Book 4: Chapter 35: The Capital (3)

Book 4: Chapter 35: The Capital (3)

Shi Ping and Falling Leaf had both stayed back while Sen and Chan Yu Ming dealt with their respective welcoming parties, but Sen could tell they were both curious. Falling Leaf’s curiosity was either casual or dampened by her apprehension at the city looming over them. Shi Ping’s curiosity, on the other hand, was burning bright. Sen had ignored it while they dealt with the minor hassle of getting through the gate. Not that the actual passage through was a problem. That had gone very smoothly. It was that the city guards had sent someone back to lead them past the very long line of people who were waiting to get into the city. While Sen could appreciate the amount of time they had just saved, it had also made them very visible.

Then again, the spectacle they had been with messengers and city guards descending on them had probably dropped their chances of entering the city quietly down to zero. Worse, Tiu Li-Mei had dropped the name Judgment’s Gale right out in the open. He’d been hoping that name wouldn’t have reached as far as the capital, yet. With a known representative of a prince saying it, there would be talk and questions. Even if no one asked him directly about it, Sen expected people to start searching for stories. If they went searching, they would undoubtedly find them, or people would just make them up. Once they’d cleared the gate, Chan Yu Ming set them in the right direction to the get to right part of the city to find the inn specified in Lo Meifeng’s message. With fewer eyes glaring at them, Sen looked over at the pensive Chan Yu Ming.

“What did those city guards want? For that matter, how did they even know you were here? I mean, I get Tiu Li-Mei recognizing you, but random city guards?”

She sighed, “I suspect that the Clear Spring sect informed my father that I had left the sect, presumably on route to the capital.”Trace the lineage of this substance back to the dawn of Nøv€lß¡n★

“Then, he’s probably going to be expecting you to, how did you put it, present yourself to him sooner than later?”

“Yes, which is a problem. I almost wish you’d accepted that invitation from Jing.”

“Why?”

“Because he could help tell you all the things that I’m not going to get a chance to tell you.”

“Do you trust him?”

Chan Yu Ming hesitated before she said, “Jing is complicated and ambitious, but he’s also smart. If he didn’t know already, he soon will know that you arrived with me. He’ll probably see you as an opportunity, which means he’ll want to stay on friendly terms with you.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“It’s a more complicated question than you might think. I love Jing. I even like him. But trust is a different animal when you’re dealing with royal politics. I trust Jing not to act stupidly. I trust him to work toward his own best interests. If his interests align with your interests, I trust him to honor his agreements. But there is no such thing as total trust at this level. Everyone has too much to lose and too much to gain for that.”

“So, he’d stab me in the back the second it became more profitable for him to do that?”

“That’s fair,” he said before he focused his attention on Sen. “So, that brings me to my next question. Who are you? Seriously. What kind of person accidentally stumbles into a sect war, and follows that up by stumbling into the affairs of a royal family?”

“I’m nobody,” said Sen. “I’m not important at all.”

“Yeah, sure. Her family clearly doesn’t think so, or at least one of them doesn’t. How many people who aren’t important at all do you think get invitations to meet with a prince?”

“Why does nobody believe me when I say that,” complained Sen.

“Probably because all of the evidence suggests that you’re telling outrageous lies,” said Shi Ping without a trace of humor. “You pal around with sect patriarchs and matriarchs, princesses, and mythological nascent soul cultivators. You expose secret cabals and, if the stories are true, heal the sick, punish the wicked, and slap down sects that make you mad. Does that sound like someone who isn’t important at all?”

“That sounds like a story that someone made up in a winehouse,” said Sen.

“So, you don’t do all those things?” asked Shi Ping.

Sen closed his eyes and took a breath. “I liked it better when you didn’t talk so much.”

Both Chan Yu Ming and Shi Ping laughed at that. As the group moved through the city, Sen did his best to ignore how oppressive it felt to be surrounded by so many people. He couldn’t shake the impression that he was under constant observation. That wasn’t helped by the streetside vendors constantly shouting for attention as they tried to sell the little group food, clothes, and a hundred other things that Sen had little use for. Sen was also very wary. He could feel other cultivators wandering around in the same general vicinity, although none of them had come looking to start trouble. It seemed that Chan Yu Ming was right that the local sects kept a much tighter grip on their inner and outer sect disciples. Even though the cultivators made up a tiny percentage of the people moving through the streets, there were still more of them than Sen would have believed if he wasn’t sensing them himself.

Sen was also left unhappy with the muted levels of qi in the city. He supposed it was inevitable. With so many cultivators, there would be a high demand on environmental qi. Still, he didn’t like having to work quite so hard to maintain his own qi levels. Despite his expectations to the contrary, though, no one made trouble for them as they wound through the city. Still, he was very happy when, after getting some directions from someone, they found themselves at the inn. The attendant had been expecting them and passed out room keys in an efficient manner. When Sen inquired after Lo Meifeng, he was told that she left earlier, but the attendant didn’t know where she had gone. Trudging up the stairs, Sen let himself into his room and dropped onto the bed. There was a fatigue running through him that had nothing to do with his body, and he just wanted a few minutes of quiet and solitude. Without quite realizing it was happening, Sen drifted off to sleep.

He was brought back to consciousness when he heard a sharp rapping on his door. Sen was on his feet with his jian half-drawn before he recognized the noise as someone knocking. Sen took a moment to assess himself. He felt like he’d slept for a couple of hours. He took a moment to straighten his robes, before he walked over to the door, unlocked it, and pulled it open. Lo Meifeng was standing outside his door, looking down the hall nervously. As soon he opened the door, she planted a hand on his chest and pushed him back into the room, swiftly closing the door behind her.

“What are you doing?” Sen asked, sitting on the bed.

Lo Meifeng glared at him. “Why is there a prince downstairs asking about you and Chan Yu Ming?”

Sen groaned.