It momentarily chattered as mandibles, and where they met in the middle, its shape interlocked and held together just stiffly enough to not come apart on its own. She cautiously moved the two halves back into place, rolling her rejoined jaw and sighing to herself.

“Were I inclined to take your words in bad faith I would say you were courting death, general. Act as you will, but remember that His Divinity placed me by your side to ensure you do not become a liability because he trusted in my ability to enforce that objective… Even considering your “vaunted” martial skill.”

Cao Hu stormed out of the office in a huff after that, just as she had expected. He was oh so sensitive about his abilities on the field of battle, it was certain he would’ve tried to strike her down where she stood were the circumstances different. It was true that his skill was considerable even amongst the generals, especially considering the fact he wielded a flying blade, but everything else about him was lacking.

Endurance, reaction speed, even sight - though he had obtained agelessness of a sort, a Scorchlander blood curse had wreaked havoc upon his corporeal form from the inside. Its intensity and the sheer scale of sacrifice carried out to cast it told the tale of his mixed fortunes - he had only been vulnerable to it through his own neglecting to ward himself, and he had only survived it in the first place through his previously inimicable physique bolstered by agelessness. Yet, even that could not entirely nullify thousands of Scorchlander slaves willingly throwing themselves into their island’s volcano rather than face the punishment for rebellion.

Indeed, Cao Hu had been reduced to a shadow of his former self, an eternal old man on the inside whilst his exterior remained spotless. Even through the general’s considerable efforts and spent fortunes, the curse’s effects had been reversed only a half-step backwards - not for lack of ability, Red thought. She was certain that, were he willing, he could’ve simply had his organs replaced with homunculi, whilst the spiritual damage could doubtlessly be repaired through a few years of seclusion and meditation…

...But there were few things Cao Hu reviled more than the Snow Devils and their “dark arts”, and he was all too fond of worldly pleasures to ever submit himself to hermitdom for even a month.

The Woman in Red knew these facts well, and they reassured her in the knowledge that Cao Hu’s own flaws placed his neck safely within the reach of her blades.

There was much work left to be done before the day’s end, and much of it included interaction with underlings and common folk alike. In these matters, the Woman in Red oh so enjoyed sitting upon the old throne, which had sat unused outside of ceremonial occasions for nigh on a century, with the mayor’s desk placed in front of it.

Having personally moved the desk out of the way upon her arrival, she once more gave the stone seat use. Even if she understood why a luxuriant padded chair might be preferable, the throne’s position lended a sense of perspective. Less so unmitigated power, and more responsibility.

Even getting Cao Hu out of here was part of her daily schedule - until he was gone, she couldn’t get anything properly done, despite his own refusal to sit on the throne, or even the mayor’s old seat, for that matter. Any small concession to the Ikesians was met with rebukes and threats, whereas anything perceived as “deserved” and “rightful” - that is to say, pointlessly draconian measures - was treated as reasonable and logical.

In addition to his lacking perspective of the grander scheme, Cao Hu just couldn’t separate his own personal grudges from politics.

To say she didn’t derive personal pleasure from picking apart the ill-conceived schemes of his underlings would’ve been a lie, despite the fact she had to remain disguised during any interactions. Besides her robes, it involved a magicked mask designed to subtly distort her voice. It was a terrible ordeal to put on, and a more terrible ordeal still to take off, its sole redeeming quality being the fact its shape didn’t impede eating… Much.

This disguise was essential in interacting with both the empire’s subjects and foreigners, excepting only one person.

One of her agents, she trusted enough to show herself in full, for not only had she worked with this man before, but he was her direct contact to favorable elements within the Empire - powerful enough to get things done, but insignificant enough to remain beneath notice. A syndicate of splinter-sects, using the innocuous name of Lingering Smoke.

More than any other land, the Empire’s overarching unity fostered an underworld whose scale outstripped that of some entire countries, and whose structure of organized crime went idiosyncratically against the every-man-for-himself mentality found everywhere in Pateirian public life.

Her contact was an unassuming man, possessing average skill in martial arts, and styling himself outwardly as a martial artist, a mask for his real talents as a broker. His undecipherable, extraordinarily generic face and legitimately unshakable demeanor was a better mask than any other.

Even his name was generic.

“Tian Meng,” said the Woman in Red as her contact stepped off the elevator, one of the Lighthouse’s many technical marvels. He strode calmly into the office, flanked by a rough-looking soldier. His uniform was filthy and unkempt, his eyes like those of a rodent, his demeanor beastly. One couldn’t be sure whether the stench which he exuded was physical or that of his aura.

“...And who might your companion be?”

The soldier’s demeanor quickly became irate and he barked a demand at Tian before the broker could speak, “Y’told me you’d get me an audience with the BIG SHOT, not some two-eagle concubine from the capital!”

While it was true the Woman in Red had addressed Tian Meng in Pateirian, hers was a proper accent. This soldier spoke in slurred slang that would’ve made all but the lowest of the low immediately lose respect for him.