Savage Divinity

The path to sweet success often lay atop a foundation of bitter failure.

A lesson Nian Zu learned early in life, and it stuck with him for the rest of his life. Before their falling out, his parents had no high expectations of him with regards to becoming a Martial Warrior. They were all too happy to have him Form his Core and proceed no further along the Martial Path, for they had no other children and every Healer they met told them this was not likely to change. Nian Zu had been their miracle child, a gift from the Mother Above, so how could they risk his precious life in battle or even sparring? Swords and fists have no eyes, and death could not be Healed, so they often nudged him towards more academic pursuits, which he found tedious and uninspiring.

Not that he had cared much for the Martial Path either. Back then, he dabbled in the Forms and took part in those silly judged contests of Forms and Insights, but only because all children of nobility were expected to rather than out of any particular love for combat or training. Still, he was grateful for those half-hearted training sessions and insipid children’s tournaments, for he used those lessons to secure his freedom and take the first steps along a lifelong journey which brought him to this point here and now, a decorated Colonel General of the Imperial Army and celebrated Living Legend in his own time.

And yet, even after all this time, he still felt guilty over cutting ties with his parents and never going back to make things right. They caused him no small amount of pain and suffering, but their intent was never malicious, and he wanted to believe they still loved him in their own, twisted way. These thoughts and more flew through his head on that first fateful night after breaking away from Clan and family. Instead of relief or excitement at having escaped his bonds, there was only muted panic and crippling dread at having exchanged one set of chains for another. The charlatan who’d claimed he could ‘cure’ Nian Zu’s ‘affliction’ had beat and threatened him, but deep down, he knew the desperate man would never kill him. He was Situ Nian Zu, the last scion of an illustrious branch family and descendent of a former Patriarch, not to mention his parents would never allow him to come to lasting harm.

Except now, he’d signed his life away to the Imperial Army for the next fifty years, with no assurances or support to be had from anyone at all.

It was nothing like he’d imagined during that brief, panic-stricken march to the military recruitment facility, which was really just a dingy shack across the street from a squalid bar which catered to men who shared Nian Zu’s taste. The bar had been closed then, as it was still mid-morning, and since he’d been walking backwards while holding a sword to his own throat, he hadn’t seen much of anyone’s reactions. Not that he’d had the time to gawk during such an intense and pivotal moment, but after a local Healer saw to his wounds, the recruiters left him sitting in the streets, with no one but his parents to watch him. They couldn’t legally bring him away against his will, as it would’ve been tantamount to desertion, a crime for which the penalty was death. Instead, they stood there and pleaded with him for long hours until a training officer finally came by with a gaggle of trainees who were then instructed to carry him away.

Which they did, rather unceremoniously at that, slung over the shoulder of the unlucky trainee who’d been picked out to carry him.

His parents had already sought help from the Clan, but as time would tell, there was nothing the Clan could or would do to help them. A good thing too, because after his first day in army training, Nian Zu was seriously considering if it would really be so terrible to go crawling back to his parents and beg for mercy. Having pieced together the story from his mother’s pleas and the recruiter’s story, Nian Zu’s fellow trainees lacked any compassion for his plight and instead had taken to making bets on how long the ‘noble bum-boy’ would last, as well as proposition bets as to how he would ‘wash out’ of basic training. They spoke as if he weren’t right there beside them and made no effort to include him in their discussions or hide their scorn, which he earned not because of his sexual preferences, but because he’d signed his life away over such a ‘minor’ issue.

“Oh, what a poor noble cock-gobbler,” one recruit named Dangu had taunted, after Nian Zu lost his temper and tried to explain his suffering. “What monstrous parents they are, wanting their son to stick his dick in a woman’s wet cunt instead of some pillow-biter’s arse-hole. Me, I’m here because the alternative was getting sold into slavery for missing a payment on me Ma’s gambling debts, but you... you got it real tough, Butt-Boy.”

This prompted the other recruits to laugh and share their stories too, and Nian Zu had been horrified to find himself in the company of criminals and layabouts. That was the way of things in the Imperial Army, for nobles and merchant’s sons could buy their way into a lieutenant’s ranking so long as they demonstrated a modicum of Martial skill. Only the most unskilled and unfortunate recruits signed on at the recruitment facility, while criminals were often given a choice between an army billet and a slave’s collar, or worse, the hangman’s noose. It was a far cry from the valiant and benevolent warriors he thought he’d serve beside, and this more than anything made Nian Zu lose hope for his future.

Now, many decades later, he was grateful for his time spent in basic training, because it laid the groundwork for the man he would later become. He could’ve taken the easy way out and put in for a transfer to a more advanced group, but then Dangu would’ve won his proposition bet. The foul-mouthed slacker did everything he could to make Nian Zu’s life miserable so he would transfer out, but he was made of sterner stuff than the street tough was used to dealing with. When tricks and bullying failed to force him away, Dangu switched to more subversive tactics and spent every spare moment taunting Nian Zu in hopes of starting a fight, the punishment for which was ten lashes. One particularly stressful morning, he took the bait, gave Dangu a proper beating, accepted his punishment with minimal screaming, and went right back to training alongside the bruised and battered bully that same afternoon.

After baring his fangs, the other recruits left Nian Zu well alone, and he spent the next few days toiling alongside them in stoic silence. Foolish pride kept him from mingling with his future comrades, but luckily, he had an observant and capable instructor. The good sergeant never shared his name, and decades later, when Nian Zu finally realized how influential the man had been in shaping the Warrior he’d become, it’d been too late to learn it, but he still thanked the brusque, no-nonsense man in his heart, for without him, there would be no Hero of the Northern Wall. Instead of helping the noble recruit integrate with the others, the good sergeant held Nian Zu up to an unreasonable standard and blamed him for failures which were not his own. “Butt-Boy,” the sergeant roared, unconcerned with Nian Zu’s real name, “Why isn’t your tent set up yet?”

“But it is, sergeant,” Nian Zu had replied, wondering why the despotic bastard wouldn’t leave him be and bother the other recruits still fumbling with their poles. “My tent’s right here.”

Looking at Nian Zu’s perfectly pitched shelter, the sergeant casually knocked it over and said, “Don’t lie to me, Butt-Boy. Quit lazing about and set up your tent, then go report yourself for slacking off.”

On another occasion, when Nian Zu returned from a forty kilometre run whilst laden in weights, the sergeant came out and bellowed, “Where’s the rest of your squad, Butt-Boy? You cut corners, run half the route, and think you can fool me?”

Breathless and exhausted, Nian Zu could do naught but pant and wheeze instead of explaining he’d run the entire route so fast that he left everyone else far behind, but it wouldn’t have mattered. The sergeant followed him back out and made him run the full forty kilometre circuit again, which took much longer than the first time around because he kept collapsing in exhaustion. By the time he made it back, his fellow recruits were in the midst of enjoying their dinner, but all conversations were cut short as he stumbled his way through them, only to find there was no food left for him and the water barrels were completely empty. He left camp to get water, and when he returned suffered through another tirade from the sergeant for leaving without permission, followed by five lashes later that evening for showing up late for guard duty, which he hadn’t known about because he’d been out running when they decided the schedule and no one thought to inform him of his posting.

Day by day and week by week, Nian Zu’s life progressed in this manner, until finally, he couldn’t take it anymore and physically assaulted the damnable tyrant. That earned him a quick beating and another tirade, but no lashes or hanging as a soldier might expect for attacking a superior officer, which left Nian Zu utterly confused. Later that night, the sergeant called him in for a meeting, and told him in no uncertain terms that he would have to repeat basic training once again.

That had been the final straw, and Nian Zu broke down at the thought of another six weeks with this tyrant, but he was not yet ready to leave. “I won’t quit,” he declared, with tears streaming down his eyes. “I won’t go back. I’ve renounced both Clan and family, so you tell whoever’s paying you to torment me that this won’t change a damn thing.”

“The Imperial Army pays me to torment you,” the sergeant replied, “And your Clan and family got nothing to do with your failure. That’s on you, Butt-Boy.” Seeing Nian Zu’s confusion, the sergeant sighed. “Basic training isn’t just about getting you into fighting shape, else you’d have graduated on the first day. It’s about preparing you to fight and die alongside your fellow soldiers, and you, Butt-Boy, are not ready for either. You can fight, I’ll give you that, but no man is an island in the Imperial Army. Officers are pillars we depend on, but soldiers are the foundation which supports them, and you ain’t ready to serve as either.”

This discussion was a turning point in Nian Zu’s life, the moment when it all came together in his mind. Until then, he’d thought of himself as Situ Nian Zu, a nobleman in the company of vagabonds and murderers, but that was wrong. He was a recruit, training alongside his fellow comrades in arms, and that’s what the sergeant had been trying to tell him. He was the nail which stuck out, the bump in the road, the single imperfection in an otherwise working unit. After setting up his tent, he offered his fellow trainees no help or advice and sat around to watch them flounder in silence. Instead of staying with his unit while running through unfamiliar territory, he let hubris take over as he left them behind in his wake. He could have asked for a water skin instead of leaving camp, and maybe someone would’ve told him about his guard duty, or at the very least reminded him to check the schedule, but Nian Zu chose instead to isolate himself from the others.

A cardinal sin for a soldier in the Imperial Army, for only by working together could they keep the Enemy at bay. Even a lofty Colonel General could not hold back a thousand Defiled tribesman on his own, and it was this lesson their basic training was meant to drill into their heads. Unity and camaraderie were the most powerful tools in their arsenal, the means with which they would drive back the Defiled and defend themselves from the Father’s foul machinations.

Which was a lesson young Rain apparently never learned.

“Why do I need to keep these people around?” Rain asked, his tone whiny and petulant despite speaking to the highest ranked officer in the Northern Province. “I have enough guards as things stand, so I hardly need more.”

Willing himself not to shake the boy senseless, Nian Zu shot Rain with a heated glare, which he weathered without blinking. The boy was in a strange mood today, tired and sleep deprived despite having woken late, but still cheery and upbeat until only a moment ago. Perhaps it was because he didn’t have enough people catering to his needs today, with only the darling Lady Mei Lin sitting at his side, accompanied by Charok and his two well-behaved children. Where the other members of the household were, Nian Zu neither knew nor cared, but he was glad to see the formidable Sarnai wasn’t around to keep him from bullying her boy. “Major Binesi and his comrades are not here to guard you, private Falling Rain. He is your superior officer, and you will show him the proper deference his rank deserves or be charged with insubordination.”

“Ah fuck me.” Scowling darkly despite the stern reprimand, Rain gave Binesi a cursory military salute. “It’s an honour to come under your command, Major.” Then, beneath his breath, he muttered, “Fucking corrupt Justicars and their shitty judgment. Forgot I was still a fucking private. This sucks.”

“They did you a favour, boy.” His patience wearing thin, Nian Zu growled, “You may be the number one talent in the Empire, but you’re a piss poor commander if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Totally agree,” Rain replied, responding with nonchalant indifference and catching Nian Zu off guard. “That’s why I leave all the commanding to Mister Rustram.”

“Fool.” Slamming his hand down on the wooden dining room table, his fury did little more than earn him the ire of the Medical Saint’s darling daughter, who moved just in time to keep her teacup from spilling over. Rain didn’t even flinch, which only served to fuel Nian Zu’s anger. “You know your failings, but instead of improving yourself, you leave it to others to pick up the slack. Is that your idea of a leader?”

“...I never asked to be one.”

His sulky expression and petulant tone reminded Nian Zu that despite his brilliant mind and mature temperament, Rain was still a young man yet, and the young were never one to yield to fate. It was almost refreshing to see him behave like this, a reminder that he was a creature of flesh and blood with doubts and insecurities, rather than the living envoy of the Mother Herself the tall tales and outlandish rumors made him out to be. “Yet here you are,” Nian Zu retorted, but only after taking a deep breath to calm down. “In position to lead. You hold the lives of thousands of soldiers in your hands, men and women who pledged themselves to your service. Ask for it or not, you are a leader, boy, and it’s high time you learned to shoulder your responsibilities before you get everyone you love killed.”

Belatedly remembering the presence of children, Nian Zu offered an apologetic glance to Charok, but the darling white-haired twins were engrossed with their little game and had completely tuned out the conversation. He had no idea children were so easy to entertain, though he didn’t understand what was so fascinating about a box filled with water and raw shrimp.

As for Rain, he rolled his eyes without actually moving them, an admirable feat of non-verbal communication if there ever was one. “And those responsibilities include following Major Binesi’s commands?”

“No. He is here to ensure you are not killed by your own stupidity.” Gesturing at the Death Corps guards standing outside the dining room, Nian Zu explained, “With how often you leave your guards behind before stumbling into danger, it will do you good to have someone nearby who you can’t order to leave and will tell you when you’re being an idiot.” Not to mention quash any stupid ideas the boy might have, like going out for a pleasure trip the day after making enemies of the Five Supreme Families. What in the world was Baatar thinking, letting Rain traipse about as he pleased?

Truth be told, Nian Zu found himself questioning his choice of second-in-command more and more these days. Not two days ago, Rain had sat at this very table and told them about his meeting with the Legate, during which he stated in no uncertain terms that the Bekhai would rebel if he were killed out of hand. Nian Zu had been shocked to hear Rain state it so plainly, and horrified when no one spoke up to correct him. Baatar, Sarnai, Akanai, and several other of the Bekhai were even nodding along, all in perfect agreement with his claims. Granted, these were Rain’s most die-hard supporters, but when Nian Zu came back and questioned Binesi about it, the mountain-born warrior had not been surprised. “Such is the way of the Bekhai,” he replied, as if that simple statement explained everything. “They are all citizens of the Empire, but they do not always see themselves as such.” Shrugging, he added, “Though it could also be argued that oftentimes, the Empire does not treat them, or most other fringe groups, as true citizens.”

That was foolishness of course, but Nian Zu could see why someone from Binesi’s background might see things that way. Unlike safe and calm Central, the Northern Province consisted of large swathes of dangerous, untamed lands dotted by pockets of civilization, the twelve walled and fortified cities of the North. While even the smallest northern city was a massive, sprawling misnomer containing millions of civilians, it was still impossible to fit the entirety of the Northern Population within the safety of their walls. Citizens living outside the cities were largely left to fend for themselves against the ravenous beasts and harsh elements, yet were still expected to pay taxes for patrols which rarely came by, taxes which helped fund the defence of the Empire as a whole. What most of those citizens didn’t understand was the staggering numbers involved in keeping the Northern Wall in good repair, or feeding, housing, and paying thousands of soldiers to man the defences, but as the Hero of the Wall, Nian Zu knew those numbers like the back of his hand. He had no sympathy for poor farmers who begrudged giving up a fifth of their harvests to help feed the warriors who fought, bled, and died to protect them, and he had even less sympathy for greedy merchants who committed fraud to avoid paying their fair share, but each citizen must do their part, from humble farmer to lofty Colonel General, all in the interest of keeping the Empire safe.

No one man stood above the safety of the Empire. None. This was what he believed, so it was surprising to learn that Baatar, the valiant and heroic warrior who almost gave his life many times over to keep the Province safe, did not share Nian Zu’s values. Perhaps it had something to do with being a father, a concept he’d never personally experienced for himself, but in his mind, a single Falling Rain was not enough reason to rebel against the Empire and endanger the lives of tens of millions of citizens. Unfortunately, Binesi was right. Baatar did not fight for the Empire, nor did any of the Bekhai, a most disheartening discovery, so Nian Zu realized he would have to step in and keep the idiot boy alive, because the Empire needed unity now more than ever.

“Enough,” Nian Zu snapped, losing what little patience he still had when he saw Rain still had the mind to argue his orders. “Your decisions go beyond your own meagre fate, for if you get yourself killed, then Baatar, my trusted second-in-command, will rebel and die for nothing, alongside tens of thousands of loyal Imperial soldiers, Bekhai and otherwise. Since you cannot be trusted to make wise decisions, you will report your every movement to Binesi, who may or may not choose to follow along to keep your troublesome ass alive. Understood, private?”

“Yes, Colonel General.” Still scowling, Rain didn’t even hesitate before continuing, “However, there are certain aspects of my life in which I cannot share, so there may be times when I’ll need to leave Major Binesi behind.”

“So long as you bring along a sufficient guard detail,” Binesi muttered, obviously unhappy with his new job, “Then you may do as you please, foundling.”

This was going swimmingly, but Nian Zu had no other alternatives, because the Bekhai had proven themselves unwilling to restrain the boy themselves. “He may not do as he pleases,” Nian Zu snapped, giving the dour Binesi a measured glare before returning his attention to Rain. “For one, until we set out two days from now, you are not to go beyond the Citadel walls, no matter how well guarded you might be. Second, from this day forward, you will travel in a closed carriage instead of on an open rickshaw or quin back as you so prefer. Third, when Imperial Servant Zheng Luo returns, you will ask her to teach you proper manners, and the lessons will continue during our journey south.” Besides, considering at least one Imperial Family wanted the Servant for their own scion, perhaps the girl’s presence might prove sufficient deterrence against Imperial Assassin’s blades.

Seeing Rain ready to argue the last point, Nian Zu narrowed his eyes and snarled, “Don’t test me boy. I’ve had enough of your foolish arrogance and indiscretions. You claimed you didn’t know how the Supreme Families would act, but it was your own courtesan who warned us about it, so ignorance is no excuse. You will obey my orders and heed her advice, so that when we arrive at the banquet, you can play the humble soldier and speak only when spoken to, or when acting in service to the Legate’s orders. Then, the very second it is acceptable to do so, we will leave and return to the Northern Citadel until I can convince your father to ship you back home to the mountains where you will no longer be my problem. Understood?”

“...My arrogance? You think my arrogance is the reason all these assholes are trying to kill me?”

Of all the things for the boy to take issue with, Nian Zu had not expected this. “You believe otherwise? You stand firm where courtesy dictates to aside, and then take issue when someone moves to push you out of the way. This is how your journey began, did it not, with you inciting hatred between the Society and the Bekhai?”

“That wasn’t my fault,” Rain whined, while Lady Mei Lin scowled in agreement. “They invited me to a contest, then tried to kill us when we proved ourselves stronger than their contestants.”

“Indeed they did.” Fixing the boy with a measure stare, Nian Zu said, “But I doubt they would’ve been so adamant to kill you if you hadn’t humiliated your opponents so thoroughly. You defeated them readily, then held them hostage to extort coin from them, an ordeal your peers will not soon forget.”

Honestly, Nian Zu had laughed like a donkey when he first heard the tale, and wished he’d been there to see it first hand. Rang Min’s spoiled brat Gulong deserved all that and more, but even then, it was a brash and arrogant move.

“...I didn’t force them to buy anything.”

“This is a pattern with you, boy.” Fed up with Rain’s holier-than-thou attitude, Nian Zu tried to make him see reason. “You stumble into a situation like a bull in a porcelain shop, then wonder why everyone is so upset over their broken goods. The Butchers in Sanshu, the Canston Trading Group in Nan Ping, Situ Ji Yeon in Sinuji, and Mother knows how much more.” Not to mention the Imperial Servant Zheng Luo, who was the source of much of Rain’s current woes. A noble effort to keep her ‘safe’, but was any one woman worth all this trouble? Sometimes, the pragmatic choice was not pleasant, but like foul medicine, it was best to simply grimace and bear it. However, since the Bekhai refused to do things the easy and unpleasant way, Nian Zu would have to teach this young bull to tread lightly. “You make the same mistake over and over again until now, where you mean to intentionally do it again by rushing headlong into danger and dealing with it as it comes. If you die to an Imperial blade, your family will rebel. Let that thought sink in for a moment, then look me in the eye and tell me it isn’t sheer arrogance to go tempting fate.”

Suitably cowed, Rain finished his lunch in stubborn silence, still unwilling to accept Nian Zu’s statement yet unable to refute it. Smiling at the sullen young warrior, he shook his head and sighed. “You remind me of myself in my younger years. Too proud to take the easy way out or ever ask for help.”

“Excuse me?” Looking up from his meal, Rain raised an eyebrow and said, “I would love for an easy way out, and I ask for help all the time. Dad, Grandma, the Legate, the monks, and so much more. In Sinuji, I tried to meet every Officer there to ask that we work together, and I all but begged the Healers to find what was wrong with me. I don’t have any issues asking for help.”

“From people you consider above you.” Smiling at the boy’s crippling lack of self awareness, Nian Zu asked, “When was the last time you went to someone beneath you for help? I watched you on the walls, boy, saw you hobble your weak, crippled self into battle and try to drag your soldier back, when you could have instead turned to Watanabe’s man for help. Did you think Lieutenant Masahige would refuse? Perhaps, but you should have at least tried. All soldiers are beholden to their orders, but not all care to play politics in the midst of war. Slave, thief, merchant, or noble, we all fight side by side against the Enemy. You take it upon yourself to fight and defend your soldiers, but have you ever thought that they made the same choice?” Seeing his words having some effect on Rain, Nian Zu pressed on. “You are a born leader, boy, and you lead by example. Thus, men and women have pledged themselves to you, and they will die for you, whether you command them to or not. This is your role in life, whether you want it or not, so I suggest you make the most of it and learn to command. What’s more, your family cares for you, and they also are ready to die for you. Knowing all this, is it really so much to ask that you suffer this inconvenience and work harder to keep yourself alive?”

“It’s hard to argue when you put it like that.” Setting his chopsticks and empty bowl aside, Rain reached down and picked up the giant rabbit pawing at his legs and cuddled it close for comfort. Seeing him so vulnerable like this made it easy to forget what Falling Rain was capable of, but Nian Zu could not afford to let the boy slip. The Empire could not afford it. Rain was already under too much pressure, and since Baatar seemed unwilling to rein him in, then Nian Zu would have to do so in his place.

Which of course, brought him back to his list of demands. “Continuing where we left off... the rabbits. Would it be at all possible to leave them here while we travel?” Seeing the boy’s wounded reaction, Nian Zu sighed. “Of course not. Then do not allow yourself to be seen coddling them. No rolling around in the grass or chasing them around the table, not while you’re away from here. Hug the Guardian Turtle and groom your mount if you must, but carry yourself with some decorum so others won’t have to work so hard to admire you.” Withdrawing a package of document he’d prepared before hand, he explained, “There are many more issues to deal with, but I’ll leave this list for you to peruse with your Consort, who may or may not have items to add.” Clearing his throat, he added, “Also included is a proposal I intend to bring up with the Legate and other Colonel Generals. I’d like you to look it over and make the necessary arrangements to support me.”

“Er, dunno what I can do to help, but sure.” It was strange to see someone so intelligent move his lips while he read, but Rain did just that, at a pace much slower than Nian Zu expected considering the boy had so much obscure knowledge crammed into his head. Still, slowly but surely, Rain’s confusion turned into understanding and even excitement as he broke out into a charming grin, which along with his amber eyes made Nian Zu understand why so many people were willing to lay their lives down for this most bothersome of men. “Finally,” Rain said, sitting back with a silly smile. “Someone with a lick of common sense. I’ll have to ask Luo-Luo about the numbers, but since Yuzhen is already onboard, then I’m confident we can do what you’re proposing.” Turning to speak with his Death Corps guard, he shouted, “Could one of you please ask MuYang to come see me? Tell him I need to look over the books and see what funds we have available. Also, ask him to bring the latest reports from the bell-foundry, because I think the Colonel General would like to see them.” Turning back around, the boy took in Nian Zu’s befuddled look and said, “What? You thought I’d go running off myself? It’s fine, consider me suitably chastened. I’ll stay here where it’s safe, though I do intend to go out to see Ping Ping later on.”

Actually, Nian Zu was surprised the boy thought he could send for a servant and expect the Colonel General to sit here and wait, especially since he hadn’t been offered so much as a cup of tea. Truly arrogance to the extreme, but at least now he knew Falling Rain wasn’t the only member of the Bekhai stricken with this glaring flaw.

A discovery which didn’t make things any better, and actually quite a bit worse.

Chapter Meme