Firstborn of the Frontier

Book Three - Chapter 135


Though I ain't ever been one for religion, I've always found find it fascinating.

Not just Catholicism and Christianity mind you, as I'm happy to listen to anyone talk about their beliefs so long as they ain't actively trying to make a convert out of me. Part of it is because there ain't ever much to do once the heavy snowfalls start in, so I've spent a lot of winters huddled around the fireplace asking questions of anyone who cared to answer them. Being young and inquisitive, I asked a lot about everything and learned a little in return, usually just enough to know when I done stuck my boot in my mouth these days. Thing is, folks tend to get angry when you ask too many questions they don't know the answers to, so I found that the best way to keep someone talking is to ask about them.

And what they almost always led with was their religion. Sometimes nationality or place of birth came first, but you can bet your bottom dollar that religion would be one of the first three things they mention, especially if they ain't religious. That's how big a role religion plays in the human condition. Even those who abstain from religion feel compelled to bring it up when describing themselves to a stranger. Funny how that works, ain't it? Especially in light of recent developments, as it's been less than a hundred years since the world learned that there were Immortal Monarchs pulling the strings from the shadows for thousands of years, long enough to have influenced religion to further serve their own purposes.

Just look at the British Monarchy. Every sitting king right up to King George the Sixth can trace their ancestry back to the Immortal Monarch King William the Conqueror. A line of succession that didn't end even after he was overthrown, as his descendants just kept right on ruling, though in a less official capacity with certain powers being handed over to the government to wield in their stead. I don't really get it, but it seemed good enough for most folks at the time, even if Bloody Bill and his España counterpart Ferdinand the First of León who was similarly overthrown around the same time lived all the way up until the Second World War. Even died fighting against each other, with Ferdinand claiming the moral victory because he lived long enough to get confirmation of his old nemesis' death.

Which raises all sorts of questions about their relationship, but ain't no one to ask anymore. The important thing to take away from all this is that you can see why King Henry the Eighth's initiation of the English Reformation seems mighty suspect when viewed through a fresh lens. It's one thing to secede from the Catholic Church and declare yourself Supreme Head of the Church of England because you want to divorce your wife and marry a new one who'll give you male heirs. It's a whole nother ball game when you do it to take power away from the Roman Catholic Church and hand it over to Bloody Bill working from the shadows. Henry Number Eight wasn't just doing all that on lark like he made it sound like. He was seizing assets and taking control of religious dogma to better suit his Immortal Monarch's needs.

Stuff like that is why I find religion so interesting, because you see that sort of thing all around the world throughout history. An Immortal Monarch comes to power, and inevitably, they always try to take on religion because they feel threatened by the power of Faith. Oftentimes, those religious institutes got a sordid history with magic themselves, as there's a lot of bad blood between religion and magic. Mostly because religious ceremonies themselves oftentimes contained a hint of magic, and them religious types regarded their magic as Holy, and other magics as heretical. Doesn't take much to get the Roman Catholic Church to call an Inquisition, and they've recently revealed their history of taking down Immortal Monarchs who thought to wield Faith as a weapon against the world. Then there's the mighty suspicious timing of the last Inquisition, namely the España Inquisition which was authorized in the mid-1400's, only for King Henry to try and divest control of the faithful some 50 years later in the early 1500's.

Course, there ain't no proof to say Old Bloody Bill told his divorce-happy descendant to start his own branch of Christianity so he could take power away from the Roman Catholic Church and avoid all those hardships his old enemy just experienced first hand. All we got are the facts, which in addition to what was listed above, is that the Roman Catholic Church will not suffer a witch to live, and an Immortal Monarch checks all the right boxes when it comes to identifying a witch.

History is full of little oddities like that now that we know Immortal Monarchs have been around for so long. The Qin Immortal Emperor united his lands, ruled for a human lifetime, abdicated his throne to his heir, and entombed himself inside his massive mausoleum round the time Jesus walked the earth and lived all this time up until he died round about 60 years ago. Ain't that something? Just think of the stories a man like old Tian Zi could tell, though far as I know, he didn't get out much. Sure, he conquered most of the nations around him to expand the Qin Empire and use his descendants as puppet Emperors over several centuries of sustained warfare, but then he just… stopped expanding for no reason anyone could figure out. Me, I suspect it's got something to do with the Frontier, seeing how construction of the Forbidden City around the Gate started in the year 1420, which coincidentally is round about the time the Qin stopped their expansion spree and gave up on Bharath and Nippon both.

Got no proof that the Gate had anything to do with the end of expansionist policies, but it stands to reason that the 'usurper' Emperor Yongle didn't seize the throne and move the capital to Beijing to weaken the influence of court officials who supported his predecessor, Jianwen. Civil war don't make no sense in retrospect when you realize both would-be kings had a powerful Immortal Monarch to answer to, so lot of folks now believe Yongle was Tian Zi's fixer who cleaned up the country under his orders, or was just doing what he believed the Immortal Monarch would want. The theory goes that the Immortal Monarch had been away for an extended period of time, so long that Jianwen became Emperor without ever having met the true power behind the throne. This would have led to the young Emperor overstepping his bounds and attempting to wrest control away from the various Princes of the Qin Empire. Each of whom had more power than most kings in Europe mind you, as the Empire made up more than 10% of the world's total landmass all by it's lonesome, a figure that would seem even larger considering the European nations were only just learning about the existence of the Americas, which are close to 30% of the world's landmass between the two of them.

It's silly how the Federal education system focuses solely on American history at the expense of all else. Why bother memorizing the names of presidents when there's so much more to learn about?

Like religion and the impact it's had on human history, whether it be due to the battle of influence between the various Immortal Monarchs and the shockingly powerful Roman Catholic Church, or how the Qin Immoral Monarch successfully eradicated any and all organized religion within his borders, leaving only a smattering of folklores and superstitions that spread across the massive Empire in a time when most folks never travelled more than 20 klicks from where they was born. Real riveting stuff to dig into, because even though the Qin don't go to church, temple, mosque, or anything other place of worship, they've developed their own sorta quasi-religion over the millennia, one full of diverse and encompassing traditions drawn from various different sources.

Like the whole thing about duty and obligation to bring their dead home to rest. That's why my mama's buried here after all, as this was where she made her home, so this is where my daddy buried her. Fact is, to the Qin, an ideal death is to go out on your own bed, though knowing that's where my mama died don't help matters much. No idea why the Qin like it that way, but Jinfeng also mentioned something about freeing her ancestors from their mortal trappings, which implies a belief in some sort of afterlife. You'd think that'd be a given, considering the Qin Immortal Monarch calls himself Tian Zi, or Son of Heaven, but Heaven don't mean the same thing to the Qin. It ain't about paradise or life after death, because their word for Heaven, Tian (天), is the same character as 'Sky', meaning Heaven to them is a manifestation of natural forces, same as gravity or tension.

As such, Heaven is a real, physical place in their system of beliefs, a higher plane of reality which sent Tian Zi to rule over the 'middle realms', which is what they call not just the old world, but the entire plane of existence. If there's a higher realm and a middle realm, that means there's a lower realm too, which is the realm occupied by demons and ghosts and whatnot, most of which turned out to be Abby. That's why the Qin Immortal Monarch declared himself as Tian Zi upon uniting all the lands that would later be known as the Qin Republic, asserting that he ruled by the Divine Mandate of Heaven, or in other words, the physical laws of the very universe everyone resided in, and thus had to defend the realm against Abby.

Old Bloody Bill wishes he was as powerful and far-sighted as Tian Zi, because it took the British Immortal Monarch some four or five hundred years to realize he ought to get ahead of religion and make himself out to be some sort of heavenly being. In contrast, Tian Zi declared himself the Son of Heaven as soon as he united the Empire, presumably before he was an Immortal Monarch even.

What's interesting to me is that despite any sort of organized religion, the Qin have their own religious practices that they all share in common. It really shows in how carefully Who Sheng digs up the remains of his father and the other two culprits to my father's murder. Though he ain't faster than I am with the Mould Earth Cantrip, his careful control and delicate touch with the Spell allows him to move dirt from around the rotten corpses without damaging them further. A feat I can't match even on my best day, but the kid makes it look all too easy and leaves me wondering if his Bloodline is focus on Transmutation Spells same as Aunty Ray's focuses on Illusions and Enchantments.

That's the only reason why a 13-year-old kid can do something better than I can, because he got an Innate advantage in Transmutation. Ain't no other possible explanation, no siree bob.

Doesn't help that I'm still kinda worried the kid is actually some powerful Spellslinger in disguise, and Transmutation magic would be the most likely offender. Gotta get up real early in the morning to get an Illusion or Enchantment past Tina, Chrissy, and Aunty Ray, and I done already said why Conjuration is out of the question. That's why I sit tight and keep careful watch on the kid as he digs the bodies out of the ground, carefully moving dirt away from the rotted remains with a deft touch and solemn reverence that I almost envy, as I most certainly couldn't have kept my cool like him if our positions were reversed. There he stands in his daddy's grave while the killer watches on from a few feet away, and yet I ain't seen so much as a single sign of grief, anger, or distress. Calm and cool as a cucumber he is, all stoic and dry eyed while exhuming bodies like this ain't as personal as it gets and he done this a thousand times before.

It's almost a Ritual in and of itself, a free form art of carefully uncovering each and every piece buried within this grave with a reverence that borders on the fanatical. There's no emotion in it though, none besides respect, devotion, and dedication as he unearths the remains of the three Vanguard I killed exactly four years ago to the day and unceremoniously dumped into this pit. When he gets to the skulls, he stops at each one to bow and mutter a short prayer, one I don't understand even with my limited grasp of spoken Qinese to the point where I'm all but sure it's another language.

A magical one at that, though not in the way you'd think. There's no magic in the words themselves, the same way Latin is just another language, but one I choose to use for my Verbal Spell Components the same way this kid uses his droning, monotone language for his Ritual here. It ain't a powerful one, and one I recognize despite the vast differences in execution, as this here is a keeping Ritual meant to preserve and maintain a corpse without putting it on ice. I find it fascinating on multiple levels, because not only is it a different twist on an old Ritual, it's got all manner of notes from what passes for Qinese religion and spiritualism intertwined within it all. The droning chant, the repeated bows, the warding gestures, and deferential mannerisms, it's all so strange and yet somehow familiar at the same time. My daddy used to press his hands together and bow his head like that, or make those brushing movements like he washing up without water or soap. He'd place coins in the deceased mouth too, in case they needed to pay for the journey to what comes next, and leave them some token of food to see them fed before undertaking their final journey on this plane of existence.

Most telling of all is the red threads the kid uses to bind up the bodies, a thin and weak strand prone to snapping which he makes up for in sheer quantity. Otherwise, Qin burial customs are simple enough, and I give the kid what he needs without making any fuss. I done already looked through the bag his sister handed over more times than I can count, and I didn't find nothing out of the ordinary inside, but I still keep my left hand on my Rattlesnake as I pass his things over one at a time when asked. That earns me the shadow of a disapproving glower, when he barely blinked while exhuming his daddy's body. Tells me the kid gotta work on his priorities, because courtesy don't mean much compared to the death of a father and the weighty responsibility of bringing him back home to rest. I know if my daddy died outside of the mesa, he'd want me to bring him back here to be buried next to my mama. Told me so years and years ago, one sunny afternoon when I was maybe six and asked him what he was writing about. Turns out he was updating his will, and he told me then and there what he'd want to happen, and that I didn't have to do nothing besides put him in the ground and pop his headstone overtop.

Didn't want to be buried by the house in New Hope, because like I said before, that ain't ever been home for him. Ain't home for me neither, which is good because I ain't allowed there no more. Today has got me thinking about me and my future though, because time was I figured I'd want to be buried here alongside my daddy and mama, but now I'm wondering if I ought to be with Josie instead. We wasn't married, but we was engaged, and she was more than likely carrying our baby. Shouldn't I want my earthly remains to be buried with them then? Why does that not feel right to me then? Would I even be allowed a plot inside the cemetery? I'm not even sure if the one next to Josie is available for purchase as it were, and the topic never came up when she was alive and well. Understandably so, but it leaves me feeling all sorts of conflicted and frustrated to boot because there ain't nothing to be done about it.

So instead, I stand and watch the kid wrap all three corpses in their own individual blankets before carefully bringing them up one at a time. With help from a Floating Disc that I Conjured for him on request, because I ain't about to let him sling any proper Spells. Don't much like him using Cantrips, but I don't got no proper sized shovel to lend him and don't feel much like waiting so many hours or maybe even days for him to do all of this by hand. Once the bodies are all wrapped and aboveground, the kid climbs up and out of the hole and gets to filling it up again without needing to be asked. Good manners that, and it burns me to feel obligated to respond in kind.

That's the American in me, raised by Aunty Ray to always treat folks with the utmost courtesy even when I don't like them much, but this ain't some random kid I happened to come across in my travels. This here is a Qin Vanguard Novice, one deemed old enough to come out on a trip to the badlands that almost ended in disaster. He had himself a spear in hand when we met, and a blazing anger in his eyes that's been curiously absent since, to say nothing of the powerful magical energies that have been swirling around him all this time. Still got no idea what it is, only what it probably isn't, which isn't to say I done actually eliminated any possibilities from the list, so really, it could be anything at all.

But even if this were some disguised assassin sent here to take my life when I least expect it, Aunty Ray would still expect me to be courteous, because like she'd say, you get what you give and you gotta repay folks in kind. I don't want to though, so I keep mum and just watch as the kid pulls out a geomantic compass, one that don't point Aetheric or magnetic North, but instead will track Aetheric Flows in some fashion or another. My daddy had one, but he didn't use it much because he said he wasn't all that good at reading the omens as dictated within the Book of Changes. Sounds mighty superstitious to me, because my daddy was a damn good Diviner, which is what them geomantic compasses are supposed to help with, and his inability to understand it was why his grades were so low. Ended up coming to the Frontier as a mere Corporal, which is one of the lowest ranks there is. Still better than a basic grunt, which again is better than a Novice like Jinfeng and her similarly aged comrades, but a long way's off from my mama's rank of Colonel which was way higher than most.

Point is, the kid uses the geomantic compass like a pro, making a few cursory gestures until he finds what he needs. Placing the compass aside, he trades it out for a couple lengths of rope and two collapsable batons which he lays out in a nice, long column before arranging the three corpses from head to toe overtop the ropes with the extended baton squaring up their shoulders. There's an order to it that I can't fathom save to say it's deliberate as he goes out of his way to make sure one corpse is at the top and the others situated below it. Once the bodies are all laid out, he gets to securely lashing them to the batons for some odd reason I can't figure out. Ain't trussing them up at the wrists and ankles, nor is he laying them atop the batons like makeshift stretcher. No, he's binding them to the batons up around the shoulders and wrists, with a big gap between the first two corpses so he can slip under and lift the whole contraption up to brace the batons over his shoulders. The three wrapped corpses come with of course, but not all the way, as their arms and shoulders come up while their feet swing down like he planning on some sort of macabre puppet show where he makes them all line dance alongside him.

Which is what it looks like as he takes a couple tentative steps around, but while he's got spirit in spades, his physical strength is sorely lacking if he's hoping to carry all three corpses home like that, even ones that are mostly bones like these. That's still round about 30 kilos a piece easy in bones alone, and it's all spread out across the batons instead of tucked in nice and close to his chest, which will throw off his balance as soon as he picks up any sort of speed. He'll be lucky to make it an hour marching around like that, and he wouldn't be trying it if he didn't have the mind to go through with it. It's a long trip back to New Hope though, and longer still to the quay so I can resupply, then a hell of a trip down south where the Qin have drawn their lines in the sand. It'll be slow going too, because while it gets pretty warm in the winters once you get past New Sonora, the snow and sleet before that will make getting there a pain in Cowie's rear. I sure as hell ain't gonna be slogging through it on foot, nor do I care to humour Who Sheng as he gives it the old college try, especially not here in the badlands.

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Rather than point all of this out though, I mind my manners and say, "You know, there's plenty of room in the undercarriage. I'll even clean it out beforehand if you like." Don't see much point, because they're rotted corpses which'll just dirty up the place anyways, but I get how it is. Even though they're dead and gone, you can't help but take extra care of their mortal remains and want nothing but the best for them. That's why I splurged extra for the plush lining and silken cushions for Josie's coffin, even though my daddy went into the ground without anything to protect him from the elements.

Meaning his body probably don't look all that different from the ones Who Sheng just dug up. Now there's a sobering thought I wish I never had, but you can't unring that bell once it's been rung, and all I can do is picture my daddy's bones sitting six feet under over yonder by his headstone.

In response to my generous offer, Who Sheng's expression darkens like I done shot his daddy a second time. "A Vanguard cannot be carried home. They must return home on their own two feet, for a Vanguard's mission is never done until they are relieved of duty and ceremonially laid to rest."

There ain't no real response to a statement like that, none except to blink and try to figure out if the kid is pulling my leg, but he looks serious as the grave. Ain't nothing for it except to go along, though I feel compelled to mention one minor detail. "They won't have any feet for much longer if you keep bouncing them around like that," I say, gesturing towards the clinking corpses which have already broken a few bones just from getting stood upright. There's also a second factoid I gotta get off my chest, so I add, "Nor will they ever make it home to be relieved of duty if you gonna carry them back the whole way. If Abby don't get us in the badlands, the weather will as we head on down south, because you gotta move fast when the snow falls start up and get into shelter right quick. Ain't no Imbuement in the world gonna protect you from the cold when you covered head to toe in ice and snow, and even if it could, I ain't gonna lend you one."

Again, the kid hits me with a glower, but not a personal one, like he don't like me for me. No, he's glowering because he's doing the same thing I did, trying to figure out if I'm saying all this just to get one over on him. Glancing at the wagon parked next to the house, he purses his lips in a girlish pout that don't endear him none while working things through in his head. Honestly, I've never had a first impression turn out so very wrong before, because the angry Qink kid I saw come rushing up after the fight seemed like a volatile, quick-tempered, easily provoked fool who didn't have a good handle on his anger. Since his private talk with Jinfeng though, he's been calm, collected, and patient to a fault, on top of spoken and thoughtful too.

Must've been one hell of a pep talk, and a quick one too seeing how they was only out of sight for a few seconds at most. Wonder what she told him to get him to behave so well? Credit where credit is due, she runs a tight ship and knows how to lead, though part of it could be the culture. The Qin are big on obligation and conformity, meaning they do what is expected of them so long as someone keeps an eye on them. They can only be trusted so far, and you gotta stay on your toes to keep them from slacking or screwing you over just because they can. In their minds, if they manage to fool you, then it's because you weren't working hard enough not to be fooled, so you more or less deserve it. Victim blaming at its finest, but it's how they do, which is why you can't give them an opening no matter what.

So the fact that Tina and Aunty Ray went behind my back to help the kid out fills me with concern, and rightly so. That's why I told Tina never to go at it alone, but I get the feeling Aunty Ray won't be as receptive to my advice. She's… what you would call an opinionated woman, and if she thinks she's in the right, she won't heed a word of advice until she learns things the hard way. Can't afford to have that happen here, because even though Who Sheng looks like a polite and well-mannered young kid, he'll only remain that way if we keep an eye on him and don't let him get away with nothing.

Which is difficult to do with Tina and Aunty Ray both feeling sorry for the kid, and Chrissy so fascinated by him to boot. No idea what it is about him, but I've caught her trying to sneak in close a handful of times now, when she's usually really good about steering clear of dangerous folk once I tell her someone ain't to be trusted. I suppose whatever magics he's got woven around him is too intriguing to ignore, and Chrissy wants to study it a little closer to better perceive the flows. If it wasn't for the fact that all three ladies are well versed in Enchantment, I'd be worried the Spell is some sort of passive Charm that endears observers to the target, one that makes you want to be friendly and help out. It ain't though, because I ain't moved a muscle to try and ease his burdens none, nor have I had to work all that hard at it.

Let's be real. The kid has what you'd call a punchable face. I know. It's not right to say, and he's just a kid who can't help how he looks, but it is what it is, and I ain't gonna mince words about it. It's the baby fat on his cheeks and the way his scowl and pout doesn't really suit the shape of his face, like it's pulling in all the wrong ways to make him look so…punchable. There's even a Prussian word for it, Backpfeifengesicht, which Anita says means 'A face that cries for a fist in it'. Lovely language, Prussian is, seemingly with a word for everything under the sun, though I do admit it do sound a little harsh on the ear at times. If only that one infamous Prussian hadn't gone too far in his efforts to kick off the Second World War and overthrow the established Immortal Monarchy to create a new world within which man would hold their own fate in their hands.

Only a specific subset of men however, which is where he went wrong. That and the horrific research into Necromancy and whatnot, which ain't a real School of Magic last I checked, just a collection of fictional Spells that folks think Spellslingers can do. Still, if it wasn't for him, we might still be under the yoke of the Immortal Monarchs, as him and his Council of Nazi Archmagi were responsible to taking out a fair few number of them, while encouraging the rest to fight amongst themselves. Plus he killed himself in the end, so bad people can do good things sometimes, even if accidentally.

Fact is, the Qin Emperor had a lot of respect for the Nazis and might well have been signing his messages H.H too if not for the fact that the Nipponese joined up with the Axis first. They shared a lot of similar ideology, though they differed in opinion when it came to the topic of Innates. The Nazi's saw them as a blight on Aryan blood, one that was to be avoided at all costs, whereas Tian Zi saw Innates as the next step in human evolution. That's what he proclaimed at least, while training up 'Aberrant' Death Squads who committed all manner of war crimes in the pacific theatre, though the Nipponese were no slouches on the war crimes front themselves. While a lot of history books paint the Western Front between the Allies against Nazi Prussia as a war between good and evil, things were a lot less clear cut on the eastern side of things, where almost everyone was kinda an asshole like you'd expect when fighting a war.

No quarter and no surrender, with soldiers and civilians alike slaughtered to the last, resulting in a horrific death toll among the Qinese over the course of a decade that was only matched by the vast swathes of destruction left behind in the aftermath of the two Aetheric bombs dropped on the Nipponese. The Feds killed a quarter of million or more people in their desperate bid to take out the Nipponese Immortal Monarch, who was single-handedly keeping the Axis war efforts afloat after everyone else had been taken out of the fight, including any and all known Immortal Monarchs. Pretty sure he thought he was in the clear and could come out smelling like roses as the sole Immortal Monarch around, but he underestimated just how powerful the new weapons of war could be.

I heard there were people who were vaporized so quickly their ashes left an imprint of a shadow on the ground, a haunting memento mori of people whose lives were snuffed out in an instant of Aetheric destruction.

"I will consider alternatives," the kid says, turning back to me with a serious expression that once again doesn't match his youthful features. "I would ask that you do the same, as I would make one more request of you." Resisting the urge to crack a joke or make a threat, I simply narrow my eyes and cock my head to hear what he's got to say, because contrary to popular belief, I can mind my manners and be diplomatic when I want to. Seeing this does not fill the kid with confidence, and for good reason too, seeing how his next words are, "Though he has not made any declaration of such, I know that the General would be heartened by the return of his beloved younger sister, to be interred within his family's mausoleum so that he might pay his respects and observe the traditions to see her spirit on to her next life."

I don't even need to think before I answer, "Not a chance." Though my left hand has yet to leave the Rattlesnake, I clench it tight enough to hurt. "You do anything to disturb my mama's rest and I'll kill you, your sister, and everyone who ever done anything for you. We clear?"

The kid has no fear, no anger, no surprise even, just futile resignation in the set of his shoulders as he hears exactly what he was expecting. Don't know what that says about me, but one thing's for certain. Who Sheng here has got me pegged, figured me out well enough to read me like an open book, and I don't like that at all. Especially when he still won't give up despite knowing ain't nothing good gonna come from pushing on the matter. "I would not ask this if it was not of the utmost importance," he says, his accent showing through as he rushes to speak his mind without the soft tones and careful cadence he usually favours, the same way so many other foreigners speak when using a second language. It's still better than my French, Latin, Spanish, or Qinese, so he got that up on me, which is just more fuel to the fire for no real reason at all.

"She is your mother yes," the kid says, his tone much too gentle and even tempered for a face so callow and youthful. "But she is also the General's younger sister, one whom he was pledged to protect so that they might bring glory to the people of the Republic."

That's a new one. The people of the Republic. Usually they just say the Republic, because the people are the Republic and the Republic is the people, one of the big talking points the ruling Council of Elders likes to use while they pass laws to legalize stealing children from their parents and sending them to a death world with nothing but the skin on their backs and the knowledge in their heads. Reprehensible is what that is, because don't matter how much training a kid gets, they're still a kid in the end.

This kid in particular ain't done talking just yet, even though an older and wiser person would know I ain't gonna budge. "The General carries a heavy burden upon his shoulders, one made all the heavier when he lost the person who should have been his greatest emotional and intellectual support. For years now, he has grieved over the loss of his sister and blamed himself for not finding her sooner, for not overturning heaven and earth to see her safe and sound at his side. He did not do so because the Republic came first, and it always will in his eyes, but he still yearns to make amends for mistakes of the past. Not just losing his sister, but alienating his nephew too, and if you would just speak to him, I am sure all will be made clear and you will understand that the Republic has all our best interest at heart."

"The Republic is what got my mama buried six feet under," I say, making a concentrated effort to keep my tone calm and cordial as can be even as my knuckles turn white from gripping my gun. "If it wasn't for the Republic, she wouldn't have been sent to the Frontier. She wouldn't have gotten scared and run all the way here to the Divide away from all manner of people who could've helped her. She wouldn't have been left alone and afraid while giving birth to the child who'd kill her because she was too eager to be a mama even though she wasn't nothing but a child herself. She'd be alive and well in the old world, because there ain't no justification for sending teenagers out to die. For the Republic."

Can't help but spit out that last bit in a bitter tone, because that right there is the truth of the matter, one I make clear in no uncertain terms. "Zhu Yuanzhang blamed my daddy for letting my mama die, but he ought to turn his anger towards the Republic he serves. What sort of government sends children to the unknown Frontier in the first place? After instilling them with a deep-seated xenophobia and impressing upon them the desperate need to breed the next generation of Republic children mind you, children they'll send into the meatgrinder soon as they come of age some sixteen years later. Or maybe even sooner. Take a look in the mirror kid. You thirteen and got no place being in the army, much less serving out here in the badlands, and yet here you are. Sent away on a whim by your precious Second Sister who don't give a shit about your life, because the mission is all that matters. Whether you live or you die is of no concern, because you just a cog in the machine, one that'll roll right over your dead body without blinking. Your only value is that you are her best chance to complete the mission. One in which she will reap all the benefits while giving you an attaboy if you succeed, but she won't cry no crocodile tears if you don't make it home alive."

Getting right up into the kid's face, I put him on the back foot as I loom overhead and pummel him with the truth. "What that girlie say to you to get you to play along?" I ask, letting my sneer out in full force to show my complete and utter disdain. "She promise you glory and advancement in your Vanguard career? A medal of honour or a place in an elite squad if you come through with this mission? It had to be something good to get you so well behaved, the very picture of a filial son swallowing all his anger and pride to make sure the job gets done. Where'd all that fire go, boy? That anger I seen the first time we locked eyes, that feral hatred that said you wanted to tear me limb from limb for what I done." Spitting towards the corpses, I make sure he knows good and well what that is. "Those three corpses right there? I don't know which one was your daddy, but there a two out of three chance he died beggin' for his life. Talking about his wife and children waiting back home for him to return, to the child whose daddy he just killed for no fucking reason at all."

The kid don't take the bait, so I gotta go a little further, because it burns me to see him so calm and collected when I'm anything but. Removing my hand from the Rattlesnake with a focused effort of will, I breathe out, breathe in, and breathe out again before unbuckling my gun belt and laying all four revolvers and my various ammo and component pouches down in the dirt. Advancing on the kid with arms out to the sides, I press forward even as Who Sheng backs away with his eyes looking down in the dirt. Not at my weapons or even my feet, but rather away so he can only see me from his peripheral vision in a show of complete submission. Can't stand that one bit, because at least I can respect anger and hatred, understand it even, but this? The kid's standing over the corpse of his father and in front of the man who killed him, and he can't even look me in the eye.

"Don't back down now," I say. "Here's your chance to get even with your daddy's killer. Come on now. Let's see if you deserve that medal or placement your Second Sister promised. I'll even let you throw the first punch."

"I have no desire to fight you," he says, still backpedalling away at a fair rate of knots. "I only wish to bring the General's younger sister home to her family."

"This is her home," I hiss, and even I can hear how petulant I sound. "Here with her family. It ain't much to look at, but it's what she and my daddy built together, a place that belongs to them and them alone. They was gonna live here until I was born and she was well enough to get moving again, because they knew if they kept going, they'd find their people and all would be well. Ain't that a joke? She died because she was in such a rush to fulfil her duty and bear a child instead of doing the smart thing and waiting until it was safe, but even up until the end, she had faith that the Republic would make all her problems go away, when it was the root source of all her problems. She should've waited until there was some measure of security in place, more allies, a doctor, hell, even a bed would've been an upgrade, but no. They rushed in like they was told to and ended up here because it was the only place they felt safe, next to a hellhole filled with Proggies and Abby because you and yours taught her to fear anyone who wasn't Qin, and she ate it all up hook line and sinker."

By now, the rest of the family has noticed what's going on, and they've come out to make sure nothing gets out of hand. Aunty Ray got a storm of dark disapproval etched across her face, while Tina, bless her heart, is moving to secure the guns I left behind to make sure the kid don't make a break for them and get a weapon in hand. As for Chrissy, she just looks sad and scared, which more than anything is what stop me in my tracks. Ain't no two ways about it, I don't come out looking good here, not when I'm bullying a kid who's five years younger and barely up to my armpits in height. Unwilling to leave things off like this, I snap to get his attention and hold his gaze with my piercing stare. "Well guess what? The People of the Republic weren't here for her when she needed them, and they wasn't here for me or my daddy either. Was foreigners who helped us out, good men and women of various different nations whether they be American, Métis, British, and even Aussie, all of whom were happy to take in me and my daddy and make sure we got everything we'd ever need. As for the Republic? What've they done? They done sent my mama unprepared into the Frontier, and killed my daddy for not heeding the Council's lies, so if the General spends the rest of his miserable life wallowing in regret, then I'll be just a little happier for it."

Spite. Not the best reason to deny my blood uncle the chance to bury his sister, but she married my daddy, and this is where he buried her. He didn't bring her back to her people, didn't consult the compass or the Book of Changes to determine where her grave should go. No, he put her in the ground outside the house they built together, and while the place don't look like much for now, there gonna come a day when we drive Abby out of the Divide and I move out here to turn this here mesa in the home they dreamed of while sitting in that shack together during the cold winter nights.

"You resent the Republic for what you believe it has taken from you," Who Sheng begins, still all calm and level-headed despite everything that's been said, and I want nothing more than to smack him upside the head if only to get this anger out of me. Ain't no cause to raise a hand against him just yet though, so I stew in my rage and give him his chance to speak. "I cannot make amends for what others have done. I can only speak for myself and what I believe, and that is that the General had nothing to do with your father's death, for it would not serve the Republic. So long as he still drew breath, there was always a chance that he would return to the fold, and until such a time, his deeds and accomplishments would reflect well on our people, for he was still one of ours, so his presence within the Federation brought us no harm. The prodigal son as it were, a parable the Americans often cite, and this is how the General saw you and your father."

"Then why'd these fools come up here to kill my daddy?" I ask, the burning question which has been eating away at me ever since I laid eyes on the cadre. "Why'd they go out of their way to assassinate an asset who wasn't doing nothin' to harm the Republic?"

"The General is not the sole leader of the Republic," Who Sheng replies, an answer that's about as useful as tits on a bull, but still takes the wind out of my sails all the same, because it ain't the easy answer I was hoping for. "There were dissenting opinions among the Council, some of whom believed your father should be sentenced and summarily executed for dereliction of duty, lest his example spread among the Vanguard." Waving at the bodies laid out on the floor, one of which is his father, the kid says, "However, their mission was never officially sanctioned by any Republic authority, and the General punished any and all who aided them on their journey. He is not the enemy you have made him out to be, just a man who wishes to lay his sister to rest and get to know the nephew he so greatly admires and respects."

Flashing a wry and somewhat resentful smile, Who Sheng shows off the first honest emotion since surrendering himself to my custody. "He has declared you the Dragon of the Generation you know? The Firstborn who will lead the Republic to conquer the Frontier. Should you return to his side, you would not only be reunited with your only blood relative on the Frontier, you would also be placed highly among the Vanguard and given all the support he can offer to aid your development and success."

"So would any other government organization out here." A little white lie, because the Rangers wouldn't welcome me with open arms, though I bet they'd still take me if I really wanted to join up. Then there's the Catholic Knights Templar, who were never in the running to begin with, though it still stings to know Uncle Rigsby don't think I'd make the cut for moral reasons. "So what? I'd sooner go at it alone than go crawling to the Republic, because the saddest thing is you don't even see how the system is built to exploit you."

Now that gets a burr up his saddle some, and oddly enough, he glances over at Aunty Ray, who meets his gaze with a moment of hesitation before nodding ever so slightly. And moving closer to position herself to get in between the two of us, and it don't take much thinking to figure out why. Puffing up his chest and holding his head up high, Who Sheng draws himself up to full height and says, "You believe me a cog in the machine, that my superior officers do not care for my life. There are those who believe as you say, but in the General's eyes, a person's greatest contribution to the Republic is our continued survival. Only with time, experience, and training will we ever hope to repay what the Republic has invested in us, meaning our lives are more precious than mithril. As for Second Sister not caring for my life?" The kid scoffs. "I am here of my own choosing, for I would not demand something from a subordinate if I was not willing to do it myself."

A curious statement coming from a 13-year-old kid who ain't got no subordinates to speak of, but then his body ripples and my paranoia is once again proven justified. The Aetheric flows surge in and around the boyish figure as bones crack and muscles expand to grow several inches in all directions in the blink of an eye. It ain't just size either, as the entire figure shifts from a lanky, coltish child to a slender, girlish figure that is still callow to be sure, but ready to bloom at any time. The short pastel blue crew cut stretches out into long locks of warm chocolate brunette as the decidedly feminine form pops and cracks into place, the flesh settling into the familiar image of one Second Sister Jinfeng, standing there all proud and holier than thou while fluttering her big, brown eyes because she got one over on the Firstborn and proved her point in a way that I cannot refute.

I fucking knew it. I didn't know how it was possible, and I still haven't really figured it out, but I done knew there was something off about all this. Much as I'd like to get to the bottom of it all, there ain't no room for facts and curiosity with all the anger bubbling up. So against my better judgement, I do something I ain't ever done before, but not for any real reason besides a lack of opportunity. I take a swing at the girl in a pique of rage, a bad decision made all the worse when the Battle Monk in training parries my left hook, grabs my wrist, then pulls me forward and up off of my centre of balance before driving her hip into mine to somehow softly send me cartwheeling over her shoulder before crashing into the ground.

Where I take a moment to catch my breath and stare up at the sky, because not only did I just take a cheap shot at a woman out of sheer frustration, I got tossed around like a rag doll for it.

Fine. I admit it. Hand to hand combat training isn't entirely a waste, so maybe I should find someone to teach me some boxing or something. Right after I kill this bitch and bury her with the three bodies she just dug up, or at the very least, wish very much that I could.

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