Chương 33: Toy Soldiers

Yan Shu was slightly taken aback. This was not at all what he had been expecting. The private reading room on the third floor of the Archives was quiet and full of dust. Sitting across a small oak table from him was Han Chae-ha. Officially, the Imperial Collator was interviewing her, gathering the necessary details of her late father's life so he could compose an appropriate eulogy. Unofficially, Yan Shu had been expecting a duel.

Ever since putting some of the pieces of the Yangliu conspiracy together, he had developed a thrilling narrative for how this meeting would go in his head. He had expected to find a vibrant, barely contained personality – a female mirror of his own prodigious capabilities. He dreamed of finding a peer intellect to trade rapid-fire witticisms with; a hidden, undiscovered genius who would playfully parry his barbs and engage with him in clever repartee. Instead, the girl sitting in front of him was just… calm.

She was organized, deeply polite, and extremely precise in her responses. The girl was clearly intelligent, but she had absolutely no interest in sparring with him. She was treating the interview like it was a tax audit, completely ignoring his flirtatious boasts… and it was driving the young poet mad. Yan Shu quietly looked down at the notes he had compiled. Even worse than the lack of banter was the actual material he had to work with. The subject matter was tragically uninspiring.

Despite the official decree reclassifying Han Sa-ryang's death as a "war casualty," the reality was that the man had committed suicide to escape being buried in debt. His sacrifice was noble, heart-wrenching, and would probably make for a good novel. But from a purely poetic standpoint, it was a nightmare to honor with prose. Yan Shu set his brush down on an inkstone and stretched his arms high above his head, sighing in disappointment. As he brought them back down, determination hardened his gaze.

If she wasn't going to play his game willingly, he would have to force her hand.

"Well, Inspector Han, I believe I have everything I need to draft the eulogy," he announced, leaning back in his chair.

"Although…I must admit, your straightforwardness today was a bit of a disappointment. Given your masterful work covering for that bumbling laggard of a Magistrate, I was expecting a bit more…theatricality." Disappointingly, she didn't even flinch. Chae-he just cocked her head at him in curiosity, as if asking what he was talking about.

"Now, now…. there's no point in denying it. I know it was you who drafted that report." The young girl met his gaze evenly.

"Yes, I drafted the incident report, Collator. And the local Magistrate applied his seal. Even the Emperor stamps his name onto proclamations that were drafted by his subordinates. It is standard administrative procedure." Yan Shu chuckled, finally sensing an opportunity to engage.

"You're part of the Tai-shan, not the Imperial Court. You aren't his subordinate."

"And you aren't an Inspector. Regardless, it was an emergency, and I was temporarily deputized. You can check with the Magistrate, if you prefer."

"Oh, I'm sure he'll back up your story. He'd get himself into trouble if he didn't." Yan Shu's eyes sparkled, finally enjoying himself a little bit.

"I'm not trying to drag you down. I just want to know what you were covering up." Chae-ha gave him a pitying stare for a moment, before offering a casual shrug.

"Oh, that. The Imperial Commissioner was having an affair with the Branch Head's wife. The Branch Head found out and hired assassins in a fit of jealous rage." Yan Shu's jaw dropped. A Rank Three Imperial Commissioner, bedding the wife of a Jianghu martial artist? The sheer size of the scandal was staggering. It perfectly explained the secrecy, the sudden violence, and why the Tai-shan sect would be so desperate to sweep the exact motive under the rug. They needed to avoid a blood feud with the Imperial Court!

"Wait... is that actually true?" Yan Shu stammered, his normally polished composure completely scattered.

"Who knows, Collator? There's no evidence, either way." Yan Shu snapped his mouth shut. He stared at the audacious young girl for a second before throwing his head back and letting out a short bark of genuine laughter. She'd fed him a lie so perfectly tailored to his own love of the dramatic that his usual defenses had been bypassed.

"And now you're doing the exact same thing to me that you did in that report," Yan Shu chuckled, leaning forwards and resting his elbows on the table.

"Brilliant. You are very good at dressing up a scene to look exactly how your audience expects." He picked up his brush again, spinning the bamboo handle nimbly between his fingers.

"It seems to be a rare skill. Most people overplay their hands when they try to put on a disguise. Take the escort who brought me up the mountain today, for example: one Patriarch Yeon." Yan Shu shook his head, amused by his own anecdote.

"He knew he would be escorting an Imperial Envoy, so he tried to put on a grand show of military competence. Outfitted his entire troop in brand-new, polished steel and pristine leather. A grand gesture, completely wasted on me: a poet who just wanted to reach the peak without falling off his horse." The faint smile on Chae-ha's face vanished.

"Patriarch Yeon?" Chae-ha asked, her voice suddenly sounding worried.

"The head of the local 72 Springs escort agency?" Yan Shu frowned, his brush halting its spin.

"Yes. Is something wrong?"

"Where is he right now?"

"I…I believe he said he was going to the Treasury," the young man replied, taken aback by her sudden intensity.

"To collect his commission for –" Without waiting for him to finish, Chae-ha turned and strode out through the door. Yan Shu blinked at the suddenly empty room.

"Well," the young prodigy muttered to himself, a thrilling jolt of adrenaline surging through his veins, "whatever that's all about… at least it's probably not boring!" Abandoning his notes on the desk, Yan Shu scrambled to his feet and sprinted out the door, chasing after the young Inspector as she raced through the sect. The inside of the Treasury was a sprawling, messy hub of couriers, supply carts, and bellowing quartermasters.

But even over the din of clattering wooden crates, one angry man's voice could be heard clearly.

"I am not asking for a favor! I am asking to be paid for my services." Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Patriarch Yeon slammed his hand down on the wooden counter. Across from him, a weary supervisor adjusted his spectacles and sighed, pointing his brush at a stack of forms.

"And I am telling you, Patriarch, that Imperial commissions require a mandatory forty-eight hour verification period. I cannot disburse the sect's silver until the Imperial writ is formally authenticated by the Archives. You will have your money in two days."

"I need it today!" Outside the Treasury doors, Mu-cheon had just caught up to the sprinting duo. He had seen Chae-ha tear across the courtyards with the Imperial Collator hot on her heels, and his protective instincts had immediately kicked in. The three of them burst into the building right as the Patriarch raised his voice again. Chae-ha strode forwards quickly but calmly, leading the group. She marched straight up to the counter, her eyes taking in the frustrated vassal and appraising his appearance.

"Custom-fitted steel plating, reinforced leather, and matching weaponry," the young Inspector said, her voice cutting cleanly through the argument.

"If all your men are indeed outfitted to match, the expenditure would exceed one-hundred taels." Patriarch Yeon blinked, caught off guard by the sudden intrusion of a small girl in oversized scholar's robes.

"Who are you?" Chae-ha ignored him.

"An escort agency of your size doesn't have that much silver just sitting around." She stepped closer, her gaze sharpening.

"You financed all that equipment. Please, tell me the loan didn't come from the Black Ink Consortium." Patriarch Yeon's face flushed an angry, defensive red.

"My finances are none of your concern, little girl. And so what if it did? The Consortium is a perfectly respectable merchant guild!"

"Show me the contract," Chae-ha demanded.

"I will do no such thing!" Yeon bristled, his hand dropping to the pristine hilt of his new sword.

"This is a private family business, and I do not answer to some clerk!" Chae-ha calmly reached into her robes and pulled out her small Inspector's seal, slamming it down onto the wooden counter right next to his other hand.

"I am Han Chae-ha, Field Inspector of the Tai-shan," she said, her voice still totally calm despite the theatrics.

"And you are a vassal of the sect. Show me the contract." Yeon hesitated, his pride warring with the authority of the seal on the table. Before he could refuse again, a shadow fell over him. Mu-cheon stepped up behind Chae-ha. The towering Young Master crossed his thick, corded arms and stared down at the Patriarch, waiting. The implication was clear: give her what she wants, or I will break you in half. Patriarch Yeon bristled. He was a top-level martial artist and a Senior Disciple himself.

But ultimately, he wasn't willing to risk the political consequences of messing with the sect's Young Master. The man reached inside his tunic and produced a folded slip of paper stamped with the abacus and coins of the Black Ink Consortium. He slapped it onto the counter.

"You're lucky I needed to show proof of insurance to take on the commission." Chae-ha picked the document up. Her eyes darted across the columns of text, her lips moving silently as she rapidly parsed the legalese. At first glance, it seemed quite normal. The interest rates were high – which perfectly explained why Patriarch Yeon was so frantic to get his payout today – but not catastrophically so. But then, her eyes roamed over a dense paragraph buried near the bottom. The Insurance Clause.

"They told you this was all standard, didn't they?" Chae-ha murmured, tracing the section with her finger to draw attention to it.

"It is," Yeon said defensively.

"The branch manager approved it himself. If my agency is ever contracted to haul valuable cargo and we fail, the Consortium agrees to cover the upfront damages to the client. It saves my agency from immediate bankruptcy, and I just pay them back over time. The rate is quite reasonable."

"There is no liability cap," Chae-ha said, looking up at him, her face pale.

"And the clause stipulates that the value of the lost goods is as declared by the seller – and then double-checked by a Black Ink Consortium appraiser." Patriarch Yeon frowned.

"So?"

"So, they can ruin you whenever they want," Chae-ha explained, her voice urgent.

"All they have to do is hire your agency through a proxy, to transport a sealed box. Then, they also hire the bandits who ambush you on the road. When your men lose the cargo, the proxy claims the box held priceless antiques." The young girl waved the paper for emphasis.

"The appraiser signs a document verifying the amount. They make an insurance payment to the proxy – which just amounts to them paying themselves – and suddenly you, Patriarch Yeon, owe the Black Ink Consortium ten thousand taels." The Agency Head stared at her for a long moment. Then, he let out a scoffing, dismissive laugh.

"You have a very active imagination, Inspector," the man said, snatching the contract back.

"I have known the lender who brokered this deal for me for years. He is a good man, and the terms he gave me are perfectly reasonable. It's my business, and I know what I'm doing. Keep your nose out of it." Chae-ha opened her mouth to argue, but Mu-cheon placed a calming hand on her shoulder. The contract was already signed, and there wasn't much they could do except warn him. Which she had already done. The Inner Disciple looked past the Patriarch and barked an order at the Treasury supervisor.

"I personally vouch for this commission. Pay the Patriarch his silver immediately!" The supervisor glanced nervously at the unverified Imperial writ, then up at the massive, glaring Young Master, before scrambling to unlock his strongbox. Within moments, a weighty sack of silver was shoved across the counter. Patriarch Yeon picked it up, offering Mu-cheon a stiff, obligatory bow before he left. Yan Shu watched the Patriarch retreat, a wry, conspiratorial smile on his lips.

He leaned in slightly towards Chae-ha, eager to share a moment of wit with her, and perhaps brighten her souring mood.

"You have to admit, Miss Han, the Patriarch is putting on an absolute masterclass in returning the pearl. Except, instead of a magnolia box, he bought himself a cedar one." The young Collator beamed, letting out a refined, quiet chuckle at his own cleverness. He waited for her to smile. But the young girl just stared at him like he had three heads. Yan Shu's self-assured grin faltered slightly. He gestured vaguely towards the retreating Patriarch, his voice losing a fraction of its confident polish.

"You know. The man of Zheng? From the Han Feizi? Who bought a fancifully decorated box and returned the priceless pearl inside? Because Patriarch Yeon bought all that unnecessary shiny armor... and cedar is usually used for..." His voice trailed off. Looking at her blank stare, realization suddenly hit the young poet. It wasn't that she didn't find the joke amusing; she literally didn't know what he was talking about. She hadn't read the Han Feizi. She had never studied the classics.

"Yes, well," the Imperial Collator murmured, suddenly finding the surrounding scenery fascinating.

"It wasn't really all that funny." A growing sense of unease began to settle in Yan Shu's stomach, like he was somehow teetering on an unstable foundation. The young poet found himself thinking back to his conversation with the Sect Leader – a man who definitely seemed to value her point of view. His voice was slightly hesitant when he spoke, but he felt he needed to know the answer.

"Miss Han, just out of curiosity: if we received word that ten thousand professional soldiers were marching on this sect... what do you think we should do?" Mu-cheon snorted. Chae-ha sighed, still clearly disappointed by the interaction with Patriarch Yeon, before rolling her eyes and turning to answer his question.

"Ten thousand men couldn't even fit on the mountain paths that lead here, Collator. If an army that size were to march this way, its goal wouldn't be to occupy this sect; it would be to seize Jinan, the provincial capital. The Tai-shan are the strongest military force in the region, so the best way to do that would be to seal us up here in the mountains – and stop us from garrisoning the city." She looked at the young poet levelly.

"If Jinan falls, tribute stops, our vassals die, and the sect is finished. So, in that scenario, we should get as many fighters out of here as we can. Send them to the city, mobilize the vassal families there, and start raising peasant levies. The peasants aren't very good fighters, but we can probably conscript four or five thousand of them." Mu-cheon nodded as he voiced his agreement.

"It wouldn't be enough to stop a professional force of ten thousand soldiers, but combined with a few thousand Tai-shan disciples and the city guard…it would be enough to force a siege. Once the capital is secured and the walls are manned, we'd need to send birds to our branch sects and allies in the region. Then hunker down and wait for reinforcements to come."

"You'd abandon the high ground?" Yan Shu blinked, unable to believe what he was hearing. Chae-ha wrinkled her nose.

"Defending the sect would be easy – and could be done by a much smaller force. But holding it means nothing if we lose all our land and vassals. Besides, even in a worst-case scenario where the sect somehow fell: do the invaders really want to be the ones starving up in the mountains, while we hold the city? If so, let them." The Imperial Collator blinked again. He was very confident that the answer he'd given to the Sect Leader would have scored full marks on the Imperial exam.

Everything he'd said had been perfectly by the book. So why did he suddenly feel like a child, playing with toy soldiers?

"The vassal families, and their tribute, are our lifeblood," Chae-ha whispered.

"That's why people like Patriarch Yeon – and my father – are their targets."

"You mean… the Black Ink Consortium has been actively targeting Tai-shan vassal families? Including… yours?" The young girl nodded. Her face was a perfect mask, but the young Collator could hear a deep melancholy in her voice. For the first time in his life, Yan Shu felt completely helpless. He had no idea what to do. He wanted to help her, but he was completely out of his depth. The moment of despair passed quickly. Of course there was a way he could help.

The young poet grinned to himself, his flagging composure suddenly restored. It was the entire reason he'd come here in the first place. Maybe waging war wasn't his strong suit. But when it came to poetry, he was still the Empire's best. And he had been brought here to craft a eulogy, after all. In a burst of inspiration, the young poet bowed, took his leave, and dashed away to retrieve his notes.