The news of a large gathering of Monks outside the Shogun's Tent had spread like Beast Fox Fire throughout the Camp, stalling works entirely as Cultivators all over dropped what they were doing and rushed to their Shogun's aid. Most of those gathered were the grubbier Soldiers of the first wall.

They had come to see and were far less concerned about confrontation with the anger they still harboured in their hearts. As it was, most of the scuffles that broke out were laid at their feet, with the guard quickly giving up on dispersing them. Their Shogun was the only one of the false nobles who loved them. Besides, they knew who was in the tent with him.

A confrontation had looked inevitable when even the Sergeants had arrived, fully armoured and silent. Nothing was more worrisome than a silent Sergeant. Only by the skin of his teeth had Tsea-gong managed to ‘settle’ the storm under back-breaking terms.

Only the two Abbots were allowed entry to ensure justice was honourably delivered, with the rest of the monks having to disperse entirely. For this to happen, he had promised both Temple Sects a verdict before Takers Hour occurred and he could already smell the foul marsh pitch being lit as torches were carried out of camp.

When darkness fell, most of these Monks would head out into the marshes again with Tsea-gong being heavily dependent on their Abilities to help his men locate and destroy fouled flesh, before it rose up. It was all dangerous back-breaking work by an already broken Watch and his need for the Monks had only grown over the decades. They were kind enough to never say as much, though they had it made known in plenty of other ways.

The last thing a righteous man wanted out there was a Ki lantern, it would only spur on surrounding Ki malformations. With tonight, their third night, being their last safe night to clean up. The Red tide would arrive in the morning of the fourth day after every Beast Wave and strange things would happen. No one stepped foot outside of the walls without taking great care during this period. The sea, marsh and air, too corrupted from all the death. With common minor essences sprouting up all over the marsh as Ki malformations exploded as they expired.

Concern for the clean-up, brought his eyes back to the two silent Abbots, seating themselves in the chairs previously occupied by his Prime Elders. Tsea-gong didn’t mind their presence so long as they maintained their silence.

“Let us begin.” The Salamander declared. “Arch-tenant will you please go through the charges."

With a box of the prisoners’ meagre possessions on the table beside him, the Arch-tenant read out all the charges along with the witness statements. The items in the box being what was found on the individual at the time of arrest and often the surest way of identifying soldiers of the first wall.

The Abbots seemed to bristle as the young man's deeds were laid bare. It did not help he showed any remorse to them. Only muttering the same words over and over.

“Prisoner Tjien,” the Arch-tenant concluded, “is there anything you wish to add in your defense?”

“…for the Sarge’s Honour… for the Sarge’s Honour…”

On and on, he would not stop. Rocking himself on his knees as he repeated the mantra.

The Arch-tenant looked up from the paperwork helplessly. The merciful thing to do might just have been to put him down if a mind wipe were not viable.

“Who was your Sergeant, junior!?” Tsea-gong thundered.

The peasants rocking stopped. A frown appearing on his face.

The Arch-tenant tried again, hopeful to see a change in the prisoner.

“What was your Sergeants name.”

After a brief pause, the battered junior looked up confused. Uttering only two words.

“The Sarge.”

Tsea-gong shook his head. It was a sad but common reality of the first wall. Most Sergeants would not give out, nor ask for names of anyone Enkindled and below. Lacking sufficient resources, they were the least of importance to receive basic military-grade armour. The most these Seeded and Enkindled could do was die well. Their casualty numbers constantly amongst the highest, with only the natural killers amongst them surviving and this boy did not have the look.

“Tower Thirteen” It was Kido who volunteered the answer. “That’s where I found him.”

“Makes sense,” the Arch-tenant added. “It's where he was found with the injured Monk”.

“Get me the record.” There was something about that number that tickled at the Shogun's mind.

The Arch-tenant flipped through a pile of paperwork, before carefully selecting one and then repeating the process all over again.

“Is something the matter, Tenant?”

“I’m sorry Shogun.” The Arch-Tenant sounded flustered as he flipped through his records before returning to the same one again and checking its reverse side.

“This is the only one we have for Tower Thirteen. It’s an original from before my time and quite lacking in detail. There’s no name here, just an X.”

Still seated at the far entrance of the tent on guard duty, both Cai and Bo suddenly looked up at each other as if realising something.

“My most humble apologies, Master.” The Arch-tenant continued. “I must admit, I’m in disbelief my predecessor would fail to notice this before filing it. He was a most scrupulous Master.”

“Tsea…”

The Salamander flicked a warning glance over at his Daimyo’s. After coming back covered in blood, he had expressly forbidden the pair of them from speaking until the monks left.

Recently he felt it would be far easier to train one of those pet parakeets the Hunters guild so loved, to not shit on his shoulders than having those two shut their mouths for a single sitting. Infact, that was exactly what the pair of them felt like to him right now and this was his last set of clean robes.

“I imagine not all recruits signing up to the first wall can read or write, Tenant.”

“Indeed Shogun, almost none. Their names are recorded for them and then they sign with an X. But see this is what confuses me.”

“Tsea.”

The Shogun inhaled deeply as he continued to ignore Cai. He had already severed the connection between the pair, but if the man insisted on shaming himself then be it on his head. How hard could it be for the second and third most powerful Watchmen to realise the importance of decorum, especially infront of these Abbots.

“Here.”

The Arch-tenant frowned as he held up the parchment for the Shogun to see.

“After the X, someone has written down the word Sergeant. Only because of how brittle the parchment is, did I recognise this almost forgotten penmanship. Common enough amongst our most ancient, sealed records. The thing is, I am most certain this is not my predecessors longhand.”

Tsea-gong scowled as he processed what his Arch-tenant was trying to say.

“Are you saying we had someone educated enough to write? Sign up to the first wall and then intentionally leave his name blank and then on top of that your predecessor failed to note it?”

“I… it does seem implausible…”

“Tsea!”

“I have not given you leave to speak, Cai! You will…”

“Tower Thirteen!” He blurted out.

“What about it!?”

“Big brother, it's Kevin.”

Tsea-gong grimaced as if someone had just waved a dead rat under his nose. A heretic dead rat.

And then it hit him.

So much fell into place suddenly. No wonder the monks were so determined to see this through in blood. This was far more than just one Monk getting ‘accidented’. This harkened on an almost forgotten grievance held by an entire Temple Sect.

“Shi-baal,” he muttered as he reached for his chair with an unsteady hand. The brief memories of decades past flashed by him.

“Give me that,” Tsea-gong growled.

An incredulous Arch-tenant handed over the parchment, watching as Tsea-gong ran his fingers over the signature lightly.

“You old bastard.” He whispered. “It is you, isn’t it? Ofcourse you were still alive. Too stubborn to die.”

Suddenly he was grieved at this new loss. The costs of his bloody victory cutting into him personally now. It had taken the life of a man who was already a veteran when Tsea-gong had signed up as a Captain. One of the very first Sergeants under his first command.

Doing some quick arithmetic, Kevin had to be easily over a hundred years old, he had served on the first wall for over 80 years. The unkillable bastard had been a survivor from Miki-yeoseo himself.

Tsea-gong squeezed his eyes shut, washing the guilt away with steady breaths. Distantly he heard the prisoner grunt and pant trying to raise himself off the floor.

No wonder the young pup is a wreck. Did he even know?

His Arch-tenant broke him out of his reverie. “Master? Did we truly allow a heretic into our ranks?”

Tjien had heard enough. It seemed the disrespect for his Sergeant was boundless. Honour was a lie. The officers were all liars. The monks were all monsters. Everything was a lie.

“WE ALL DIED FOR YOU! He was no a heretic! The Sergeant wasn’t even a round eye! He was an honourable man! The most honourable I’ve ever known and far more honourable than any one of you…”

The blow struck him in the side, driving the air from his lungs as he lifted up.

It happened so fast, he had no idea of who or even what had hit him but before he could reach his zenith, the air suddenly turned on him. Weighing more than a house it cast him down faster than he had risen.

With a sharp crack, he struck the tiled floor with his head, not even bouncing as the pressure squeezed him. Daylights burst from his vision as he gasped soundlessly, lacking the air to cry out. As open as his mouth and throat were, not a drop entered his lungs and quickly he began to black out. Death would be quick.

In the madness that had become his world, it was his first peaceful thought. If Tjien could smile, he would have.

He knew he would not be making it to heaven for his misdeeds, but at least the Sergeant would have his honour intact. His name, whatever it was, would be recognized when his wife lit incense in his honour. Perhaps the Sarge would find him again in the next life, take him under his wing once more. A single drop wet his cheek as he felt peace engulf him at last.

“Hansu.” The Shogun addressed his second Preafect. “Release him and be gentle about it.”

Air flooded his lungs, followed by spittle. Causing him to wrack himself coughing as he convulsed on the floor, eyes watering. With bloodshot eyes, he writhed as blessed air and pain shot through him.

“The child is barely twenty years old and still a Seedling, Preafect. He will not survive your chastisement.” Tsea-gong looked around at what few people there were. “No one is to touch him, on pain of death. No matter the vitriol coming from his mouth.”

Well, Tsea-gong thought. That behaviour answers that question.

The junior had no idea who his Master had been. And why should he? The man had been lashed fully with a Razor of nine twice for talking and none of the other Sergeants had dared seek out his friendship. Somehow the stubborn bastard had outlived every one of them.

Tsea-gong was truly impressed. At that age, ones meridian gates were as brittle as could be and the resources to keep them functioning would be significant. Not something one could manage on a Sergeants salary.

As a young man, Tsea-gong had risen in rank and favour exponentially. He too had distanced himself from the Sergeant. For what respectable Cultivator would associate with a madman who spat in the faces of the god's servants?

“Kido, steady the boy.”

Kido looked to his Master to make sure, before stepping forward and lifting the young soldier back onto his knees. He was just as in the dark as everyone else here and did not want to risk misinterpreting anything.

Holding him upright, the Seedlings' breathing stabilised, with his vision quickly following. Only for his eyes to widen in shock before he snarled.

“You!”

Kido leaned away in a bored manner from the frantic swipes of the enraged young man.

“You killed him! You left him to die!”

Winding his hand back to fix the warrior's head, he caught himself quickly at Hansu’s tutting. It would not do, to cave the Seedling’s face in before his Shogun.

“Get a hold of yourself, Watchman. Your Sergeant died on his feet. He died with honour. I already told you a healing tonic wouldn’t bring anyone back to life, nor did I have any on me. But if you carry on with this shameful behaviour then not even heaven gates will stop him from coming back to knock your head off!”

The Seedling collapsed to the ground sobbing as soon as Kido let go of him. A questioning look from the Shogun had him quickly recounting his tale, the Azuma’s that charged and how the Sergeant had fought and died well facing out on the battlefield.

Tsea-gong looked upon the shameful display of unmitigated emotions coursing through the Seedling.

Is this the man he wanted?

He felt violated just bearing witness to it. It was wrong, briefly, his skin itched again. More like prickled, as the hairs on his arms rose. With a sinking feeling, he began to suspect there was something more to it.

Casting a cautious glance over the tent’s occupants, only the two Abbots sat unnervingly still. Calm as dead wood, which made it all the more peculiar when one’s eye suddenly twitched involuntarily. Their focus was entirely on Tjien as they silently counted the beads on their necklaces.

The Shogun got up immediately and went over to his armour stand, placing his helmet back on even though he was indoors. Then rummaging through his drawers, he pulled out a headband and threw it to Kido. The Preafect caught it smoothly, returning a questioning look at his Master.

His eyes widened as Tsea-gong nodded towards the Seedling. Quickly he placed it over the man’s head, before fastening his mask back on. Instantly everyone in the Tent dug around in their own pockets, securing headbands and face masks.

The prickle on Tsea-gongs skin abated almost immediately after donning his helmet. The smug satisfaction he felt with his enhanced power was not enough to risk provoking the Abbots with an outright stare. No one knew the full range of Techniques the Temples were capable of and any accusation here would bare him no fruit.

With the headband in place, Tjien quickly overcame his emotional incapacities. No wonder his jailers had been overly cruel, there was no telling how long the monk watching over the Jailhouse had been messing with their minds.

“Steady your thoughts and guard your tongue junior. It would be a shame if you suicide yourself with them.”

After allowing the prisoner some time to steady himself and giving him a bowl of water, Tsea-gong spoke slowly. Mindful that the young man understood his words carefully.

“Watchman Tjien, you have been arrested on charges of attempting to end the life of a raised servant to the gods. Intending ill on a monk is a serious charge boy and there really is only one outcome to attacking one. Oddly enough you somehow survived, so now it’s up to me to implement the Temple of the Dawns wishes should I find you guilty.”

“Tell me, junior. How did this accident come about?”

Tsea-gong knew he was reaching, but he needed this rampaging idiot to survive and be the Hero his men needed to restore their hearts.

“Accident!?”

Tsea-gong could have cringed as he saw how repulsed the boy was by his choice of word. He wondered if something significantly more than just time was needed for this one to clear his head. There was no telling how scrambled this peasant's head was and that was just considering what he had been born with.

“I cranked that Ballista around as far as it would go. Then I waited till that Taker spawn reached the stairs going down to the gate so he couldn’t dodge out of way. That thrice kissed Takers lover was far faster than I expected, but not fast enough. Blew out his ribs, but I was aiming for his fat head.”

Tsea-gong dropped his head into his hands. The gods cursed pride in all its forms, including naivety. The last thing he had wanted was the peasant’s truth. The fool had just sentenced himself to death and did not seem to realise as he carried on, unashamed. Even the virtuous calm of the Abbots had been rattled by the venom in Tijen’s words.

On his knees, he was like a rabid hound excitedly begging for a treat.

“First, I retrieved the Sarge’s dagger, then tried to cut his throat with it. Somehow, he was still breathing. Had I known I couldn’t manage it, I would have just reloaded and shot him again.”

“His skin was as hard as rock and although it moved, I couldn’t cut it. But also, something was wrong with the dagger. I couldn’t activate the Sarge’s Core no matter how hard I drew on it, it’s like it wasn’t even there. Something that Taker-loving spawn must have…

Tsea-gong silenced him with a wave of his Cultivation. The force of it ending Tijen’s rendition with a gasp of pain as he crumpled to the floor.

In the silence that followed, Tsea-gong racked his brain for alternatives. Turning on the Abbots only after their gaze upon him became intolerable. Neither had anything to say, not after the star witness said it all.

“Why!?” Tsea-gong finally snapped. “Who would do such a thing!? What brain rot could possibly possess you to turn on a monk, junior? I knew your Master boy! There is no way Kevin would not strip the hide from your back himself for voicing such heresy.”

Tsea-gong saw the junior's face turn feral once more at the mention of his Sergeants name. In an instant he unleashed the full might of his Cultivation upon the boy, hoping to drive the stupid from him as one might banish an Oni. Tsea-gong relented only after the junior cried out, which was not long at all.

“You will answer me with the respect I deserve or so help me not even the Taker will end your torment boy. Such madness as you have displayed cannot be left to taint the ranks! Why did you do it?”

“The madness was his!” Tjien spluttered. “He de-Cored the Sergeant. Right there in the open. Like a Beast!”

Tsea-gong pulled a face for a second time. This time so did everyone else in the tent, so repugnant was the statement. Outraged, the Abbots leapt to their feet. Breaking their silence with angry denials of blasphemy.

For a human to touch another's Core was the pinnacle of all heresy in all courts. No creature could ever access the ‘First breath’ of a Core if it were of the same species. Anything from disintegration, explosion and or rapid taint could happen. It was a thing of curses and witchcraft and even the least righteous of Cultivators would take nothing less than one's head.

“He worked his way over to the Sergeant, giving prayers for each of my fallen brothers. But when he reached the Sarge, he for no reason swore out loud halfway through. He dropped the Sarge’s dagger and pulled out some sort of three-bladed knife. Then stabbed…”

Tjien spluttered shaking his, not capable of articulating words. But enough had been said for everyone in the Tent to be shocked. The Abbots were furious, with both Kido and Hansa gripping their blades as they eyed the pair carefully.

“I couldn’t move, it was like I was paralysed.” Tjien continued. “I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. He used the Sarge’s dagger to touch the Core, destroying it. One minute it was there in his three-bladed knife and the next it just fell apart like a shining cloud of dust. The Bastard spat on him as he left.”

“Enough of this farce!” The shorter of the two Abbots powered his voice to thunder through the tent, sending Tjien collapsing back onto his face holding his ears.

“Shogun if you dare to entertain such baseless accusations out in the open, you risk committing heresy yourself! The Temple of Dawn will not stand idle for such blasphemous accusations.”

He felt his Preafects anger rise at the accusation, but the fear coming from his Arch-tenant mollified his caution. Before him were the allied Abbots of two of the larger Sects in Qaelang and one did not idly send a Temple to wrath over the words of a Seedling. Even if he did fully believe them.

With a humble look, Tsea-gong acknowledged the Abbot of the Dawns word, before turning to the Abbot of Dew. Giving him the chance to add anything. The man said nothing. But his eyes said everything.

This was Abbot of Kevin’s naming Temple if he remembered the tale correctly. So that explained the show of support here.

Even a blind peasant could see it, such was the nature of the look the Abbot returned. He wanted Tsea-gong to know, he wanted everyone to know what had become of Kevin.

Something cracked in Tsea-gong when he saw that look. There was no spirit of defiance in him only an absolute need to commit to a truly honourable defence of his men. This was a rebirth in him, he felt it in his meridians as his determination pulsed renewed in him.

These damn monks.

The people desperately needed them and they were always certain to make sure everyone knew it. They hoarded their knowledge and Techniques atop their mountain tops and his men did the dying. And if one so much as dared to declare such, then he was ruined and made an example of.

Even in death.

This was an attack on his Watch and nothing short of a betrayal to terms set long ago. Kevin had held his peace and the Monks had agreed to leave him be. Instead of tending to his last rights they had desecrated his body.

“Where is Kevin's body?” The Shogun demanded.

“Seo-sang,” The Arch-tenant responded uneasily. “All bodies still unclaimed by family members were generously accepted into the Temple of Dew yesterday afternoon. His Urn sits with the rest of our brothers until we can trace down a family member.”

Tsea-gong trembled with rage, keeping his face as devoid of emotion as the monks. He could see the dancing in their eyes as they delighted in their cleverness. That they had finally settled an almost century-held grudge.

The Abbot of the Temple of Dawn cleared his throat.

“Shogun, Takers Call is almost upon us. Let us conclude this justice and be on our way. Your men are waiting for us and I’m sure they will be grateful for your presence. You may even look forward to informing them of the restored relations between our Orders.”

Tsea-gong gripped the sides of the war desk, mindful not to break this one too as he wracked his brain for options here. He almost upended the box of the junior's possessions.

Odd. That’s a really nice…

Tsea-gong spun around and grabbed Tjien by the face, looking into his eyes demanding his immediate attention.

“How does a peasant like you afford such a marvellous Doa dagger?”

Tjien frowned at him like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“It’s not mine. It’s the Sarge’s.”

He might not have cared for the tone the peasant used, had he even registered it. Instead, the Salamander rose, lifting Tjien one-handed by the face and dragging him over to the box of confiscated items.

“Are you saying THAT is Kevin’s dagger?”

Tjien scowled at the name, but the Shogun was quick to help him stay on point. Shaking him like a rag doll by the scruff of his neck.

“The same dagger you witnessed touch the Sergeant's Core before it disintegrated?”

Tjien had no idea what was going on here, or why the Shogun was suddenly so fervent. The only thing he was absolutely certain of, was this was the Sarge’s dagger.

He nodded his head.

“Shogun must you really?” The Abbots responded testily. “What ruling would take the word of a peasant over that of a servant of the gods? We came to you to render judgement as a courtesy. Do it now or lose face by forcing us to go to the Arbitors.”

“What a splendid idea Abbot,” Tsea-gong replied as he lifted the blade carefully out of the box with two fingers.

Scrutinizing it closely, finally lowering it with a predatory gaze of his own.

“Of all the things in the world to use,” the Shogun said incredulously. “Your man took up his Doa dagger. Why, it would drive even the most reserved of Cultivators to the height of savagery.”

“Allegedly,” the Abbot of Dawn smirked as dignifiedly as possible. Relishing the fact that Tsea-gong now fully understood what had happened to the man that had shamed the Temple of Dew. “And even then, only on the meaningless testimony of a peasant.”

The man seemed not to realise the significance of what Tsea-gong said, but he soon did. His face scowled over as his companion laid a hand on him, no doubt quickly relaying it to him mentally.

“What need has anyone for testimony, honoured Abbot of Dawn, when any Ancestral or Doa heirloom can be entered as evidence?”

The mood in the tent full of Sacred Artists changed dramatically as the Cultivation of Seniors went to war with each other. Their hearts laid bare, and all pretence of humility spared only in the words they crafted for the dignity of their office.

“Bring your wounded man before me that the Heavens will allow me to pass honest judgement and lay this matter to rest, oh Servants of the Twin Sisters. If he touched a human core, then the stink will still be on him for some time. The exact same malformed taint that is on this blade.”

“Both Abbots scoffed. “It would be quite the feat for a ‘renowned warrior’ such as you to be in tune with the passing of souls, Shogun.”

“Perhaps.” Tsea-gong smiled, tapping the side of his helmet as if to remind the Abbots of his capabilities. “But then one need not know all the words of the song to recognise the tune.”

“Either way, it will not be my talents the Arbitors rely upon to determine the truth of this heretical matter, but the Deadlights I have caged out back.”

Untouched chairs suddenly slide across the floor, bumping into each other as the monks rose to face their accuser angrily.

"You weren’t even born, you insolent pup! Yet you seek to open the wounds of nigh a century past? For what, a brainless savage in an Urn!? Is madness a curse inherent to all who take up the seat of Shogun?”

His Preafects prepared themselves as the two aged Abbot's hair began to blow in a non-existent wind. Their kindly faces having fallen away completely as they drew themselves up. The darker nature of a cornered Beast on full display.

The Shogun rose from his table to face the two Abbots whose robes billowed freely now. He knew without doubt how this would end if he did not provide some means of honourable escape in the verdict.

“How can you expect me to hold court over the safety of your men when you believe I won’t even safeguard my own? The madness is yours, Abbots of Dawn and Dew. Your man had his petty revenge and paid for it. I am prepared to forget it entirely and to continue as we always have.”

“That is not enough!”

“The mistake you are about to make, is to believe I am not fully prepared to die for an honest man who saved my life. Are you not aware this wretched peasant saved my life? Because I assure you, every one of the people under my command is aware. It is YOU who are demanding more than just a life. What happens next honoured Abbots, is entirely up to you.”

The Salamander stood unflinching with his arms at his sides, fully armoured and waiting. He may be mad enough to challenge a Monk but not sufficiently so to strike one first. He was already pushing his luck with the gods in defending Tjien.

He felt it first in the flow of his Cultivation. The lessening of the tension and the stray hairs of the Abbots settling once more as their robes stilled their swaying.

Even though the Abbot's posture had not changed in the slightest, the certainty of blood was gone. Both consulted with each other in a haughty demeanour, as if the lives of everyone here was entirely theirs to decide.

“We had heard such a tale, although we were unaware this was the man responsible. We have also seen your casualties are disastrous this time Tsea-gong, as if the Taker’s wrath had spilled over your order. Perhaps our charity can be called upon once more in forgetting this matter.”

“Naturally we will require an oath of silence placed upon this miscreant. We cannot allow such blasphemy to go unchallenged.”

“And you will have it, O Abbot of the Dawn,” Tsea-gong replied swiftly. “If he will not swear, then I will cut out his tongue myself. We shall enforce the same punishments that were placed on his predecessor, were he to dare speak as he did before you this day.”

Both Abbots nodded reluctantly, but they believed Tsea-gong would do exactly as he said.

“Then excuse us, Shogun, for although this matter is resolved we feel a powerful urge to cleanse ourselves of this wretch’s presence.”

The Shogun bowed as the Abbots departed, quickly channelling a thread of Ki from the ring on his finger. It struck Tjien in the gut just as the fool opened his mouth and thankfully Kido was there to step on him lest he tried it again.

The Abbot of Dawn looked back with a filthy scowl, sensing the use of Ki. Upon seeing Tjien sprawled flat, he spat to the side. Muttering under his breath.

“Like Master, like Student.”