Nie Huaisang 聂怀桑 (
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marlowemuses2021-03-07 08:54 pm
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Entry tags:
But haven't you heard / hearts turn to dirt
The war between the Jin Sect and the Nie Sect had gone on for months, a bloody and exhausting battle of attrition. Lan and Jiang had stayed out of it, which was a kind of mercy. Everyone knew that if they took sides, Lan Xichen would support his dearest friend and Jiang Cheng would support his, and it would only spread the bloodshed. Huaisang was grateful that they were left out of this, and yet he often longed for that support and comfort.
Things had only gotten worse when Jin Guangyao had begun bringing in mercenaries. He had coin to spare where Huaisang did not, able to rely upon rich grain fields and a larger populace. Terrain and skill allowed Huaisang’s men to keep them at bay, and yet. It felt like it would only be so long.
The day’s battle had been exhausting and demoralizing in the worst way, a group of mercenaries sent forth to batter at a weakness in Huaisang’s defenses. It had taken mere minutes for Huaisang to spot the strategy, and after hours he still had no solution. The mercenaries were sent on a suicide mission, that was clear, but what was also clear was that they would succeed. They were meant to die and the breach in the border would leave the Nie Sect weak. He would have to fall back inside the very walls of Qinghe. Any peasants left outside would be killed or captured. Any peasants brought inside would starve slowly under siege. It was inevitable.
Huaisang wanted to sob, but he forced himself to think, considering hypotheticals again and again, but it was always the same answer. The walls would breach. They would fall back. They would starve.
He couldn’t change those facts, and that was what delayed him for hours seeing the one thing he could change.
The leader of the mercenary band was the one they called the Scourge. It seemed like he could kill hundreds of men on his own. His blade moved lightning-fast, though he was no cultivator. And he would die like the rest today. That was the only comfort in the tragedy of the day.
All at once, Huaisang saw how to change the pattern.
He sent his orders swiftly, commanding the breach to be surrendered, to fall back sooner, to let the mercenaries live. All that mattered was risking everything on one play which would introduce a new variable.
His men brought their captive in to Qinghe bound in silvery nets of energy. Qinghe was reinforced and the gates had been closed, accepting that awful fate, but Huaisang had a new variable brought to kneel before him in his throne room.
Heart pounding with nerves to be a prey animal facing down such an obvious predator, Huaisang lifted his chin and fanned himself idly, pretending calm in the face of his deadly captive. “So you were the price Jin Guangyao was willing to pay in order to seize my lands.”
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If he had been given the choice, he would have died fighting. That's what he'd been hired to do and as he's brought before the leader of the Nie sect, he finds himself frustrated more than anything else. Bound and kneeling, Doul looks up at Huaisang with a cool, calm expression. He is slow to speak, and when he does, his voice is so soft as to be almost sweet. "Just the tool for the job."
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His fan stirs with a constant idle restlessness, a symbol of frail luxury in order to show off just how unconcerned Huaisang is about this enemy in front of him. "What I'm more curious about is whether Jin Guangyao informed you that he was sending you on a suicide mission, and, more importantly, if he paid you accordingly?"
Huaisang's eyebrow lifted slightly in query. He knew that there absolutely were coins that could be used to send a man eagerly to his death: loyalty, fanaticism, blackmail. Loyalty or fanaticism might be swayed by showing proof of his leader's lies or disloyalty toward him in return. Blackmail was just a matter of securing the problem. Family at risk? They can be extracted.
Mercenaries, however, don't usually have any of those attachments. Nor do they usually accept suicide missions. Can't collect pay when dead, after all. Which means Huaisang has the chance to offer him a better deal.
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Still constrained by the net, he does his best to wait comfortably. Shoulders loose and back, no visible tension or straining against the magical trap. He can't break it, so why expend more force than needed?
"I am owed." Slowly, he mulls it over. He knew what had happened to him and the others as soon as the battle began to turn. Perhaps he should've fled, but where was he to go? The Nie forces in front, and more of the Jin's behind. "While a balance remains, the contract is unfulfilled."
Betrayal is one thing, it can be tolerated, but if Jin Guangyao truly never meant to pay him, that's unacceptable.
cw: sexism
"Or... well, I suppose he's saved himself quite a lot of money. He no longer owes any of your companions their shares. Nor yours, if I decide you have no value to me alive."
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There is more he could say and perhaps more that he should say, but he wants a better sense of Huaisang before offering up any information.
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"So," He says, turning and going to his low desk, picking up a ledger and turning through it to find a particular page--blank. He kneels at the desk and picks up his writing brush. "How much are you owed?"
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"I was also willing to accept The Tract of the Luminous Way and Upper Chapters of Blame and Blessing as a fair compromise."
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Huaisang's pen swipes across the page, noting down both titles. "That's very hypothetical payment. Still owed, as you said."
He waves his fingers dismissively at the soldiers who brought him in. "You may release him, thank you. I think our guest is ready to negotiate in a civilized manner."
The silvery ropes drop away and the soldiers all take a step back, giving Doul freedom of movement. "Did he explain to you the hypothetical delicacies of his being able to access the known copy of The Simple Man's Bright Mirror in the Lan archives?"
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"He gave me a recently copied section of the book as a gesture of good faith and a down payment for services." There's a soft, thoughtful rumble. "It was not in his own hand. Still, elegant, but not his."
"I am not as well versed in the local politics as I could be. Will you tell me of the 'delicacy' required?"
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Finding what he's looking for, Huaisang holds out a paper. None of his underlings move to transport it for him, so it can be assumed that this implies permission to approach. "Is this the handwriting you saw? It belongs to Lan Xichen, the leader of the Lan Sect and close personal friend of Jin Guangyao. It's his Clan's restricted library that is thought to hold a copy of The Simple Man's Bright Mirror. However, access to that library is restricted to high-level Lan Clan members only. You understand the difference between a Sect and a Clan? The way we use the terms, Clan is the core of the Sect. Clan means blood or adopted family. So, very tightly restricted access."
Holding Doul's gaze without fear, Huaisang stays perfectly still while he waits for his guest to consider the evidence being presented. "It's reasonable that Lan Xichen might quote a portion of the text to his dearest friend. But to allow you to enter the library or the text to leave--and by the way I don't believe that it's an original unabridged copy--would be a severe violation of the Lan principles."
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"It is a beautiful hand." Even though it is not for him, he reads over as much of the letter as he can. "And I think it safe to say that I will remain unpaid."
Breathing in, breathing out, he hangs his head for a moment and tries to figure out what he ought to do next. What will he be permitted to do next? First things first, if he is not due to die or end up in a Nie sect cell, he will need to rest and heal up from the battle. Then, get the word out that the Jin have gone back on their promises of payment.
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Returning the letter to its place on his desk, Huaisang takes his fan back out to play with it. "Safe to say you need a better employer."
Turning his attention to one of his aides, Huaisang nods. "Take him to be bathed and dressed. Then you may take him to the Nie Clan private library while he waits. Please have him treated like a guest as long as he acts like one. He need not be an honored guest, but the rank of mercenary general is respectable enough."
Obvious surprise flickers over the face of the addressed bureaucrat, but he recovers very quickly, stepping forward with a bow. "This way, sir."
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He alternates between reading, rest, and meditation. Doul can accept that he is angry - both at himself and the Jin - and that it will do him no good to give into that anger in this moment. Revenge is worthless. He does not want to get his pound of flesh in repayment.
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Someone keeps an eye on him at all times while he's in the library, a quiet attendant lingering near the door, but no one interferes with his access to the books, and there are plenty of rare and valuable tomes to explore. Food is provided, and he's left mostly to his own devices in the precious library.
It's well after sunset before the door opens and Huaisang enters again, plopping down tiredly on a couch and considering his new pet. "I'm glad to see you haven't burned my library down yet."
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"I could be encouraged to burn a library, but the price would be beyond obscene. Dinner and new trousers are not enough." He's just full of jokes, isn't he? Throughout it all, his voice is gentle in all the ways that he is not.
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"As for payment, you know what I am interested in." From his spot kneeling on the floor, facing the couch, he looks from Huaisang to the book in front of him and then back again.
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"I have no desire to spread or share clan secrets." He is studying something else and he will not detail what that is. The texts he referenced before cover a range of topics, from history to obscure cultivation methods, and unless one had read them carefully, there is no clear connection.
"If I merely wish to take my sword and leave, what would you want in exchange?"
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Huaisang isn't going to tell him he can't leave, though he doesn't think he will. He also knows that his request isn't particularly plausible. It's honest, however. Doul may or may not want revenge for being sent to his death, but Huaisang wants revenge.
"I'd rather you stayed. But, as you understand, I'm in a very dangerous position at the moment. The defenses of my province have been breached. I have the fortress of Qinghe, nigh impregnable, but we can only last so long under siege, and our supplies have already been drained by the war. If you want more time in the library, I need a path to survival, if not victory. So. You know the battlefield. Advise me."
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He'd had access to the public facing Jin libraries and those had a few interesting tidbits, but the best was kept hidden.
"It is not his head, but there may be a route to taking it."
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There's a tap at the door, distracting Huaisang, and a pair of servants enter carrying trays. The trays are set down in front of Huaisang, plenty of food for two and plenty of wine as well. Thanking the servants, Huaisang reaches first for the wine, waiting for them to leave and then helping himself to the food while he waits for Doul to lay out his plan.
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"His head is what you need. Literally would work, but metaphorically could as well. What is a pearl so great that he would be willing to take an ill-advised risk?" Making note of his place in the scroll, he rolls it away and relaxes his posture. Not comfortable enough to lounge about, but he doesn't need to sit at attention. "You can tell a lot about a man by his books. I can know of all those he swore were in his personal library but that were too precious to be let out for sect use. Many were unusual, but few were that rare. There will be threads of connection. Skills and techniques that he wants to keep hidden."
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"Perhaps you're the better one to name a pearl, at least when it comes to his books. My actual preferences in books are pornography, poetry, and romantic adventures. I acquire books because they have value and because I often need to research these things, but the books you named?" Huaisang shakes his head. "I have no interest in reading them. Is there a book that we could tempt him with, from your threads of connection?"
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"He must feel as if he is on unsteady ground, that he is forced to run, to keep pace, to make a mistake. Find something that makes his eyes roll like a panicked mare." What is that? He doesn't know yet. "If his men abandon him, he would react swiftly; but if they doubt him, that will feed into his fear. His need for power."
"True or not, he must hear rumour in the night. Casual words over wine that drift through the window and lead to madness. To panic."
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