Red was the color of exhaustion. It was the color of faces flushed and ruddy with exertion, of eyes rimmed and veined in crimson from the endless pouring over of reports.

For a month and more, every moment not spent stamping out barbarian remnants had been spent assembling his evidence, drawn from a hundred, hundred officers and lords whose grievances had finally boiled over enough to speak against their overlords. At least in private. All of it was for the promise that the Duke, the just Duke Fuxi, would see this and be moved to act.

Sun Shao knelt now in his liege lord’s private bower. It was a place of austere beauty, a balcony emerging from high on the side of the palace of Zhengjian, overlooking the dark, shining waters of sacred Lake Hei. A verdant garden bloomed here, said to be tended by the Duke’s own hands, vibrant with life so toxic and poisonous that merely brushing a leaf or flower with his hand would likely send even Sun Shao into shock. He knelt at the side of an artificial pond which waters bubbled and churned musically as it flowed into a stream that rained down from the balcony’s edge, and freshwater replaced it, bubbling from underneath.

Bai Fuxi sat before him in a chair of woven wicker, garbed in a light robe of pale blue. Sun Shao knew it was a sign of great trust to be allowed into his lord's sanctum and see him in such a casual state. It filled his battered heart with hope.

He was valued, his loyalty returned. There were rotten elements among the White Serpents, ruinously vile ones, but they were still the lords of these lakes, and justice could be done.

“This is troubling beyond words,” said Bai Fuxi, his even voice touched by heat. They were quietly spoken, barely rising over the rustle of paper from the reports in his hands. Sealed in those pages were dozens of pieces of evidence, missives and recording stones and more, documenting his accusations, collected by those whom the conspirators saw as beneath their notice.

“Lijie has grown unacceptably sloppy, and it has infected her children more than I could have imagined,” the old duke continued. “I have been far too soft with her. It seems my favor is misplaced.”

“These matters go far beyond intrigues of court,” Sun Shao said dutifully. “The defense and production of the west have suffered severe damage from this.”

“Yes,” the duke said. “To damage the Thousand Lakes this way for a personal grudge is unacceptable. There must be consequences for this. It is good that you were able to prevent the damage from spreading. I commend you for continuing excellent work even in the face of loss.”

Those words were a balm to Sun Shao, calming some small part of the rage in his heart. He had been right to maintain his trust.

“I will have her and her children withdrawn to the capital. They are unfit for military roles,” Duke Fuxi judged. “Mingxiu and her daughters have proven level headed. Providing a degree of blooding would grant her the opportunity to prove herself.”

Sun Shao blinked slowly. He felt as if his eyelids held the weight of mountains.”... And then there will be a trial for Bai Luxian?” he asked.

To destroy Bai Lijie, he had no hope of this, but surely, that worm at least would suffer some form of punishment…

Duke Fuxi made an acknowledging sound, flicking idly through the reports. Faint fluctuations of qi and light in his eyes indicated further inspection of the presented evidence. “For allowing his conspiracy to be so utterly unraveled, yes, some additional punishment may be in order.”

Sun Shao felt his breath hiss through his teeth, the sight of skinless bodies appearing in the darkness behind his eyelids. Something deep in his being trembled where a part of his Law had already come loose, broken under Bai Luxian’s sneer.

“A charge of military negligence and corruption, house arrest for a span of decades, and some reeducation may prevent the boy from being entirely wasted.”

Copper and iron, Sun Shao tasted them both. The darkness of closed eyes burned red. “Duke Fuxi,” he protested, “my family, my people, my home…!” Despite his centuries and cultivation, his voice cracked, one final plea that this nightmare would end, that the truth he had built his life upon was not a lie.

“You will have the full funding of Zhenjian to repair the damage,” Duke Fuxi said absently. His voice was not even cold. It was not cruel. It was not kind. This was not affectation, Sun Shao realized. It was the voice of a bureaucrat observing a shortfall in taxes, the voice of a spirit devoid of both.

There was a pause, and he felt the Duke’s gaze upon him like scalpels sliding under his skin. “You have been poorly used. It was my hope that your success would inspire the pride of the Bai and force my children to better themselves. Instead, they chose to tear you down. Disappointing. I will ensure you receive proper support in the future. That method is obviously not viable.”

A test. His entire life was a test and a tool to inspire indolent white worms. His family was the sacrifice for their failure. At the ragged edge where Duty and Law had once been bound as one, there was a wet rip of snapping flesh and sinew.

Manicured fingers tapped on woven wicker as the Duke considered him. In his mind's eye, Sun Shao saw his lord through senses unclouded by expectation. Fuxi was a machine of interlocking blades and gears, oiled in venom, a metal serpent with a hundred heads whose fangs were spears fit impale the leviathans of the deep. It had no sympathy. It had no love, only the memory and echoes of these feelings wielded like theater masks.

This creature saw the sacrifice in his soul and thought them cut from the same cloth.

“Your family is a particular misfortune, but you are young for one of such stature. A new wife of good blood will be found. You have many centuries to sire new sons and daughters of your line. The House of Sun will continue to stand high.”

Sinew snapped, bone splintered, and his heart pounded with the boiling of blood. A Law, bent and tarnished, snapped into a new configuration. The Sovereignty of War burned on his brow, greedily consuming this new fuel.

Family is Everything.

These words stood at his core. He had believed all of the Thousand Lakes to be kin, ruled under sometimes imperfect wisdom but unassailable strength. They were one people and one land, something greater than a mere province of the Empire.

He was wrong.

The Bai were not Family, but Other. He and his, the unscaled, those who had descended too far from the blood to even stand among the gray, were not their kin. They were tools at most, trash and debris at worst. To the Other, they were just clutter and mud on the serpents’ shining streets.

There could be no friendship with those who were not kin. Not Family. At best, there could be mutual exploitation for temporary goals. The interests of one's own could never remain aligned with the that of the Other forever.

Everything for Family.

“Still, this embarrassment requires reprisal,” said his enemy, the patriarch of serpents, killer of his kin. “I feel your anger in this, General. The barbarians will be crushed.”

“I have already drawn plans to assault and raze the temple city of Rammadh,” Sun Shao stated.

Duke Fuxi paused. “No. To invade the jungle is folly. We will only lose men and material for unusable land and cursed plunder. Nothing is worth such an invasion. Instead, take the land up to the river Tiesha and its opposite bank. I will organize a movement of people to colonize the border further and provide a better buffer for more valuable lands.”

Cowards.

The serpents would never fight, he realized, not when they could use him and those like him as a wall of flesh and blood to let them lounge in luxury and comfort while his soldiers and their children died and died and died.

There was nothing worth the invasion of the jungle. He wondered if that was true.

“I have plans for that as well. Shall I present them for your review, Duke Fuxi?” Sun Shao asked mechanically.

“Of course you do, but later. It will be better for morale if it is arranged in public,” said the duke. “You are dismissed, General. There is much I must consider before your public audience.”

Slowly, he rose to his feet, clapping a fist against his chest as he bowed. “Your will be done, my liege.”

The punishment for rebellion was death.

The reward for service was a slower death.

Those like Bai Lijie and her disgusting children called him a brute and a butcher.

Then let it be so.