The bit of qi flickered, spinning around under my invisible grip. I tried to look more closely, but had a hard time noticing any change. When I released it, it dissolved into the surroundings, merging with the qi covering everything.

I hadn’t figured out where exactly to draw the line between light-affinity qi and the light it produced. That might be a small distinction, but my inability to grasp the finer points of how qi worked frustrated me. I knew qi itself didn’t have any light-emitting properties, per se. When I produced a spark, light would come from the light-affinity qi that made up the technique, but the qi itself wouldn’t be destroyed, simply dissipate. I didn’t know if it lost its affinity — the change in the environment would be too small to notice, since seeing qi with its affinities ‘in the wild’ was hard enough and required a lot of concentration. Testing that would need a greater amount of light qi than I would be comfortable playing around with like this.

And I didn’t even know where to begin in investigating the more conceptual parts of what it could do. But at least I succeeded in producing electromagnetic radiation in other parts of the spectrum.

Shaking my head, I turned my attention back to my current project. Darkness qi was even worse to get a grip on than light qi, since, by its very nature, it embodied the concept of absence. Absence of light, of course, but I was hoping I could translate that to absence of other things, like void-affinity in some stories. I knew higher-level techniques did something like that.

For the moment, I used it as an insulator.

I formed a small sphere of darkness qi, concentrating on turning it into a protection from light-based effects in addition to a black screen. Then I slowly pushed some light qi through a gap I’d left open.

A pulse of qi swept through the surroundings. It wasn’t very noticeable, but I almost lost my grip on the delicate operation. Frowning, I paused what I was doing and took a quick look around.

I stood in an open space besides the building housing our workshop. I could feel the people inside going about their business. No one else was near. The afternoon sunlight lengthened the shadows of a few people hurrying over the paths a bit further away, making them dance across the grass. I couldn’t feel anything else with my qi senses.

Focusing back on what I was doing, I closed up the sphere of darkness while maintaining my connection to the bit of light qi. That was the tricky part, but I managed. Then, I concentrated on the light-affinity qi, bearing down on it with my will. I got it to shift, making it emit light with smaller and smaller wavelengths. It almost seemed to shrink as the energy of the EM-waves increased. I pushed further, sending my senses out to my qi, following along what it created. With more pressure, I could feel it change, going from ultraviolet to X-rays. I pushed even further, focusing it even more, until I could feel it coming close to gamma rays.

Then I stopped. The protective shell around my experiment felt battered and drained, although it still held. I knew none of the harmful radiation had reached me, although the amount was small enough that it wouldn’t have mattered much.

I couldn’t help but smile. I was a long way from weaponizing this, or even recreating an X-ray scanner. I still hadn’t figured out a good method to do this with formations. But the potential was there. Sure, high-stage light cultivators could release a lot of energy in explosions, but my way was a lot more controlled.

Well, Mother had probably done the same sorts of experiments, if no one else. It couldn’t be easy to make a real difference with it. But I didn’t let that thought discourage me. I had to have a better idea of what I was actually working with than almost anyone else in this world, and when it came to qi, that mattered.

Before I could try to do it again, I felt Aston approaching quickly. I turned back just in time to see him run up the path and come to a stop in front of me. Wasn’t he cultivating somewhere? He didn’t look happy.

“Your Highness, there’s going to be an emergency meeting,” he said.

I sighed and flicked the remnants of my darkness sphere away. “Gen and the other officials don’t really need me there.”

Aston frowned and looked like he was considering what to say. Then, I could feel another familiar presence approaching, and turned to see Tenira rushing to us.

“Inaris, they’re holding an emergency meeting. Apparently, there’s been dire news from the south.”

“That sounds bad. Although I’m sure the generals and the government could actually handle it themselves. Why do I always have to stop when things are going well?” I muttered.

Tenira took a step closer. “Inaris, this is a real emergency. Even if your presence doesn’t turn out to be necessary, you should attend.”

I rolled my eyes for good measure, then pushed my annoyance down. “Yeah, I know. I’m going.”

I took a quick look at my clothing, which was in order, and disappeared my notepad into my storage ring. Then I headed off. When I noticed Tenira didn’t move, I made a shooing motion at her. “Come on. You’re my retainer, you can accompany me.”

We moved quickly. When we reached the main complex, I noticed that activity had kicked up, with people rushing here and there. This must be serious. I increased my pace further as I hurried up to the main wing. The presence of the guards and accumulation of qi signatures I recognized guided me to the correct place, a big meeting room close to the great hall, bordering on the offices used by the top generals and some belonging to the ministry of war. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open, Aston and Tenira following me inside.

Everyone rose when I entered. I quickly scanned the people gathered, then took my place to the right of the throne-like chair at the head of the table, which remained empty. I recognized all four top generals, Gen and two of his people, a few other functionaries, the head of the main intelligence service, and Kariva. Shields of qi covered the room, obviously designed for privacy.

Tenira took a position standing at my shoulder, while Aston joined a few other guards around the room. Everyone sat down again when I did. We must have been the last to arrive.

Since Gen didn’t do anything, I spoke up. “Let’s begin, please.”

One of the generals, named Poteri, as I recalled, cleared his throat and stood up. His uniform and hair were neatly kept, and his expression gave no hint to his emotions.

He waited until everyone’s attention was fixed on him to talk. “My lords and ladies, I bring dire news. The nomads have breached our borders again. This time, it’s no simple raid, but closer to an invasion.”

Muttering started. I felt my own heartbeat speed up. An invasion? And Mother isn’t here!

The top general, an old man called Tsakan Wu with an impressive gray beard, rapped his hand on the table. “What news do we have, and how did we get them?”

Poteri looked like he expected the question. “The barbarians breached our border close to the seventeenth border fort, about two hours ago. The fort went dark without sending a message, but the alarm formation was triggered. The closest garrison sent an elite team that discovered the fort in ruins and all soldiers slain. This message was passed on to the regional headquarters and from there to us.”

A few eyebrows went up at that. The Zarieni nomads usually preferred to try and sneak through the border, I knew. I wondered what system the military had set up to pass messages, but shelved that question. Probably qi talismans for communication.

“Since then,” he continued, “the nomads have been sighted on their way to the region around Blue Valley City. Their host numbers in the thousands, all of them in the middle or high stages. That means the complete fighting force of one tribe, at minimum. We assume they have been razing villages on the way, although confirmation was still pending as of five minutes ago. We do have reports of smaller groups splitting off.”

He paused at that.

“It would be stupid for them to stay together like that,” Tsakan commented. “What else do we know about them?”

They discussed the issue for a while longer, while I did my best to understand what this meant. I knew that combat in a world of cultivators worked quite differently. An army of people in the first stage could be annihilated by a single elite in the seventh. That was why armies tended to be small and full of high-stage warriors. Since the Empire outmatched them, raiders would usually move quickly, strike before the army could muster a full response, and retreat. But this army of the Zarieni nomads meant that they could probably take many of the forces the Empire had spread across the south on their own.

Something else bothered me, though. “What about the timing?” I asked. “This incursion comes only two days after Mother went into seclusion. Did they find out?”

“Almost certainly,” Kariva answered. “It’s too suspicious. And they must have prepared for this, too. I can only assume that the Zarian caught wind of it, probably from a spy in the palace or among the nobles, and let the Zarieni know.” She frowned. “They could have even instigated this.”

Everyone fell silent. I had to fight to keep my expression calm and my dismay from showing. This incursion was enough of a problem on its own.

Then again, it should be well within the army’s capabilities to handle. At least once they pulled together enough troops and sent them south. Of course, the raiders could do a lot of damage to the southern regions in that time. The local defenders had to try to cover every settlement, and cultivator armies moved quickly.

“We need to tell the Empress,” one of the ministers said. “She needs to be aware of this, and make the decisions.”

Gen shook his head, and Kariva answered flatly, “No. Her Majesty is in a deep meditation to break through to the next part of the eighth stage. Disturbing her could be catastrophic. We cannot.”

Most of the people gathered nodded in understanding.

“What do we do?” someone finally asked.

“We scramble the army, taking what soldiers we can spare, and bring them south,” Tsakan answered. He sounded tired. “We try to coordinate the defense of the south. We call on the nobles, both local and in the rest of the Empire, for help.”

A lot of gazes suddenly moved to me. I nodded. “That’s a solid plan.”

It looked like they waited for me to say something more. I shifted in my seat, then immediately stilled myself.

“And who will be in charge of the campaign?” Poteri asked.

Gen looked like he tried his best to go unnoticed. A few of the attendees glanced at him, but most still looked to me.

“I’m sure the Generals and leadership of the army know their jobs and their people,” I said.

Kariva cleared her throat. “Your Highness, before this goes any further, I would like to convene with you.” She sent her gaze through the room. “In private.”

I sighed and glanced at the other people. I could hardly refuse her. “Everyone, give us the room, if you please. Tenira, you can stay.”

The rest of them didn’t look happy, but they stood, bowed to me, and left the room without complaint. A few moments later, we were alone, the qi formation screening our conversation from the outside world.

I had a feeling I knew where this was going, but I didn’t have to make it easy on her. “So, Kariva, do you have any important news?”

The spymaster took her seat again, smiling evenly. “No, my lady, but perhaps some perspective.”

I nodded and tapped my fingers on the table while I thought. “The nobles don’t like the army, do they?”

“They’re not part of the army and not answerable to the generals themselves”, Tenira said. She shrugged when I looked at her. “The nobility does have a lot of resources and strong cultivators, even if they’ve lost power over the populace.”

“So, you need me to rally them. To get them to join the war effort. Since they owe fealty to the throne, and Mother isn’t here, I represent it, or what?”

They nodded.

“The way I see it, you have three choices, Your Highness,” Kariva said after a moment. “May I explain?”

“Go ahead.”

“You could do nothing. Let the generals handle it, appoint someone to lead the campaign, and defeat the raiders. They’re going to be handled in time, but the defense in the south might be fragmented.”

“Let me guess,” I said. “The second choice is to appoint someone to fight the war, put the weight of Imperial authority behind them, as best I can. Then I’ll stay here and maybe weigh in on decisions occasionally.”

Kariva nodded. “Or,” she paused meaningfully, “you could go to war yourself, my lady. Call on the nobles for their service, rally the army and the nobility in the south, and lead a glorious campaign to rid the Empire of the barbarian scourge.”

“Such good PR,” I said dryly.

“You wouldn’t even need to dictate the war yourself,” Kariva continued. “Being there and issuing orders would be the important part. The nobles are more likely to join in this effort if you are. It’s harder to refuse the Imperial Princess than some general. Of course, actually gaining experience in fighting would be quite valuable as well, if you’ll forgive the presumption.”

I stared down at the table, still tapping my fingers. This was a big decision, so I took my time to think it over carefully, even if the answer seemed clear.

“There’s no way to resolve this peacefully, is there?” I asked.

I could hear Kariva almost sigh. “For a moment, I forgot who I was talking to,” she muttered. I had to strain my ears to hear it.

“Of course not,” Tenira said, looking at me like I’d failed a simple math problem. “The raiders aren’t going to be interested in dialog.” Her expression darkened. “They’ll pillage their way across the region if they aren’t stopped. Many civilians will die no matter what.”

I sighed. I’d expected that answer, knew it was true, but I didn’t like the idea of supporting a war, let alone being responsible for one. It didn’t agree with my ideals, even if I didn’t doubt my ability to go through with it. But in this context, I knew I had to, which made it easier.

The first option Kariva had given me was obviously bad. It might leave my hands clean at first glance. But if I could make things better, or at least less bad, maybe save lives overall, I was obligated to take action. My principles were pretty clear on that, too.

“Well.” I shook my head. “There’s no way I can let someone I don’t know lead a war in my name. Who knows what they might get up to? At least I’m fairly confident in my own judgment. And you have made good points.”

It was the best choice.

Kariva leaned back in her chair. “Then you’ll do it, Your Highness?”

“I will. I guess it’s time to call the banners.”

They frowned in confusion, but I didn’t care if they got the reference.

Now, we had to prepare for war.