marlowemuses | But haven't you heard / hearts turn to dirt

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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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Huaisang grunted with tired frustration, leaning back and rubbing his hand against his brow. All those crimes of Jin Guangyao that he had revealed, and yet. The timing hadn't been right. Who cared about some murdered whores? What ruler hadn't arranged a few well-timed accidents for his siblings? Many of his supporters had abandoned him, but not nearly enough.

There is one idea in there, and he glances over. "It might mean risking the wrath of the Lan Sect, but it could be done. Lan Xichen has dismissed Jin Guangyao's crimes again and again. Enabled them, looked the other way. Jin Guangyao murdered my older brother, a Sect Leader, using a technique gotten from the Lan Sect library. I always thought he snuck in, and yet. If Lan Xichen could be tarred with that brush... he might merely be an accessory to the crimes, but he could be an angle to be used."

"If they care about their reputation enough, it might ensure that they will not aid the Jin further. You could pull them from the war." It's a plan that focuses on Lan Xichen rather than Jin Guangyao, but it's a start.

"I will need more time to think, to draw connections between the books that were missing. Some of which I only know by reputation." He gently taps at the scroll by his side as if to suggest he'd already started reading up and trying to learn what was so vital to keep secret.

"For what it is worth, I am sorry that your brother was taken from you."

"It has been a long time, but I appreciate your sympathy." It never gets easier. Still, Huaisang doesn't want to offer that kind of vulnerability to someone he had in chains earlier that day.

And he has a city under siege to lead.

Rising to his feet, he leaves the rest of the food and wine for Doul, if he wants it.

"You have one day to come up with a plan for me," he declares on his way to the door. "Or I will come up with orders for you to obey."

Doul watches the young man leave. He has work to do and too little information to do it well. What does he know of Jin Guangyao? Not enough to know the size and shape of the lever to move him.

For now, he will eat, read, and sleep as he can. Escape would not be wholly impossible, but it would likely be more trouble than its worth. By morning, he has a handful of strange ties between the missing books, but he is still lacking context. He scribbles out a quick note in a less than elegant hand and leaves it with one of the various stewards before he finds a place to rest.

What is true about Jin Guangyao that he flaunts? What is true that he hides or pretends to hide?

You do not need to guess his secret to make him bolt, but you do need to guess close enough that he thinks you know. Did he kill someone by accident? Or worse, did he spare someone he should've killed? What would make such a man spare someone?

Who would know a secret so valuable that he would have them killed as a precaution? Can you determine that secret from their relation to him?

For that message, Huaisang makes time, though it is between meetings. He comes in to the library and sits, starting to answer the written questions without preamble.

He spills out answers one after the other, telling everything he knows of Jin Guangyao, who was Meng Yao, who has murdered so many and ruined so much. He's exhausted by the time he finishes, in tears, but he pushes through it. This is the gamble he's taken, the agreement he's made. The better armed his soldier, the better this will work.

Exhausted, he lays across the couch, burying his head in his arms. "What else do you need to know?"

Throughout the whole, messy story Doul listens quietly but with rapt attention. He soaks it all in, the information and the way in which it was told. It's a messy thing, a thing that has already endangered his own interests and that cannot be borne.

"Give me three days. If I don't have it then, I won't have it at all." What else will he need? "I will need to be outside for some of it. Or somewhere I can spar. With partners."

"I'll need to work through the possibilities." It's an unusual request, but he clearly processes his ideas in odd ways. A cultivator or a native to this land comes at a problem in one way and Doul is going at it from a very different angle. "There's a hinge somewhere. The keystone that will cause collapse if it's moved."

"Agreed, but keep me apprised." Huaisang mumbles into his arms, then forces himself up, sighing deeply before he gets to his feet, composing himself as the Sect Leader once again. "My stewards will provide anything you need, within reason. This is a martial sect, you won't find it difficult to find sparring partners. You may go where you please within Qinghe, though let someone know if you are going outside of the palace complex. If you need to go outside of the walls, that can be arranged. Let me know when, where, and for how long."

He barely slept last night. He's shaky and disoriented, sick with worry, even though he knows that nothing will change swiftly.

As promised, Doul goes to work. He researches, thinks, and lets himself slip into a state of non-thinking as he fights. For a man without a golden core or knowledge of cultivation, it borders on uncanny how well he can hold his own against those of the sect. He fights barehanded or with practice weapons and misses the feel of his own, true sword. It's somewhere in Qinghe, but he can't feel it.

After three days, he sends a note to Huaisang stating that he's ready and can be found in the library.

Huaisang mostly lets himself forget about his strange guest. He leads by trusting his people, and he knows that he will be informed at once if there is anything awry.

As promised, Doul is given supplies and access with very few restrictions, and servants bring him food and tea on a regular basis, along with plentiful supplies of paper and ink.

Once or twice, as Doul fights, Huaisang lingers for a minute to watch. He has always enjoyed watching fights, especially when they are conducted bare-chested. The weather is currently mostly too cold for that, but Huaisang is still curious about his captive-cum-ally.

When he's sent a note, he makes his way promptly to the library. If it were someone else, if it were anything less than the fate of his Sect, he might delay, making Doul wait while he conducted his other responsibilities. This is not a matter that can be put off.

Striding into the library in his formal robes, Huaisang lifts his chin. "What have you got?"

"A theory." Doul is kneeling by a table, a handful of books and notes spread out in front of him. The topics range from histories of cultivation sects, lineage guides, and tracts on local legends.

"He has killed nearly all his living family, but not one. One is never mentioned by him, and when others speak of them, he will not hear it." There's a low hum in his chest, a thoughtful and frustrated sound. "Find his mother. Living or dead. I cannot say what to do with the woman, but it should be enough to unsettle him, to unseat his careful plans. If she does not live, you might do well to look into his memory of her. A rosy image of a life not yet tainted, a soft touch, the smell of her perfume, it is a start."

It's a good idea and a wise observation, but it's not as much as Huaisang might like, nor as swift a solution. Still, it might work, and it's more to go on than Huaisang has had. "She was a whore." That's all he's ever cared to know.

"I'll have my spies and researchers investigate the question." Calm and aloof, Huaisang tucks his hands inside his sleeves. "You're to report to my military commander in the meanwhile. You may still have access to the library whenever you're not on duty. I'll follow up with you when I have some news."

"'She was a whore' is said to stop conversation, to put a cap on it, to halt anyone from asking more." Doul inclines his head as he stands, listening to his instructions. He'll do what he's told and he'll fight well. "Ask yourself this: has he tried to redeem her image? Does he make as if he doesn't care? Has he tried to find a 'new' or adoptive mother?"

It might not be much, but it could be enough to turn a war. It's always the smallest things that change the course of battle. A bad dinner the night before leaves troops sick, but why was the food spoiled? Did they get the wrong supplies? Were the good supplies stolen and swapped for ill? Or are the roads so bad that their supply train couldn't keep up and the food spoiled? All the same outcome, all different causes.

"You've spent three days in speculation," Huaisang replies, instead of answering any of those hypothetical questions. "And while your loose thread of an idea may be a good one, it is not enough. I am tired and in no mood for philosophy. I'll dig up information. If my options for the next hour are speculation or sleeping, I'd prefer to sleep."

He closes his eyes for a moment, letting himself sag a little with fatigue, and sways on his feet far more than he anticipated. Quickly straightening up, he tries not to feel too deeply disoriented by that moment of falling asleep on his feet.

Doul doesn't see it as philosophy or purely theoretical, but as little hooks to pries apart Jin Guangyao's shell. A tricky little oyster, that one. Given how tired Huaisang is, he's not going to press the issue.

"It's not good for your men to see you tired." He considers the situation, whether he cares or not, and decides that he does not care what happens to this city and her people. However, it does him no harm. "Allow me to walk you to your chambers. The sight of it ought to distract anyone who looks on with a critical eye."

"Certainly, distract them to thinking that the sect leader has kept this foreign scourge as a bedwarmer, not because he's useful. Somehow I think their faith in me would be less damaged by seeing me fatigued." It's not a no, but it's certainly not a yes either. Huaisang smirks ever so slightly. He wants to like Doul, wants to keep him, but he absolutely cannot trust him. Perhaps Doul has been Jin Guangyao's creature all along.

His mother. What a wild goose chase.

"My feet are always cold. I'd be no use to warm a bed." His humour is dry as the desert, but it does exist. Doul is also tired, but he tidies away the last of his books and papers, stands, and actually bows.

Aware that he's going to be sent off to fight tomorrow, he ought to get some sleep too.

"Good night, Uther Doul." Softened by the bow, Huaisang turns and leaves, returning to his own rooms and whatever sleep he can get before he's needed again. He trusts that Doul can find the way to the plain, bare rooms provided to him, or get the aid of one of Huaisang's stewards.

He thinks of Doul, and of Jin Guangyao's mother, but he still manages to fall swiftly asleep.

Time passes. Information comes and goes. Doul does as he's ordered and fights well for the Nie Sect - no more or less than he had for the Jin. Occasionally, when a new tidbit of rumour or fact comes his way, he mulls it over and offers up a handful of ideas. At first, these are vague, unsure, but as more information comes in, he's better able to ask pointed questions.

He was right. There's something here, something hidden.

Rumour is one thing, fact is far better. He's able to get a hold of a nearly complete list of holdings that either belonged to Jin Guangyao before he became leader or that he specifically bought after. Most are practical acquisitions, but some are unusual. That leads him off on another rabbit hole of research.

Huaisang handles very little of the research or strategy himself. That's what subordinates are for. He listens closely to the updates that they provide him and the recommendations that they make, and then he decides or approves accordingly.

He keeps Doul in the forward group of soldiers that is ready every day to face off the Jin forces--if they have the poor sense to come within archery range. Meanwhile, he sends out a group to attack the Jin in return. While most of the army is focused on the active battles at Qinghe, that means that there are fewer soldiers left behind on the Jin lands, and Qinghe has always been a warren of quarries and mining tunnels. It's easy to send troops out from Qinghe only to emerge miles away, so Huaisang uses that to attack the Jin lands and gather food and supplies. For the moment, he keeps it to a minimum of guerilla attacks, always different places on the border, focused on seizing supplies and letting spies slip through unnoticed.

In his forward position, Doul fights well and seems loyal to his new master. Huaisang monitors reports on him personally, visiting him for brief conversations to discuss his findings.

"I have something interesting for you today," Huaisang says, meeting Doul in the library and reaching immediately for the tea provided for them. "Guangyao holds a temple in Yunping City, Yunmeng region. The Guanyin statue in the temple looks like him, which has been the subject of some mockery and the assumption that he wants the prayers from the worshipers there to focus energy toward him, perhaps eventually deifying him. However, given that we've learned that Guangyao strongly resembles his mother..."

"He sees her as perfect, so why shouldn't other people?" Doul looks up from his text, leaning back a bit to let the information percolate through his mind. "If he can go from her son to leader of a sect, then she can become divine."

It's not a bad theory. "I've read a little on how the people here navigate godhood. I do not think he cares for it for himself, if he did, he would be more open about it, but this? Half-secret, half-not? That's a weakness. Might not be enough, might be able to get the knife in."

"I think we have enough information to confirm that his mother is dead," Huaisang says, nibbling on some food in between sips of tea. "But nothing about where her body might have gone. The temple was closed for the day before the statue's installation and there were reports of digging crews and dirt being removed. If I were to go about trying to deify my mother, burying her at the base of a Guanyin statue in her image is probably the most direct way to go about it."

Licking at his fingertips, Huaisang watches Doul closely. "If so, then what? Once he's pricked to ill-advised rashness, as you suggested, what use do you intend to make of it?"

"He doesn't want her resting place to be known. If he has to move her, he'll do it in secret." Doul takes a cup of tea, making sure that Huaisang's cup is filled before tending to his own. "He will go with a small group, almost unguarded, too focused on his task and not looking to see if the temple is surrounded or infiltrated."

"If he falls, will a new Jin immediately take his place?"

"That is smart," Huaisang agrees. And the location is in Yunmeng. Somewhere no one would ever suspect, no one would ever look for it, and... in allied territory for Huaisang.

Shaking his head at the question, Huaisang thinks for a moment. "He's killed most of them. If he died, the heir would be... Jin Rusong, his nephew. Another reason the Jiang Sect is hesitant to enter the war. Jin Rusong is half Jiang and since the war began he's been kept in Jin Sect custody. The Jiang Sect Leader, Jiang Cheng, is furious about this, but he fears that entering the war might put Jin Ling's life at risk. Though, so too might he be at risk if the Jiang Sect doesn't enter the war."

"If you are able to corner Jin Guangyao there, it would be a boon to the Jiang Sect." What about the Lans? He's not sure how they will react, but Doul suspects that they too want this war of attrition to end.

"You will need to find a way to check for the body that doesn't alert the monks, but I have seen the tunnels you have here and trust that you can manage it." He puts the cup down and, with a wince, rolls his shoulder. It still aches from a recent injury and going from battlefield to library, working as many hours as he could manage, haven't allowed him much time to rest.

Thinking over the angles of the situation for a moment, Huaisang nods. "I'll send a group. You with them, a small enough group to go unnoticed. Acquire access to a nearby house, then tunnel underneath to the likely location of the grave. You'll have engineers and a steward with you. You're to advise them and obey. If we're ready to act and you have an idea how to proceed, they will be able to send messages to me."

His eyes linger on that aching shoulder, but he makes no comment. As much as Huaisang enjoys tending to people, the heirarchy between the two of them is still far too strict for that. Huaisang may want, but he has far too many higher priorities. This is not a time for distractions. If Doul's plan succeeds, however...

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