Fate's Attendant 1.8

Hong Fei, freshly barbered and dressed in his new clothes, looked like many of the old veterans who’d washed up against the duke’s gate over the years. The guards noted the similarity—the sword carried openly and the way Hong Fei moved with it, like he’d been born with the weapon at his side. There was also the familiar tautness of his expression, the air of quiet desperation hidden behind lethal competence.

A guard stepped forward—from the honors stitched onto his sleeves, a shízhǎng. “You’ve come a long way, have you?”

Hong Fei, surprised, answered, “I have. I’m here to meet with Duke Yu.”

The shízhǎng’s head tilted in curiosity. “Is he expecting you?”

“I doubt it,” Hong Fei replied wryly, then recalling his manners added, “But the lord will see me. My father and he were sword-sworn.”

The shízhǎng examined the visitor at the gate with fresh eyes. The sword in particular stood out, the make of the scabbard finer than was warranted for a simple soldier. The shoes were also unique, a sign the man had access to novelties unavailable to common folk.

Hong Fei placed his hands behind his back. He pretended at an ease he didn’t possess; his heart hammered as the soldier holding his fate considered him. There were things he could offer into the duke’s service now, but explaining Auntie Ling to these guards would be difficult.

The shízhǎng relented before it became necessary. “Follow me to meet the steward,” he said.

Compared to the outer walls covered in dark slate, the Yu family main courtyard was all light and color and air. Planters with spring flowers abounded and the pathways were lined with plum and cherry trees spilling their petals so that it seemed to Hong Fei that he walked upon clouds.

All the buildings were trimmed in riotous colors—emerald, scarlet, and a yellow so buttery and unctuous, it might slip free at any moment from the wood upon which it’d been painted.

Visible immediately to the left was a shrine dedicated to the family ancestors meant for servants and others attached to the household. Representations of the wind had been worked into the design—swirls and lightning.

Opposite the shrine was a building for official meetings, but that wasn’t where the guard headed. Apparently, the duke wasn’t at his public office today, even though Hong Fei had thought he’d timed his visit perfectly. Instead, he was led toward the main hall.

While other might impress visitors with a lounge filled with beautiful art and sumptuous furniture, not the old duke. He’d turned the building into a training hall for his soldiers.

Massive wooden beams carried the weight of the roof, so that a single open space could be created below them. Clusters of soldiers in padded jackets stamped back and forth, their wooden weapons clacking against each other. Underneath their feet, the floor was covered in reed mats to keep bones from breaking if and when someone took a fall.

The place smelled of sweat and straw, sending a pang of homesickness through Hong Fei. He’d grown up in place like this, though the arts being practiced here were more diverse than at his family house. The soldiers spanned a wide range—from youths to graybeards, with more than a few scarred, limping, or carrying other reminders of battles previously fought.

The shízhǎng led Hong Fei to a bench and set him to waiting there. “I’ll return with the steward, should he decide to see you.”

Hong Fei made himself comfortable. His bright eyes were naturally drawn to the swordsmen on the mats, and he imagined himself among them—laughing at an unexpected touch, then getting his revenge a moment later. He felt the edges of his lips pull up in a smile.

Adjacent to the bench were racks of weapons, jackets, and helmets. Hong Fei itched to grab a set and join in the exercises. His healed body needed testing, after all.

Several soldiers glanced his way, the young ones and the gossips. The experienced knew to mind their own business, while the truly wise among them had already measured his worth. They were the opponents Hong Fei marked for dueling later.

The doors burst suddenly open as a jumble of young people came laughing into the training hall. None of the group looked to be older than fifteen- or sixteen-years old, and all were sweating, apparently having raced to the hall. The two youngsters in the lead crowed at having beaten all the others.

Surely, the pair were a matching set of brother and sister, with the same jet-black hair, piercing eyes, and sharp noses the old duke was famous for. Likely his grandchildren, Hong Fei judged.

His eyes settled on a young woman at the back. Not as swift as the others, her beauty clearly outmatched the rest with an almost fairly-like delicacy. It wasn’t lost on Hong Fei how the boys gathered around her. What alarmed him, though, was the black 5 hanging over her head.

The smile on Hong Fei’s lips fell away. His thoughts stilled as he watched: the likely grandson of Duke Yu looked back to this fairy; he parted the crowd walking toward her; he offered his hand; and he escorted her to the front, saying something humorous and causing the others to laugh.

The grandson bowed to this young woman once she was enthroned at the head of the group, and the granddaughter made a moue of displeasure, which proved to be an illusion because it didn’t last and gave way to laughter. She placed a hand on the fairy’s arm and pulled her and the rest of the crowd through a side door.

Hong Fei blinked and realized the soldiers had stopped their training while the young people were present. The weapons began to clack again as it resumed. More importantly, he’d missed the shízhǎng’s return, accompanied by a man dressed in clothes made of a durable fabric in muted blues. His boots were muddy and his leather gloves worn.

The two men had watched the young people with amusement from the back door. Hong Fei saw how they put away that warmth before turning to approach him. He stood and bowed to the man who, while not dressed as the steward to a noble house, was clearly a person of influence. The shízhǎng had trailed him by two steps.

“I am Zhang Dehua, the steward of this house. You claim your father was sword-sworn to Duke Yu?”

“He was, sir,” Hong Fei answered. “My father Hong Wei served under the duke against the Hougul forty years ago.”

“Hong Wei? The swordsman wielding Fortune’s Favor?” Zhang Dehau asked, his eyebrows rising.

“The same, though the sword has since passed on to me,” Hong Fei replied, gesturing to the scabbard at his side.

“Which child are you?”

“The seventh, named Fei.”

The shízhǎng sucked in a breath, and his eyes turned pitying.

Zhang Dehua glanced behind him. “There is a story here, it seems, but this is not the place to pursue it. The duke is in seclusion, but I will pass along a message.”

The steward left, and the shízhǎng returned to his duty at the gate.

Hong Fei no longer saw the soldiers training; he was lost in his thoughts and worried about how his petition would be received, about what the number 5 signified in this household.

Was Hong Fei meant to kill that lively girl? Surely not. The spring of her youth was in full bloom. If fate and fortune were kind, she’d have many fruitful years ahead.

He touched the satchel at his side, but drew no cards. Later, he would have to ask Auntie Ling about what he’d seen. Whether or not she’d be able to answer, though, was uncertain.

The time passed unbearably, enough for a single warrior on the training mat to rotate through several challengers, before the steward returned. The expression on Zhang Dehua’s face was a mixture of curiosity and heavy consideration.

He cleared his throat before speaking. “The duke has expressed a desire to see you.”

Nearby, the sound of weapons clacking paused. A glance from the steward started the soldiers moving again. No one liked being caught eavesdropping.

Hong Fei stood to bow. “Then we shouldn’t keep the duke waiting.”

The steward’s long strides took them through the back door leading out onto a courtyard of many paths, each leading to another building or to a covered passage to different part of the Yu family house. One look told Hong Fei the builders had intended the arrangement to match the layout of the land upon which it’d been built.

Great trees rose up in unexpected places, as did rock outcroppings, and there were streams flowing under bridges. The house’s interior gardens were wilder than the one for visitors, but no less beautiful. Nor were they less maintained, based on the number people working to trim the trees and placing rocks within the streams so that the sound of the waters flowing was just right.

Hong Fei’s impression was of a house of hidden views and secret ponds for respite. Unless one was invited into its depths, one would never know about them. He had to remind himself that this was a family in exile. That they could live so well spoke to their ability to hold onto power and wealth.

###

Polished wooden panels the color of persimmons covered the walls of the duke’s private receiving room. To one side stood a large desk with images of dragons flying through clouds engraved into the dark wood. Fragrant smoke rose from a stick of incense burning in a small bowl on its surface.

Cabinets flanked the desk, and on the other side of the room, where a sitting area for tea and guests ought to be, there was bed. The duchess Yu Hui sat upon it, propped up by pillows and gazing at Hong Fei.

Her hair had turned a steely gray in the intervening years since he’d last seen her, and it was braided into a single length that fell artfully along the side of her neck. Her eyes were as dark as the dukes, though the rest of her face was pale like she’d been ill for weeks or months.

The duchess wore a yellow silk house robe stitched with flowers, the attire at odds with the battle ring on her head. The plain, steel circlet was a defensive artifact gifted by the emperor, and only Duke Yu was supposed to wear it.

Hong Fei tried not to stare, but there was a black 14 hovering above her head. His breath became shallow, and he unconsciously clenched his fists. Yu Hui noticed both these things. She gave her steward a slight nod.

Zhang Dehua stepped forward. “Here is the man carrying Fortune’s Favor.” Then, the steward turned to Hong Fei, his eyes narrowing. “You are standing before the duke; it is customary to bow.”

Hong Fei’s thoughts were already confused. This pronouncement routed them from the field entirely, so he bowed as he was bid to do. Any action was better than none—freezing was how one died in battle, sword still in the scabbard.

That won him time to rally. His disorganized thoughts came together to understand that the duchess was masquerading as the duke, who was ostensibly in seclusion. There was also the observation that the soldiers in the training had been surprised at hearing about a direct audience.

Clearly, something extraordinary was happening, and Hong Fei was being let into those events. The only reason to pierce that veil of privacy would be if it were necessary. If he were necessary.

Hong Fei transitioned from a standing bow to kneeling on one knee. His hands came forward in a cupped salute. “Your grace.”

“You were always a quick one,” Yu Hui said, her voice soft.

“Not as quick as I would like,” Hong Fei said.

“Or else you would still be leading your troops against the Askalousans, yes?”

“That is only the truth,” Hong Fei replied.

The duchess chuckled lightly. Any more than that and she would be caught wincing, which she refused to do. After a time studying Hong Fei, she said, “I do also prefer the truth, so let’s do away with pretenses from the beginning. The world believes that my husband and I are in seclusion. The unhappy truth is that the duke is unconscious and has been since the beginning of spring. He hangs onto life by the barest of margins, while I am ill and declining. No one else knows these things, except for Zhang Dehua, a priest who attends to us, and a pair of trusted servants.”

Hong Fei looked up in surprise. “Why are you telling me this?”

Nearby, the steward had taken to leaning against the wall in a decidedly informal pose. His eyes, though, were intent and watching carefully.

The duchess raised a hand. On it was the ducal ring. And instead of answering, she asked a question of her own: “What do you remember of Yu Wu, the duke? Tell me of the times you met him.”

Hong Fei licked his lips and recalled: “I first met Duke Yu when I was five. He gave me a practice sword on my naming day. Then, at ten, he spent a week at our family house, and I challenged him to a duel.”

Yu Hui smiled. “I remember that.”

“The whole family stood witness, as well as all the servants from both families.” Hong Fei resisted the urge to rub his face in shame. It burned at the memory; his younger self had been sure he’d win.

“There was betting about how long you’d last,” Yu Hui said.

“The duke humored me with great patience,” Hong Fei replied. “The experience was instructive.”

“And then?” Yu Hui asked.

“At twelve, I saw him again, but only in glimpses. Most of his time was spent with my father, the two of them riding the countryside like bandits fleeing the law. That was the year prior to the duke’s appointment to the capitol.”

“Mmm,” Yu Hui murmured, her eyes turning downcast.

“I recall you from each of those visits,” Hong Fei said, “though not clearly since I only had eyes for the sword at the time.”

“You do prefer the truth, don’t you?” Yu Hui observed. “Another man would’ve flattered me.”

“My family is not made of flattery,” Hong Fei said. “We are soldiers first.”

She nodded at the point made. “And that is the reason why I am being forthcoming. My husband always said that when the enemy is at the gates, the surest weapon to hold in hand is a Hong soldier. I’ve kept track of your family over the years. My personal condolences on the loss of your father.”

“Thank you,” Hong Fei replied simply.

“I am delighted to see you still alive,” she added. “What happened on the Askalousan Steppe?”

Hong Fei’s eyes went cold. “A mistake in intelligence. An error in communications.”

Yu Hui’s arched glance spoke volumes about the need to elaborate.

Hong Fei set aside his emotions to report on the events as they’d happened. “Last summer, General Wang developed a plan drive the barbarians out of the Snake River Hills, and I received orders for my troop of a hundred to infiltrate through one of the passes to harass the enemy from the rear, drawing them away from where our main force would be approaching from the north.”

He cleared his throat before continuing. “My troops would be left exposed, but the plan was to lure them toward a secondary, relief force that would then complete a pincer from both north and south. Instead, there was no relief. The orders I’d received where from an outdated plan based on faulty intelligence, and we were left out in the open for the Askalousans to chase us down. We fled, hoping to see our army’s banners in the distance, yet they never came.”

“We heard the battle was a great victory,” Yu Hui said gently.

“As did I. While recovering.” Hong Fei lowered his eyes. “For some reason, the Askalousans split their forces in two, sending one part against my troop and the other part lingering within the hills as if waiting for our army to smash them. General Wang won many honors that day, as did those immediately under him.” Silently he added, Including the people responsible for my troop’s orders—all of them from prominent families and noble lineages.

Hong Fei had investigated the error, and he’d learned that only his troop had received outdated orders. A single sheet of paper had been removed and another put in its place. Who exactly had done the deed was a mystery, but the beneficiaries were untouchable.

“How unfortunate,” Yu Hui said, watching him.

Hong Fei cleared his eyes before looking up to meet her gaze. “Yes. Very. I took my pension as soon as I was well enough to travel and… pledged to never draw Fortune’s Favor again.”

Silence filled the room at this pronouncement. Hong Fei held himself still, refusing to let his distress and his confusion cloud his thinking and reveal more than he should. Eventually, it was the duchess who yielded.

With a sigh, she said, “An emperor’s gifts are weighty. The Yu family is in a unique position to understand that reality. Perhaps I should say something about how we ended up here on Wild Geen Island.”

“All I’d heard was there was a scandal,” Hong Fei interjected.

“That was the story, wasn’t it?” Yu Hui picked idly at the blanket covering her. “Our tenure in the capitol started well enough. Every task set to us by the emperor was met with success, and our place among the noble families rose quickly. Then, as if from nowhere, the emperor decreed that there could be no one more valuable than Duke Yu. As a gift, the emperor made available the resources to ascend to the Refining Spirit realm.”

Her hands stilled, and her voice turned grave as she continued, “Included in the decree was hidden the notion that only Duke Yu and his direct lineage were honored; only they were noble. Thus, I was excluded, as were all the various siblings and branch families.”

Hong Fei reeled at the implications. If something happened to the duke and his direct heirs, then the family would be stripped of its noble status.

As if reading his thoughts, Yu Hui nodded. “It is as you imagine it. The ascent to Refining Spirit failed, and no effort of wealth or influence could remedy it, because anything done would be construed as making up for the emperor’s deficiency.” Her nostrils flared in anger. “This was the scandal that sent our family into exile: my husband’s failure to make good on the emperor’s gift.”

The anger faded as quickly as it had come. Weary, she continued, “After that, it was as if this failure turned fate against us. All… all of our children died to either accidents or disease, except for our son Yu Hao and his life will soon end.”

“Another failed ascent?” Hong Fei asked.

The duchess nodded. “He cannot overcome the gap from eighth to ninth tier of the Qi Blossoming realm. By the end of the year, I expect to lose both a husband and my last surviving son. The only hope left for the family is the grandchildren. Everyone else is gone. Our house has been extraordinarily unlucky; rumors are we’ve been cursed as a result of offending the emperor’s generosity.”

“The path of cultivation is cruel,” Hong Fei said.

“It has always been so.” Yu Hui sighed. “We have hidden these truths to better protect the family. The other noble houses prowl around us like wolves, but I will not let them rend us apart. I will do anything to ensure my grandchildren can grow safely into their rightful positions.”

“There’s truly no hope for the duke?” Hong Fei asked.

“He is gravely ill and lacking the necessary resources,” Yui Hui said, her anger returning. “That he holds on as he does is already heroic. If you wish to be of service, you must honor his sacrifices with your warrior’s spirit. That is what my family demands.”

Hong Fei bowed his head. “You will have it.”

“As decisive as ever,” Yui Hui said. “We will say Duke Yu broke his seclusion to meet with you, the son of his sword-sworn brother. You are to be his agent in the world, a dūtóu once more, an independent command unattached to anyone else in the household, reporting only to me though we will say that it is my husband.”

“A troop of one?” Hong Fei asked.

“I believe you capable of it,” the duchess said. “Ask Zhang Dehua if you need anything. He will make the necessary arrangements. For now, explore the house and get to know its people. That is your first task.”

“As you will,” Hong Fei replied, his mind already racing. The only reason to work alone was if the duchess didn’t know who to trust even within the household.

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