”

It comes out as a croak, as if they’re not used to speaking, or haven’t in a long time. They pause, swallowing, and try again.

“Why?” he asks.

Raika… shrugs. “Some guilt. A bit of my own past. Why not?”

“Luck, kid. You’ve done good living this long. Use what you have, and try to be more. That’s what life is.”

Then she gets up, and leaves the kid with Maen, Kaena, and Pai Jin, stepping outside.

Ignoring the crowds or the eyes all around, she sighs, loud, an exhale strong enough to lift the curtains behind her and ruffle the edges of the clothes of those walking close by. The building is on an intersection, multiple of its sides connected to the streets and foot traffic all around, so she crosses the road in front of it and stands in the shadow, away from the sun, between two buildings. Restaurants, by the smell of them, with some living quarters above and behind them. She takes a breath, using her new meditative mindset to block out some of the conversation happening all around and in the building across the street.

A slight scuff against stone, somewhere above her.

It sneaks through the meditative block, neither calm conversation or simple sounds of life. She focuses her senses, drained in a way she hadn’t expected but forcing herself aware and directing her focus all around.

Three bodies, all of them breathing steadily, all of them with calm heartbeats… and all of them on the roofs all around, looking down towards her.

She breathes in, deep, then out, emptying her lungs entirely before she sniffs the air. A thousand minor Qi-scents, a storm of smells and concepts and places and things, never mind the kitchens literally feet away from her. An absolute chaos of information, flooding through her. It takes her almost thirty seconds, letting her mind unwind from holding itself back, focusing on the heartbeats above her, to identify the scents coming from the rooftops.

They all reek of something dark. Not vile, not evil, but dark, hidden, places beneath the earth where the sky does not touch and the only light accepted is the light the prey emits that lets one pounce. Predators in caves, the scent of the depths mixed with the scent of fear, and hints of… something that grows, something small, soft. Moss?

“If we’re all just wasting time together,” she says, “does anyone have a cigarette? I was living with a doctor for a while, and it’s been a fucking mess since then. Haven’t had a good smoke in months.”

All three of the heartbeats speed up a bit. One, that smells a bit more like water, deep pools beneath cold stone, shifts slightly, and one of the others grabs them by the arm, the sound of the hand against fabric loud as if they’d spoken aloud.

“Yes, I’m speaking to you,” she says quietly. “Good job. Your Qi’s barely even present. Took a while to pick it out. Your heartbeats were easier, though. If we’re going to fight, I’d appreciate having a smoke first. Anyone?”

The rooftops are bare of even whispers.

She sighs. “That figures. Hey, good luck to you guys, good work on the surveillance or the sneaking or whatever, I’m going to go find another alley to feel tired in.”

“Wait!”

One of the figures, despite a flurry of whispered words and even a slight flaring of Qi from one of the three, hips over the edge of the building and drops the thirty or so feet to the ground, landing silently. She notices as they land that it’s almost like the ground bends for them a bit, absorbing some of the impact, even as their Qi barely shifts.

They’re clad head to toe in clothing, their head and face obscured by a scarf and wide-brimmed hat, their hands wearing gloves, their feet wearing slippers and long socks, all colored beige and boring for blending in. If she saw them on the street, the only thing exceptional about them would be the gloves, perhaps, but otherwise their attempt at looking unremarkable lands surprisingly well.

“Who are you?” they ask.

“My name is Raika. Who are you?”

“My name is of no import. Why did you-”

“Ah, that’s not how this works.” She leans back against the wall, letting a smirk come out from hiding beneath her mask. “I found you. Least we could do is an even exchange.”

“Arrogant,” says a second voice. To her right, landing a bit more heavily than the first and blocking off the direction to the closest street, a second one lands, the one that smells of water. “You are in no position to make demands.”

She raises an eyebrow. Turns back to the first one.

“This guy always this much of an asshole? Or am I privileged to experience a newfound bundle of aggression?”

“Who we are is not yours to know,” the first one says, though she thinks she detects a bit of a smile beneath the scarf. “You are in our territory. You wander our city, bringing with you the weight of your cultivation as you go. Is it not expected that some might find issue with you?”

“Yes, it is,” she says. “Firstly, I’m not a cultivator, technically. Secondly, all I’ve done is help an urchin, eat some food, and wander the biggest city I’ve ever been in with attractive people and an asshole soldier. What’s any of that to you, you harass everyone who leaves the palace?”

There’s a pause before they respond.

“Well,” Raika says, quietly. “Well well well. Now isn’t that an interesting tidbit.”

The one behind her starts to shift, their Qi beginning to circulate. Unbound from tight control and finally in use, the traces of their Qi bloom into a proper scent; the deep and dark and binding weight of the earth above, the endless dark of the deep below, and the silent shifting of things unseen. Frankly, it’s a damn interesting Qi signature, and has enough depth to it that it’s hard to tell where he lands. Late foundational, maybe, but it smells richer, even if its intensity is minimal.

She hears a small sigh, likely meant to be subtle, and the third figure drops from above. Like the other two, they’re wrapped head to toe in simple garments, meant to obfuscate by a mix of blending in and being forgetful when seen.

She smiles. The possibility of violence is… mmh. Tempting. Tempting, tempting. Whatever their techniques, she doubts they intend to make this a drawn out battle, and she can probably survive their first move, whatever they throw at her. Maybe. Possibly.

Yes, it’s stupid, but the thought of getting to hit something, of having something hit her, is… tempting.

“None of that,” she says instead. “I don’t know who you are, or why you’re here, and frankly in this clustered mess of people it’s hard to tell who you are. If you left now, I wouldn’t even know your origin. No need to get violent. Not all us palace-folk are born there, or quite so willing to slaughter needlessly.”

The first one twitches their hand a bit, some sort of signal, considering how the third individual stands to block the first a bit, keeping his line of fire busy.

“What would you know of the Empire’s slaughter? Privileged daughter of some valued mutant or noble-born brat, it makes no difference. You know nothing of the dirt you walk on, or what is buried beneath.”

She shrugs. “That’s true. The back half of it, anyways. I was born to two farmers though, both dead from winter, so you’re dead wrong on that front. And as for slaughter?”

She laughs a bit, picturing or seeing the shades of masked, scarf-clad figures fluttering in and out of being at the edges of the alleys, looking in from around corners. “I know something about slaughter. Had my hand in one, even. But I’d hardly say I don’t know much about the Empire’s slaughter. My hands are too bloodied to not know.”

There’s silence in the alleyway for a bit.

She sighs. “Are you sure none of you have a smoke? This whole city is a nightmare of smells, I can barely keep my head straight, and this conversation is already exhausting.”

The third figure takes a step forward, pausing when she moves just a bit too fast in shifting her head towards him. When no further move is made, he takes another step.

“Why’d you help the boy?” they ask, the first spoken words she’s heard from them. The voice is deeper than the others, gruffer, with a quality to it like she’s hearing them speak from somewhere with an echo.

She growls, letting the animal musicality of it ring and fill the alleyway for a moment, feeling Dink tremble against her sternum as she does. They’re still quiet, but the sound is enough to rouse them, and they tremble against her in recognition, letting her know its awake.

She goes to snap something, but… pauses, a minor sensation keeping her from acting.

Dink shivers. Voice of reason, as always.

“Because I wanted to,” she tells them instead.

“No other reason?” the first one snaps.

She pauses. Eventually, she shrugs. “No other ones that matter.”

TThe first and second cloaked individuals don’t move, but the third one takes one more step forward, and then… kneels.

“On behalf of the citizenry and downtrodden of the this land, which have stood strong yet wounded for endless miles, from depths to surface, I thank you for your kindness… Raika.”

She can feel the surprise of the other two in their heartbeats, in the shifting of their breathing and their stance. The first one just looks confused, or shocked, while the second seems to suddenly get far angrier, their energy increasing a bit before they put themselves back under control.

She pauses, but, especially considering the organic responses, she eventually nods her head, bowing herself just enough to be respectful.

“It was freely offered, without ties or expectation,” she tells them, and she can feel the shift in the third one’s posture at the words. They nod, right after.

“May we cross paths in better times and auspicious circumstances, Raika,” he says, in that strange and echoing tone of his.

“May we find each other in less trying moments,” she replies, saying what feels right, feeling a strange weight to the exchange.

He nods, and makes a hand sign near his temple. The other two bow, both much more slightly than the echoing speaker, and before anything else, all three have vanished again.

“Well,” she sighs, “that could have gone worse.”

“Could also have gone better,” says a voice behind her, deep in the dark of the alley. “We didn’t even get to cut them. Rather disappointing.”