Fate's Attendant 1.11

The roof drummed as a sudden rain fell, filling the awkward silence left in the aftermath of Yu Yong’s command.

Hong Fei noted the boy’s jutting chin and the way his weight shifted forward. The embarrassment from the previous day had transformed overnight into an aggressive posture. Perhaps it was a desire to prove himself to the newest retainer. If so, was it the boy’s own nature at work, or had someone whispered in his ear?

Yu Yong strode closer. “Well?” he demanded, raising his voice so that he could be heard over the rain. “Don’t you understand? I want you to—”

“Are you a bee?” Hong Fei asked, interrupting him. The words had been spoken softly.

Yui Rui was forced to listen carefully. Confusion stopped his approach. “What?”

“Flitting from flower to flower,” Hong Fei explained, “thinking you can take from any that catch your attention.”

“No, of course not,” Yu Yong replied.

“Then where is your devotion to your sword’s path, your loyalty to it?” Hong Fei asked.

“It’s for that reason I want to learn,” Yu Yong objected, his face heating. “To protect my family.”

“And your instructors?” Hong Fei asked, continuing the too-public interrogation. “Did you receive their permission to approach me?”

“No. I thought… I mean, your sword is famous and when I saw you practicing, everything came together like it made sense—”

“Who are your teachers now?” Hong Fei asked, interrupting him again.

Yu Yong straightened his posture. “Our xiàowèi himself teaches me.”

“And so, you gave him none of the consideration he was due,” Hong Fei said.

Duke Yu’s grandson pursed his lips in stubbornness. “I just want to wield the sword like how I saw you do it.”

Hong Fei dropped the wooden sword to the ground and kicked it away. The disrespect galled him, but a point needed to be made. “A weapon is nothing without the virtues that guide it. Otherwise, one might as well be a bandit. That is why discipline is at the center of a every warrior’s path, and why the teachers matter so.”

He couldn’t help himself and went to pick up the training sword, cleaning it before returning it to the rack from where he’d taken it.

“If you see a swordsman you admire,” Hong Fei said, “then practice more. Be diligent and focus intently on improving your skills. If their style complements yours, you can consider seeking permission from your teacher, but be sure to listen first about whether it’s appropriate to widen the breadth of your sword path. If you do it too early, you risk diluting your comprehension of the sword.”

“So you’ll teach me if Chen Wenbin says yes?” Yu Yong asked.

Hong Fei wanted to shake the boy—to rattle loose the foolish dream that a sword swung well can overcome any trouble—but the stubbornness didn’t leave Yu Yong’s face once it had settled there, nor did the fire in his eyes.

At the same time, the warrior in Hong Fei was satisfied with the boy’s determination. He’d need that grit if he was going to continue following the sword.

Perhaps that feeling of satisfaction meant Hong Fei hadn’t given up on the dream either. He mocked himself for the thought, but aloud he said, “Yes.”

###

Later that morning, Hong Fei visited the duke’s office to offer his first report. Yu Hui was as bedridden as before, but she seemed more alert and chuckled at Hong Fei’s entrance, careful of the steaming cup of jasmine tea she held to warm her hands.

“Your presence is like a great whale entering a sheltered cove,” she said. “The waves crash in every direction.”

“My entrance into the household was more dramatic than I’d intended—” Hong Fei began to explain.

The duchess gestured him to quiet. “Zhang Dehua told me of your plans, and I approve. The turmoil caused by the waves’ passing will expose what’s hidden beneath the surface.” She paused to sip the tea. “There is also the matter of teaching the children.”

“I wonder if you really need me,” Hong Fei said, “given how well-informed you are.”

“I have my ways, and you have yours, and yours will become mine in the end. That’s how this works,” she said. “Now, where are you in your cultivation? I can barely sense anything in my current state.”

“At the third tier of Body-Forged,” Hong Fei replied.

“So low?” she asked pointedly.

“My injuries affected my cultivation,” he explained. “Previously I was at the midpoint of Qi Gathering.”

“And are your injuries crippling—” Yu Hui began to ask.

“They are not,” Hong Fei interjected. “I am fortunate to have my cauldrons and meridians intact. They need tempering, and the qi that once filled them was dispersed, but ascent is possible.”

“You are lucky indeed,” the duchess said. “I assume you mean to climb to your former status.”

“Of course,” Hong Fei replied. “Rising above the rank of dūtóu requires it.”

“Army ranks don’t matter to you now,” Yu Hui observed

“No, they don’t,” he said, “but strength does.”

The duchess sighed. “That’s a truth if there ever was one. Unfortunately, our house lacks the resources to help you ascend. You’ll have to manage on your own.”

Hong Fei nodded, unsurprised. He’d noticed how the house was rich in servants but few in treasures. “I’m not new to cultivation and can manage the first tiers on my own. It’s for good reason that Body-Forged is called the realm of sweat and blood.”

Yu Hui’s gaze became stern. “You will not go past the mid-realm without informing me first. Is that understood?”

“Yes, my lady.” Hong Fei cupped his hands in a formal salute, acknowledging the orders he’d been given.

And truly, that was wisdom speaking. Even the climb to Qi-Gathering could be treacherous without proper preparations. In every realm, once an ascender moved past the fifth tier, the halfway point, their energies became unstable. The longer they took to climb, the greater the dangers of their cauldrons cracking and their energies running wild. Once attempted, the choice was either to succeed or die. Or turn into a demon, which was a fate worse than death.

Hong Fei had seen it happen all too often—his own men and women daring to risk the ascent to a higher realm and then dying, failed by their insight, their comprehension of the Dao, and of their lack of resources to fuel the inner alchemy needed.

All of them had become desperate at the end. They’d been willing to do almost anything to keep from dying. Even the meanest peasant knew: “Stability at every mid-realm, chaos in the ascent to the next.”

The duchess coughed lightly and tucked the handkerchief out of sight. “Good, now tell me what you’ve found and leave nothing out,” she said. “Pretend I don’t have a crow at my ear whispering of the previous day’s events.”

In reply, Hong Fei spoke of his observations. He told of how the duke and duchess had built a good house—solid in its defense and practical in its dealings—and how the staff worked hard to maintain it. There were irregularities among the people, yet that was normal for any house. He explained how they’d need investigating before he came to any conclusions.

Of the numbers above people’s heads, he said nothing. He mentally lumped them in with the irregularities.

By the report’s end, the duchess had finished her tea. She set the cup aside, her thoughts wandering. Then she glanced sidelong at Hong Fei and asked, “The method for restoring your cauldrons, is it replicable?’

“I did not say my cauldrons were shattered, your grace.”

“No, you didn’t, did you?” Her fingers tangled together. “The Hong family have been soldiers for generations. Perhaps there are remedies…”

Hong Fei sighed. “I’m sorry; we don’t know of any for a failed ascent. As far as we’re aware, none exist. One either dies or becomes a demon. That fate is unavoidable.”

“It’s what everyone tells me,” the duchess said angrily. “The heavens are cruel. They tempt the best of us with power and reap our lives when we fall short…”

As the duchess spoke about the unfairness of the heavens, a bead of sweat ran down Hong Fei’s back. The results of a failed ascent were shattered cauldrons and ravaged meridians—similar to the injuries he’d sustained from the Askalousans. There was a chance, then, that the magic cards in his possession could heal the duke in the same way they’d healed him.

The only way to transfer ownership was through death, though, or that was how Hong Fei saw it. If others knew the possibility existed, his life would be over. There’d be nowhere to run.

Briefly, he considered hiding Auntie Ling’s existence from the duchess, yet the benefits outweighed the risks. Being able to summon her when needed would be useful. He’d just have to never mention the cards’ other magics. Or concoct a story about meeting her in the wilderness. That was likely the wiser path.

Meanwhile, Yu Hui’s anger sustained her for only so long. At the end of her rant, she fell back against the pillows, panting lightly, and glared up at the ceiling like she could see the heavens above.

As she caught her breath, Hong Fei said, “If it pleases your grace, I have one more note to add to my report.”

Yu Hui gestured for him to get on with it.

So he did: “My cultivation may have been set back, but I was fortunate in other ways. Now, do not be alarmed; a spirit beast will join us shortly. She is fully tamed and will do no harm to you.”

That got the duchess’s attention, and she elbowed herself upright. “What’s this?”

“One moment,” he replied.

Up until then, Auntie Ling seemed to show up at her own pleasure. This was the first time Hong Fei was attempting to summon her to him. When he’d asked her about it back at their courtyard, she’d indicated she’d hear him from inside the card space.

The air shimmered, as if an artist was preparing a canvas, clearing it of obstructions and debris. A line was drawn, a brushstroke—one of the white blazes on Auntie Ling’s face. From there a multitude more lines were painted, the colors seeping to fill the gaps and bring to life the giant badger.

In the time it took Hong Fei to breathe twice, the summoning process was finished. Auntie Ling’s weight settled onto the polished wooden floor. She glanced around the room to get her bearings, then bowed toward the duchess.

Yu Hui’s mouth opened in surprise. Her eyes blinked, unsure of whether the creature was genuine or illusion. Yet, she’d clearly heard Hong Fei say this was a spirit beast. A tame one, at that. “How?” she asked.

“Truthfully, I don’t know,” Hong Fei said. “My guess is that it’s a special magic unique to the beast. We met in the forest outside of Ruby Swift City, and she took a liking to me after I saved her life. She offered me a contract afterward.”

“Intelligent?” the duchess wondered aloud.

“Very,” Hong Fei replied.

And at the same time, Auntie Ling nodded and bowed once more.

“What a… wonder,” Yu Hui said in amazement.

Hong Fei placed his hand upon the badger’s head. “Her name is Ling.”

Yu Hui reached out as if to do the same, then recalled the dignity of her position and let her hand drop.

Auntie Ling looked quizzically at the duchess. She shuffled forward and, careful of the furniture, moved her head within reach.

A delighted smile appeared on the duchess’s face as she petted Ling. “The fur is not as soft as I expected.”

“She is a spirit beast,” Hong Fei noted, “and a powerful one at that.”

“I can imagine.” Yu Hui’s smile turned mischievous. “Since she is your retainer, you are the one responsible for her salary.”

Hong Fei chuckled. “All I ask is room and board for her.”

“You’ll have it,” Yu Hui said.

“I’ll keep her presence a secret for now and will introduce her more formally to the estate when it appears necessary.”

Yu Hui nodded, though her attention was clearly elsewhere. Her eyes narrowed when she scratched the badger’s fur. Both of them seemed to enjoy the experience immensely.

The duchess shook her head. “One moment, I am cursing the heavens, and in the next they offer a wonder like this. Truly, fate and fortune must be mad.” She turned her attention to Hong Fei. “I’ll inform the steward that you have a hidden ally, and that your food allotment be doubled. No, tripled.”

“Thank you, your grace.”

Her smile lingered, and some of the strength she’d lost, returned to her. She gave Auntie Ling another scratch and with some reluctance bid her newest retainer to return to work.

The badger disappeared in a similar manner to how she’d arrived—the brushstrokes reappearing but then wiping away, leaving the canvas clean and the room empty of her presence.

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ToC | Next Chapter > 

Characters Mentioned in this Chapter 

• Auntie Ling, a summons 

• Chen Wenbin, the commander of Duke Yu's household troops 

• Yu Yong, grandson to Duke and Duchess Yu 

• Yu Hui, the duchess 

• Zhang Dehua, the Yu steward