Letting loose with a tiny shriek, Mila’s sleepiness vanished as an icy, wet object pressed into the small of her back. Suppressing her panic, she threw aside the covers and found the intruders staring back at her, two bear cubs and a hare-girl with matching scarves and smiles. “Morning Mi-Mi,” Lin cheered, hugging the offending cold-nosed cub. “Wakey wakey, it’s lunch time ya?”

“Stop sneaking in and ruining my mornings.” Mila’s scowl faded as the free cub threw his fat furry head into her arms. At least she hadn’t rolled off the bed again, her cheeks heating at the memory of being trapped in the confines of her warm quilt as she tumbled to the stone floor. Purposely ignoring Lin, she cuddled with the affectionate fifty kilogram cub as it grunted with joy. “Hello my sweetling. Yes, I missed you too. Mean old Lin is always stealing you both away, how terrible of her. Isn’t she the worst.” They were so soft and adorable, if only they’d stay this size forever, but they were growing larger by the day.

Nothing good could last forever.

Crawling over to join them, Lin rested her head on Mila’s shoulder with a feigned pout. “I’m sorry. Don’t be mad Mi-Mi, but it’s not morning anymore and I’m hungry. If I waited until you woke up, I’d starve.”

“Fine, but there’s no need to steal under the blankets to wake me, is there?”

Unrepentant, Lin nodded. “It’s the safest method, most effective method, ya? Otherwise you snarl, snort, swing your arms around, everything but wake up. Sleepy Mi-Mi is adorable, but sleeping Mi-Mi is scary and dangerous.”

Pinching the girl on the cheek, Mila retorted, “Lies and slander. I neither snarl nor snort.” The rest wasn’t her fault, waking up swinging was a survival mechanism learned from Mama’s surprise training exercises. The inability to wake... well that was just how the Mother made her.

Grinning impishly, Lin asked, “Well why don’t we ask Rainy if that’s true?”

Sensing defeat, Mila huffed and changed the subject. “As if ‘Second Grade Warrant Officer Falling Rain’ has time in his busy schedule for little old me. He’s all but forgotten about us since returning home, escaping into the mountains to play soldier. It’s been an entire week since I’ve seen his face and I say good riddance.”

“I miss him too Mi-Mi, but we hafta be strong. Rainy is a busy man, he’s making his bandits stronger so he doesn’t have to rely on those stinky, lazy monkeys to protect him.”

“Which of your ears heard me say I missed him? And you’re a hare-brained fool if you think those bandits will ever be the match of Argat or Jochi.” Granted, Mila had a few choice words in store for those two half-macaque idiots after they returned. No wonder they volunteered for the thankless task of staying on the bandit isle, hoping to avoid Baatar’s ire after making a mess of their one job, keeping Rain safe.

Tasked by Mila’s Senior Martial Brother to protect his disciple in secret, Argat and Jochi used their anonymity to sneak off and have fun at the worst times. Even after the debacle with the Council assassins, the pair of ‘bodyguards’ were still too ashamed to come clean and admit their faults, joining the group without a word of explanation and letting everyone think they were part of the other retinue. Not even Gerel knew Argat and Jochi were Rain’s bodyguards so he didn’t think twice about ordering them along on the scouting mission, which they joined without protest. After finding signs of a Defiled army marching for Sanshu, they were truly riding on the back of a tiger and finding it difficult to get off, abandoning their responsibilities and leaving Rain unguarded in the midst of a Purge just to save face.

Idiots of the highest order.

Rudely awakened and reminded of their failings, Mila started her day in a foul mood, brushing her hair and half-listening to Lin grumble about hunger and boredom. Out of all the retired Sentinels in the Saint’s Tribulations Mountains, why couldn’t Baatar find a pair of trustworthy guards for Rain? On the same note, why did Mama ask Tenjin and Tursinai to guard Mila? Talented as they were, the young couple were far from the best available and though Mama’s training was harsh and dangerous, she always made sure Mila was well protected. Until recently, Mila attributed her lack of elite guards due to the Bridge being under siege, as Rain’s bandit hunting hardly warranted the extra precaution, but during the celebration of their return, she’d noticed something amiss.

Rain’s status among the People was sorely lacking and for the life of her, she couldn’t understand why.

Ignoring all else, as the youngest Second Grade Warrant Officer in history and undisputed number one talent of the North, Rain should have been the centre of attention during the celebrations. While the soldiers and citizens of the Empire received him warmly, the older members of the People avoided him like a plague and most of the younger generation followed suit. Even Mama’s and Papa’s old war buddies avoided Rain, choosing to wait until he was absent before coming to greet her and slipping away upon his return. Far as she could tell, he’d never even heard of them before much less met them. Strange considering most held positions of authority in the Sentinels or their respective villages and had strong ties to Mama and Baatar.

Though Rain neither noticed nor took offence, the outright contempt and discourtesy had Mila fuming with rage. It wasn’t right, Rain brought great honour to the People with his latest accomplishments, yet he went unacknowledged by those who mattered. Her parents refused to explain why it was so and outright asking those old farts only earned her half-hearted denials and awkward excuses. A mystery to be sure, but her persistence bore no fruit this past week. Every time she lauded Rain to one of the older generation, the best she got was a nod or polite smile before someone changed the subject. Only the former Bannermen who brought Rain to the village treated him well, some helping him train bandits while others accepted positions in his now thriving company.

It wasn’t fair, but recent events had drawn back the curtains of optimism covering her eyes. The Mother was a harsh mistress, demanding everything and promising little in return, while the Empire offered even less. Why should the People be any different?

“Oh? You seem in a foul mood this afternoon.” Mama’s snide tone did nothing to improve Mila’s temper, barely managing to refrain from snapping back. No sense poking the dragon, Mama wasn’t above giving Mila’s bottom a hard swat. Lips pursed and back straight, Mama crossed her arms and shook her head as Mila took a seat beside her. So dramatic. “What am I to do with you, girl?” Mama asked, leaving no time to reply. “Ai, where did I go wrong? Who ever heard of a grown woman sleeping until noon? Perhaps I should thank the boy for taking you off my hands, for who else would accept such a slovenly wife?” Patting Song’s head as she set the table, Mama added, “Learn from your sister, see how diligent and attentive she is? Song, come sit, you’ve been on your feet all morning. Mila, finish setting the table.”

Stifling her jealousy, Mila jumped to obey. She was happy for Song, she really was. She’d always wanted a little sister and the poor girl deserved all the love and affection Mama and Papa had to offer, but Song’s earnest efforts and disciplined routines shone a bright light on Mila’s failings. Mama and Song shared so many similarities it bordered on the eerie, two women cut from the same practical and industrious cloth. They both worked hard and spoke little, their distant attitudes often mistaken for cold indifference. In contrast, Mila was more like Papa, lackadaisical and carefree unless inspiration struck, a social butterfly who preferred sport and distraction over utilitarian training. In short, despite having close ties like mother and daughter or Mentor and Disciple, Mila couldn’t be more different from Mama.

If Mila was being replaced by Song, then she had no one to blame but herself.

Glum and despondent, Mila finished setting the table and went to feed the pets, removing Jimjam’s tattered scarf at his vocal request. Sarankho and the bears wore theirs happily but the crabby male wildcat treated his scarf like a chain choker, emphatically voicing his displeasure at every opportunity. Another one of Rain’s wild fancies, as if a bolt of cloth could magically make the wild animals less fearsome to a commoner. Returning to the table, she ate in silence as Lin and Mama chatted away, sharing gossip and rumours while laughing and giggling like the best of friends.

Even Lin was a better daughter than Mila.

Whatever, even if they all abandoned Mila, so what? She didn’t need any of them, they could all go suck lemons and eat dirt.

...Okay, so Rain's absence made her crabby and cantankerous, which vexed her to no end. Why should her disposition depend on a man, especially one who neglected her in favour of training and foolish pursuits? He had time to commission Cierna to sew scarves for his pets but no time to stop in and visit his betrothed? Mila even tried to wait up for him once, but she’d fallen asleep in his surprisingly comfy ger, earning her a scolding from Mama after Song was sent to fetch her.

Past midnight and he still hadn’t returned home, she’d fallen in love with a training freak. For all the good it'd do him.

“Mi-Mi, necklace please.” Lin’s words brought Mila back to reality. Seeing her confusion, Lin tilted her head and asked, “Weren’t you listening? I have an errand to run and Li-Li said she’ll help since you’re busy. It’s kinda far so...”

“Oh. Right. Sorry. Just to make sure, you’re okay with this, right Song?” A silent nod was all the answer Mila got, so she hid her disappointment and placed the necklace into Lin’s grasping fingers. With a cheerful goodbye, the hare-girl led Song out the room and left Mila to clear the table. Running off with a tray of dishes before Mama found more work for her, Mila handed the tray to a servant before heading to the stables, bringing Atir out for a ride around the city.

With the wind rushing through her hair, Mila thought maybe things weren't so bad. With Song’s necklace in someone else’s possession, Mila could go wherever she pleased, no longer having to worry about the five kilometre limit. Sure, she was taken aback by how easily Song accepted placing her fate in someone else’s hands, even if those hands belonged to sweet, innocent Lin. Better to take it as a sign of Song’s personal growth and not a complete and utter betrayal of trust. Maybe their close bond was merely imagined, Mila’s one-sided interpretation of what amounted to little more than a master and servant relationship.

Ugh. Mila hated this depressed, angst-ridden version of herself. It was all Rain’s fault, the stupid mule-headed scoundrel, charming her with smiles and kisses before running off and leaving her to wallow in misery and self-pity.

But not before leaving a note asking her to feed his damned birds.

A long ride around the city helped clear her head, so Mila stopped at the market to pick up a bucket of animal innards and headed to Rain’s ger. Ignoring the unwelcome visitors waiting outside, she rode right through the door and closed it behind her, marvelling at her betrothed’s ingenuity as she dismounted. A solid structure of bamboo and canvas sitting atop a sturdy, raised platform, the ger could comfortably fit a family of eight while keeping them warm throughout the entire winter. In a mere ten days, Chakha and his workers assembled hundreds of gers to provide comfortable accommodation to thousands of Sentinels and their families. All paid for out of Rain’s pocket no less, his generosity filled her with both pride and anger. Though he did the People a great service, it wasn’t necessary to bear all the costs himself. It wouldn't hurt to share the costs with the Empire or Mama. At this rate, even the wealth taken from Yo Ling’s manor wouldn’t last long. It’s almost as if he wanted to beggar himself, the idiot.

The only downside to this particular ger was the dreadful chorus of cackling laughter rising from within. “Keep squawking and we’ll find out how you taste roasted over a fire,” she said, shaking the hooded metal cage until the damnable birds fell silent. Pulling aside the covers revealed Roc and his flock huddled together in the far corner, all puffed up and peering at her with their beady little eyes. Stupid Rain and his stupid crossbows, these birds were the worst. Glaring at them as she opened the cage, she placed the bucket down and glared, daring them to move before she closed the door.

If it were up to her, she’d set these birds free to fly off and freeze to death. Obnoxious squawking aside, they were vicious creatures, too dumb not to bite the hand that feeds them. Since empathy and compassion won her nothing but pain, she found it better to rule through fear and intimidation. If Roc and his feathered friends proved unnecessary, then Rain should cut them loose and let them fend for themselves.

A lesson learned from the Emperor himself.

Finished feeding the dumb animals, Mila cuddled with Atir for the better part of an hour, hoping the unwelcome visitors would leave on their own. Unable to delay any longer, she rode out into the chill autumn air with a heavy sigh. “Well, let’s get this over with.” This was so stupid and pointless, but she went through with it regardless.

What other choice did she have?

“Many thanks.” With a bow so courtly it was almost mocking, Zian gestured for her to lead the way, jogging alongside Atir like a lavishly-dressed footman. The polite thing to do would be dismount and walk with him, but she seized every opportunity to slight the pompous Society twit. The old soldier Jukai jogged even further behind, his glare boring into the back of Mila’s neck, but his anger did nothing to deter her. Hmph, if he were audacious enough to disregard face and attack her, then Mama would bring the full might of the people down upon the Situ Clan and Society, wiping them both from existence.

This was karma, giving Zian a taste of his own arrogance. See how he likes it for a change.

Arriving at the sparring stage, she dismounted and collected her practice weapons, ignoring the waiting crowd’s growing excitement. Nuisances one and all, soldiers of the Empire and Sentinels with too much time on their hands and coin in their pockets, waiting around to watch Situ Jia Zian spar with Sumila of the People. With blunted spear and padded shield in hand, she stood across from the former number one talent in the North, waiting for the onlookers to finish placing their bets.

“Ten silvers on seventeen exchanges!”

“Overconfident fool. Twelve silvers, twenty-five exchanges.”

“Hmph, if the match lasts twenty exchanges, this granddaddy will eat his boots. Twenty silvers, fifteen exchanges.”

Putting the noise out of mind, Mila clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes, reviewing what she knew about her opponent. Say what you will about his hateful character or shameless behaviour, Zian’s talents were first-rate. Speed, power, coordination, he had it all, paired with a deep understanding of the Forms and a talent for improvisation. Yesterday’s Zian was already gone, replaced by a smarter, better Zian, improving with each match while Mila languished and stagnated, the gap between their martial skills closing bit by bit. Yesterday, the bout lasted seventeen exchanges, so twenty-five wasn’t so far a stretch.

No. No more holding back to hone her martial skills. Today, she would go all out and show him the true difference between them.

“Ready, Young Master?” Jukai asked, officiating the spar. Zian nodded, twirling his blunted sabers. There was no hesitation in his eyes, only grim determination.

“Ready,” Mila declared in answer, falling into her stance and Reinforcing her body, prepared to unleash every bit of power available to her.

“Begin.”

Her spear flashed out the moment Jukai spoke, aimed at Zian’s throat. Leaping back as she advanced, he slapped her spear once, twice, thrice to no effect, the spear still unerringly headed towards him. Eyes wide with surprise, Zian sidestepped, hoping to slip past her guard while still unable to understand why his parry failed time and time again. Hmph, easier to uproot a tree with bare hands than divert Mila’s full powered thrust. Growling, she shifted her stance and kept her prey in her sights, drawing her spear back for a second thrust. Feinting high, she stopped the spear short and charged ahead, crashing into her opponent’s chest shield first. Caught off-guard, Zian backpedalled away but her boot snapped out and caught him mid stride. Tumbling back headfirst, his feet planted into her gut in an effort to stay her hand, realizing that if her spear descended, it would nail him to the stage, blunted or not.

And just like that, the spar ended.

Three exchanges. Her best record yet.

Laying on his back, Zian snarled and cursed as his Aura slammed into Mila, freezing her in place. Digging deep, she fought the waves of overwhelming terror with heated rage, her spear raised and ready to deliver the killing thrust. Victory would be hers, if she could only control her quivering muscles, but the effort was futile.

Her struggle lasted only a heartbeat before his Aura overwhelmed her, the strength fading from her legs as she collapsed on the stage. Tears welled up in her eyes but she refused to cry, unleashing the full force of her glare, the only measure of defiance left to her. Every day the same thing, this hateful, unprincipled, thick-skinned, son of a mule. Unable to defeat her in a fair spar, he'd unleash his Aura before she struck the final blow, robbing her of both pride and victory. To make matters worse, Jukai declared Zian’s victory, his Chi-infused voice carrying over the crowd's jeers and boos.

This marked eight matches and eight losses, the hateful bastard intent on paying her back with interest for assaulting him on Yo Ling’s island. No matter how hard she trained or powerful she became, without Aura or someone to help her block it, Mila was a fish upon the chopping block when facing Zian. It didn’t matter that he relied on Aura to achieve victory, it was merely a skill she lacked the means to counter. If Mila won using her prodigious speed and strength, she’d pay no mind to his cries or complaints either.

To his credit, Zian didn’t gloat or taunt her, merely studying her in silence before turning to leave. His Aura lingered until he was out of sight, the terror melting away as fury and indignation rose in its place. Tossing the practice weapons aside, she ignored the crowd's curses and consolations and hopped onto Atir, riding back to Rain’s ger with all haste. Slamming the door behind her, she buried her head in his pillow and cried with all her might, unleashing all her sorrows and frustrations.

Stupid Zian and his stupid Aura, taking advantage of her stupid pride. Stupid Rain and his stupid bandits, too busy to come avenge her. Stupid Lin and stupid Song, running off and leaving her to face humiliation on her own. Stupid Mama for not coming out to help and stupid Papa for not noticing.

Stupid Emperor, abandoning the Western Province without a second thought. Hundreds of millions of innocent people forsaken and left for dead. Not even the barest efforts made to save them from the Defiled, a cruel, callous decision which shocked her to the core. What was the point? If the Emperor could abandon the West, what’s to stop Him from abandoning the North? Why fight for an Emperor who cared nothing for His people?

Alone in Rain’s bed, Mila mourned the Western Province alongside her crushed hopes and dreams. All her life she’d dreamed of becoming a Hero of the Empire like Mama, only to find the title worth less than dog shit.

What was she supposed to do now?

Chapter Meme