Chapter 332 ver 2.0 unedited yadda yadda

Basking in the spotlight, I ride onto the docks with head held high and chest out, playing my role of Number One Talent in the North to perfection. I thought I’d be nervous with all the attention, but on the contrary, I feel invigorated and excited knowing millions of eyes are watching me as I ride up to meet the Legate. It’s just one of many changes I’ve noted since my revelation, a part of my personality I siphoned off to my second self. This new me is going to take a lot of getting used to, but since time is at a premium, I’m diving in headfirst and letting the current of emotions carry me away.

I just need to make sure not to get too carried away...

Three of my peers have already arrived, waiting dockside with their retinues for the rest of the young talents before going on stage together, a show of solidarity and friendship. Having done my research, I recognize them as the three male members of the Hwarang, Central’s flower knights. Treating them with cool disdain, I pretend they don’t exist and ride past them, stepping onto the floating stage alone with Ping Ping hot on my heels. While solidarity is nice and all, I’m the only Northern representative out of the nine youths called up, with five from Central and three from the South. Since Mila, Song, Fung, Huu, BoShui, and Zian all refused to ‘join’ my retinue and come on stage with me, my plan to bully my enemies with numbers fell through. Now it’s me and Dastan against the world up here, so I figured a little grandstanding was in order, showing my peers and the rest of Nan Ping that I’m not afraid to ruffle some feathers.

Plus, it’s kinda fun. The look on their faces when they realized what I was doing... priceless.

Calling a halt at a hundred paces from the dais, I stand at attention and wait for permission to approach, permission which never arrives. Casually glancing to the side, the Legate appears to be discussing matters with his seneschal, but in reality, everyone knows he’s delaying until my peers take the stage. A small reprimand for jumping the line perhaps, telling me he values unity above all else, but it’s not a big deal. The important thing is, fortune favours the bold, the Legate favours the Divine Turtle, and Ping Ping favours me, so all those kids back there can suck it if they think I’m gonna wait on them.

With nothing better to do, I make sure my soldiers are in place and behaving appropriately, which takes all of a second. They know what’s at stake and every one of them look excited to be here. Even Guan Suo’s Protectorate dressed up (sorta) for the occasion, though the big smoky grumps is nowhere to be seen. Likewise, the monk is also conspicuously absent, but I’m confident they’re both nearby. Not many tells for Concealed Experts out here on this massive raft, which measures at least one square kilometre. I’m surprised it’s holding so well under Ping Ping’s weight, not to mention the fifteen-hundred plus soldiers now standing on board, plus at least six hundred more when Central and South’s finest get here.

All that is neither here nor there, though I do like having a massive audience for my presentation. They’re in every window and on every rooftop, out in the streets and lined up along the cliff, as if every man, woman, and child in Nan Ping were taking the day off to watch this historic occasion. If I look closely, I can almost pretend to see Baatar, Sarnai, Akanai, and Husolt watching me from their manor balconies, while I know Lin and Mila are watching from the beach. Millions of people watching my every movement, tracking me as I smile and wave, their faces lighting up as they wave back. It’s an incredible feeling, standing here on stage in front of so many people, and I’m grateful for the opportunity. This gift-giving business is mostly bullshit, but it’ll serve my purposes well.

And with the entire city as my witnesses, it’ll be all but impossible to figuratively bury my gift in the dirt.

Making one last effort to get Blackjack off of my banner, I pray he doesn’t poop on anyone and turn my attention back to the Legate, studying his armour with professional interest. And greed. So much greed, but mostly, professional interest. Seated beneath his silken canopy, surrounded by four bodyguards and attended to by his seneschal, the Legate’s youthful good looks were on full display for all of Nan Ping to drink in. He is pretty, I’ll give him that, but I’m not sure if that works against him here. The citizens of the Empire need someone to depend on and look up to, and at maybe thirty years old, the Legate is far too young to fit the bill.

Nonetheless, he looks striking sitting up there on his comfy, cushioned throne, and blends in well with his Royal Guardians. At first glance, you’d think their armour was identical, gold-plated metal armour over red silk robes, but upon closer inspection, I discovered they’re anything but. Like a hare and a rabbit, the differences are subtle, but significant. Where the Royal Guardians have scale armour and plain robes, the Legate wears sturdy plate and an embroidered robe that almost shimmers with power. Their helmets are different too, with the Royal Guardians’ helmets being plain and rounded while the Legate’s helmet has winged sides and a long, red plait of ‘hair’ sporting from the top.

Then there’s the decorations, with the Royal Guardians sporting lions emblazoned on their spaulders and belts, while the Legate has dragons and barely perceptible inscriptions etched across the metal surface of his armour. I’d bet my whole fortune that the Legate is dressed from head to toe in Runic gear, meaning his helmet, robes, breastplate, spaulders, gloves, boots, greaves, and probably codpiece too. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if the open-mouthed dragon on his belt was another Runic item, shooting concentrated beams of love to turn his enemies into friends.

Or turn them into a pile of unrecognizable goop. Probably the latter, but one can dream.

So extravagant. If I were a proper MC with plot armour, I’d have transmigrated into an Imperial Scion and risen to glory, but no. I’m playing on hard mode with the slave start, so boo-urns to that. I find it vexing how the Imperial Clan hordes their secrets instead of spreading the wealth, but there’s nothing I can do about it, not yet. Still, I’ll need to revise my opinion of Shen Zhenwu, the ‘Divine True Warrior’. He’s no paper tiger, not entirely. It takes an advanced Martial Warrior with above average Chi reserves to power so many Runic items at once. Without Chi, his armour is as useful as the metal it’s made from, which means the Legate is either an Expert or an idiot showing off his wealth. For now, I’m inclined to believe the former, because I’m praying the Emperor didn’t send an idiot to oversee the defence of the outer provinces.

The most convincing evidence of the Legate’s prowess was the rousing speech he gave, going on about valiant soldiers defending the borders and what not. Don’t get me wrong, it was a pretty speech and the Legate delivered it well, but it was mostly trite garbage. As his speech went on, I noticed most people around me were drawn in by the Legate’s voice, his words holding their attention in an almost supernatural manner. Their eyes burned with reverence and worship, as if ready to fall to their knees and prostrate before Imperial Authority. Mila and Li Song, Jochi and Argat, even Ravil and Jorani had a look of respect in their eyes, which is how I knew something was wrong.

Not everyone was affected though. Dastan, Sahb, Ulfsaar, Neera, and Wang Bao were all unaffected, though I didn’t see several others like, Taduk, Lin, Guard Leader, and a few other notable Experts. The five people who weren’t affected were also, at one point, almost Defiled, just like me, but there were many others like us who were affected, so that can’t be why we weren’t affected. The only other reason I can think of is maybe it’s a combination of having almost been Defiled and being in possession of a Natal Palace. We don’t really have anything else in common, not that I can think of anyways.

The Legate’s Oration skill, as I’ve taken to calling it, has me more than a little shook up, my first true glimpse at the power wielded by the Imperial Clan. It could be the Legate’s Talent and why he’s here, or it could be an Imperial secret skill, brainwash-no-jutsu, but either way, I’m starting to think the Emperor intends to leave the outer provinces to face the Defiled hordes on our own. Maybe they intend to see which way the wind blows before committing their forces, or maybe they don’t care about what happens to us, so long as the Defiled don’t bother them. Whatever their reasons, Yuzhen was right to gift much-needed resources for the war effort and appease the Legate with a worthless painting, and I plan to follow in her footsteps.

It took ten more minutes for my peers to arrive, marching on stage together in an empty show of cooperation and unity. Unfortunately for them, I planted my retinue directly in front of the Legate, which means they’ll have to separate to either side of my five-hundred plus soldiers unless some of them don’t mind standing way out on right field. Even better, the three Southerners insist on standing to my left, where their people can better see them from the shore, forcing the eight young talents and all their soldiers to awkwardly shuffle about to get into place.

Not bothering to hide my glee, I stand and grin while imagining what it would’ve been like if my friends had come along with me. Not only would we have eight top-tier talents to match their combined eight, we’d also have a thousand soldiers to their measly six-hundred, with two of the Hwarang lacking official rank. With three-hundred soldiers on either side, it gives the impression of strength in the north, having not only brought the most troops, but only needing one person to represent their strength.

In short: I’m awesome.

Once my peers are all in place, the Legate gives a short speech sans Oratory skill about the ‘heroes of tomorrow’ before inviting the Southern young warriors to present their gifts. Having done my research, it’s nice to put faces to the names, though for the South, only one name matters. Quyen Dienne, the dour, ruddy-cheeked son of Southern Marshal Quyen Huong, leads the other two representatives to greet the Legate and present his gifts. While they exchange pleasantries, I take a measure of the dark-skinned, thin moustached southerners and find them... lacking. Dressed in colourful orange, red, and blue lamellar armour, all three men carry the same weapon over their shoulder, a long-handled scimitar with a thin, curved blade which stretches down to the floor. Dienne is the only one who speaks because the other two are his life-sworn bodyguards, chosen from among hundreds of youths vying for the honour. Nothing about Dienne tells me he deserves the honour of number one talent in the South, and I suspect he’s only up here because his daddy pulled the right strings.

Disgraceful.

After sending Dienne away, the Legate shoots me a disapproving look before summoning the Hwarang forward, telling me not to make a fuss about being last to present. It seems I’m doing a terrible job at waiting patiently, but I’m just so excited to be up here. I finally have a chance to make a difference, and nobody has to die for it. Maybe it’s a mistake, but I ran it by Akanai and Baatar, and they support me, so for better or worse, I’m committed to this path.

All I have to do is wait a little while longer. I can do that. Maybe.

Unlike Dienne, every member of the Hwarang deserve to be here, individually presenting their gift in no particular order. First up is Mitsue Hideo, great nephew and Disciple of the Obsidian Shadow Mitsue Juichi, some Central military big-wig, like Du Min Gyu but younger. At twenty four years old, Mitsue Hideo is rumoured to have comprehended the essence of his Mentor’s Talent, the Mountain Collapsing Stomp. Supposedly a combination of Resonance, Amplification, Honing, and Stability, for Hideo to not only use all four skills in tandem and project it from his body is a testament to his talent and dedication. A formidable opponent especially on this floating stage, where he could easily destroy multiple sections of the platform with a single step. Wielding twin maces which look more like baton, his style of attack is not unlike my own, closing the gap in an instant to crush his opponent in the first blow.

Next up is Wu Gam, Disciple to the Eccentric also known as Gam. The fifth to bear the name, Wu Gam literally means Gam Five, a name bestowed upon him by the Eccentric, a strange and peculiar man obsessed with raising a flawless Disciple to carry on his legacy. A self-proclaimed perfectionist, the Eccentric is rumoured to have personally killed Gams two through four for failing to live up to expectations, with Wu Gam being his latest, and possibly last chance to raise a successor. Luckily for him, the Eccentric learned from his mistakes and Wu Gam is his strongest disciple yet, a twenty-three year old Awakened Expert of the Empire. Wielding a stone staff and dressed in plain, brown robes, his two furry silver-fox ears poke out of his close cropped hair, a demi-human lineage shared among all five Gams. His yellow-gold eyes hold a muted, deadened look, not something you usually see on the face of accomplished Expert Blessed by Earth, especially one supposedly highly proficient in its usage. Looking carefully, I realize that whichever section of the raft Wu Gam steps on instantly becomes the lowest point on the entire platform, a formidable accomplishment considering Ping Ping weighs several tens of tonnes, albeit spread over a dozen sections instead of concentrated on one.

I pity the woman who has to lay beneath him.

Up third is the lovely Ryo Seoyoon, succeeding her brother Geom-Chi’s spot in the Hwarang. Bereft of rank and looking out of place among so many gruff warriors, she is accompanied only by a pair of handmaidens in flowing white robes, each one carrying a sword for Seoyoon. Wearing a traditional silken dress in red and white and more accessories than I previously believed possible, the beautiful young maiden is the youngest warrior present at eighteen years old. No damsel in distress, there’s something about the way she looks at me which warns me to be careful, a cold, calculating glare which sees only an obstacle in her path instead of a flesh and blood person. Following in the footsteps of her gifted older brother, accomplished eldest sister, and provincially-revered father, she has big shoes to fill and will go to great lengths to succeed.

I’d warn Fung to stay away from her, but that’d only encourage him. May the Mother have mercy on his soul if he earns her affection.

Fourth on the list is Yong-Jin, Disciple of Grasping Vine Shuai Jiao, who is essentially Central’s Nian Zu. Though Awakened to the Blessing of Wood like his Mentor, Yong-Jin’s accomplishments are solely based on his Martial prowess alone, having shown no signs of mastery over his element. A master of close-quarters grappling, the twenty-four year old man only recently acquired his status in the Hwarang, too busy serving as a Captain in the Imperial Army for games of glory. Hailing from humble origins, Yong-Jin joined the army at aged fifteen and took part in suppressing three rebellions, rising to the rank of Captain by his own merits before Shuai Jiao took notice and accepted the young Captain as his first and last Disciple.

I like him. If we have to fight, I’ll try not to hurt him too much.

The last member of the Hwarang is a familiar face and her captivating wink steals my breath away as she mouths... something. Adujan, or Du Min Yan now, looks stunning in her tight silk pants and form-fitting tunic. What did she say? ‘You’re still not smiling’? Oh fuck. I forgot. Before our last separation, she told me it wouldn’t kill me to smile instead of stare at some stranger, and I promised I’d keep it in mind for our next reunion. Feeling guilty about forgetting, I put a smile on which freezes as I watch Yan strut across stage, her long, slender legs making her hips roll in a seductive and hypnotic manner. Striking a courtly bow, her plump, peach-shaped posterior is on full display right before my eyes and it takes every scrap of self-control to keep myself from drooling. All I can think about is how close we used to be, spending our days training and rolling in the dirt and our nights laying side by side in our tiny, cramped tent...

Is it hot out here? I could use a drink.

Finished with her meeting, Yan strides back to her place in line with a radiant smile, paying no mind to me as the smile slips from my face. Sad times. We have been separated for over a year now, and I have Lin and Mila to think about. I can’t be collective wives like bottle-caps or shiny stones, they’re flesh and blood people, not pretty dolls for me to sate my needs. I’m sure Yan has plenty of gentlemanly suitors and she always talked about having a harem of her own, so I wouldn’t be surprised if -

“Boss.” Dastan’s reminder puts an end to my musings and I realize I’ve been called to approach. Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I gesture for Dastan and Sahb to follow behind as I approach the dais and bow. “Imperial Servant Falling Rain greets Imperial Legate.”

Okay then... time to roll the dice.

“Rise.” Gesturing for the Crier to remain silent, the Legate spoke in a conversational tone. “Disperse with formalities a moment, though I fear I can’t offer you a seat this time.” Flashing me a grin, his smile grows as he inspects Dastan and Sahb, though it falters once it returns to me, his eyebrow quirking in question. “You’ve... diminished since we last met. Troubles?” Switching to Sending, he adds, “Were you attacked and injured? You Natal Palace has notably regressed.”

What? He can see that? Playing it cool, I shrug and answer, “Oh. Nothing to worry about, I got tired of the mountain view. Felt like I needed a change, but haven’t decided what yet.”

“A costly sacrifice for a change of scenery.” His tone remains unconvinced, but he doesn’t press for more.

Costly? Not really, maybe a couple day’s work, tops. I’d also have to make another me to sit in it, but that’s no big deal. They’re like blanks, nothing going on upstairs. It doesn’t even have to look like me if I don’t want it to. “Sometimes, taking a step back lets you to see the big picture.” Oh shit. Can he see everything? Did he see me talking to myself? Or worse, did he see Blobby? “Do you see everything in there?”

Smirking, the Legate answers my question with two questions of his own. “Why do you ask? Have you something to hide?”

Smarmy jerk. “See, sometimes I like to conjure up a few women and -”

“Stop.” Still smiling, the Legate shakes his head with a rueful chuckle. “Oh you are a refreshing breath of fresh air.” Infusing his voice with Chi, he Spoke for all to hear. “Warrant Officer Falling Rain and Attendant to the Divine Turtle, show us what gift you have prepared.”

The Legate’s words elicit an audible gasp from everyone watching, and after a moment of silence, the city erupted into applause. This was the first time the Legate personally addressed anyone by name or rank, hell, even the Marshals were referred to as ‘Imperial Servant’. Guess he wants everyone to know how much he values me, which is nice but doesn’t really cost him anything. Playing my part, I bow and reply, “This humble servant has prepared several gifts for the occasion, most of which are geared towards the future of the Empire.” The Crier repeats my words for everyone to hear, including myself. It’s a little disorienting, like a reverse echo, with the Crier’s voice louder and sharper than even my own, but I push on. Gesturing to Dastan and Sahb, the hand over a chest to the Legate’s guards, who inspect its contents before bring it up for him to peruse.

The Legate’s confusion is plain to see, but I hold my tongue and let him make the first move. Taking the thick, leather-bound book sitting on top, he flips it open and runs his fingers over the pages with an intrigued look. “This paper... it’s marvellously light and thin, moreso than any I’ve ever come across.”

“A new process pieced together by a number of brilliant minds in the North.” Mine included. “Presently, paper is made from dried and pressed reeds in a lengthy and costly process. The paper in that book is made from tree bark, old linen rags, and hemp waste. Using a water powered mill, we can make hundreds of sheets in a single day at minimal cost, currently one copper per square meter with plenty of room to improve.” As if it’s an afterthought, I add, “The details of the paper-making process are all laid out on the first few pages, and this one is willing to share it with anyone who so desires it.”

Socialism, Ho!

“Giving away ideas are we? And here I thought you were handing over a lucrative business industry.”

The Legate’s good natured jest has an edge to it and I bow to hide my satisfaction. “If that is the Legate’s desire, then this one is willing to comply.”

Playing along, the Legate asks the question on everyone’s mind. “Why then, do you intend to give away such a valuable discovery?”

“For the betterment of the Empire.” Straightening up, I keep my shoulders slouched and head drooped, as if I take no pride in my accomplishments. “While I could make a fortune by keeping the manufacturing process a secret, any such profits are negligible compared to the benefits gained from the widespread distribution of cheap, affordable paper.”

“How so?”

This is going much better than expected. “Literacy is the foundation upon which all learning is built, and education is tied to economy. With cheap and affordable paper, the cost to learn reading, writing, and basic arithmetic drops, which will have far reaching effects throughout the Empire. Well-educated workers can perform tasks more efficiently, find new ways to improve profits, and become a new market for literary pursuits such as poetry or pleasure reading.” Unable to hide my excitement, I continue speaking, my voice faster and louder than before. “A higher literacy rate also lets us tap into a vast, untouched resource, the collective knowledge of the Empire’s working class. Generation after generation, knowledge is passed down from father to son, mother to daughter, but that’s where it ends. Who knows how much knowledge we've lost to time and tragedy? With improved literacy, it opens up the possibility for an exchange of ideas and theories, discourses on techniques and stratagem. While it might not seem like much to you or I, a farmer learning how to improve his yield of crops or a fisherman how to predict the weather could massively change their lives for the better. Losing tens of thousands of gold in profit to improve the lives of commoners across the Empire for generations to come, this one sees it as a small price to pay.”

Sadly, my enthusiasm doesn’t seem to be catching. Idly flipping through the book, the Legate asks “What of the rest of it? There are several other items inside the chest and much more detailed in the book.”

“Paper is but one part of the gift.” Gesturing for Sahb to step forward, I point at the buckle on his backpack. “This is a strap buckle which can be tightened and loosened with one hand.” Sahb helpfully demonstrates a few times while I scrounge through the bag, pulling out a few miscellaneous items. “This is a caliper, you use it to quickly measure the distance between two points on a flat surface, which among other things allows for more accurate map drawing. This is scented soap made primarily from vegetable oil, which is less harsh on the skin and leaves laundry smelling fresh. This is a bar of cast iron, which is cheaper to produce than traditionally smelted iron, needing no refining or hammering. The book contains step by step instructions to create all of these and more, while the wagons hold examples of our work for the Legate to inspect. This one hopes the Empire can make use of them, improve on them, and usher in a new age of prosperity for all.”

Leaving the items in Sahb’s hands, I eyeball the Crier until the Legate waves him to silence. Leaning forward, I keep my voice low and whisper, “As for personal profits, there’s a number of extra pages in Imperial Legate’s copy which will not be shared with anyone else. Look them over and I’m sure you’ll find it of interest, especially the sections detailing paper money and money lending, both extremely lucrative concepts.”

Boom. That got his attention. He doesn’t care about cradle-scythes that let you reap and lay out the grains for easy collection, or a water-powered clock so villages can tell time, or even a counter-weight catapult. All he’s interested in is how this benefits the Imperial Clan, not the Empire as a whole. Either way, paper currency should solve his problems, allowing the Empire to collect gold and hand out pieces of paper in return, while dreaming of a future in which they switch over to fiat currency, scraps of paper without any intrinsic value besides that which the Emperor gives it.

It’s a hegemon’s wet dream.

Feigning disinterest, the Legate passes the book to his Seneschal and gestures for his guards to take everything away. “Is that all?” he asks, sounding ever so slightly disappointed. He’s putting on a show, trying to make it look like I’ve presented him nothing which will benefit him.

Shrinking back in mock fear, I shake my head and frantically gesture for Dastan and Sahb, who both run back to the retinue and collect four leather-wrapped items carried by four separate guards. Yuzhen’s suggestion to better sell the lie and make it look like a last minute gift. “Certainly not,” I say, hiding my grimace as the Crier echoes my words. “This one would never dream of presenting Imperial Legate with so poor a gift.” On cue, Dastan and Sahb reveal the ‘last second gift’, once again causing Nan Ping’s inhabitants to audibly gasp as one. “I present to you, four Runic shields, crafted by the newest Runic Craftsman of the North, who er... would like to remain anonymous.”

My Teacher Taduk, Medical Saint, Loving Daddy, all around great guy, and now, Runic Craftsman.

I’m not gonna lie. It hurts giving away four of twelve completed shields, but Yuzhen said a princely ransom would buy me plenty of goodwill from the Legate and keep other factions from banding together to find out what ‘goodies’ I’ve kept for myself. Besides, reveal a ‘mysterious’ Runic Craftsmen can only benefit the Bekhai, especially since Taduk used all of his inscription materials. There will be plenty of factions only too happy to supply the needed materials in return for Runic shields.

So... rewritten in Rain's PoV... and it's 4880 words... which is longer than it was before... but without Dastan's fight....

Fml

I dunno what I'm gonna do. Maybe chop this down, mebbe split it again. We'll see.

PoE time. Bye.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1mxoKZF7DPn62O9i7wwZsSIRKda3A8txsV6d4q384q6g/edit?usp=sharing

Pleased by my lavish and practical gift, the Legate takes a minute to extolling my virtues and thank the Bekhai and their mysterious Runic Craftsmen, which was met with hearty cheers and applause. Falling back in line with my retinue, I proudly smirk at the other young talents and bask in the satisfaction of beating them down with my wallet and ingenuity. With my stunning upset, the North has ‘won’ twice in a row now and my fellow northerners are in high spirits, clapping their hands, stomping their feet, and chanting my name in the streets of Nan Ping.

After long minutes, the Legate stands up and holds his hands up for silence, preparing to dismiss us. Addressing the now silent crowd, he Speaks. “These nine exceptional young warriors are the future of the Empire. Standing at the forefront of their peers, they have each risen to prominence in your respective provinces.” Grinning as he makes eye contact with us one at at time, he adds, “However, I, and many others, have but one question on our minds: which one of you can claim the title of undisputed number one talent in the Empire?”

So... not dismissing us. Well... It’s not the worst thing in the world.

Strapping my shield on, I grin and reply, “Well why don’t we find out?”