Forge of Destiny - Threads 172 Emissary 7
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Threads 172 Emissary 7

Threads 172 Emissary 7

“Big Sister, Zhen and Gui are going to go back now, okay?” Gui spoke up, surprising her. She looked down at him to find Zhen coiled atop their shell, looking pensive, and Gui looking up at her.

“Alright.” Ling Qi reached down to pat each of his heads once. He seemed really deep in thought about something. Zhengui’s form wavered and then dissolved, returning to her dantian.

Hanyi frowned at the space he had been standing in, but just shook her head as Ling Qi straightened back up. “Hmph, just running off to nap again. Guess I could use a break too.” She vanished into her dantian as well.

“Is Sir Zhengui well, Miss Ling?” Gan Guangli asked as they started down the hallway. The startled servant in the hall stared at them with wide eyes as they passed.

“He is.” Ling Qi didn’t think he was hurt or sad, just thoughtful. “Anyway, what did you and Sir Ostrik end up talking about?”

“Mostly the nature of the Sun and its meaning to their people,” Gan Guangli answered. “It seemed strange to me that they would acknowledge the Sun as a fighter, one who banishes the dark, yet thinks of his devotees the way they do.”

“That is odd,” Ling Qi agreed. She hadn’t really thought of that.

“It seems that it was not always so, but those devoted to their Sun’s warrior aspect were the party of some great failure or betrayal,” Gan Guangli said pensively. “Sir Ostrik did not speak of it directly, but it has caused them to see men as being inherently unstable and violent, and only intense self-discipline and pacifism allows them to control their emotions and actions as well as a woman. It is… frustrating.”

Gan Guangli sounded aggrieved. Ling Qi had to wonder about what could have caused such an attitude. “Why, then, is their war aspect still worshipped in their temple?” Ling Qi wondered.

“He is regarded as a bringer of storms and strife, but also fertility. He is… appeased until the great spirit called Fryja can”—Gan Guangli grimaced—“tame him each year. It seems that there are some devoted to him specifically as well, but Sir Ostrik would not discuss them. He seemed to regard it as scandalous.”

“And he wouldn’t want to put any ideas in your poor impressionable head,” Ling Qi said dryly as they rounded a corner. A pair of torches lit the way ahead, warming the icy halls.

Gan Guangli grunted in affirmation. “Their Crowfather seems an oddity. None begin devoting themselves to his path. He is a spirit of fall, wisdom, old age, and widowers. It seems common for men of their land to outlive their wives, and among their priests, this means making oaths to the Crowfather. They, it seems, are trusted to do violence as they leave their communities to wander and carry news and stories between settlements during the deep winter. They are empowered to hunt demons and outlaws. How can one change their way so drastically late in life though?”

“I’m not sure,” Ling Qi admitted. It seemed bizarre. Anyone of the third realm or above would probably be set in their way by the time they reached old age. Anyone less powerful wouldn’t survive outside in the winter, surely?

“Indeed. Sir Ostrik did not seem to understand the question.” Gan Guangli grunted, crossing his arms. “We spoke on it for a time, but I believe we only succeeded at confusing each other. I begin to think their cultivation does not resemble ours nearly so much as our senses indicate.”

Ling Qi thought back to the girl who had removed her own heart and eyes as an act of cultivation and couldn’t help but agree.

Sixiang thought. Ling Qi supposed that was true.

“Still, although I understand them better, I cannot accept what Sir Ostrik says,” Gan Guangli said with a frown. “I cannot accept the idea that a man should be so passive. What use is the strength in my arms if I do not use them?”

“Well, unless our lady decides you’re going to be a permanent ambassador, it shouldn’t be a problem, right?” Ling Qi chuckled.

“I suppose you are right, Miss Ling,” Gan Guangli said. “Now, let us find our companion and hope that he has had a less distressing time.”

***

They found Meng Dan standing before the murals in the dining hall, flanked by a pair of the foreigners. It was two women divested of the thick furs and armor they wore outside; they looked a bit less broad than had been Ling Qi’s initial impression, but they were still rather thickly built and muscular. As they approached, she heard Meng Dan say something masked by the pleasant tune of his screening art, and both of the women seemed to laugh.

The dining hall was otherwise nearly empty, other than the quiet servants doing the cleaning and a handful of other soldiers still nursing cups. It seemed that dinnertime was well past. Ling Qi wondered at that. Did they not lose their appetites as they cultivated? That could be a disadvantage. Then again, perhaps it was simply a cultural more or matter of morale.

As Ling Qi’s wisp fled back to her and she approached the room, one of the women clapped a hand on Meng Dan’s shoulder and leaned in to whisper something in his ear. She couldn’t get a look at Meng Dan’s reaction though. As they entered the room, the women turned to leave through the other exit and Meng Dan turned toward Ling Qi and Gan Guangli.

“Hello, Miss Ling, Sir Gan. You’ve finished your own investigations then?” he asked pleasantly.

“As much as was polite,” Ling Qi said, dipping her head in his direction.

“Yes.” Gan’s voice was regaining a bit of his usual boom. “It seems you’ve managed to find friendly conversation as well, my friend.”

“Oh, yes, these folk are quite friendly and accommodating,” Meng Dan said cheerfully, turning back to face the mural. “They were quite impressed with my capacity for drink.”

“Impressed with your what?” Ling Qi asked.

“That is an amusing face, Miss Ling.” Meng Dan laughed, covering his mouth with his sleeve. “But yes, due to my clan’s cultivation arts, I am quite immune to even very powerful befuddling substances. I certainly appreciated the unique flavor of the liquor though. Some manner of barley derivative at base, I think. I would need some study and time to discern the other ingredients.”

Gan Guangli laughed as well, drawing looks from several of the servants. “Truly not a method I would expect of you, Sir Meng!”

“I didn’t take you for a carouser,” Ling Qi put in.

“I am not, not near as much as my kin at least.” Meng Dan adjusted his spectacles. “But the Meng venerate the Dreaming quite strongly. I could hardly be a teetotaler.”

“What did you find while you were socializing then?” Ling Qi asked, leaning against one of the columns.

“A few useful things, and very many interesting ones,” Meng Dan replied. “For example, I am quite certain that our prince and the mountain folk he came from were largely the members of this Sibiar polity, rather than our hosts, Alaniar.”

Gan Guangli stroked his chin thoughtfully. “That is a misfortune then. Our arguments will be weakened, won’t they?”

“Less than you may think,” Meng Dan disagreed. “Ultimately, full agreement of our desired treaty will require conferring with the other members of their confederation, and the two seem to be close allies, or at least I detected no more than a sense of friendly rivalry toward them when speaking with my companions.”

“It’s not ideal, but I’m sure there’s a fair amount of intermarriage between them,” Ling Qi mused. If tribes were comparable to clans and confederations to provinces, it would be stranger if there weren’t familial relations between them.

“Right you are, Miss Ling,” Meng Dan said. “One of my companions mentioned having a Sibiar grandfather. It seems such a thing is not uncommon. More importantly, I have managed to discern some other matters. It would be better to speak of them with everyone though.”

“Understandable,” Ling Qi said. “What about their history then? I’ve picked up a few things, but they don’t make much sense.”

“Now that is a fascinating topic,” Meng Dan said, a twinkle of excitement in his eyes. “The mural behind us depicts something of a myth history.”

“Like the exploits of the three kings?” Gan Guangli asked, looking up toward the mural.

Zhi the conqueror, Yao the Fisher, and Tsu the Diviner were the three legendary kings who ruled great kingdoms before the Empire formed, Ling Qi knew. Bai Meizhen and her clan claimed direct descent from the Fisher, making them one of the oldest clans in the Empire.

“Quite so. You see here,” Meng Dan said, pointing toward the beginning of the mural. “In their early tales, they speak of a period not unlike our early histories of misery and woe, mankind living in fleeting bands under harsh conditions. There are few references to dragons and beasts however. Instead, their early cultural foes seem to be these giants.”

Ling Qi squinted at the part of the mural he was pointing at. She had taken the dark shapes looming over the ragged wanderers to be hills or mountains in the stylized style, but now that she looked closer, she saw subtle indications of faces and limbs. “I’d say it reminds me of the fortress we stand in.”

“Indeed. I was able to hear a few tales of the theft of power and runes from these giants,” Meng Dan said. “But that is not what is depicted here. Instead, it is the formation of their nation. The inciting event seems to be the arrival of people from ‘beyond the gates.’ It is difficult discerning what they mean by that.”

“The young priestess I spoke to did mention something about the arrival of the ‘new tribes,’” Ling Qi offered, examining the next panel.

“So far as I can tell, there seems to be a place far in the south where the material world breaks down entirely into the liminal,” Meng Dan said, peering up at the white swathed figures depicted in the mural. “Their legends state that the new fair-haired tribes arrived through it, fleeing some calamity. This calamity followed them and sealed the path behind. Then there is more familiar ground. Supposedly, malevolent spirits descended from the stars and emerged from the ‘gates’ to make war on them. They seemed to be wraiths of some sort, twisting and possessing other creatures rather than possessing forms of their own.”

“That would seem to mesh with my own findings,” Gan Guangli said, drumming his fingers on his elbow.

Ling Qi hummed her own agreement. She had wondered why Jaromila seemed so different from her kin in coloration. She had thought it might be a matter of cultivation, but perhaps she just had blood from one of these new tribes.

“I suppose this must be their founding and the building of the gates then,” Gan Guangli said, peering at the scenes of war and turning to follow it across the other wall.

“Yes, that is where the most confusing bit of terminology crops up,” Meng Dan agreed. “The Polar Gates seem to refer specifically to the great fortification built to keep these enemies out, as well as the spatial anomaly that lies beyond it. Or so my translating arts tell me.”

“That’s definitely interesting. I wonder if th