Chương 40: Halfmoon House

Rowan Baudelain Fross had finally made his way around the room, from the officials of the Dao Court, to the Sect Elders, to the representatives of the major families, and now he was here. Rowan had encouraged Senior Sister Nila, who was more than happy to talk for hours at a time, to tell him as many cultivation stories as he could, hoping it would dissuade people from approaching him. Interrupting a core disciple of the sect was something that simply wasn't done. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to stop Baudelain.

The man had even retrieved his nephew for the occasion.

"It's fine," said Nila.

"I've been holding him hostage for nearly thirty minutes now anyway." She was clearly not aware that this was what Rowan had wanted.

"I can finish explaining formation symmetry to him back at the sect." Baudelain dipped his head in apology.

"I didn't realize you were speaking about such an important topic," he said.

"I almost lost a hand to an ill-drawn formation, once. Luckily, one of my dear friends threw himself on top of it as it destabilized. Thankfully, he wasn't hurt. Just very, very angry." Nila smiled.

"Hear that, Rowan? I spend most afternoons at the library in the Inner Sanctum. They won't let you in, but they will pass your message along. We can finish the lesson, and maybe have lunch." She gave him a pat on the head, which was a little patronizing, but Rowan didn't mind. She was drunk enough that she was leaning to and fro. She spotted Elder Patino helping himself to a pastry off the tray of a passing waiter, and ran straight at him at full speed.

Rowan winced, hoping she wouldn't put a core disciple-shaped hole in someone. Despite the density of the crowd, she weaved through people as deftly as a needle, without so much as brushing past anyone.

"Make sure you go, Young Master Helsing. It's not every day an outer disciple gets an open invitation for lessons." Rowan nodded carefully. Patino was now loudly berating Nila for making a fool of herself.

"I've never seen anyone so excited to speak to the Old Master," said Fross, who'd followed Rowan's eye to the outburst. He gave a little chuckle, then schooled his features into something more serious.

"You're probably wondering why I'm here."

"Not in particular," said Rowan.

"Isn't this the Fross Family Manor on Firmament Road?" He smiled. Fross chuckled again, more heartily.

"Right, this is my house." He paused. Barrett hadn't said anything so far, but he'd somehow gotten more angry. His face had gone from a blotchy shade of red to something closer to puce.

"What I really meant was that you were probably wondering why the party was held here." Rowan shrugged.

"I imagine it's because very few households could bear the weight of…" He glanced at the magistrate, who was surrounded by nearly a dozen patriarchs and inheriting sons - some from prosperous mortal lineages, some from the many historical partners of Righteous Mountain Sect.

"The Grand Dao," he decided.

"I wonder how many people in this city could afford to say that without getting their tongues cut out," said Baudelain idly.

"But isn't that the sort of freedom that characterizes the dream of cultivation?" Rowan nodded.

"The right to joke about anyone and anything, without fear of retribution. The power to do good with no reservation. The power to visit evil without consequence," continued Baudelain.

"I've been told that the High Chancellor once ordered the Emperor to chew with his mouth closed during a banquet."

"What happened?" Rowan asked. He normally found imperial history boring. The capital was far, far away, and his father had once told him that it wasn't as impressive as people claimed.

"The Emperor remembered his manners, and apologized."

"And then what happened to the High Chancellor," Rowan asked, morbidly curious. This sort of story always ended in a very gruesome method of execution, didn't it?

"He's still High Chancellor to this day," said Baudelain.

"And, presumably, he's telling that Emperor's grandchildren to sit straight when they're holding court."

"Because he's a cultivator," Rowan said, realizing the point of the story.

"One of the most powerful men alive who is still seen in public," confirmed Baudelain. There was a short silence, punctuated by a soft, derisive snort from Barrett.

"I'm not a man who often asks for forgiveness," said Baudelain, at last.

"Forgiveness?" Was he apologizing on Barrett's behalf? Surely that was why he was here, holding Barrett hostage. Baudelain nodded.

"I didn't ask for permission when I submitted the documents for the charity that now shares your name," he said.

"And I was too much of a coward to ask if you would allow it before I announced it to the world. And now I've left you on intractable ground, if this sort of thing runs contrary to your wishes." Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work! He bowed deeply. Was that what he was apologizing for? Rowan thought about it for a moment, and realized that if it was indeed something that he didn't want any part of, he would likely be quite angry.

"You don't have to apologize," said Rowan.

"After that situation in Highwater, I was wondering if there was anything I could do to help." Baudelain stood straight, looking quite relieved.

"That's good," he said.

"I was hoping that you'd be different from most of the other transcendentally talented young cultivators I've had the misfortune to meet over the years, and you are. With the way most heroes behave, you would think that it was only by circumstance that any of them do good in the world." Rowan was uncertain as to how to respond. Baudelain bridged the silence.

"Everyone wants the fame that comes from killing demonic cultivators. Few desire the thankless work of improving the lives of their victims."

"Senior Brother Sutter told me that a cultivator's greatest fear was responsibility."

"Investigator Sutter said that?" Baudelain smiled.

"I'll have to remember that one when I'm in my next heated argument." There was another slight silence.

"I was expecting a much more difficult conversation, to be honest," said Baudelain.

"I was under the assumption that you would be a much more unreasonable person. But now that we're here, I suppose I should try my luck. True to my word, the charitable fund won't require a single copper coin from you. You won't be asked to attend any meetings with simpering bureaucrats, you won't be interrupted during sect lectures for signatures, nothing of that sort." Rowan nodded.

"But it would likely mean a lot to the children who'll be sponsored in your name if…" He trailed off. He turned to the banquet table and perused the dishes of fruits. The man seemed to notice that the carefully arranged platters had been disturbed by people picking and selecting from them. He began to fix the displays with one hand. Barrett was half-turned away, observing the people around them with crossed arms.

"I understand that the most valuable asset to anyone, cultivator or not, is time," Baudelain finally said.

"If once in a while, not as a regular thing, you would possibly allow me to arrange a short meeting between you and a group of the orphans? You've become a heroic figure to the children of the city already, and they want nothing more than to meet you." Baudelain finished his adjustments, sucking a drop of juice from the side of his thumb.

"It would be a huge favor." Was that what counted as huge to most cultivators? Doing a meet and greet with some children once a year or so?

"Of course," said Rowan.

"That's perfectly reasonable. If you can think of any other ways I can help, don't hesitate to ask." To be honest, when Baudelain had come to him with Barrett, he thought the man was going to try and force them to call off the duel. At the auction house, he had even given Rowan the pot of Setting Sun Seabreeze Dew to resolve any karmic ties between them. If he had asked, Rowan would've been forced to decline. The entire sect knew of their upcoming duel.

His reputation was at stake, which also meant the reputation of the House Helsing. He couldn't be known as a coward afraid to fight. And more than that, as the inheriting son of his family, he couldn't be seen as someone that bent his neck to a Fross. As for Barrett's reputation, who cared? It was already ruined. As if he'd heard Rowan's thoughts, Barrett glared at him. Rowan's thoughts were interrupted by a loud bang when the doors flew open. An inner disciple careened through the doors, panting.

"Elder Patino! They're here! Halfmoon House - they're at the Western Gate!" Halfmoon House had won the last tournament, and they had the deepest history of all the sects in the Earthly Harmony Alliance. Aside from Heavenly Skies Sect, they were the most important visitors.

"Already?" blustered Elder Patino.

"They're early!" Elder Patino and Elder Schell left so quickly they were little more than streaks of light fleeing the manor. The rest of the core disciples and inner disciples followed behind. In scant seconds, the majority of the guests were gone. Rowan thought it was a good opportunity to make his exit as well. He dashed after the disciples towards the Western Gate which, thankfully, was just a minute's brisk walk from Firmament Road.

At the gate, a contingent of one hundred cultivators stood across its threshold, an army of carriages behind them.

"That's a lot of disciples," breathed out Senior Sister Nila.

"Why did they bring so many?" Halfmoon House wore outer robes of dusky purple. Their inner robes - multiple layers of thin, gauzy fabric in cream - peeked through in their billowing sleeves and necklines, like the edges of their clothes had caught the shimmering moonlight. They carried an austere air. Like they were heading towards a serious meeting instead of an exciting tournament. A palanquin hoisted by four disciples in those purple robes passed through the gate. Cultivators doing menial labor?

That was unheard of. The palanquin stopped in front of the elders. A man with long, silky black hair to his ankles stepped out. With an expert flick of his wrist, a gold fan unfurled, hiding the lower half of his face so one could only see his sly, sultry eyes, and the beauty mark on his left cheekbone. Elder Patino and Elder Schell stepped forward to greet him. The elders bowed deeply while the sect leader gave a simple nod of his head. Rowan quickly realized why. Foundation Establishment.

"Sect Leader Kallist. Your contingent is two weeks early, but our sect is still prepared to receive you."

"No need." Sect Leader Kallist snapped his fan shut, gesturing with it in a small forward motion.

"We brought our own accommodations." As the palanquin passed, suddenly, a pale hand opened the curtain. In the dim interior, a pair of electric purple eyes met Rowan's. He felt an unabashed, unhidden tendril of qi, somehow both warm and clammy, press against his upper chest. It slid down an arm and over his right wrist and then vanished without a trace. Rowan's fingers immediately found the rosary, making sure it was still there. It was.

"That's rude, Amphis," said a voice from inside.

"Is it a crime to be curious?" said the woman with the purple eyes. Halfmoon House had arrived with three Foundation Establishment cultivators.