Chương 38: The Parade

Rowan Florimond knew how to entertain a crowd. Despite the heat, he never stopped waving and smiling at the people, throwing talismans into the air that resolved into flower petals and fireworks. In contrast, Rowan just tried to hide how awkward he felt. And avoid getting hit by Florimond's golden headdress as the man turned left and right. Rowan met everyone's eyes, offering them a wave and a reassuring smile.

As he scanned the crowd, he searched for any familiar faces - particularly the girls that he had chased out of the orphanage before blowing it into pieces. That was the main reason why he'd come. He wanted to make sure they were doing alright after the disaster. After the procession cleared the Sect District, Rowan's shoulders dropped. The dignitaries who'd lined the gate - faces he was clearly meant to know and didn't - were behind them now.

Ahead, the crowds were just normal citizens who'd come to watch the parade. The men, women, and children who lined the sidewalks were no longer those who considered themselves petty royalty in the city, and became mostly prosperous merchants and their families from more distant neighborhoods. A while later, they entered the First Families District. The four noble families of Righteous Mountain each had a grand estate here: House Sutter, House Decatour, House Maulkin, and House Helsing.

The atmosphere was far more serious in this part of the city. Outsiders were not casually permitted, so the crowds lining the streets became much thinner. The Helsing Compound's high white walls appeared in the distance. As they approached, Rowan's emotions became complex. Rowan didn't dread seeing his family, but he wasn't looking forward to it either. However, now that they were here, and it was Uncle Bael standing in the courtyard in full Helsing regalia rather than Patriarch Yarrow, he felt a deep irritation.

Uncle Bael had a heroic appearance, and looked far too comfortable in the position. The seat was meant for a cultivator at least in the Qi Refining realm. Uncle Bael had been passed over as the family head several times. After the death of Rowan's father, Patriarch Yarrow had even decided to return to the seat himself instead of handing it off to Uncle Bael. The man should not be there. But with Patriarch Yarrow cultivating in seclusion, and no other powerful cultivators from the family around, who could stop him?

Many of Rowan's relatives had also come out to the courtyard. They didn't greet the parade or cheer for him, preferring to appear like dignified and noble immortals - even if they didn't have much cultivation to speak of. The members of House Helsing bowed towards them. Their backs bent at the perfect angle, not a degree further than etiquette dictated. Rowan was supposed to bow back. And he did. But it was something quick and shallow and not nearly as respectful as it should've been.

He could almost hear Uncle Bael grind his teeth. The parade did a loop around the First Families District and re-entered the crowded streets waiting for them outside of it. The threat had turned from possibly not smiling at certain people for long enough to something much more martially inclined. Rowan and Florimond swiftly dodged bouquets, fruit baskets, and even some jewelry. Florimond snatched a sapphire nearly the size of an egg out of the air and threw it back to the middle-aged woman who'd hurled it at Rowan.

Florimond smirked when she caught the gem, her face bitterly disappointed.

"Good heavens, and I thought I was irresponsible." Rowan really, really hoped no one had pitched other family heirlooms at them that they hadn't noticed. He understood the flowers, and maybe even the pretty, ripe fruits, but…

"Why are they throwing their valuables at us?"

"They're hoping that if you catch them, they can claim you accepted their bride price and strongarm you into marriage."

"But—""Don't they know they have a greater chance of falling through a mirror into a world where they're the crown princess of a galaxy-spanning Dao Empire?" Rowan nodded.

"Something like that."

"I've been reading the novels that Senior Sister Verrine returns to the Lower Library," admitted Florimond. He sighed, saying nothing for a while. Neither of them had stopped smiling and waving. Rowan threw a glance back at the Grand Dao Platform. The exchequer had fallen asleep while standing, and his corpulent body was being supported by a few chagrinned officials. Behind them, the two elders marched ahead of the sect. Elder Schell wore a heroic grin and returned acknowledging nods.

Elder Patino put one foot in front of the other and stared into the horizon, contemplating ever-distant things. A well-dressed man with an armful of roses broke free from the crowd and threw himself at Florimond's feet.

"Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Accept-" Unfortunately, now that someone had broken the taboo of stepping onto the path of the parade, that seemed to inspire the other hopefuls. Mostly women, and some men, of all ages, shapes, and sizes, now flitted in front of them, thrusting gifts in their faces. One woman blew Rowan a kiss and made a lewd gesture.

"I preferred it when they treated us with awe, and didn't approach us," said Florimond, adjusting the heavy gold headdress on his head. After a while, Rowan had seen enough questionable behavior that he was no longer even shocked when a trio of ladies lowered their gowns and bared their chests at him with vulgar shakes. As the sun arced through the sky, they passed from the more well-to-do neighborhoods into more impoverished locales.

They were still on the Main Road, so it wasn't nearly as dingy and depressing as Highwater, but there was a marked increase in worn-down buildings and worn-down businesses where worn-down people worked. Fewer of the parade-goers watched them with that feverish desperation, and even fewer had expensive gifts paired with cold, calculating glints in their eyes. There was also more respect for their personal space.

These were people who rarely had cultivators in their restaurants, who rarely had sect members buying their trinkets. Children still pointed at the parade happily, but their parents clumped together with their neighbors, bowed and stayed bowing, as the Dao Court and the marching sect passed. Rowan wished some of them didn't look so fearful.

"Smile, Rowan," said Florimond, reminding him.

"Every year, the sect sponsors a few commoners to become merit students. There is always a path for those who are fated for it." Rowan looked up at the sky.

"Do you think there are immortals looking down at us and thinking the same thing? Pitying us for our dream of immortality?"

"Perhaps. In a thousand years, no one from Righteous Mountain has even reached Core Formation - not even to speak of beyond that." Florimond shaded his eyes from the sun.

"Maybe we are the irrational ones." If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"No," disagreed Rowan. The words from his instructor came to mind.

"We have a plan. To find a scripture, to gather qi, to refine the spirit, to incorporate the fundamental forces into a foundation--""--both physical and spiritual. A lonely boat in the night of the endless sea. An eternal struggle against the currents of what is both the shallowest stream and the widest river. Don't quote my grand-uncle at me. Unlike the other outer disciples, I wasn't allowed to take a nap during his lectures," Florimond said with a rueful fondness.

Rowan continued anyway, miming the way Instructor Sutter stroked his chin.

"Of course, as a young man, I was a slightly faster swimmer than even our esteemed Sect El-" Florimond clamped his hand over Rowan's mouth.

"They can hear you. And I'm going to have to tell the truth when they question you. That what you said was, actually, a direct quote. And then I'll both be fired and disowned. And maybe demoted back to the outer sect." Florimond tilted his head to the side.

"But maybe that wouldn't be so bad. I'd only have a first name. The Florimond. Florimond, He Who Stands Alone. No, no. Florimond the Great." He shook his head.

"I've got it! Florimond, Unburdened. That's the one. And I could handle the paperwork in the Mission Hall, to take some of the burden off of our tireless Senior Sister Verrine–" Rowan shook his head in disbelief, tuning him out. He scanned the crowd again. In the past few minutes, the scenery had worsened dramatically. They were halfway between the idyllic, sprawling grounds of the First Families District and the Northern Gate, where the poorest communities of Righteous Mountain City lived.

They, too, had come to watch the parade. This was the segment of road that Rowan had the most hope for. And the most anxiety. He dreaded that animal fear of cultivators that he'd seen in Highwater, and places like it, but he stared at the face of every young girl, peered down every shadowed alleyway, and squinted through every window, anyway. He was hoping he would see some of the girls who'd run from the orphanage. As the next hour passed, Rowan continued to scan the crowd.

Perhaps they were waiting near the Western Gate, where the parade would end? That would make sense. The Dao Court was righteous, but the snooty, far-too-wealthy well-wishers who gathered at the Eastern Gate for appearance's sake would've wanted to be as far as possible from the poor and downtrodden people who were the soul of the city. The Court probably told them to wait for the parade there.

Rowan glanced at the pinched face of the magistrate, the fat snoozing exchequer, and the simpering servants that waited on them.

"And then, after a long life of sitting quietly beside her shining light, I will stand at death's door, with too many wrinkles and liver spots to count. Senior Sister, on the other hand, will surely leap the Dragon's Gate and coalesce a Nascent Soul. And then, on my deathbed, I will admit to her that I'd always loved her. A single tear will fall from her eye as my soul passes back to the Wheel, and as it hits the ground--"" What are you even talking about?" Rowan asked.

"Is that a fantasy of the tragic love story you hope to have with-" He wrinkled his nose.

"Gross."

"You're just too young to appreciate such a mature, well-characterized-"" Inappropriate."

"A little inappropriate," Florimond admitted. Rowan peeked past a gap between the officials riding on the platform behind him, past the sect elders, at Senior Sister Verrine, who was aggressively puffing on her jade pipe while glaring at Florimond's back. Clouds of thick white smoke billowed from her nostrils as if she were a Bright Yang Fire Wyrm.

"I bet if she murdered me, no one would ever find the body," Florimond said happily.

"Murder," he echoed, "the highest crime of passion."

"Get well soon," Rowan managed, hoping whatever sickness had taken hold in Florimond Sutter would go away. The road was less well-paved now, and the wind was blowing west, so the dust kicked up by the marching sect began collecting on the back of Rowan's neck.

"What is it you actually do for the Dao Court?" Rowan wondered. Florimond jumped, slightly surprised. They hadn't spoken in minutes.

"Oh, me? I'm a senior investigator. I wander around Righteous Mountain City and the surrounding towns and villages, and listen to complaints. I mostly tell people that they need to talk to the local court, and that I can't help them with civil disputes."

"And the rest of it?"

"That's the interesting part," said Florimond.

"When strange things happen to mortals, I try to piece together testimonies to figure out whether it's the work of something that's dead or something that's alive."

"If they're dead?"

"Then it's not my problem. The case goes to the Astrology Bureau, all the way in the capital. And then they'll send a buddhist monk at the Great Wheel stage, or a daoist cultivator with some kind of artifact that carries the Blind Dharma." Rowan looked interested enough that Florimond decided to explain.

"At the Great Wheel stage of enlightenment - what we would call a late-stage Qi Refiner, even though it's not exactly the same - monks begin to have ways to shield themselves from being entangled with the karmic ties produced by exorcisms. Even the most exalted sects from across the Empire call the Astrology Bureau."

"What would happen if you didn't do that?"

"One thousand years of bad luck." Rowan narrowed his eyes.

"To be honest," said Florimond.

"I don't really know. Cultivators hate being tied up in mortal affairs, partly because in the long run, things end up affecting your cultivation one way or another. But that's just part of it. Mostly, it's because cultivators are afraid of responsibility."

"Really." Florimond sighed, kicking at a patch of dirt on the ground.

"Anyway, that's what happens if the phenomena were caused by something that's already dead," he continued.

"If the culprit is someone who's alive - another mortal, a cultivator... well, then it's my job to figure out who did it, and to apprehend them. And then sort out some kind of restitution for the people affected. No weight of silver can undo a tragedy, but it can improve the lives of those who survive them." Rowan thought of the canvas bag of taels he'd given Dalia, the riches that had belonged to Bastin. He understood.

"How did the investigation of the orphanage go, by the way, after I returned to the sect?"

"Well, a few of the junior investigators and I dug through the tunnels, and we found quite a bit of evidence. The magistrate's leading theory is that Daoist Apex migrated here long ago from a more cutthroat place. Now that he's been dealt with, the situation is over." Rowan's hands clenched. Were they really trying to wash their hands of the situation?

"And what do you think?"

"It doesn't really explain the Seven-Toned Folding Yin Formation we found on the wall. Who drew it? Certainly not a low-level Qi Condensation cultivator." Florimond hummed in thought. Rowan didn't remind him to keep up his smile.

"Demonic activity has been steadily climbing for decades. I have long believed there might be a powerful demonic cultivator in our city, spreading evil scriptures. This person may have helped Daoist Apex with his lair." Could the powerful demonic cultivator be The Red Groom from the Tally Book? Rowan fell into thought.

"Daoist Apex mentioned a contact. Someone called Daoist Silverteeth."

"Silverteeth," Florimond said, undoubtedly searching his memory for anyone with the name. After a few moments, he shook his head.

"I'll look into it. When it comes to mortal casualties, investigators often forget to record all the details."

"It's always the mortals who end up the victims," said Rowan. He looked up and down the street, and caught eyes with a girl on a rooftop with an almost-familiar silhouette who was jumping and waving. He waved back, making sure the disappointment that it hadn't been Dalia didn't make it to his face.

"Don't go back to the orphanage," advised Florimond.

"We took the Seven-Toned Folding Yin Formation with us, so there's nothing containing the Yin qi anymore. The exorcist from the Astrology Bureau is weeks away, still. We've set formation plates in the area in the meantime to stop ghosts from coalescing, but its not foolproof. It's a dangerous site." Rowan looked down at his feet. Don't go back to the orphanage? How could he promise that?

"Sometimes, I think Elder Cloris is right," said Florimond quietly.

"Hundreds of children born in this city every year will live hard lives and die young. None of them will ever know if they have the potential to brave the waves of the Grand Dao."

"The Grand Dao?" Rowan asked quietly, shooting a subtle smirk at the edge of the magistrate's platform.

"If I laugh as hard as I wanted to right now, Junior, I will surely be out of a job. Then I will have to go back to scrubbing the floors at the Martial Hall in the Inner Sanctum."

"---and then, just before, Mister Helsing actually stopped by my Market Room to ask me for advice. I knew he was off to do something heroic," came Lady Hema's voice from somewhere behind him. Huh? Lady Hema? Rowan turned, stunned at the number of people following behind him. There was Baudelain and even Barrett, though the latter's face was puce with anger, and his uncle had a white-knuckled grip on the boy's nape. Lady Hema was there, crowing, with Gaetan skulking behind her half-unseen.

Also, he recognized City Lord Rothlin, a person of equivalent status to the magistrate, seemingly enraptured with Lady Hema's bragging.

"An old cow trying to eat tender grass…" said Florimond under his breath. The ten hours of marching ended and then Elder Patino guided them to the Fross Family Estate.