Chapter 171

Chapter 171

Ive never really noticed how large war horses really are. I mean, horses are big animals to begin with but war horses almost seem like a whole different animal. Over two meters tall, their shoulders reach higher than the top of my head with a torso large enough to stretch out on, assuming youre capable of scaling one of those roid-raged behemoths. Moving at an easy canter, their hoof-beats fill the forest with a thunderous tempo, their muscled bodies easily sustaining the brisk pace with ease for hours on end.

Trotting next to the massive beasts, Mafu seems tiny in comparison, around half their size. Quins are still better because at the end of the day, horses are still horses. No amount of training can make up for one simple fact: theyre prey. The skittish creatures glance warily at my chubby apex predator, deeply concerned by his presence, only their trust in their riders keeping them calm around Mafus scent. Then again, it may be a projection of my own emotions and the horses are just jealous of the constant stream of apples I feed Mafu. The last thing I need is for him to get hungry and decide someones mount would make a good snack, especially considering my current company.

For some reason, Ive been tapped to ride at the head of our procession, a place of great honour. Honour my ass, Id be much happier riding at the back, dust and all. At least then Id be able to relax, throw a blanket around me and lay against Mafus thick, soft fur. Instead, Im forced to keep up appearances, sitting upright with my eyes at chest level of two beauties, unable to gorge myself on the scenery for fear of losing my head.

Literally. Well, and figuratively, but mostly literally.

Riding to my right, the infamously bloodthirsty Shrike sits side-saddle with her knees pressed together, the very image of a demure noblewoman out on an afternoon ride. Her dainty feet dangle beside me, close enough to reach out and touch, her billowing robe exposing the pale, silken skin of her calves. Its a testament to my willpower Ive yet to drool or stare, the muscles in my neck strained from facing forward as I ignore the tantalizing display sitting firmly in my peripheral. Her dark, metal vambraces sport a set of imposing spikes, adding a sense of menace to her appearance.

BoShui has a matching pair of vambraces, albeit much less spiky, and I remember seeing BoLao's father, former number two at the Bridge Han BoHai, wearing an entire set which included greaves, knee and elbow-guards, eight Spiritual Weapons in total. Safe to assume the Han Clan practices some pugilistic arts, and I like how their weapons also double as armour, but the lack of range is worrying, especially compared to something like a spear. Even with the familial pattern, I cant help but think BoLaos love of spikes on her Spiritual Weapons have something to do with her moniker.

Shrikes have a habit of impaling their prey.

I am both terrified and aroused by her, which probably says a lot about my mental health. Nothing good, but a lot. I pray its just hormones and celibacy turning me into a sex-crazed maniac, but something tells me its mostly my nature and Ill never grow out of this. I mean, the other men my age dont seem to have any problem controlling themselves.

To my left, a veritable Valkyrie in her resplendent silver and black armour, Yuzhen sits confidently in the saddle, a woman comfortable in her element. Dealing with an endless stream of issues, her aides report one by one before riding off to carry out her orders. Coordinating thousands of troops on a massive sweep while riding for hours on end, she seems intent on leaving no stone unturned in our passing. I dont think Im cut out for command, I can barely keep track of a hundred soldiers much less ten-thousand. The sheer amount of things she needs to take into consideration is enough to make my head spin. Encircling positions, overlapping search grids, supply lines and more, Im getting dizzy just hearing about it while Yuzhen rattles off each order without hesitation, using this mixed army of soldiers to their full potential.Updated from novelbIn.(c)om

Or maybe she isnt. She could bumble her way through all this and I wouldnt know any better. I mean, what do I know about logistics? Shit all, is what. Still, theres something about a woman in control which tickles my fancy, a primal urge to see her submit to me. Is it misogynistic? Maybe a little, and definitely chauvinistic, but I dont want to hurt her or anything. I simply want to see her perfect blonde hair in disarray as I tear her armour apart, a look of fear intertwined with desire in her eyes as...

No. Bad. Youre engaged. Stop it.

The sun begins to set before Yuzhen calls for a halt. Gathering with my fellow Warrant Officers, I politely ignore Zian and Han BoShuis bowlegged gaits while brushing Mafu, the two pampered princes unused to long periods of riding. Ha, another point for roosequins, smoothest ride in the north. Dastan, unfazed by our lengthy journey, is the last Warrant Officer present, the remaining eight Officers either unable to prove their purity or feigning inadequacy to avoid taking part. Its what I should have done if I were smart but no use crying over spilt milk. Im stuck in the middle of this mess, I just need to see it through without fucking up.

Kind of a tall order, considering my track record.

Working in cold silence, we each take our time caring for our mounts and setting tents, with little else to do in the interim. Although were officially here to help, its unlikely Yuzhen will assign us any dangerous tasks since were too valuable to risk. Instead, she intends to keep us close by, allowing us the protection of her guards and freeing our bodyguards to do real work. At least according to Gerel, but who knows if hes right. I doubt he has a line on the Major, even if he has been working with her for awhile now.

With no servants, Zian and BoShui struggle with the unfamiliar work of putting up their tent, too proud to ask for help from the more competent Dastan. Its refreshing to see the unshakable Situ Jia Zian so flustered by a simple task, but again, I take the high road and pretend not to notice his difficulties. Ha, diplomacy isn't so hard after all. Just keep my mouth shut. Easy Peasy.

Grinning, Dastan shook his head. That's what I tell the ladies, but he truly had me beat. Id be dead except the daft idiot boasted for so long I regained the use of my arms. As he lifted his weapon for the killing blow, I dove forward and disembowelled him as I passed. Then I crawled away and watched him bleed out, exhausted and drained. If hed been able to stem the bleeding, I wouldnt have been able to do a thing to stop him.

Well fought, youre a persistent man. BoShui chimed in, pointedly sneering at Zian. Much like our fellow Officer Falling Rain.

This bastard. Tactfully ignoring the barb, Zian sipped his tea and glanced at Rain out of the corner of his eye, the runt staring daggers at BoShui, having realized he was being used. Good, let BoShui duel Falling Rain, what a spectacle to see. It was as if the world had forgotten Rain defeated two other rising stars of the Society, only ever making mention of Zians defeat.

Come now cousin, where are your manners? Ever the diplomat, the Shrike smiles prettily as she nods in apology. Please take no offence, my father dotes on him so much, BoShui's head has swelled like a pigs.

I think nothing of it. Or him, but Zian was reluctant to voice his opinion. She seemed fond of BoShui and not even Uncle could avenge Zian if the Shrike killed him in the midst of a Purge.

Lets move on. Feigning guilt, the Shrike looked around at each of them her head lowered and eye-lashes fluttering. By the Mother, she was beautiful, but as Mother said, the prettiest flowers had the sharpest thorns. Ive a confession to make. I didnt join you simply to share a meal. You four are the finest young warriors of the North, representing an entire generation of rising heroes. Whether your origins be noble or common, city-born or mountain-dwelling, you are each marked for greatness.

More flattery. Resisting the urge to snort, Zian sniffed quietly, though it didnt escape her notice. Accepting the criticism in stride, the Shrike continued with a smile. I am not one for empty flattery, Situ Jia Zian, I merely state facts. Nor am I fishing for a husband, though I might consider it. What I mean to say is, regardless of your individual desires, your peers will look to you for direction and guidance. Each of you are positioned to lead, which is the crux of the matter. The Purge is... an unpleasant experience for everyone involved, the repercussions varied and extensive. I hope to use this time to prepare you all for what lies ahead.

The audacity of her, she hoped to find a captive audience to spew her rhetoric upon, claiming yet another Aspirant for her entourage, the crazed followers who aided in her dark fancies. BoShui picked up on the same thing and chimed in, distressed and uncomfortable. Cousin, we understand the gravity of the situation. You need not worry, we will obey your orders.

Reaching out to pat his hand, the Shrike wore a sad, almost believable smile. Im not worried about your obedience, I worry about what follows. This is no battle where you kill to survive. This is slaughter, plain and simple, a massacre of your fellow citizens, people who look to you for protection. They will die slowly, screaming in pain and anger, cursing you, condemning you, and it will blacken your soul. Glancing around the fire, she looked at each of them in turn, her skills beyond compare. Perhaps you will care nothing for their plight, but I was not so strong. I was twenty-five years old when I experienced my first Purge, and when it was done, I felt so much despair, so much hatred... I wanted to take vengeance for the poor souls, to take those responsible to task, and almost did something I would not live long to regret. Luckily, my Master saw my pain and took me aside, enlightening me to the reality and the risks at play. I pray Im able to do the same for you. Come, Ill answer any questions you may have, ask away.

At mention of her Master, the mood around the fire quickly fell, fear causing Zians meal to sit uncomfortably. After a long silence, BoShui took the lead and spoke. No questions here, I understand the need. Uncle speaks often on the matter.

Finally, a moment of genuine emotion, the Shrike faltering as her smile faded. She recovered in an instant, but Zian tucked away the knowledge for future use. Did her father disapprove in her choice of career? Well of course he did, but it bothered her that he didn't support her choices. Why would he? Her actions made her a pariah, a decade Zian's senior and still unwed despite her beauty. What crazed man would even think of laying with the Sanguine Priestess? Better to become a eunuch and join the Penitent Brotherhood. Self-flagellation was far too tame for the Shrikes tastes.

As if sensing his thoughts, she glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. Shaking his head, Zian replied with a line from her own catechism. We do what we must. Kill thousands to save millions, a necessary, if unpleasant task, but such are the burdens we carry. Every word true, yet few delighted in the Purge as she did, the stories of her excesses enough to make hardened warriors quiver in fear.

Pursing her lips at his answer, she moved on, unable to find fault with him. Dastan likewise claimed to have no questions, but when she prodded Falling Rain, he sat in silence, staring at the fire. Zian could see the question forming on his lips and wanted nothing more than to scream in warning, but it was too late. ... I dont understand.

Closing his eyes, Zian prayed for Rains soul. How did this idiot even survive to adulthood?

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