Beneath the Dragoneye Moons

Swish swish swish.

Qing Jie’s bones ached. Qing Jie’s joints ached. Qing Jie’s knees told him when a storm was coming.

Swish swish swish.

Qing Jie was an old man, a [Sweeper] in the imperial palace. He’d been one ever since he was a young boy, and he’d spent his entire life holding a broom, keeping the hallways of the palace clean.

Swish swish swish.

He cast his skill, a pile of dust vanishing. He wasn’t disappointed anymore. Eight decades of sweeping every day, of using his skill at every moment had hammered it out of him.

A number of court officials came down the hallway, and Qing Jie held back a hiss of pain as he pressed himself into the wall, his joints protesting at the sudden movement.

His old friend, his once-sworn brother Jing Li was in the middle of the crowd, looking two decades younger than Qing Jie. The two had promised revenge together after the Chu had slaughtered their entire village, entered the palace together. Found whatever position would take them.

To Qing Jie’s eternal shame, he hadn’t made the cut to even be a eunuch, only the lowest, most humiliating position available. Jing Li had joined him, and the two hotblooded men had plotted the downfall of the Chu, sure that the two of them could topple the vast empire together.

Jing Li had quit after only two years, too afraid to keep going. The two had argued bitterly over it, and the bonds of their brotherhood had broken.

Qing Jie had always kept an ear out for Jing Li’s activities, and stared at their retreating backs as he got back to sweeping.

Swish swish swish.

He was a low level court official, an embarrassment at such an old age if one didn’t factor in his lowly, humble origins. He’d gotten married. He’d had kids and had welcomed in his third grandchild recently. He… looked happy and content with life, laughing at a joke, a number of younger officials looking up to him for guidance and mentorship. Jing Li probably had an invitation to one of the minor feasts attached to the side of the [Emperor’s] grand event.

For Qing Jie, it simply meant more sweeping.

Qing Jie had learned eons ago to school his expression, to not show any trace of what he was thinking. He didn’t curl his lips and sneer like he would as a young man - and had barely avoided being executed when he’d done it to the wrong person.

The [Sweeper] still carried those scars.

He used his skill for the 1,937th time that day, the medley of sweepings vanishing once again. Qing Jie didn’t need to think about counting, his skill did it for him.

Swish swish swish.

All the stories said what he was trying to do wouldn’t work. That it was doomed to fail.

As a young man, Qing Jie hadn’t seen any other way. Poison was too slow, too guarded against. Miasma he didn’t know enough about, and Spore was right out of the question. The two brothers would enter together, and with all the forethought and patience of youth, would have their revenge by the end of the week.

The end of the month, if they were unlucky.

The stories all said it never worked. Qing Jie and Jing Li had always reasoned that of course they’d say it didn’t work - nobody survived when it did work.

Swish swish swish.

Qing Jie was convinced that there were legions like him. Tens of thousands of others who’d been wronged by the Chu - or maybe one of the other factions - and would do anything, anything, to enact revenge.

Swish swish -

BOOM.

Katerina stared at the map on the wagon, moving back and forth with practiced ease as the nodosauruses slowly pulled it along. Her skill was ready at her fingertips, the words at the tip of her tongue. She was ready.

The trap was set. The bait was out. All that was needed was for the prey to take advantage.

Katerina couldn’t look out and confirm everything herself. That would defeat the point.

One of Optio Petra’s line members wasn’t just an [Enchanter]. They had subtle, but potentially devastating Mirage skills. Nothing big. Nothing major. Nothing that would change the course of a battle, not with all the anti-illusion abilities being thrown around.

That, and after it was used properly for the first time, the card was revealed. It was spent. Anyone falling for the same trick twice deserved it.

Large illusions were usually seen through, one way or another. An Earth Classer could tell the footfalls didn’t match the weight. A Wind Classer could tell the breeze didn’t blow right. Metal could sense that there wasn’t as much metal to manipulate as they could see. Anyone with two brain cells could count and realize that an army hadn’t suddenly doubled in number, or that the huge stretch of emptiness with dust being kicked up was a bunch of invisible soldiers.

No, to Katerina’s mind, the best Mirages and illusions were subtle and quiet. Barely known, barely seen, even by their own army.

The Sixth Legion - Ironside Brigade no more - was going home. Katerina had deliberately relaxed the standards. Had told everyone what was going on. Had the column arranged in a high speed formation to Rolland, one that was vulnerable to ambushes and attacks. Shut herself away in a wagon, and had ‘minimal’ oversight over what was going on.

Then sent a quiet order to Tribune Hazel, to pass down the chain of command to the relevant soldier. One that just so happened to be marching near Nike and the other [Batteries].

Make us look tired.

Shadows under eyes were slightly enlarged. Shoulders were drooped just a little extra. Wounds were showing, the result of Katerina declaring an extra-large party right after announcing they were going home.

“Because we don’t want to carry it all that way!” She’d joked and laughed, only a few of her [Tribunes] aware of the machinations behind her eyes.

The bait was set. The entire Sixth, in a poor position, tired, no longer mercenaries attached to a larger army.

Katerina knew she’d drive herself insane waiting for the trap to be sprung, and studied the map, marked with the position of various known armies and relative strengths once again.

Teruo, the Pure, had neutered the Wei. Two full armies going into the field and being utterly annihilated with no other troops killed should put them so far behind the other factions that they couldn’t recover. The Han civil war had started with many more factions and warlords running around, only the largest ones of rough parity able to keep fighting. Katerina predicted that most of the [Great Generals] would defect to another power, but which one, she wasn’t entirely sure.

It wouldn’t be the Chu. A Void mage had seen to that, carving out the beating heart of the Chu and destroying the capital. The [Emperor] of the Chu had been present, along with most of the top officials, and they were done as a force and a faction.

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The Qin had been decimated by assassins, the [Emperor] slain and most of the heirs dead. The news was fresh and hot, the [Courier] shouting it with great gusto as he sprinted around.

Katerina doubted that everyone knew, and just because most of the Qin [Heirs to the Throne] were dead didn’t mean they were out as a force. Still, it was a factor.

Five had abruptly become three, and with fewer wolves to nip on their flanks, most of the armies were going to converge on the Tears of Vulcan, where whoever managed to gain control over the forges going into the winter after decimating their enemies would likely emerge victorious.

She could see the end of the war now - if the Qin lost the rest of their figureheads, if more troops defected to the Zhao than the Yan, there could be peace in the Han come springtime. It would be a slow, tentative peace, but it would be the start of stability in the region.

Katerina frowned at the map, weighing options against each other, putting thousands of considerations against one another. Could she tell the Sixth “hey, oops, sorry, we’re sticking around another year to be on the winning team?”

The political benefits were weighed against the military costs, and found wanting.

Screams and shouts were a happy interruption for Katerina, as the wolf had finally taken the bait she’d so carefully laid out. Katerina grinned like a fox.

“Gotcha!”

A full line of soldiers, headed by Wren, dragged a struggling Yang Duan He before Katerina. She was bound in layers after layers of chains that it was almost comical, if her reputation wasn’t considered.

Katerina was taking no chances here. She would’ve liked to do a public execution, but that would take more time than it was worth.

The Legata took a single ring off her desk, a constant reminder of what Yang Duan He had done.

“You know,” The Legata said, idly playing with the ring. “I’ve dreamed about this day. This moment. I’ve thought about all the things I could say. The lives you’ve ruined. The soldiers you’ve killed. How your very existence is offensive to me and everything I stand for.”

Katerina tossed the ring back into the pile, and knelt down to the Lady of Death’s level.

“But you know? I’ve decided I don’t care about you enough to tell you.”

Yang Duan He took the chance and Katerina’s proximity to spit in her face. The Legata managed to close her eyes in time, and calmly stood up, wiping the spit off with her arm. Then she viciously backhanded Yang Duan He with such power that her neck would’ve snapped if that mattered to dullahans. The Lady fell back laughing as the chains rattled, and a dozen spears were leveled her way.

“You think you’ve got me? I’m just getting started!” She raged against her bonds. “I’ll-”

A sharp gesture from Katerina had Reed work some of his magic and shut her up.

Just then a few more soldiers marched into the room, huffing and puffing as they carried several heavy crates, and the [Cook’s] soup bowl. The crates were broken open, revealing dozens of gold bars. Bars that had been packed away, because every time Katerina saw them, she was filled with an almost uncontrollable rage at Yang Duan He.

Now? Now she could sate some of that rage.

“Auri. If you would do the honors, please.” Katerina asked, gesturing.

The Legata had a brief moment of concern as the phoenix hesitated, clearly thinking things over for once instead of impulsively doing what was needed. The moment passed, and flames erupted, melting down the gold bars once again.

“Pull her up.” Katerina ordered, and smiled without reserve at the face Yang Duan He pulled as she realized what was going to happen.

“Let her speak.” She ordered Reed, and gestured to some of the soldiers. They forced her to her knees, grabbing her head and pulling it back.

“No!” She begged. “No no NO NOOOOOOOooooo”

Many said revenge was best served cold.

Katerina liked it hot.

The Han Empire was ancient. It had risen and fallen like many others, the crowned emperor claiming the Mandate of Heaven from many different dynasties, but through it all the dullahans persisted, claiming a single unified heritage and tradition.

As empires waned and waxed, different rules, laws, and traditions came to be, and the successor normally took up a number of those as they inherited the empire in one form or another.

During the late Ming era, instability and turmoil in the army had [Generals] attempting to subtly knock each other off, jockeying for position in the coming war. A common underhanded tactic was to simply show up late to a critical battle, hoping the enemy’s overwhelming forces would kill a rival general. Their hands, after all, would be clean of any blood. They would bemoan the tragedy, quickly enact vengeance on the weakened foe, and come home coated in glory, with one fewer rival present.

The [Emperor] at the time was blind in some ways, but was no fool. He decreed that being late to a battle was treason, punishable by death. The incentive worked well, and the law was kept as the Ming dynasty crumbled and the Qin dynasty was ascendent.

Forward a few hundred years, and [Great General] Teng and [Great General] Kyou were riding side by side, rushing to the Tears of Vulcan, where everyone believed the final, pivotal battle of the endless civil war was going to occur.

“Tell me.” Kyou said conversationally, eyeing the position of the sun in the sky. “What is the penalty for being late to the battle?” She asked Teng.

“Execution by stampeding horses.” Teng grimly answered.

“What is the penalty for treason and rebellion?” Kyou asked.

“Execution by stake and fire.” He answered.

“We,” Kyou sagely observed. “Are late.”

The two of them twisted to see the Qin banners flapping in the breeze behind them, considering how much nicer the Zhao pennants were.

The words of power echoed out, Nina staring up at the moons, silently begging the staring lidded eyes for an answer. For the System to respond to her heart and her pleas.

All too conscious that both Iona and Sigrun, the Order’s [Grandmaster], were staring at her. Watching her.

The kitsune had tried many [Oaths], [Vows], and [Promises] over the years. [Knightly Protector]. [Justicar]. [Light Against the Darkness]. She’d tried building her own, but they’d always felt… flat. Stale. Like they didn’t quite fit.

Nina had just tried the [Wrathful Avenger], and it hadn’t stuck either.

The kitsune thought she knew the problem, but she’d never, ever share it with Iona or, worse, Sigrun. They’d judge her so harshly for it.

She had some idea of what she wanted. What words resonated with her in the way Iona had described her [Vow]. They were not the ideals that she’d been taught the Order Valkyrie espoused though. Not the noble and high-minded way of thinking Iona believed to her core.

What was she doing as a [Squire] if she couldn’t live up to the ideals of the Valkyries?

What was she doing if she couldn’t even take the most aggressive [Oath] that existed?

Iona and Sigrun must’ve noticed her reaction. The drooping ears, the wilting tails. Sigrun clasped a hand on Nina’s shoulder.

“It comes in time.” She told her. “We each find our own path. You are, without a doubt, one of the bravest [Squires] I’ve ever seen, leaping into battle again and again. You are more than qualified to become a full Valkyrie the moment you’d like, your acts of bravery apparent 1024 times over. Not many girls would willingly sign up for the Valkyries after we were kneecapped, and yet you did. Not many would survive a warzone, willing to fight every enemy, and yet Iona’s told me you’ve done just that. You’re willing to fight up, even without a skill boosting you, and I am nothing but impressed. You are a true Valkyrie, through and through. I’m just sticking around to figure out the best title I can give you.”

Sigrun smiled encouragingly at Nina and patted her shoulders again. Nina’s heart was elevated by the old woman’s words, the shame she felt at the words that resonated with her redoubled.

She could never tell them.

One thing confused the kitsune though, her eyebrows scrunched up at one detail.

Why did Iona look so pained when Sigrun mentioned figuring out a title for Nina? Wasn’t that a good thing?

Prince Feng Taizi reminded himself that he needed to sit up straight. That he needed to look brave for everyone. That he wasn’t allowed to cry.

The life of a [Prince]-to be was a lonely one. There were no friends. Family either ignored him or tried to kill him. The politics and machinations at the highest level forced children to grow up far too quickly, even before their System unlocked. At only 6, Crown Prince Feng Taizi was too old.

Too young.

And-

And he had to remember, he wasn’t [Prince] anymore.

He’d skipped [Crown Prince] entirely.

The Mandate of Heaven had fallen onto his shoulders.

He was [Emperor of the Qin]. Only without the class, because he was too young.

His father had died to assassins, his older brothers and sisters falling as well. The assassins had come for him too, but there were only so many talented killers for hire who were willing and able to target royalty, and the strength and awareness of his [Bodyguards] had been a surprise. Most had died protecting the boy, but in a miracle of protection, the Systemless boy had survived.

Feng tilted his head back and squared his shoulders, biting his tongue so the pain of riding a horse this fast, this furious through the Tears of Vulcan wouldn’t show. Wouldn’t make his few remaining protectors think he was weak and undeserving.

They would be richly rewarded when Feng returned to the true capital of the Han Empire, and he ascended the throne.

“There!” Liu shouted and pointed to galloping horses trying to flank them. Pursuers, intent on finishing the job. “We turn here!”

The four of them thundered into a small valley, a little tabernacle at the center.

“Go go go! Inside!” Liu urged, pressing the horses to go even faster.

Liu looked scared. Feng would be brave for Liu, as he had to be brave for everyone in the Qin - no.

As he had to be brave for everyone in the Han.

Liu scooped Feng under one arm as the horses thundered towards the door, jumping off and skidding to a halt inside the tabernacle. The loyal retainer dropped Feng like a sack of grain - Feng understood the need for urgency and protecting his life occasionally overrode the rules of decorum - and skidded to a halt in front of the small, sad altar, the symbol of the five gods prominently displayed overhead.

“Sanctuary!” Liu begged the gods. “I ask for sanctuary!”

The divine message went around, an offering of power to protect the faithful requesting sanctuary.

The gods bickered and argued about many things, but five things they’d all agreed on were sacred to them as a whole. That they’d all do their best to keep sacred.

“Not desecrating places of worship” was one of them, and it was a little… looser than the rest. Places of worship went up all the time, and they were taken down all the time. The gods couldn’t throw a fit every single time a temple was turned into construction material, or every time a chapel was lost to the ages and slowly deteriorated.

Liu had been faithful his whole life, and the divine barter of power offered for his protection was acceptable. Not enough for a full fledged large-scale miracle - else Seria might’ve simply performed her own and solved the issue - but not a piddling amount that would be ignored.

Two goddesses pricked their ears up when the offer went around. They had a [Paladin] practically next door, with extreme mobility, and best of all, this was the sort of thing she’d die for.

“Iona, something’s come up.” Selene said.

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