Xiuyang Solari
Merchants' Mirror Match
Written by Emeth and YummyYummy
Xiuyang certainly hadn't expected to be thrown in the air. Her cool exterior shattered in an instant, her eyes as wide as anyone could imagine they'd be. If a muffled scream had escaped the confines of her mask, it had been drowned out by the rushing of air all around her. Instantly, she looked down at the shrinking figures of her friends and the Black Guard, and she immediately regretted it. Closing her eyes, Xiuyang seemed to almost accept her fate. She didn't draw an ounce of magic. Further still, she didn't even try. Had she already figured out that she couldn't, due to the plushtail oil laced into her garb? Did she truly not know any kinetic spells to save herself with? Or was she simply placing her life into the hands of Mountain Spring, whom she'd only just met?
She was going
fast, too fast for an inexperienced Kinetic mage to prevent her fate.
“Beautiful weather, ain’t it?” Mountain Spring was by her now, in mid-air?! And then passed her so he could catch her, stop all momentum in an instant, and ensure she landed on her own, two feet.
“Ni Hao!” he made the greeting gesture and bowed his head.
“I figured we could use some space and nice scenery.”
After a brief moment in time that Xiuyang didn't quite fully process, she was on the ground, and thankfully the man had the courtesy to at least hold her up until the figurative jelly in her legs reconstituted into something resembling bones. They had landed on a small island near the middle of the residence’s pond. It was tranquil with a few fish surfacing near the shore and ducks quacking during their peaceful swim. Once she was able, she returned his greeting, bowing just a bit deeper than him—and finally, she spoke.
"A pleasure, venerable Mountain Spring." Xiuyang's mask emitted a smooth and notably more mature voice than suited her age. It was the voice of her mother, though the man standing before her was unlikely to recognize it. The even-keeled voice she'd conjured forth couldn't conceal the heaving of her chest, the muffled sound of ragged breathing, or the shaking of her hands from the adrenaline rush she'd received, though. Taking a moment to
actually compose herself, she continued.
"Please, friend. There's no need to intimidate me. I'm a dedicated servant of Oraff. I deal in life, not death. You're in control." Her first statement wasn't exactly a lie, but just from one touch of her shoulders, Mountain Spring could tell that she was at least capable of throwing a decent punch. She was certainly no fragile maiden. Her second statement was true, but also rather on the nose. It was the kind of thing a hostage might say to de-escalate. More specifically, the kind of blunt statement that someone who was
trained to handle being in hostage situations would say. It might be an indication that his intimidation was working—or, she might be probing his intentions. Perhaps he understood as much, because he chose to ignore her concerns and keep up with that friendly smile of his.
“Here.” he had plucked a plum from the singular tree on the island and offered it to Xiuyang.
“This - This will blow your mind, kid.” he winked and indulged in one as well. There was no rush with this man, as he seemed to be enjoying his time, almost as if he had forgotten why he was here.
At his prompting, she took in some of the scenery to clear her mind. She took the plum, and after admiring it for a second, brought it beneath the veil over her face. Now that he had been welcomed—more or less—into her personal space, Mountain Spring could detect a hint of binding magic as a bite-sized piece of the fruit was drawn into her mask, and reconstructed in her mouth for her to enjoy. She shot him a sideways glance, brow raised teasingly, as if to ask: "did you expect me to take it off?" Afterwards, she nodded in agreement. The flavor
was incredible, even if some small part of it had almost certainly been lost in transmutation.
“Ahhhhh, that’s right!” he rubbed his hands together whilst giggling.
“We’ve got business to do. I used to love haggling, y’know?” he nodded.
“I remember, way back when the ol’ Jiangs still ruled, I could haggle literally anything. Anything. Even rice wine! I sometimes miss those that believed in them. They knew good business.” he kept nodding, his smile had faded into a light frown, and he kept looking at Xiuyang like he was confessing his regrets and they were both on the same wavelength.
“The way I see it, it’s ancient history, all that exiling and feuding.” he waved his arm in the air in dismissal.
“It can all be forgiven. They can come back home, if they so wish. Now that the Jiang Heiress has been betrothed to our Emperor and will become his true wife, this bloody history can finally be past ReTan!” he opened his arms in exaggerated theatrics, mouth full of fruit.
"Right. Business," she replied, her voice taking on a more severe tone, with notes of... disappointment? Regret? Mountain Spring's own mood seemed to match hers for just a moment as they both eyed each other, perhaps warily, but ultimately with some kind of mutual understanding. They both knew ReTan's history. They knew what had been lost before, during and after the last transition of power—what was at stake if the same were to happen again. Though, to Xiuyang, it was the distant memory of a deceased great-grandmother, and only kept alive by the residual bitterness of the former Jiang loyalists scattered throughout Virang and Torragon. Fading echoes of stories that were almost certainly biased, and perhaps exaggerated. Ripples of puerile animosity that rang hollow after four generations, having lost any semblance of purpose—just as Mountain Spring suggested.
“Does that not sound like a happy ending to you?” he prodded.
Truthfully, Xiuyang had not been impressed with the Twin Emperors during the garden party. One had the manners of a feral animal, with a lack of subtlety to match. The other had no sense of humor, and provided little in the way of higher reasoning. From elder sanguinaires, she'd expected... more. Just,
more. Now, however, she was beginning to see their genius in choosing Mountain Spring to speak with her. Regardless of how much the power structure of ReTan and the Black Guard might be carrying those two, and regardless of how Xiuyang personally felt about them, their cleverness couldn't be denied.
Even evil could be admired for its cleverness. This, she knew very well. One might even call it a mantra of hers.
Despite the cookie-and-coin bit, Xiuyang had no doubt in her mind that she'd been set up with him. Over the short time they'd spent together, they'd certainly noticed each other's mutual love of alcohol. He'd blatantly used the suspension bridge effect to try to create an instant connection by getting her heart racing in his presence. He poked and prodded at the frosty exterior she'd manufactured for this occasion. He admitted to being both a haggler and a businessman in the past, and brought her family and past into it. Every little thing and every single word was carefully orchestrated to drop her guard—and he did it all while acting quite nonchalant. He was, in a word,
good—or he was an idiot, stumbling into the correct moves. It was impossible to tell, which was exactly the kind of dubious facade Xiuyang had spent her
life crafting. As she mulled it over, she looked at Mountain Spring with a kind of admiration, like a prodigious pupil might regard a master of her craft. She'd have to give it her all during this negotiation—not even to deceive Mountain Spring, or to prove that she was craftier than he was.
No. This was a matter of
respect. Mountain Spring purely and simply
deserved her best shot.
"It's an undeniably elegant political solution. ReTan is good at producing those," Xiuyang replied, the vocalizations of her mask unreadably ambiguous in tone.
"A happy ending? I daresay it is the privilege of the newlyweds to know for sure—and the right of historians to decide the facts," she'd add, with an unequivocally cynical touch. She didn't deny for a second that the two would be wed, according to the plans of the Twin Emperors. She seemed to simply assume that they would get what they wanted.
Xiuyang's mask ejected a small cloud of impurities it had absorbed out the sides with a soft 'hiss' as she sighed wearily.
"If only it were all so simple. Many a bickering couple hope that their problems will go away after the wedding. Many are disappointed by the result," she said as she tossed the plum playfully in her hand.
"It's the children who pay the price most dearly." She held the plum for just a moment, letting her words hang poignant in the air. She seemed to be insinuating that she'd experienced something of the like. Catching herself, she took another 'bite' of her plum, and shot Mountain Spring a wink.
"As for our displaced people," she resumed, with the detachment of a historian performing an autopsy on an empire that was not their own,
"—I doubt many of them will wish to return to their former lands, assuming they were offered such. They've married into the nobility of the east, you see. They love their magic. It makes them feel powerful and important, so I doubt they'll give it up—and they do so very much love their precious 'Liberty.' They've funded countless atrocities in the name of preserving it," she remarked coldly. Truthfully, though she may have been playing it up a bit for Mountain Spring, she had no love for the nobility of the east. They didn't fight for 'freedom.' They fought for 'Liberty,' which was only afforded to the wealthy classes of certain races. The poor, the immigrants, and the Yasoi—they stood to benefit little—but the worst of their sins was the cost of it all.
"Dami's judgment upon them all. What good is 'Liberty' to the dead? The dead do not choose." Xiuyang concluded her diatribe, catching her plum and squeezing, letting the red juices drip to the ground as her words hung in the air.
Seeming to catch herself again, her eyes betrayed the smallest hint of a hidden smile.
"As for me? Well, much as I'd love to believe that bygones can be bygones... I can't say I'd offer my enemies the same. Rather, I daresay I wouldn't grant someone in my position the dignity of being a concubine in my court. 'Rich rewards?' Pff," she scoffed.
"The direct descendant of my enemy is one thing... but the descendant of a former supporter of my enemy who's not even half-Rettanese? Come on," she playfully chided with a wink.
"I'm willing to listen to anything you have to say, friend. I'm not opposed to your optimism. I envy it. —but I'll need more than the good report of one of the Emperors' closest confidants. Convince me that their word is worth something—that betraying my friends is worth the lost connections, the loss of repute I've built in Ersand'Enise and the Ensollian Sea. Come now, Mountain Spring. You speak my language. I'll require a generous offer to offset my opportunity costs." There was a note of challenge in her voice, as if she were daring him to try to offer her something she didn't already have.
"Many men have tried to seduce me with promises of more. More money, a bigger palazzo... a more loyal lover," she added with some slight irritation.
"Help me out here, friend. Make it make sense." She slowly opened her arms, mirroring Mountain Spring's exaggerated theatrics—and passing the ball to his court.
“Ayaaahhh, you’re quite the haggler yourself, aren’t ya’, Miss Solari?” laughed the Black Guard with the rosy cheeks.
“A high class envoy of an even more prestigious family is no easy buy.” he scratched his chin with his index finger. Then, he grumbled.
“Tsk. I’m almost inclined to say you’re overstepping, my fair lady. What would the Sage and the Scoundrel think if they found out I couldn’t bring one of our greatest bridges to Constantia into the table?” he cleared his throat as he reached for the gourd he kept strapped to his belt.
“Sometimes, you gotta take risks, right?” "If one wishes to haggle, the first step is to overstep," Xiuyang replied with a wink.
"That's just good business. I mean no disrespect." She offered a half-bow of apology as she approached, once again at his beckoning. Spring gestured for her to come closer, and the reek of Baiju was strong on him. His cheeks reddened a bit more too. The smell of alcohol didn't offend her, though.
“You know of Ai-Medda, yes? Of course you do.” he grinned whilst extending his container as an invitation to share his drink with her. She nodded, accepting the man's drink. Boy, could she
chug. She was still on her feet, though a bit unsteady.
“I heard a rumour that you were rather popular among the Yasoi.” She nodded again as he acknowledged her relationship with the Yasoi, returning his drink with a look of piqued interest. She silently listened to the man speak, offering no interjections until the end. Her eyes offered every indication that she was taking his offer very seriously. The increasingly drunken man let out a brief chortle before he continued.
“For a Yanii, anyway.” then, he took another sip from his booze.
“Ahh. Well, we intend to Protect the Protectorate, of course. And the Tarlonese are in for a gruesome surprise.” then another sip.
“Truth be told, it is a controversial choice made by not only the Twins, but us advisors. But … It may be averted.” no longer was he this jolly man, and instead came off as one of these chronically depressed men alone in bars.
“The decision may still be overturned, and you could make it happen. Ai-Medda retreats, the land abandoned for the Tarlonese Yasoi, and no unnecessary blood is spilt.” he went for his fourth swig after levelling with his shorter negotiation partner.
“What we have now, Xiuyang, is burying the strained past with the Jiang loyalists with Jiang Xiulan taking the role of primary wife of Ten-Jiu. Our exiled compatriots would be our privileged liaison to Constantia with the permission to return to the motherland as privileged foreigners wielding magic.” he crossed his arms to think - there was something else. He was definitely inebriated, but not enough to slur his words just yet.
“Ah yes! And, you would be the one to have negotiated the retreat of Ai-Medda before any show of power can be made.” he raised his gourd in the air in a celebratory manner.
“Your offer, Miss Solari! All that for just an instance of good faith cooperation. And a gesture, of course. Our words only mean so much.” Privately, Xiuyang was naturally conflicted. She'd given Mountain Spring too much ground in acknowledging the loss of life during the power vacuum that would ensue were the Twin Emperors to fall, and now he'd brought even more lives into it. She'd emerged confident from their first verbal bout, but was losing steam. She definitely noticed Mountain Spring's inebriated state. Perhaps, with a bit of stalling, she could manage... something.
"Hm," she hummed thoughtfully, shifting her weight between her feet indecisively. She leaned just a bit too far towards Mountain Spring before apparently deciding that it'd be best if she sat down, this time in a posture that ill-suited a "high class envoy of an even more prestigious family," as he'd put it. While she played at being drunk, herself, she considered the man's words. She scoffed internally at the idea of "privileged foreigners." Their magic use would be called a privilege rather than a right, so it could more easily be taken away later—but she didn't imagine that saying as much would be very productive. If the other Rettanese in Virang and Torragon wanted to throw themselves to the wolves, so be it. She was more concerned about what she was being offered, and the Yasoi lives that may be on the line.
"You'd have me give up the merchant life for politics, is that it? Fancy myself the 'Guardian of the Yasoi,' would I? Well, that all certainly sounds appealing, on paper," she confessed, though still appearing skeptical.
It didn't. It sounded positively nauseating. She hated politicians, especially useless ones—and useless she would be, under the watchful eyes of the Twin Emperors. She imagined herself surrounded by spies and assassins at all hours of the day as she was
allowed to feel important, to the degree that she could overturn a decision made by the Twin Emperors themselves and, possibly, up to half of the venerable Black Guard. There wasn't even a guarantee that this was a real decision that was being made. If it was a genuine threat prepared in advance, then should he not offer her some kind of paperwork as proof? She considered asking for it, but... what if the sight of it made her heart waver in the end? She decided to believe that, with the ongoing rebellion, they didn't have the resources to pursue expansion in Tarlon. They simply
couldn't, she told herself vehemently—but for now it would be best if she acted like she believed them to be the all-powerful force they saw themselves as.
She'd also have to match their callousness, somewhat, if she were to keep any hope of standing her ground.
"Hwee-heeheehee-heheh." A good-natured chuckle escaped the confines of her mask, muffled as it was.
"I fear you mistake me for some bleeding heart, Jeanney-do-gooder." Despite her apparent condition, her voice remained smooth and coherent, though her vocabulary took a turn for the casually inebriated.
"Sure, I love them guys back at the school, but popular? That's pushin' it, friend. The Yasoi don't appreciate a favor from a Yanii. What's in it for me? Nothing, that's what. I ain't looking to be some 'Governor of Longwan' type, either." She pointed an unsteady finger at Mountain Spring, her words cutting rather cynically. It was within her own heart that the words cut deepest, however. To speak of her dear Jamboi's race in this way..! —but haggle, she must. Everyone's survival may hang on letting this man slowly get shitfaced. If Mountain Spring got drunk enough, could she somehow bargain for everyone's lives?
"My Brother in the Way, have I not demonstrated good faith by throwing myself helplessly into the arms of your Emperors? What is this 'gesture' you require, anyhow?" she asked, genuinely curious.
"Gonna suck my blood and turn me into one of yours? Do I gotta wear some cursed trinket-or-other? Drink a Traveler-inspired poison to keep my manas on a tight leash? What's the catch, hm?" She narrowed her eyes at Mountain Spring. The possibility of turning her was ostensibly there, but the trust was still lacking. He hadn't exactly given her a reason to think that the Twin Emperors were men of their word. Her criticism of the political marriage solution had gone unacknowledged, as well. Perhaps, she hoped, it was because her concerns were valid, and he was simply refusing to allow her confirmation that she had ground to stand on. After all, any deals she might make with the sanguinaires were null and void if they all 'tragically' died.
Spring looked to be listening, but was he? His eyes seemed to easily drift to any distraction that came, but quickly darted back to the masked negotiator with the silver tongue. That laugh, oh that laugh, it made him down three gulps of the good stuff. His bottle was beginning to look light and he looked a little wobbly. Then, silence. The catch was not coming, just as the light in his eyes had not returned since he had downed his biggest chug yet.
Suddenly he straightened, blinked and looked down to Xiuyang with wide eyes and raised eyebrows.
“Aha. Yes. What is it you're offerin' again, young lady?” he stifled a little burp after inquiring with a dopey smile.
Mountain Spring appeared to be getting drunker by the second, but was he? Or was he mirroring Xiuyang's own pretend drunkenness trick? She wasn't skilled enough with chemical magic to know. As for why he might have done it, that answer was obvious: to dodge the question. However, pressing the issue would earn her nothing. On the contrary, a little 'misunderstanding' could provide her an opportunity—to make a counteroffer. To lower the stakes.
"C'mere you." She parroted a similar, but distinctly feminine version of his own voice back at him, patting the ground beside herself, motioning for him to sit.
"Let's take a step back, yeah? The Yasoi thing, it's interesting. Let's shelve it for now though. Your Emperors want to make me a deal, but surely not just one, right? An ongoing partnership is ideal, no? So, let's start with something with lower stakes. We can roll higher once there's been some trust and goodwill established. For now, I'd like to save my dumb friends from dying. I'm sure you don't really wanna kill those kids. Let me talk to the ones who refuse. If they won't listen to reason from a sanguinaire, maybe they'll hear it from me." She shifted, leaning back a little, still looking a bit drunk.
"Think about it. The Emperors get a front-row demonstration of my negotiation skills. If they aren't impressed, they can send me away with no deal. Neither of us gains or loses anything. It's my one-hundred-percent risk-free guarantee." She winked.
"If I can change their minds, they leave ReTan forever—exiled and with empty pockets, but alive. If they refuse, then they accept whatever justice the Emperors see fit to administer." Xiuyang crossed her figurative fingers and silently prayed. She hoped her offer seemed reasonable enough. If her friends refused the Twin Emperors' offer the first time, the 'rich rewards' on offer were lost. That was final. The Twin Emperors wouldn't have to look like they'd had their authority challenged by a 19 year old asthmatic woman. They got to save face. She got to save her friends, plus her own skin. It was perfect. So why did it feel so... dirty? She was doing the best thing she could in her vulnerable position. Chances were good that she was passing up better offers and opportunities for a chance to save them. They ought to be grateful to her for trying to save their lives.
Ah, but they probably wouldn't see it that way. They'd think her actions treasonous. That was fine, though. Wasn't it? To do the right thing, despite how it looked, or who stood to benefit? So why did she feel so guilty for trying? If it didn't work out, whatever happened wasn't her fault. It
wasn't.
“You ...” the drunken Black Guard pointed, or at least tried, at the direction of Xiuyang.
“Want to help us, and help them.” he paused and fixated on a nearby lily pad.
“Ahhhh! I understand! Yes, of course.” a loud belly laugh.
“Prove yourself and everything. I get you.” and then another swig was warranted.
Spring stepped back to seek the shade of the fruit tree on the island and took a seat under it.
“That is a good offer. And clearly mine did not make you too happy.” he shrugged with a playful smile.
“Maybe you have a better idea of what you want?” "Ah, no, I'm not unhappy with it, per se. I'd like to revisit the Yasoi thing later, when it's a bit more urgent, you know?" she quickly corrected him, finding herself unwilling to let that topic go completely. Perhaps Spring had called a bluff, there—but Xiuyang wouldn't let him dwell on it. It was time for some small talk.
"When you get busy like me, it's best to focus on the present. I also just don't want to end up playing politician, y'know? Growing up, my dad was a merchant who knew how to have fun. Now he's just another one of those boring, stuffy nobles. As for me, I'd rather keep doing business. Speaking of—y'know, I've been thinking. Those action figures... they're pretty fuckin' cool, aren't they?" she suddenly said, leaning against the plum tree.
"Surely, someone's thought about selling those in the east? I could open some doors there." “Is that what you want? To sell the toys?” Spring raised a brow, and then raised his gourd.
“Then so be! You can sell them outside of ReTan. Especially Mountain Spring ones.” he kept up the jolly behavior, cheeks red and beard filthy from all the booze he had been downing.
"Maybe they wouldn't be popular everywhere, but that's useful data in itself, isn't it? Divisive merchandise like that gets people talking—and when customers talk, people like me listen." She had a devious glint in her eye.
"I don't just deal in money, you know? Information is a currency, too. Which reminds me—how did you know I was coming to ReTan?" she asked pointedly, narrowing her eyes.
Suddenly, a question of information, and their own source of intelligence. The Black Guard squinted to match her look.
“A Revidian asking how we got information?” he snickered and took a sip of his gourd. It was the last bit left, and he frowned upon turning his container upside down, producing only a few droplets as he did so.
“You must already know the answer, or you're not very good at this info-dealing. How would we know? Who would want to give us this information? Why would an outside force appeal to us? Or maybe we're just that good.” he winked.
“That is information to be earned, Miss Solari.” Xiuyang shrugged, her eyes ambiguous.
"Fair enough." She hadn't expected Mountain Spring to provide a real answer, assuming he was still of sound enough mind—and that was the point. What she did get was more confirmation that he wasn't drunk enough to be impaired. She'd have to keep her guard up for now, and keep trying to convince him that she was useful enough to be worth the favors she was asking for.
"It's not about selling the toys," she chided playfully, helping herself to more of the plums.
"Money is always nice, but more importantly, ReTan needs better PR in the east, don't you think? Really, when you get down to it, humans are the same everywhere. Only difference is the culture. Expose them to a new culture, or change their own—and most people's so-called 'sincerely held opinions' change pretty quickly," she explained cynically.
"Selling the toys is just the first step. It's not what I want from you, it's my offer to you. A stronger foothold in the Ensollian Sea, in exchange for... addressing that matter in Tarlon, perhaps?" She cocked her head, raising her hands up inquisitively.
"How 'bout that? You thought we were making a deal, but already we have two in the works. A productive little meeting, wouldn't you say?" “Tarlon?” Spring grimaced. It took him a moment of scratching his shining, dark hair for it to hit him.
“Ah haha, yes! I recall, yes yes. Hao hao.” energetic nods came along. He reached for the inside of his opulent but loosened dinner vest to produce a flask of booze. He wasn't done.
“I think that is very acceptable and can be shaken upon. Your show of good will - to help your friends see reason - and a trade opportunity in exchange for the accelerated retreat of our protectorate.” the way he summarized the exchange without slurring a single word left one to wonder if he ever truly got drunk.
Still, he needed a moment to get and up and stabilize his footing.
“A first step. One we shake on. You will have my word, and I will personally ask that you attend the drafting of the retreat order. It will be known that Xiuyang Solari stood by the Emperors on that fateful day that would save many lives! You will not be excluded.” he offered his hand, the one that had been holding his gourd the whole time, for a shake. It reeked of the stuff, more than even his breath.
Again, Xiuyang gave Mountain Spring that wary but non-hostile look in her eyes, like she couldn't help but be impressed, both by his unassuming cleverness and the way he held his liquor. Maybe it was the sanguinaire genes, or perhaps they shared the same mana type? She found herself wishing she knew more about the man, but asking questions risked revealing her own secrets. Though it didn't show on her face, she was somewhat surprised that she'd gotten to basically negotiate her own terms, despite Spring's judgment not being as impaired as she'd hoped.
She'd... won, right? Just for enduring a little stage fright in front of the Emperors, she'd have the best chance possible to save her friends. Tarlonese Yasoi that, admittedly, may or may not be in actual danger would be saved in exchange for her making the first play in a
long culture war that may or may not ever succeed. That was a fair trade, was it not? It was an ideal outcome, yet she couldn't help but feel like it was too good to be true. There had to be fine print, a catch. She'd asked for it, but Spring had dodged the question, so she came up with her own 'show of goodwill.' Did she dare try to bring her doubts to the fore again? It felt like... this was her moment. If she didn't accept now, everything she'd negotiated for might fall apart.
She held out her hand. It felt dirty, and not because of the smell of alcohol. The guilt simply
wasn't going away. She found herself hesitating, inexplicably, and
infuriatingly. She
needed to shake his hand. She could
not fuck this up for everyone. They needed her level head to get out of this alive, even if they'd spend the rest of their lives denying it, and calling her a coward. Besides, who were they to judge? What could they even realistically do? These students of Ersand'Enise—these
children, compared to the rest of their present company—were minnows, hiding beneath the shadows of Rainbow Island Threshers. Assuming they could even defeat the Twin Emperors, they would leave one whale of a power vacuum, and when that whale opened its mouth, they would all die. They were well past test depth, approaching crush depth—in over their heads, in every way.
"Sorry, it's just—could we walk back?" she offered as an excuse for her reluctance.
"Please, don't throw me again." “Walk, you say?” he looked over her head, to see the big body of water surrounding them. Spring cackled like a pre-teen about to pull an epic prank.
“If that is what Lady Xiuyang Solari wishes, then.” he crouched, grunted and propelled himself in the air, leaving a small cloud of dirt behind him. In just a second, he landed on the shore, waving over at Xiuyang.
She cracked an invisible smirk as Mountain Spring flew away. Did he expect her to swim? ...She paused. Without using magic, that
was her only way back. ...Well, it was probably fine to use magic now. They were tentative allies at the moment, after all. Worst case scenario, if pressed, she could play dumb about the plushtail oil thing, and let
them figure out why the poison didn't work.
She knelt down by the shore, slowly drawing thermal energy from the water until a suitably sized sheet of ice began to form. Once it was large enough to support her weight, she stepped on and used kinetic magic to propel herself towards Mountain Spring. As she slowly floated towards him, she raised her arms up in a shrug, looking rather smug, as if to say: "How do you like that?" She snickered at the thought that, if Mountain Spring was in on the plot to dampen everyone's magic, that she might look cool right about now, revealing that she could've used it all along.
Yeah, no. I look like a guppy swimming straight towards a shark. Still, it was an amusing thought, however short-lived.
As she floated towards Mountain Spring, she began thinking of how she might convince her fellow students to stand down. Of course, it was worth mentioning how outmatched they were. Their supposed allies were also unreliable. Siding with the Traveler's revolution spoke for itself. The Nikanese were motivated purely by the predictable self-interest of a rival government. The Dragon was an unknown factor. The Ogauraq may appear friendly, but the lion's share of them almost certainly hated humanity, and many would be privately eager to finish what they started before the Ten got in their way. Even if they won this battle, would they be willing to see the rest of the war and the chaos through to the end? No, of course not. With the exception of Xiuyang—and possibly Maura, if she could convince her to join the rebuilding effort—the rest of the students would celebrate, fuck off back to Ersand'Enise, and continue their jolly school life like
nothing had happened. That was the height of self-important arrogance. Who ruled ReTan was for the Rettanese to decide—and if they chose tyranny, it was up to Dami to dish out the consequences of their choices—whether to gloriously profit along it, or tragically suffer beneath it. To rob the Rettanese of that choice was to step into the role of Dami, making themselves to be gods among men. No. ReTan had chosen order.
Indeed, the Ten brought order. The stories her great-grandmother could tell to these kids, if she were alive... It was one thing to see trained warriors slaughtering one another with well-executed sword strikes. It was entirely another to watch your inexperienced neighbor try to stab someone to death with a dull kitchen knife. Yes, both the Jiang and the Ten had faults—but the worst atrocities were committed by the civilians during the chaos. The so-called
innocent people who took the opportunity to kill their political opponents, ushering their crying children into the frigid river waters while they laughed, treating the women like spoils of war. Her great-grandmother had been one of the lucky ones. Officially, she was "captured" and "exiled" by the Ten. In reality, they'd rescued her from those monsters. It was only on her deathbed that she'd confessed it—how she was secretly grateful to the Ten.
Did they somehow know it? Of course they did. Of course they had eyes among the Virangish Rettanese. They'd probably been watching Xiuyang since the day she was born. It was how they knew she would someday get involved in this, and it was how they knew she would probably choose their side. Her information network, and theirs, might even be one and the same. Nothing she did was a secret to the Twin Emperors. She hadn't just been outplayed—she'd been a piece on their board the entire time, just waiting for the right moment to be moved.
Spring nearly shattered Xiuyang's concentration as he unleashed a belly laugh at the sight of her ice-surfing through a tranquil pond to reach the shore. Surely the water-walking Sleeping Carp wouldn't mind.
“Niiiice!” he shot her a thumbs up once she docked on land.
“The others should be done. I think.” he looked to the sky to estimate the time that had passed. He didn't actually know.
“Yes. We should go, before someone hurts themselves.” and as they walked through the lavish gardens and the paths bordered by expertly trimmed hedges, the Black Guard offered his flask to her for a bit of sharing.
“I heard you hold your alcohol very well. In fact, you hold everything very well. Or is that just a rumor?” Xiuyang shot the man a wink as she grabbed his flask. She then chugged like she hadn't chugged before that day, letting that be her answer.
"Just a rumor, of course."
As Xiuyang returned to the group, drunkenly laughing and chattering away with Mountain Spring in rapid Rettanese, it was obvious that the mercantile glint in her eye had returned. Compared to some of the others, their return had been late. They'd clearly had much to talk about. Her acceptance of whatever the Ten had offered her seemed self-evident. Idly tossing a half-eaten sacred plum in her hand, she seemed almost
smug as she looked around the table at the others, as if she imagined the entire Black Guard to be behind her. However, as it became apparent that pretty much everyone else had done the same, she seemed to sober a little, as if she'd been prepared to give the students some grand speech about why they should give up and join her, and was now slowly realizing that it would no longer be necessary. Her medicine box—and hidden bagh nakhs, which had been easily found—were returned to her in short order, as well, as if they knew Xiuyang's intentions from the start. There was never even a question who she would side with, only what her reasons for doing so might be.
She stopped tossing her half-eaten plum, and looked at Trypano. Her expression bordered on shock.
"Really, Trypano? You had one job—negotiate for everyone's lives—and I did it for you. Going against the grain is supposed to be my shtick. What happened? Did we swap brains?" she chided with a playful wink. At this, she seemed to spring into action, negotiating for a cease-fire. Nodding along, Xiuyang offered her own words.
"ReTan is not my country, and its leader is not for me to choose. However, its people are mine, and very much concern me. If this revolution continues to gain ground, people are going to suffer. If it succeeds, it will be bedlam—all the horror you can imagine humanity inflicting upon itself will be commonplace, until order is re-established. That's what the Jiang wrought in their death throes, and it's what the Ten fought to put an end to. I've said my piece, and cast my lot," she said, to bolster her own confidence as much as anyone else who may still be having doubts.
Then, the proverbial Dragon of Chaos erupted. Xiuyang shivered—perhaps she was naive to think that the ancient beings might be more level-headed in the face of adversity—as if witnessing a bunch of helpless children decide to not get involved in a war that wasn't theirs could qualify as such. If there had been one person in this group that could have swayed Xiuyang's mind, she'd thought it might be him, but now? He made the bloodsuckers with inelegant table manners look reasonable by comparison. The self-described "mean bastards" were positively chill as the dragon raged at the so-called betrayal.
"Behold: humanity," Trypano quipped sarcastically, gesturing at everyone else dismissively.
"I sympathize, Trypano. I truly do, but the die is cast now," Jocasta replied.
"I don't. Screw you," Xiuyang shot at Trypano, uncharacteristically volatile emotions evident in her eyes.
Sleeping Carp vanished along with the innocents. Lady Matsuhara charged at Yalen, and it appeared to be her last mistake as Jocasta effortlessly took her out. Xiuyang stood close to Jocasta, grateful to be on her side as dozens of portals poured in hordes of the Ogauraq. Then she disappeared, leaving Xiuyang feeling helpless and exposed. Her mind grasped about frantically, desperate like a woman drowning, lost and blind in an underwater cave while dislodged detritus and massive, unseen and
unknowable predators swam around her tauntingly. Brother Ash's laughter echoed in her ears.
"YOU ARE ALL
FOOD!" boomed a voice that Xiuyang didn't have the wherewithall to even
identify.
But it grounded her. It brought her survival instincts to the fore.
She cast every ounce of illusion magic she had at her disposal, intent on escaping the feeding frenzy that was to ensue.
Or she would have, if her attempts weren't all drawn to nothing instantly.
The air hummed and shook. She collapsed.
Everyone collapsed.
Xiuyang nearly vomited into her mask, but managed to keep her alcohol down. The pounding in her head was a familiar sensation, after all. Her entire body felt pain—but she was
always in pain. Compared to the agony of Facemimicry, this was... manageable. She raised her head as much as she dared, taking in the aftermath, as was her instinct and her duty—it was triage time. Trypano was incapacitated, and much to her own surprise, Xiuyang found her hands still as a crocodile's mouth. As a fellow binder, patching her up first was the obvious choice, to keep the cost of human lives on both sides to a minimum. Yet... Xiuyang found herself a woman possessed—possessed with the grasping need to
win, at whatever cost. She wouldn't kill Trypano—not
yet—but Xiuyang doubted that a bit of healing would allay the woman's stubbornness. She could just lay there and wallow in her hatred for humanity a while longer, contemplating her poor choice of allies.
Instead, she turned her attention to Yalen, who seemed to have received the worst of it by far.
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