Chương 35: A Dark Omen

For the last seven days, the Guest Star had ruled the night. Even now, bathed in the early light of the morning, it remained a faint, stubborn presence in the sky. Down on the plains, the peasantry was bordering on hysterics. Rumors were spreading through the taverns and markets – prophecies of falling dynasties, angry gods, and the end of the Middle Kingdom. But inside the high stone walls of the Obsidian Palace, Sect Leader Kang Hyeon-je had absolutely no patience for astrology.

"Let the fortune-tellers wring their hands," he said dismissively, turning away from the window of his private study.

"The heavens don't bleed, and they don't hold territory. Wars are fought down here, between men. That is where our attention needs to be." Standing before the Sect Leader's dark basalt desk, Chae-ha and Mu-cheon both nodded in silent agreement. It had been one full week since the funeral on the peak, and today was the day Hyeon-je was making good on his promise. He was deploying them to the front lines. Chae-ha listened to the Sect Leader carefully, even though her eyes stayed fixed on the man standing beside him.

She felt fairly certain Mu-cheon's father wasn't about to hurl his only son off a cliff without a safety net.

"You ride for Laiwu within the hour," Hyeon-je continued, his piercing gaze falling on his young heir.

"If we are to secure your betrothal to the Cheok family, you must return after distinguishing yourself on the battlefield. However, since you have not yet come of age, I cannot give you an official command post. And I will not allow my successor to be deployed like some common foot-soldier." The Sect Leader gestured to the man standing proudly to his right.

"That is why I am assigning you a private detachment." Chae-ha discreetly studied the man. By Tai-shan standards, the veteran was remarkably short. He lacked the towering, broad-shouldered physique typical of the sect's warriors. His hair was thinning heavily, and the deep lines etched into his face spoke of decades spent in harsh environments. His oxblood silks, sewn with the white embroidery that marked an Outer Elder, were perfectly clean and carefully pressed, while his bearing was that of a career soldier.

"This is Eom Tae-seok," Hyeon-je said, introducing the man.

"He is a retired general, and one of my fiercest allies. He was one of the few who stood by my side when I first secured my own position as Sect Leader. There are few names in this province that hold more prestige amongst the men." Tae-seok offered a deep military bow, first to Hyeon-je and then to Mu-cheon.

"It is an honor to be called upon to serve the Kang family once more, Sect Leader. I am pleased this old workhorse can still be of some use."

"Elder Eom will command a private detachment of fifty men, officially assigned to your retinue," Hyeon-je explained to his son.

"Ostensibly, they are under your command. But their true orders come from me. They are to fight alongside you and support your position on the front lines. They will give you a chance to spill some blood, while making sure you do not drown in it." Chae-ha nodded to herself. This was a delicate, dangerous needle to thread. Mu-cheon needed to be in the thick of the fighting to impress the Cheok family, but that also meant putting him in danger. Bodyguards were a logical solution.

Mu-cheon turned to face the older, significantly shorter man. He placed his right fist into his open palm and bowed deeply.

"Elder Eom, I know babysitting the Tai-shan heir is not the deployment a man of your experience deserves. But I swear I will not make your job any harder than it has to be. I look forwards to learning from you." Tae-seok's stern, lined face softened just a fraction. He returned the greeting with equal respect.

"There is no greater deployment than securing the future of the Tai-shan, Young Master," the retired general replied, his voice gruff.

"We will forge your glory in Laiwu, or I will leave my own bones in the valley." Hyeon-je nodded, satisfied that the board was finally set.

"Gather your things and marshal the disciples," he commanded.

"The valley is waiting." Everyone bowed and turned to leave. As they did, the Sect Leader put an oversized hand on the elder's shoulder, stopping him for just a moment.

"I have one additional request, Tae-seok, my old friend. I know it might seem strange, but please take the girl seriously." Hyeon-je lowered his voice as he continued.

"I paid a lot for her services." The staging grounds just outside the eastern gates of Tai'an were a mess of dirt, mud, horse droppings, and compact gravel. Mu-cheon's personal retinue was preparing to depart. Fifty elite soldiers, surrounded by a smattering of administrative and support staff, worked tirelessly to prepare for travel. Supply wagons laden with grain, bandages, and other necessities creaked loudly as the oxen that pulled them were whipped into motion.

Momentum was building, and soon they would be off. Standing safely on the grassy shoulder of the road, well away from the mud and the dung, was Yan Shu. The young Collator looked very out of place amidst the heavily armed martial artists. His sapphire-blue Imperial robes stuck out noticeably in a field dominated by brown and red. Now that his business with the Sect Leader had concluded, it was time for him to rejoin the Survey Team. Or, it would soon be. First, he needed to take care of one last piece of business.

Two figures broke away from the group and approached him. Mu-cheon looked like he belonged in a military camp. The Inner Disciple seemed completely at ease, his large, corded muscles rippling as he casually folded his arms in front of him. The weighty Dae-jik-do on his back might as well have been an afterthought. Accompanying him was Chae-ha, dressed once again in her jade scholar's robes.

"Collator Yan," the young Inspector said, stopping at the edge of the grass.

"Thank you. For everything. Your work was worth every copper the sect paid." The young poet laughed.

"Oh, it was worth more than that – but I gave you a discount. Please remember my generosity, should our paths ever cross in the future."

"I sincerely hope they do. Actually, Collator, I have a favor to ask." Chae-ha paused, her eyes growing slightly troubled.

"When you return to Bianjing, please keep in touch. The Black Ink Consortium may operate out of Jining, but they answer to the Ministry of Finance like everyone else. If you happen to come across anything interesting in their financial disclosures, I would be very eager to know." Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Yan Shu gasped softly, bringing his hands up in an exaggerated display of scandal.

"Inspector Han! Asking an Imperial Collator to abuse his access and leak private financial records? That would be a serious crime."

"What happened to the man who approved of a little treason? At least it's a way to make reviewing tax forms exciting." Yan Shu chuckled, placing a finger against his cheek. He looked at the young girl, then up at the towering martial artist standing silently behind her. He had come to the mountain hoping to learn more about the world and appease his endless boredom, and this trip had certainly delivered on both fronts.

"Our time together was remarkably short, Inspector Han, but you have left a deep impression," the Collator said, his smile softening into something genuine.

"I will keep your request in mind. And indeed – let's stay in touch." Mu-cheon stepped forwards, his boots leaving muddy trails in the grass as he offered a respectful bow.

"Safe travels, Collator Yan. May the road treat you well."

"Likewise, Young Master. Now, it is time for us to part. You go to Laiwu and fight the Meng-shan; I shall return to the capital, and wage war against the filing cabinets!" With a final bow, the young Imperial prodigy turned his back on the Tai-shan force, walking casually back towards the painted gates of Tai'an. Chae-ha watched him go for only a moment before turning her attention eastwards. Preparations were basically done, and the retinue was almost ready to leave.

"Alright, senior brother," Chae-ha said, her voice hardening as she stepped off the grass and let her boots sink into the churned mud of the road.

"Let's go see how badly we're losing." Having access to well-maintained roads, like the one running from Tai'an to Laiwu, was one of the benefits of being a part of the Empire. Paved with evenly cut, interlocking blocks of sepia-colored stone, it allowed the retinue to make excellent time. For a full week, they followed the Imperial highway along the inside curve of the Tai-shan range, the clopping of hooves echoing against the sprawling foothills as they went.

Occasionally, they would pass narrow, unpaved branch roads that split off from the main thoroughfare, winding upwards into the heavily forested mountains. Those treacherous dirt and gravel paths were the arteries of the province, leading directly to the iron mines that the Tai-shan and the Meng-shan were currently fighting over. Looking at the steep, unpaved inclines, Chae-ha noted how quickly the packed earth would turn to a muddy soup under the wrong conditions.

"They have us outnumbered by more than two-to-one," Chae-ha eventually said, breaking the steady silence of their ride. She was reviewing a leather-bound troop report as her horse walked, trying to stay up-to-date with the current state of the war.

"Adding it all up, we have roughly twelve hundred fighting men in the valley. But the latest report puts the Meng-shan forces at closer to twenty-eight hundred."

"Numbers aren't everything," Mu-cheon replied from his saddle, adjusting the thick straps of the holster supporting his Dae-jik-do.

"A Tai-shan Outer Disciple trains for five years before they are allowed to carry a greatsword into battle. A Meng-shan spearman is turned out in two. One of our men is worth three of theirs." Riding just ahead of them, Elder Eom Tae-seok let out a humorless grunt.

"In a series of duels, perhaps that would be true, Young Master. But don't forget, most of our Outer Disciples only know the first mnemonic of the Chuk-ap-gyeol. And while it's effective in a one-on-one fight, it's not as well suited to large-scale warfare as the Meng-shan's art is." Mu-cheon nodded somberly.

"You mean their Yeon-dan-gyeol – the Secret of Core-Combustion. I've heard it allows them to control their metabolism. So they can march harder and fight longer on fewer rations."

"Exactly that. Also, their weapons are better suited to war. A greatsword requires space to swing, and solid earth to generate torque. A spear wall just needs to push forwards endlessly. Despite the higher quality of our troops, we're balanced on a knife's edge in this conflict with them. Changing a single variable can turn a win into a loss, or a loss into a slaughter."

Although their travel was comparatively light, by the time the walled city of Laiwu finally crested the horizon, Chae-ha was very much ready to spend a night sleeping in a real bed. But one look at their destination dashed those hopes entirely. Laiwu was an industrial beast of a city. Behind its stone walls, thick plumes of black smoke belched forth from massive chimneys, staining the sky the color of rusted iron.

Following Tae-seok's lead, the retinue pushed straight through the southeastern gates and into the sprawling forward camp that had been erected in the valley beyond. As they dismounted, Mu-cheon's boots immediately sank an inch into the muck. It was a reminder that, from here on out, there would be no more Imperial pavers. The roads going deeper into the valley would be made of compacted dirt and gravel, and they would grow progressively worse as their destinations became more rural.

The air in the camp reeked of woodsmoke. Maimed men sat outside medical tents with despair in their eyes, while blacksmiths frantically worked grindstones to sharpen nicked blades. It was the solemn, depressing atmosphere of a losing army. At the center of the camp stood an opulent command tent, dyed in the oxblood red of the Tai-shan. Tae-seok, Chae-ha, and Mu-cheon left their retinue outside and ducked through the heavy canvas flaps that passed for doors.

Inside, a pair of officers were huddled over a sprawling topographical map of the valley. Vanguard Commander Mok was a hardened, scarred slab of a man. His hair was graying, and his face was locked in a permanent, deep-set scowl. The dark circles under his eyes hinted at many long nights of work and a lack of sleep. Standing quietly beside him was Lieutenant Shin, a leaner, sharp-eyed officer who projected a quiet aura of competence. Commander Mok looked up from the map.

His eyes swept over the towering Mu-cheon, passed over to the fifteen-year-old girl in scholar's robes, and finally settled on the retired general at their side. A scowl crossed his face.

"I sent three birds to the Sect Leader begging for reinforcements to hold our eastern flank. But instead of sending me another battalion, he sends me an uncapped boy, an accountant, and their nursemaids." Mu-cheon's eyes darkened. He stepped forwards, bringing his left palm over his fist in a respectful salute.

"Commander Mok. I'm sorry you didn't get the reinforcements you asked for. But surely some blades are better than none. We are here to fight alongside you."

"You are here to collect a participation trophy so your father can secure a marriage alliance," Mok spat, casually dismissing the Young Master's salute. He turned to Tae-seok.

"Elder Eom, with all due respect, my lines are collapsing. I don't have the time or the manpower to protect the Kang family's lineage in a combat zone."

"You don't need to protect him, Commander. That's my job. You just fight your war." Mok let out a bitter, exhausted sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Fine. But I am not altering my strategy to accommodate tourists." The Commander slammed the tip of a calloused finger down on a specific intersection on the map.

"An hour ago, our scouts reported a Meng-shan column moving towards the Iron Creek junction. If they take that crossroads, we lose access to the second largest mine in the region." The man paused briefly to let that sink in.

"My second-in-command, Shin here, is marching out with a contingent of four hundred men to intercept them. They're leaving in the morning." The Lieutenant offered a silent nod of confirmation, as Commander Mok looked back at Mu-cheon.

"You and your 'elite' detachment may join Lieutenant Shin's column. But you will stay at the rear. Do not break formation, do not advance, and do not engage. Not unless the line completely collapses." The Vanguard Commander leaned back on the table, his gaze boring a hole through the young heir.

"You sit in the back, Young Master," he ordered, "and watch how the professionals do it. When the fight is over, I'll send a report to your father, telling everyone how much you helped." Commander Mok turned back to his map and waved dismissively.

"Now get out of here, the lot of you." Chae-ha and Mu-cheon exchanged concerned glances, before bowing deferentially to his back and leaving the tent. Outside, the evening air had grown noticeably colder. Chae-ha looked up. For the first time in two weeks, the omnipresent light of the Guest Star was gone, masked by a thin line of grey clouds. She couldn't put her finger on why, but somehow, the air outside felt different. Beside her, Tae-seok stared up at the sky, lines of worry appearing on his weathered face.

"Elder Eom?" Mu-cheon asked, following his gaze.

"What is it?"

"Smells like rain," the veteran general whispered.