Chapter 676

Chapter 676

Gasping for breath as he staggered back from his work, Jorani leaned on his sledgehammer and craned his neck to check if the pillar was put in straight.

It wasnt, which meant all his hard work was for naught and hed have to pull it out and do this all again, else the whole wall would turn out crooked and improperly supported. Not so bad for a small hut, but this was meant to be a communal cooking area or something, so he would just have to keep at it until he got it right. That could wait until later though, when he regained feeling in his arms again, because this damned heavy sledgehammer was made with someone like Pran or Saluk in mind, not the likes of scrawny, slender Jorani. Besides, he never was one for hard work, and was only doing this for lack of anything better to do while keeping the bossman company at the Brotherhoods monastery.

In Joranis eyes, hard work didnt always pay off when it came to coin and wages. Ma worked harder than any two people he knew, and what did she have to show for it? He loved her dearly and would do anything to have her back, but in life, she was overworked and underpaid just like the rest of the working class in Sanshu. Things were supposedly better these days, but he hadnt been back to see for himself yet, and had no intention of ever doing so. Far as he could tell, better just meant more like everywhere else, where the common folk still worked hard and were underpaid, just not as much as they were in Sanshu. Better was going to bed just a little hungry, but not hungry enough for the pangs to hurt. Better was having enough downtime to whittle up an ornament or stitching together a nice leather jerkin in your hour or so of spare time every day, not to decorate your dark little hovel or have something nice to wear, but in hopes someone with more coin than sense would buy the work and you could maybe afford to eat half a fish for every meal instead of just a third for a bit.

That was part of the reason why he ran off to be a bandit, because if the nobles were gonna rob him of what he worked for just like they robbed Ma, then he figured it was fair play the other way around. Course things didnt turn out that way and he ended up mostly robbing hard working folk who were already having trouble making ends meet, which left him conflicted but even more convinced that hard work was for idiots and optimists.

The Defiled had a different take on things. Murderous pursuits aside, no one could ever accuse the Enemy of being lazy, willing to trek hundreds of kilometres just for the chance to slaughter an Imperial. While the Brotherhoods adopted Defiled rejects seemed less bloodthirsty than your garden variety savages, they clearly did not understand the meaning of the word downtime. Rhythmic grunts and thunks sounded throughout the burgeoning village as they set to building structures to reside in, with every last member expecting a spacious hut to call their own. Personal space was a foreign concept to the Defiled, one which appealed greatly to their suspicious nature, and Jorani could hardly blame them for it. If his neighbours sometimes devolved into bouts of frenzied bloodlust, hed also want sturdy walls and a heavy door to keep himself safe. That being said, thered been no deaths among the Defiled just yet, which was something of a miracle considering how often their gatherings led to fisticuffs, so Jorani assumed it would only be a matter of time.

Needless to say, he lacked the Brotherhoods optimism when it came to the Defileds chances of reform. If the tribesmen didnt kill one another, then they would surely kill themselves if they kept working at the pace they did. Day and night they toiled and sweat, working from Kukkus crow right up until well after sundown when regular folk couldnt see past their noses. Not the Defiled though; they worked and worked and then worked some more, with only brief breaks to drink water and eat white rice and vegetarian dishes the monks cooked up, coupled with whatever gamey meat or pungent fish they might scavenge throughout the day. The Defiled were not picky, and they saw no point in going out to hunt with food so plentiful around them, but Jorani suspected they simply preferred eating the food supplied by the Brotherhood. Not only were the monks some of the best cooks around, the Defiled were easily the worst Jorani had ever had the displeasure to witness at work. Cooking was a foreign concept to them, which made sense considering the scarcity of wood and coal way up in the frozen north, which was where this particular tribe hailed from.

Jorani learned this from the Defiled leader, a hulking, pregnant woman named Asmani with a crooked scowl and more scars than a ship full of Corsairs. Not that she cared to tell Jorani how she got them, or even answer basic questions like how old she was, how far along the baby might be, or who the unlucky father might be. No, everything Jorani learned, he learned from watching and listening, which wasnt much because Asmani was the only Defiled in the bunch who knew more than a few words of Common. Some of the monks actually spoke the Enemys language, though as far as Jorani could tell, there was still a barrier even language had trouble breaking through.

So to remedy this, Monk Happy tasked Jorani with answering all of Asmanis questions.

The woman wasnt one for small talk or giving answers of her own, but she expected Jorani to hop to and tell her everything she wanted to know regarding even the most mundane of subjects. Things like: how do plants grow if they have no mouths to eat with? Why do birds make so much noise and fear no predators? Why was Jorani so short of stature despite having so much food available to him?

All asked in her curt, clipped tones as she loomed over him like an angry barmaid ready to tear him limb from limb for patting her on the buttocks. The only thing that kept him from taking offence was how much angrier she sounded when speaking to her kin, even the children who were some of the most disciplined brats Jorani ever had the displeasure to meet. Not disciplined in that they were well-behaved, but orderly and methodical about everything they did, as even playtime was approached like a learning exercise rather than the enjoyment it was supposed to provide. Tag, hide and seek, even flying kites eventually devolved into chaos, and while he was no stranger to roughhousing himself, this was something else. The children turned feral at the drop of pin, beating one another senseless in multi-sided brawls with no rhyme or reason, and if not for the Brotherhoods attentive supervision, he imagined several children would have already died.Visit no(v)eLb(i)n.com for the best novel reading experience

And yet they did so with the tactical precision of soldiers at war. It was uncanny and more than a little frightening to see how adept the Defiled children were at waging war.

Worst of all, the childrens fights were not the reason for Asmanis tongue lashings, which were sometimes accompanied by actual beatings as if the children hadnt suffered enough. No, the worst of her wrath was reserved not for the instigators or victors of the brawls, but rather those children who needed saving. When asked, she refused to answer with anything besides a derisive sneer, telling him, Southlanders should mind southlander business, and leave us to do the same.

Southlander. Not the worst thing Jorani had ever been called, but something about the way Asmani said it set his knuckles to itching. The woman had seventy five centimetres and at least a hundred and fifty kilograms on him, but something about her sparked a rage in him that made him yearn to drive his fists into her face. A terrible thing to do to a pregnant woman, even a Defiled one, but every night he dreamt of how satisfying it would be to defeat and dominate her in every possible way. A statuesque gorilla of a woman with features that could make milk curdle, she wasnt much like the typical stars of Joranis dreams, nor were these ones particularly enjoyable, not after the fact at least, and he worried that by associating with these Defiled, hed somehow caught the Fathers foul attention once more.

In fact, he was so worried he even went to Old Bones for advice, on account of how Monk Happy was busy with the bossman and Monk Eyebrows sided with Vyakhya and joined the defectors, leaving only the ancient but humorous Bones to turn to. Not that there was anything wrong with him, but Jorani preferred to ask for advice from the monks less willing to talk about his lack of genitals.

This is what having a cock and balls will get you. That was Old Bones response when Jorani first brought the matter up, to slap his thigh in a decidedly unmonklike manner and point at Joranis crotch with a knobbly finger. Better if we removed them now and let you experience the clarity of mind for yourself. Whats the matter? Its just a fleshy appendage, not your masculinity, and you can always grow it back if you ever come to regret it. Come, let me get my razor and a bit of string. Well tie it off, get it gone, and youll be up and about by lunchtime.

Since he knew Old Bones would not be convinced otherwise, Jorani made some excuse and scurried off to the safety of the Defiled village. Then, the chop-happy monk came through a few days later and asked if Jorani was still having the dreams. Expecting another hard sell on genital mutilation, he nonetheless confirmed that he was, and explained how the experience was unnerving. I dont hate her, or like her, but fer some reason I cant get her out of my dreams. If he was going to dream of any women, hed choose Lady Li Song or the beautiful Guard Leader and hopefully have some happier thoughts, but unfortunately, his unconscious mind fixated on Asmani and associated her with violence, hatred, and sex.

You say the dreams are unnerving. Why? They are only dreams.

Not prepared for the unexpected question, Jorani took a moment to consider the monks words, and when he couldnt come up with a proper rebuttal, he defaulted to, Dunno. Just bothers me to think about someone like that. I aint... He was going to say a killer, but that wasnt true, as hed killed many a Defiled tribesman and Imperial citizen, too many for him to count really. I aint bloodthirsty, not like that.

And how do these dreams change that? Old Bones asked, continuing to play the fool and lead Jorani to the right questions and come up with answers on his own. Does dreaming of murder make you a murderer? No more than yearning for food will fill your belly, so why does it bother you so?

Because it means deep down, I wanna kill her for no reason, even though that aint my sort of fun. It really wasnt. Soldiering was a job to Jorani, one that had him shaking in his boots after each and every battle, but he couldnt give it up. Fighting needed to be done and the bossman wasnt ever gonna back down, so Jorani was never gonna let him down. Not because he owed Falling Rain his life, but because the bossman made Jorani believe in the cause, to want to stand tall and defend the people like Ma who had no one else to stand up for them. Turning bandit was something he did to survive, but soldiering was his true calling, one given to him by the Mother Above.

If only She saw fit to make him better at it. Not a phenomenal genius like the bossman or anything, but something more than just competent wouldve been nice...

Flashing a knowing smile, Old Bones gave Jorani another question to ponder. If you dream of sitting naked in public, does this make you an exhibitionist? If you dream of dying, does it mean you no longer care to live? If you dream of infidelity, does this mean you are unfaithful? Of course not, because dreams are nothing. They exist only within your mind, and there they will remain unless you make your thoughts reality. You dream of lust and violence because the three poisons have taken root in your soul, but they cannot change who you are, the same way dreams or thoughts alone do cannot make you a saint or murderer. Your dreams are a sign that all is not well, but so long as you hold fast to your morals and Balance, you will weather this rough storm and emerge stronger for it.

And so even though those dreams haunted him every time he saw Asmani, he faced her down and refused to look away in shame. Theyre only dreams, Jorani told himself, as the Defiled woman approached with more pillars for him to hammer, even though there was already a growing stack beside him. They dont mean nothing.

In lieu of an actual greeting, Asmani stopped well over two meters away and eyed Joranis work. This is crooked. You must fix it, Southlander.

I know, he replied, trying to hide his exasperation with no success. Ill get right on it after I catch me breath.

Thats it? So bewildered by her wild leap of logic, Jorani almost released his hold, then loosened his grip anyways because shed let go of his broken wrist and he wanted to fix it up before the swelling set in. Breaks were strange, in that so long as you Healed them quickly, they wouldnt bother you even a bit, but leave them too long and itll ache for days, if not weeks. Strange that, but it is what it is, and Asmani had clearly given up the fight. I say sorry fer yer loss, and thats enough to throw ye into a murderous rage?

There was no rage, she replied, coming to her feet and turning to face him, though his noose was still stuck fast around her. That was a trick Jorani picked up after trussing up them Demons during the withdrawal from Sinuji. It was a bit like Honing, without the edge, more of a bite than a slash if anything. The Rope would rend and tear if she tried to slip out of it, and do worse if she tried to break free. Granted, she could still give him the boot and turn him into meat paste or tackle him and send him flying, but he could kill her with a thought and somehow, she knew it. If there were, you would be dead.

So what? Ye broke my arm as a warning?

No. I meant to take you alive so I could offer your suffering to Vithars vengeful soul.

Well fuck. Vithar was it? The name sounded familiar, but Jorani couldnt place it, not while keeping an eye on the Defiled around him and Healing his broken arm. For some reason, the others had yet to rush him and were simply watching the conflict play out, showing no emotion and not even watching their Chieftain. In fact, they seemed more amused than anything, or about as amused as Defiled could get, trading knowing glances as they watched things play out. Where the hell were the monks? Had they all left Jorani alone with the Defiled? He assumed Monk Happy had set a protector for him, or maybe one of the bossmans crew was looking over his shoulder, but apparently Jorani was here on his own, and the thought terrified him to no end. Look here, he said, using a remarkably calm tone that surprised even himself. I didnt kill no Vithar, not that I know of. Last Defiled I killed was months ago, during the whole shindig at Castle JiangHu.

The tribe remembers you, Asmani said, her words taking on a reverent cadence, like she was saying a catechism rather than stating a fact. You fought well, but Vithar would have torn you limb from limb, as would I were it not for my weakness.

Meaning her pregnancy, though Jorani wasnt gonna touch on that subject. Let her call her unborn child whatever she wanted, but he was more concerned about how the Defiled tribesmen had seen him fight. If they saw him on the field of battle, then that means they fought, which meant it was possible Jorani killed someone they knew. Asmani was right; Jorani was foolish to let his guard down around them, but in his defence, he didnt know hed killed members of their tribe. Good fer him and good fer you, Jorani said, flashing a grin at the Defiled in stupid defiance. But I didnt kill yer Vithar, and even if I did, I aint interested in offering anything to his soul, suffering or otherwise. What I can tell ye is this: if ye rode away with him from that battle, then I didnt kill him, and ye can take that as fact or leave it.

Asmani nodded, all cool and collecteds now that shed gotten herself back under control. You are stronger than suspected, she said, indicating his weapon wrapped around her arms. The Ancestors tell me you could kill me with a thought, that I would have died if you meant me harm. Is this true?

What? Ye dont trust yer Ancestors? His grin still locked in place, he shrugged and said, Maybe it is, maybe it aint. Guess youll hafta find out the hard way.

What is the hard way? Tilting her head again, she asked, Do you mean to make me suffer then?

Again, that matter of fact tone threw Jorani off, because even though she thought he meant to torture her, there was nothing about her that even suggested she was worried or afraid. Nah, nor do I mean to kill ye either. Just a misunderstanding is all, so if ye tell me you mean me no harm, then Ill let ye go, clean and easy.

I mean you no harm, unless harm is done to me or mine, she replied, and Jorani freed her without question. Rubbing her arms where his weapon bit deep, she nodded at something behind Jorani and asked, Then what of him?

Worried it was some sort of trick to make him look away, Jorani sidestepped to see what was behind him without turning his back to Asmani, only to stop when he saw the bossman standing there, bold as could be with sword and shield at the ready. For three weeks, the man did almost nothing, spending his days with the monks and his nights with his pets, but now he was here and ready to kill at the drop of a hat. No wonder the Defiled didnt move; the Bossman was a Peak Expert or something, far stronger than any of them could ever hope to match, and while they did not fear death, they most certainly respected strength.

Err... thanks bossman, Jorani said, giving Asmani the benefit of a doubt as he moved into the bossmans field of view to hopefully deescalate the situation. Waving his arms to catch the mans attention, Jorani said, Everythings fine. Just a little spat is all. Were all good. To emphasize this, he shifted closer to Asmani and gingerly patted her arm, since the bossman seemed to have trouble understanding words and did better with actions. See? No killin goin on here.

Though the Defiled Chieftain flinched at his touch, she didnt skirt away, probably because she was afraid of what the bossman might do. Not that he looked particularly fierce with his slender frame and neutral expression, but about two weeks back, the entire tribe stopped work and gathered together to stare at the monastery walls. Jorani didnt sense anything out of the ordinary, but according to Asmani, the Ancestors were throwing a tizzy about some unnatural occurrence, a disturbance that had most of them shaken and screaming to flee. However, as far as he could tell, the Ancestors were more like advisors than commanders, and not particularly trusted ones at that, so the Defiled tribe went back to work after the disturbance died down and the monks told them all was well.

Apparently, the bossman was responsible for causing that disturbance, when he reformed his second Spiritual Weapon, the shield he now sported on his left wrist. How this was possible, Jorani hadnt the faintest clue, and the monks were keeping mum about the whole thing. If he hadnt seen the bossmans destroyed weapons with his own eyes, Jorani might even suspect that the whole shattered Core fiasco was merely a ruse, but there was no denying it, not for him. The bossman was the real deal, and Jorani would follow him to the ends of the world and beyond if need be.

Regarding Jorani with empty eyes, the bossman took long minutes pondering Joranis message, minutes the entire tribe stood idly about. Then, out of nowhere, the bossman lowered his weapons and emanated an Aura of caution and concern, one that was touching in how heartfelt it was. The bossman wasnt putting on a show, because he truly cared, and Jorani felt blessed to have a friend so true. Awkwardly knuckling his friends shoulder, he simply nodded in silent thanks as men were supposed to do, which the bossman took as a farewell. Instead of leaving however, he shuffled about in a small circle and studied his surroundings, seemingly content to stand there and stare for as long as he pleased until Monk Happy arrived to fetch him. Only after both men were gone did the Defiled resume their work, though oddly enough, most offered him a respectful nod before shuffling off. Those who didnt gave him a challenging stare, to which he responded with his customary grin while resting one hand on the coiled weapon hanging from his belt.

Perhaps you will do better than expected, Asmani declared, but Jorani couldnt make heads or tails of the statement.

Do better at what?

At being Chieftain.

This time it was Joranis time to ponder the message, and when he finally figured it out, he could scarcely believe it. Wait what? What do you mean, Chieftain?

The strong lead, and the weak follow. Such is our way. Scowling as she rubbed her arms again, she nodded off in the bossmans direction and continued, You have defeated me in fair challenge and you hold the Devourers confidence. This alone is enough for the tribe to accept you as Chieftain, though many will seek to challenge you in the coming days. While he was still floundering in the troubled waters of that ominous statement, Asmani threw him another anchor and asked, What will you do with me now? Am I to be offered to the Ancestors or do you intend to use me for pleasure first? Narrowing her eyes, she added, If it is the first, then I will fight you to the death. The second, I will have to consider it. I have never lain with a man so much smaller than myself, though I am not entirely against it. I have seen your hungry stares, and while I thought to put you in your place, you have proven yourself as a man worthy enough to pleasure.

Squashing down his urges, Jorani stared at the Heavens and seriously considered taking Old Bones up on his offer. How bad could it really be? Certainly not worse than marrying a Defiled Chieftain, one pregnant with another mans child no less.

Mother in Heaven, Jorani mumbled, not caring if anyone overheard him, Sometimes, ye can be a real sick, twisted bitch.

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