CW: Explicit language, mentions of hanging.
When the little lord comes to, he finds himself in his own bed with Mira sitting by his side. She’s gazing at him grim faced, arms folded loosely across her chest. Deep consideration weighs heavily upon her features which seem pale in the murky shadows of the night.
Jun winces when he sits upright and he touches his swollen face. Every inch of him is like tenderised meat, throbbing and protesting with various pains. He props his shoulders against the headboard and takes the glass of water Mira silently hands to him.
After wetting his throat, he asks hoarsely, “Where is Rin?”
Mira tenses in anger, though her expression remains steadfast. “I don’t know,” she says, flatly. “He was already gone when I found you.”
Jun blanches beneath the colourful bruising.
“I told you to stay away from him,” Mira continues.
“I think he is in danger,” Jun says, urgently. He grabs his maidservant’s arm, shivering as though he’d been left in the snow. “I need to find him. He could be–it’s–it’s my fault. I should have protected him better but I–I–” Panicked stammers break apart his unsteady breaths.
Mira lays her hand upon the young master’s arm. “Where he is now, you cannot follow. All we can do is wait for his return.”
Jun pulls back his hands to anxiously rake through his hair. Mira’s calm demeanour alerts him to his contrarily panicked state, and he forcibly slows his breath and tries to clear his muddy thoughts.
Surely Rin’s father would not do anything to hurt him, he realises, heart skipping a beat. If anything, their relation would guarantee his safety.
After all, who else knows more the importance of an heir than this little lord? He, who has boldly defied his own father on countless occasions – even subverted his plans – and yet still remains standing. If his brothers had not cut ties with Hwan Sun, Jun has no doubt that he would have been cast out at the first sign of defiance.
…Then again, Hwan Sun isn’t a man without foresight. Even if Jun did tear down everything Sun built, the Governor would have other contingencies in place.
Jun frowns, panic rising anew. “Is there anything we can do?”
The Nix sighs and reclines in her seat. “If you have ever trusted my judgement, then I will advise you now, young master. Do not involve yourself. Not only is this an extremely dangerous situation, but you are already injured. What will you do with this body? Will you hobble to his rescue?”
Jun flinches at her harsh tone and he lowers his head.
Mira bites her tongue and tries again. “Young master,” she says, quietly. “Rin is more than capable of helping himself. Do you so readily forget who trained him?”
This seems to draw the lord from his despair. After a moment of consideration, he says, “Yes. Yes, you are right, of course. Rin is very capable. I should trust in his abilities.”
The maidservant nods shortly, satisfied. “If it should ease your heart, I can look for him myself and make certain of his safety.”
“Yes, I–” Jun pauses, jaw pulsing tight. Mira helping the Vermin train and defying his father is one thing. But directly aiding an initiated Otsuki is another. While he doesn’t doubt his maidservant’s loyalty, if she ever thought Rin to be a danger to her young master, she would not hesitate to betray Rin. Even if he were once her student.
Mira is a woman to be admired – but she is as sharp and ruthless as her sword when it comes to her young master’s protection.
Jun averts his gaze, cold all over. “There is no need. I shall trust in Rin and await his return.”
Mira narrows her eyes at the unexpected answer. But she acquiesces with a nod nonetheless.
Soon, talk turns to other things. Less urgent things. Although the lord’s heart remains greatly unsettled.
“How is training with the Vermin?” he asks, lightly. Beneath the bed sheets, his hands are clenched so tight, his nails draw blood from his palms. “I hear from Rin that they have made great progress.”
“I have not trained them for many days now,” Mira replies. “Rin regards them as adequately skilled and no longer in need of further training. Though my assessment is contrary to his opinion.”
Jun blinks at her. Strange. Rin made no mention of this to him before. He was so intent on training his Mischief and turning them into a ‘proper army’. Had he given up on going after Kahin?
“In that case,” Jun says, quashing his uneasy feelings, “you must have some extra time on your hands.”
“Yes, young master.”
“I would like for you to continue watching the Gov–my father and the estate for me. I would like a daily report on every movement my father makes, both publicly and covertly.”
There’s a dark flicker in Mira’s eyes. “Yes, young master.”
“What has he been doing as of late?”
“The lord and Madame Kahin have been meeting quite often. I have followed him to the Rose Palace on multiple occasions in the middle of the night. They have also made two trips to the Imperial Palace in the last week.”
“Kahin?” Cold sweat springs to his pores. It seems like whatever Kahin and Blossom have been working on, they are preparing to finally enact. “What is the reason for their visit to the Blue Plains?”
“Word is that the Crown Prince is preparing for the Reshun campaign. The lord has been advising him. It has not been made clear why Madame Kahin had accompanied the lord to the Imperial Palace.”
Reminder of the upcoming campaign brings more cold sweat. Jun pushes out a sharp breath and closes his eyes. He’s suddenly exhausted, yearning for the kind of sleep that lasts days. “Reshun…” he murmurs, mostly to himself. “Between my work in the Slums and my duties here, I had almost forgotten about it.”
“I expect you will be called upon soon to make your own preparations, young master.”
“Yes…I expect so too.” When he opens his eyes, they are dull and dark, overcome by a grimness that startles his maidservant.
She reaches out and places a hand upon his shoulder, minding his wounds. Mira’s not one for comforting but her intent is known through her simple action. Jun’s wan smile is given in thanks.
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
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Mira’s expression softens. Back then, her young master was truly too adorable. “You make me proud, Jun,” she says, sweeping hair from his eyes. “I am honoured to be your teacher.”
Jun swallows. His eyes sting and become red-rimmed. “…Thank you, Mira,” he says, voice cracking midway. “I am honoured to be your student.”
Through his youth, Mira filled the vacant roles in Jun’s life. Not only did she serve as his maidservant and Swordsmaster, but she was also his mother, his father, and his confidante. She became a permanent fixture in the young lord’s reality. Like how the sword is the extension of his arm, Mira is the extension of himself.
Jun grasps Mira’s hands and she readily allows him. “Mira, I have a favour to ask of you.”
Knowing well who her young master is, the maidservant gives a sigh. “Yes, I will keep an eye on the Rat. And you will return from Reshun in due time, so there is none else you will require from me.”
He gives her a faint smile, unconvinced by the prospect of his return, but determined all the same. If not for himself or Mira, he must return for Rin.
“Thank you,” is all he says on the matter, and the two friends withdraw back into their space.
Now that Jun is looking at her closely, he can see that Mira has dark smudges under eyes, telling of sleepless nights. She also seems to have lost weight, judging by the gaunt pinch in her face. Concerned, he asks, “Are you alright? You appear to be unwell.”
“Yes, of course I’m well,” Mira says, a tad too quickly. Her default impassivity returns, along with a callous, frigid look in her eyes. “You should focus on your own health, young master. Although you aren’t seriously injured, you mustn’t aggravate your wounds.”
Her cold countenance has his stomach twisting into tiny knots. Jun’s seen the same in Rin – when he’s done, or about to do, something rash. With ice crawling through his veins, Jun recalls what Rin told him after his violent vision.
A figure, gently swinging from a bough in the Hanging Tree.
Mira is the extension of himself. He mustn’t lose her, but he won’t make Rin pay for her life. Pulling a deep breath, Jun looks his friend directly in her eyes. “There is something you should know.”
Her gaze turns sharp, noticing her young master’s austerity. “Yes.”
“You may not believe in superstition,” he begins, slowly. “But recently, I consulted with a witch.”
She raises a brow. “You were always the sceptical one, young master.”
“I know this. However, due to…recent events, I have come to question my presumptions about this world. In turn, I have opened my mind to the existence of the arcane.”
“It is treason to engage in the arcane.”
“Then you acknowledge its existence?”
“…” There’s a brief turmoil before she manages to calm herself. “No,” she clips.
“Why would the Mother be so concerned about the arcane, if it is a fabrication? Other falsehoods are spun by swindlers, yet they are not relentlessly hunted down and executed by an Inquisition. Whole villages have been wiped out because of the so-called presence of witches. If the arcane does not exist, then why bother going to such extremes?”
To this logic, the maidservant cannot object.
Jun leans back, drained. “This witch told me of a vision about you.”
Mira’s expression darkens. She says nothing.
The young lord continues. “They saw you executed. Swinging from the Hanging Tree in the Slums.” He clenches his teeth as hard as his fists. “…They saw you dead, Mira.”
“The Hanging Tree…” Mira sits, spine straight, her dark intelligent eyes roaming the clustered shadows in the room. Her mind seems to be racing at the speed of light. “That is where they execute the rebels?”
Jun nods, unable to speak. He starts badly when she suddenly laughs, a wide grin spread across her face.
“Then you have nothing to worry about,” she huffs. “I have no connections to the Otsuki devils, so there is no reason to hang me.”
“But…” The lord stares at her with a helpless expression. In truth, what he knows about Rin’s abilities is wholly restricted. Even if Rin had told him everything about his own magic, there are large holes in his knowledge. And didn’t Rin tell him that he’d presumed the figure to be Mira? It could have been a vision about a random Slummer.
As he considers these possibilities, Jun has a distinct feeling of wonder. Perhaps, a year or so ago, this little lord would have easily dismissed such notions as the arcane and magical foresight as superstitions of the uneducated. Now, he can’t be so remiss of these realities, directly clashing with the one he’d been fed with a silver spoon.
“That may be so,” Jun insists, “however it would give me much peace of mind if you remained vigilant. And stay close, whenever you are able. When you are not, do not wander too far from the estate–”
“I will be careful, young master,” Mira interjects, smiling. “Thank you for your concern.”
Later that night, moments after Mira exits the room, Jun leaves his bed and changes into dark clothes. He ignores the pain of his wounds, too restless to continue his rest (and how could he when Rin is out there, alone and unsafe?), and without much further thought he slips out of his window. Every movement may be silent and sure, but none could know of the turbulent emotions beneath his determined mien.
***
“What are you doing?”
Rin grits his teeth and turns to face the chamber wall, tracing every bump and crack in the ochre stone. Luna’s unnatural glow casts upon the rough-hewn surface, warping and elongating the raven’s shadow in a distracting manner.
While he’s technically held in a stockade (the Hall of Attrition, they call it), this chamber resembles a cave punched into a nondescript cliffside. The only way out is through a sturdy wooden door that’s heavily warded by magic. His wardens are considerate enough to give him the basic amenities, such as a cot with a blanket and pillow, a bucket for waste, and a basin of water. Everything else is stone and dirt. A rather dreary lodgings, even for a rat.
“I’m counting the lines on the wall. Go away.” Rin points to said lines, etched into the wall by a previous prisoner.
“How many times must I find you in chains?” Luna’s usual smooth tone is laden with rare emotion. Bitterness. Disappointment. Accusation. “Was it not a few months ago when you were fighting the shackles the Marquis placed upon you? And now you are here. Fighting shackles again. Only this time, you placed them upon yourself. Why?”
“Huh. How did they make these lines? With fingernails?“
“Rin.”
“Five…six…seven…”
“This is not why I gave you my light.”
“Why did you?” Rin slaps his palm against the wall and glares over his shoulder. Luna stands regally in the middle of the room, white robe draped gracefully over his towering form. His handsome features are wrought and heavy – lacking their usual deific impassivity.
“I already gave you my answer.”
“It’s a bullshit answer.”
“But one nonetheless,” Luna says, calmly.
Rin growls through his teeth and whips his head back towards the wall. “Go away, Luna. I’m not in the mood.”
“I wish to know of your intentions.”
“Is your interest because you’re bored? Or do you have some stake in the Otsukis?”
“My children are the gales of war–”
“Your children are Otsukis?”
Luna pauses, regarding the youth’s back with an unreadable expression. “You are yet to heal your wounds. Sick and weakened beasts are prone to lashing out, thus I understand this mortal instinct–”
“How could a god understand mortal instinct?” Rin climbs to his feet and turns to face his divine guardian. God and mortal stare at each other with equal intensity. “Let me tell you something about mortality that I’m sure will be illuminating for you. When you’re headed for oblivion, no matter how hard you fight or plead or struggle, everything is meaningless. Do you know how that feels? Having nothing. Being nothing. Every effort is all for nothing. So when you’re given something in all that nothing, it becomes everything.” He smiles coldly, tugging at the grimy shirt over his chest. “I have so few everythings in my life. Dasom, as much as I hated her, was one of those everythings. How couldn’t she be? She was my mother. The one who gave me life and took my life. You know, I used to envy those snot-nosed brats in the higher districts. They had so much more of everything, they could move through the nothing untouched, not even noticing it was there. It was like they didn’t know where they were headed. They were like you. Immortal.”
Luna listens in silence, gaze not once wavering from the bitter youth. “How does betraying your father give you everything?”
“It doesn’t,” Rin giggles. Seeing Luna’s quiet confusion, he caustically adds, “He took that away from me. My immortality. The stupid, boring life I could have had where my mother didn’t strangle me to death and I had birthdays and prospects and whatever the fuck a high district kid has.” He pushes out a harsh breath and starts pacing, yanking at his collar as though he were suffocating. “Maybe then I could have been with Jun. Maybe I could have kept my eye. Maybe Kahin wouldn’t have happened. And I wouldn’t have the Imperial God of the Night living in my head like a damned parasite.”
Luna stares at Rin, stunned. He seems to finally understand, and yet, there still remains confusion. “Then you jeopardised the revolution for…this reason?”
“I’m only human.”
Luna trembles in barely suppressed outrage. “That is no excuse to act so rashly!”
The raven stalks up to the god and brings his face near, eye burning a bright, dazzling red. “I can’t undo my past mistakes,” he says, lightly. “So there’s no point wasting resources, right? Now piss off and let me count!”
Rin sweeps his arm aggressively and releases a wicked blade of light. The incorporeal form explodes into floating white particles that quickly dissipate.
Soon, the room is dark once more.
***
In this subterranean prison, time passes with discrimination. He’s not afforded the swiftness of day, when Solaris arcs through the firmament at zealous speed. Neither is he given the grace of night, where the hours blend and merge from twilight to twilight, but never suffocate. Never stifle. Here, however, locked in a cave with earth hard-packed around him in all directions – time is begrudging, dragging its feet with exceptional reluctance.
And thus, Rin’s given ample time to think about his self-imposed shackle. Despite his obnoxious posturing, he knows he fucked up.
In that one drunken moment, he felt a venomous rage that demanded destruction, and the easiest way to destroy his father was to expose him to those who would target him. Paint him with a bullseye and wait for the arrow to strike.
But when the arrow struck, there was nothing there. And now he’s most likely awaiting his own death sentence.
Rin doesn’t regret. And if he does, he is one to gladly stuff that sour feeling down until he’s calm again. But his actions this time could cause him to lose everything. The only everything he has left – his little lord.
Be it the rebels wanting his head for his betrayal or Hwan Sun wanting his head for leading his Silverswords into what is clearly a trap – he can no longer follow this path he’s set for himself. No, he sabotaged that the moment he told Zev where the Celestial Theatre was located.
Even if he ran away with Jun, was that really a life worth living? Always hunted, always paranoid, desperately fighting to survive for one more day? Imagining Jun in such dire straits distresses Rin inordinately.
After pacing for many hours (or is it days?), Rin collapses in his cot, weary to the bone.
“That noble boy of yours won’t stop hassling me!” Nuwa slams through the door, the wards shimmering like a bubble around her hobbling form. “He’s worse than you! Wouldn’t stop pleading and kneeling until I finally told him what he wanted to hear.”
She sits down on the cot, not caring that it’s already occupied. Rin jerks his legs out of the way and curls them beneath himself as he sits upright.
“Jun? Is he alright?” Rin asks, heart racing. “What did you tell him?”
“Oh, he could hardly walk better than I,” Nuwa tuts, slamming her walking stick into the dirt. “But he’s persistent. Finally left when I told him that you were dragged away by the rebels for questioning, and he just rushed off again like a madman.” She huffs and shakes her head. “Don’t know what he thinks he can do, but that noble of yours has a stubborn temperament. Just like his foolish father!”
Rin feels a strange ache in his chest. Sweet and searing. He rubs his chest absently, thoughts turned to his panicked little lord. A faint smile hooks the corner of his lips. “I’m surprised you told him the truth.”
“I wasn’t the first!” the old woman scowls, glaring at the youth. “You’re playing with fire, exposing Otsuki secrets to a Hwan.”
“I didn’t tell a Hwan. I told an Azar.”
Nuwa purses her lips, unimpressed. “Regardless, it was a stupid thing to do. But not as stupid as what got you here in the first place.”
“I assume the old man sent you in here to question me?”
“What do you want, boy?” Nuwa’s glare turns penetrating, sharp.
Rin shrugs. “I want to be with Jun,” he says, simply.
The witch’s face wrinkles like she’s tasted something rancid. “Need I remind you that your goals align with the Otsuki’s? If you throw yourself into this rebellion wholeheartedly, not only would you one day lead the Hare Army, but you would also have the freedom to be with whoever you wish.”
“Sure. All I have to do is topple an empire.”
“You are impatient. Angry. And greedy. The three traits that make for a perfect imperialist.” Nuwa raises her walking stick and jabs the end into Rin’s chest. “Calm your heart. Calm your mind. Gather your strength. Only then will you be able to seize what you desire.”
The raven bats the stick away and leaps to his feet. “Even you’re going on about me taking over. What if I don’t want to?”
“You will,” Nuwa says, sniffing. “Dare you give up the Hare Army? For principle?” She scoffs and waves her hand at him, dismissing the very idea. “Ridiculous. You are far more pragmatic than that. Even if your terrible temper prevents you from seeing so.”
“Principle? It’s nothing as lofty as that,” Rin mutters, leaning against the wall. He folds his arms, expression glum.
Nuwa stares at her charge for a long while, gathering her thoughts. She lowers her thorns and spikes, and softens her tone. It’s easy to forget that Rin is still a child. Emotionally discarded at such a young age, he’d not the chance to develop like other children. His wild behaviour and impulses, his uncanny rage and neurosis, they all stem from the wounds he sustained as a child. And now, he has even sustained wounds upon his soul, which are surely destabilising his emotions moreso.
Patience. Understanding. That is what the brat needs right now.
The witch lowers her gaze. Stares at the whorls in the wood of her cane. Her hawkish eyes lose their focus when she recalls memories from a long lost past.
“I never had children of my own,” she says. “I never saw the use for them. And anyway, I was never one for useless dalliances or romance.” Her lips twist in disgust. “But in my line of work, I raised many children. Hundreds. Maybe thousands. Out of all of those I’d raised by hand, I only considered one my daughter.
“This girl. So young. She had immense potential. A great mind and affinity for our line of work. So I paid close attention to her. And over time, we formed a dependence on each other. I replaced the mother who sold her. And she replaced the question I’d long held in my heart.
“What we hadn’t realised at the time however, was that our paths had long diverged. I saw a lifetime of suffering in that girl’s future under my wicked guidance, and so to protect her, I left. I abandoned her.”
Pain ripples across the old woman’s heavily lined face. She clutches her cane with white knuckles. There’s the faintest of tremours in her frail form. “You must understand. When a parent leaves their child, it is not a decision made lightly. Your father. Your mother. Both left you, but they did so to protect you. I can guarantee that their pain was unimaginable when they made their decision.”
When he opens his mouth to heatedly respond, she quickly adds, “You do not have to forgive or sympathise with your father. I simply ask you to understand that there may be another perspective to consider. Your experience is not the truth. Neither is his. Only the nexus is privy to this information. And so, as mere mortals, we must strive to understand, even if we do not necessarily agree.”
Rin grinds his teeth and averts his gaze, reluctant to assent to her point. But he doesn’t overtly reject her words, which gives her hope.
“What was it you did before joining the rebellion?”
Nuwa visibly hesitates. Eventually, she replies succinctly, “I worked for the Empire.”
A brow jumps. “You defected?”
“Is that not the nature of a rebel? Defecting?”
“What kind of work did you do?”
“What do you think I did?”
He casts a scrutinising look over her seated figure. “Everyone says you’re a powerful witch. So probably something to do with magic?”
“I can appreciate your logic.”
“Is that how you learned everything? Working for the Mother as a witch?”
Nuwa’s lips twitch. Her milky eyes darken a shade or two. “You are too eager in your assumptions. My magic was developed at an arcane conservatory in the North. One kept well hidden from the eyes of the Inquisition.”
Rin blinks at Nuwa, lips parting in surprise. “An arcane conservatory? Like…a school?”
“A rather crude way of describing it, but in essence yes.”
“Can I–”
Nuwa shakes her head. “It was destroyed after the formation of the Inquisition. The only hope you have now of developing your magic is through my guidance. So you would do well to behave, or you will never realise your full potential.”
The thinly guised threat has him scowling.
Nuwa’s lips twitch again in a glimmer of amusement. “You are developing your gifts at a satisfactory rate,” she gruffly assures him. “It won’t be long before you are at your father’s level.”
Rin cracks his molars at the reminder of his (too brief) cemetery battle with the Devil.
He pushes himself off the wall and sits beside his mentor, dropping his head into his hands. After a long silence, he asks, “…What’s going to happen to me? Execution?”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Nuwa snaps. “It’s unbecoming. We are making our deliberations now. Your father sent me to speak with you to better understand the thoughts behind your actions. After I leave, it won’t be long before we decide what to do with you.”
Rin raises his head, revealing his pale expression.
Nuwa tuts and whacks his leg with her cane, rousing him from his despondency. “Death is not in your stars,” she grunts. “Stop looking at what could be and forge your own future. Even us elders can do nothing to deter you, should you choose to willfully stride ahead.”
The old witch creaks to her feet and places her gnarled hand under his chin, raising his eye to meet hers. She gives him a rare smile. “Keep your head up. Always.”
Rin has difficulty responding. Eventually, he utters a soft, “Yes.”
Feels like nuwa is the only adult that actuamly understand rin and what he needs
100%!!! She actually considers Rin’s feelings. Nuwa is definitely one of the very few people in his life that he’d actually be willing to trust.
Pain
Also i love nuwa being there for Rin
Thank you for the chapter!! <3
Yess Nuwa is the only sane person there lol thank you for reading!! <33