Chapter Nine – Blood Runs Red
Near midnight, when the sky was dark and decorated solely by the large and full moon, Yao was finally free from the responsibilities that came with being an emperor. Finally he could retreat to his chambers, sink his weary body into the hot bath of water that his new chambermaid had been ordered to prepare, and relax. No nuisances disturbed him there; he was free.
Lately he had been in a very bad mood, something that affected all of the servants and guards of the castle. They were all unaware of why, but kept steadily on their toes, ready to be rid of at any moment, as they knew but kept quiet about the truth of their beloved emperor's temper.
The people of Xiang loved Yao; not only was he well read and benevolent of his citizens, but also ruthless against their enemies; and strong, a military genius. During his nineteen years of rule he had won three out of three wars, integrated their suzerain states into Xiangese culture, and sent out help to farms all across the country plagued by poor harvest, when needed. On the outside, he was a perfect leader, and Xiang was a perfect country.
But Xiang had a backside; a dark, terrible secret, which would get you killed for even hinting at. Yao was ready to have anyone who disrupted the perfection murdered, and erased from all records; and in his castle he ruled with fear, rather than intellect. It was needed, in his mind; respect was often equal to fear, and the best way to make someone follow your orders was to make them fear the consequences for disobedience.
This method wasn't always applicable, however, but Yao could think of only two people that he excluded; Jia-Long, and Egill. Jia-Long, for the emperor was unable to properly threat him, and Egill, because he did not wish Egill to think of him in a poor light. It was absolutely crucial that Egill never found out of his dirty secrets; for his own sake.
Sadly, it seemed like Egill was still drifting away, ever since he visited the emperor's bedroom. Had he been appalled with what he had seen? Was Yao truly getting as old as he felt? He brought up a wet hand and touched his face; sure enough, there were wrinkles. And his back hurt, from having to stand for so long during a meeting with his top councils. Moving back to the castle in Kwanyo would probably do wonders to him; he was missing the city, the people, and the atmosphere. Imagining himself in the royal bathhouse soothed his worries momentarily; and imagining Egill there with him did more than that.
It was quite clear that Jia-Long saw him as a threat, to some extent, and that was highly unfortunate. He had obviously been feeding Egill lies about him, which must have been the reason for Egill's lack of attention. His Xiangese was improving, but not as steadily as it had used to; for the engaged couple spent more and more time together alone, neglecting the studies. This saddened Yao greatly; and also angered him; for he knew Jia-Long wouldn't speak Xiangese with Egill to help him along. It was done purely with the intent of spiting Yao, also; which served to madden him further.
Such a hassle, Jia-Long was. What if he had chosen Mei-Lin over her brother? Although not as clever, she would surely have been more eager to learn, and more willing to listen. Instead he was now stuck with that ungrateful brat he called his heir, for years and years. And why? Because Jia-Long had been called a prodigy, had been hailed by the people, and cheered on as an epitome of true Xiangese strength when he won that tournament three years ago. At their cheers, Yao had realized that they would love having Jia-Long announced to be their next emperor; someone who symbolized strength. And so Yao had, when placing the medal of honour around Jia-Long's neck, made a public on the spot announcement that he picked Jia-Long to be his heir.
The people of Kwanyo had been wild with excitement, and even Jia-Long had seemed happy with the arrangement; but he had been less happy when he was not allowed to see his father or sister – not even given time to say good bye – before Yao led him inside of the palace, and told him that it would now be his new home.
It was only after a year, at the next tournament, when Yao allowed his brother to meet with Jia-Long. Yao and Fei-Long had been close growing up, but upon the younger brother, Yao, being chosen as the emperor by their grandmother Fei-Long had grown jealous, and bitter towards him. Yao in turn had decided to ignore his older brother, and so their relationship was very strained; and the annual tournaments were the only time a year they would meet, with Yao being the one to hand out the prize, and Fei-Long having been the one to receive it for years and years before Jia-Long had been born, and he quit fighting to train his son instead.
It was just a little more than a month now, before they would travel to Kwanyo again, and Jia-Long would participate in another tournament. He would allow Jia-Long some time with his family, for once; giving him some time alone with Egill outside of their studies, finally.
If he had had the choice, Yao thought that he would take Egill for himself. A concubine, he would be classed as publically, for Yao was much past the age of taking himself a young spouse, but he would not treat Egill poorly. After all, unlike Jia-Long, Yao saw something other in Egill than a pretty front. In fact, he hadn't even been intrigued by Egill's looks until the prince started dressing in extravagant Xiangese clothes that complimented his colourless skin and hair so well.
Yao, who was in the bath of his floor, sighed when he thought of the beautiful prince. How come he had not claimed him, when he had barged into the meeting with the Dankriegian king and queen? Why had he snapped at him, rather than deciding to keep him? Well, he knew why; but that did not help against the anger he felt towards himself.
He sank down further into the gradually lukewarm water, until only his mouth was visible, and he closed himself off completely from the rest of the world. He was no longer Wang Yao, beloved emperor and feared enemy; he was just a 37 year old Xiangese man in a bath. His castle was but a home, and his staff was but friends, sharing his house. And Jia-Long was not his heir, not at all; just his spoiled nephew. But Egill was still his spoiled nephew's fiancé; that remained an unchangeable fact; if he didn't do anything about it.
After getting out of the bath, and wrapping his body in a white robe, Yao had his new servant make ready his bed. On the other side of the walls to his bedroom the moon was full, shining down upon the distant mountain top where the castle lay. The grass, black in the moonlight, swayed with the soft wind – the early summer air guiding the guards to not mutter about the cold to one-another.
The mountain was vast and cold, impossible to climb even for diligent hikers, but the twenty feet tall wall around the castle garden was still heavily guarded, just like the bridge from the gate to another mountain top, and every cliff on the way. Emperor Yao needed to be safe; that was Xiang's priority.
Cloudless with a shining full moon this night was, as everyone save the bored guards slept soundly. Yao in his room at the top floor, Jia-Long on the floor below, and two stories under his was where Egill found his sleep, with the balcony door open to let in the lovely breeze. He had spent the night with his fiancé, playing mah-jong and enjoying each others' company; and so he was content in his dreams, eager for the next day that would surely be just as lovely. Little did he know this would be his last time in that bed. Hidden by the darkness the squad of stealthy shinobi were approaching the castle; climbing the impossible mountain side with their unmatchable agility and trusty tools, lead by Honda Kiku.
x
Even though his day had been spent by Jia-Long's side; both in practicing self-defence and geography – as well as sharing dinner and playing mah-jong – Egill was twisting and turning his in sleep, troubled by something he could not pinpoint in his awoken state. Haunted by images of his brother Egill started to cold sweat, overwhelmed with guilt and sorrow. The nightmare, so vivid and dark, woke him up as he gasped, terrified for the unknowing something his dream had contained. He could not go back to sleep then, and so he rose to get a glass of water from the carafe that stood on the vanity table. His knees were weak and his hands were shaking – and he looked sick as he saw his reflection. Perhaps having slept with the balcony door open had been a poor move; his throat was on fire, and he coughed; having gotten a cold, surely. After swallowing the water he walked over to close the door, and wanted nothing but to sink back into his bed and wrap the sheets around his ill body.
Just as he reached the door he heard the sound of a drawn sword, and he froze in his tracks when he saw the wooden bars of the balcony being cut off by a dark clad stranger, whom Egill was able to make out from the night sky behind him only due to the drawn and slim sword. Too shocked to cry out Egill only yelled – or attempted to – when the very same stranger put his gloved hand over the prince's mouth and pointed the sword tip against his neck; having jumped forward faster than Egill's eyes could follow.
How to deflect against weapons Jia-Long had not taught him – after all, he had only expected Egill to have to defend against possible rapists or fiends – not kidnappers or assassins. And so he was powerless, threatened with his life, when another mysterious stranger was suddenly behind him, and tied his hands. They did not speak, but one said "be quiet and obey" in very poor Xiangese, making him realize these were foreigners.
The hand on his face was removed and they forced a white cloth into his mouth instead, gagging him and nearly suffocating him in the process; and his feverish state made him unable to protest even slightly. Would Jia-Long come to his rescue? He dared hope so, but he knew that it foolish to wish; the kidnappers were silent in their ways, and efficient; how could anyone notice them?
Suddenly he realized; what if they went after Jia-Long? How could he protect himself against them, when he couldn't even hear them? He could be dead before he woke up!
Egill was thrown over the shoulder of one of the kidnappers as they carried him out of the balcony, through the cut hole, when he started to kick and struggle. He needed the gag out, he needed to warn Jia-Long; to alarm the guards – and save them! This wasn't the time to be selfish, and wish for rescue; he was the only one aware of the intruders, and so it was his duty to warn the rest; and save them. If Jia-Long and Yao were to die then what would become of Xiang? He couldn't let that happen.
His struggling came to an end when the kidnappers hit the back of his head, making him lose consciousness for a short while, and so his body grew limp in their hold and his mind went groggy.
The kidnappers ran with him over the unusually still garden, and though woozy Egill spotted two corpses of guards with needles sticking out of their neck, their blood tainting the grass. No signs of battle showed it clearly; they had been murdered silently, unable to even comprehend that they had company. They had been assassinated, simply for the fact that they were guarding Xiang's ruler. Killed, simply for their loyalty and vigilance. The rage that built in Egill when he realized this was indescribable, and comparable only to the fear he experienced when the kidnappers approached the wall, with no signs or realization how impossible it would be to travel down the mountain. They were insane.
Panic overtook Egill when he realized that all hope of escape was gone, and that he would never again see Jia-Long. He tried to chew through the cloth, to twist himself free – do anything – but all of his efforts were in vain, and he was punished for his attempt of escape by one more hit on his head.
But then it happened. None of the kidnappers – the shinobi of Jahon – even noticed that a tenth person had joined their squad. Upon Egill being hit, however, the mystery man broke free from his masked appearance, and grabbed the head of the shinobi holding Egill; breaking his neck by twisting it. This gave his identity as a foe away and he was quickly attacked by another – but he evaded the punch by crouching; then promptly kicking upwards and snapping yet another neck when his powerful heel hit the shinobi's chin.
This strong foe was Jia-Long, Egill learnt, when he was pulled into his fiancé's arms. And they were surrounded then, by the seven remaining intruders, all ready to strike; but Jia-Long moved first. He held Egill with one arm, as if though he was a child; and punched one of the shinobi in his face. If Egill had not been gagged he would have warned Jia-Long of the two shinobi who attacked from behind, but he did not need to; quickly Jia-Long threw himself forward, out of the circle, and caught his body with his free hand before he hit ground, so that he could jump up till he was standing again, looking at them fiercely. They were cautious, with the hit yet alive shinobi having a cracked nose and bleeding massively.
Jia-Long stomped the ground defiantly. "How dare you attack my fiancé, Jahonese scum?" he called with anger Egill only recalled from the time they were in Yao's room. "Your deaths won't be enough to quench my thirst for revenge for this. I'll slaughter the entire nation of Jahon, make it a barren land cursed for eternity. All whom set foot on it for centuries from now will be killed, men, women and children alike!" In the middle of his speech one shinobi had left his sight – hidden so well by the shadows – and struck from behind; throwing ten needles at the back of his head. Unfortunately for the shinobi Jia-Long heard as they travelled through the air and ducked, so that the needles flew above him. The other shinobi managed to evade as well, but as they jumped out of the way Jia-Long ran towards one escaping to the left and kicked up in the air; then brining down his leg until he hit the shinobi's shoulder, and a crack was heard through the garden as the man sunk onto the ground.
That a lonesome warrior would be able to take them all down seemed ludicrous to Kiku, but he saw in the corner of his eye how more guards were approaching – attempting to be stealthy but failing. It came clear to him that they would not be able to get away with Jia-Long, Egill – or even kill either – not tonight. Left alive were seven out of nine, and two were only down because of injury, but despite a will for retribution Kiku knew they would do better to find success at another time. And so he called "retreat" in Jahonese and fled across the wall, climbing it like a spider would, as he made his escape.
Jia-Long noticed him leaving, but was unable to pursue him this time, as he was holding Egill. The Jahonese would pay – it was not an empty threat he had laid out – starting with the six that remained.
As the guards approached he let go of Egill for them to protect, and followed the four who tried to climb the wall, now many times faster as he was not burdened with extra weight. There was no escaping a Jia-Long mad with vengeance, the shinobi learnt, as he slay one by one when he reached them; bashing one's head into the wall; breaking the knees and crushing the lunges of another; snapping the third one's neck off; and finally punch the fourth's face in until he could no longer function.
The shinobi whose shoulder and spine he had broken tried to crawl away when he saw Jia-Long walk over to him – now calm but deadly, as there was no reason to hurry – but the crawling only served to hurt himself as Jia-Long leant down and grabbed his still functioning arm, snapping the bones on both sides of the elbow; before stomping on his head with his bare foot until the skull crashed and the man died.
Only one was left alive, and he called for the guards – whom were both in awe and fear of him – to imprison the shinobi with the broken nose. He would talk to him later, the heir said, as he walked over to the guard whom was steadying a shaky Egill.
Two guards hurried over to the shinobi with the broken nose and dragged him towards the prison cells below the stable house in the front yard, happy to no longer be in Jia-Long's eye sight. Their future emperor was a terror in a fair combat, but the very embodiment of horror in a battle of life and death. Eyes that only sought destruction; a frown that held no remorse; and hands stained by enemy blood; red just like his bare feet as they coloured the grass with his footprints after having crushed skulls and chests with them.
The image of him, dirty by the blood of his foes, lit by moonlight, would stay in Egill's memory for a long time. The guard who was helping him to stand after having released him of his gag and bound arms let go as Jia-Long approached, but although he wobbled Egill did not fall. He could tell that the other guards were stepping away, as if though fearing they would be next, but Egill remained as his fiancé approached him.
Was he scared? A question without an answer. He was not scared of his fiancé; that he knew. But if the monster before him was his fiancé or not, he could not tell.
When he was a mere step away from Egill Jia-Long stopped, and brought up a hand to caress the fair white skin of the prince's cheek. The blood smeared across it was attractive.
"J-Jia-Long", Egill said with a shaky and sick voice. It was the first time, if he recalled correctly, that he had ever used his name when addressing him directly. "Are you... pain... hurt?" He spoke Xiangese, as if though unsure if Jia-Long would understand him or not if he spoke his native tongue.
"Egill", Jia-Long replied. He brought his other hand to caress the back of Egill's head, dyeing the white hair red. "I am fine. Are you?" If he lied, Jia-Long would be mad.
"No..." Egill said, shaking his head, before leaning forward and resting it against Jia-Long's chest. Quickly the heir wrapped his arms around him to keep him standing. His beautiful Egill was hurt. He was sick. He was in pain. The agony this caused was comparable to none, and he did not move one inch from holding his fiancé, and smearing more blood with every stroke of his back.
He was intoxicated, and could not think clearly. In the middle of the night, before the five remaining guards, he leant down and kissed Egill on his lips. The prince, feverish and weak, kissed back softly.
On the balcony of his floor Yao looked down on the scene, the two kissing boys, with a dissatisfied scowl. What he had just witnessed proved just why he had chosen Jia-Long as his heir, and also the reason why he was unfit to rule. The guards would have to be killed – to be amongst the corpses that the shinobi had caused – he would make sure of that in the morrow. He would also need to have a lecture to Jia-Long and Egill both, but how it would go was unclear.
He did wonder, however, when he saw the bodies of those Jia-Long had slaughtered; what would his heir think when he regained his senses? No matter how he acted, he was a mere 15 year old boy; these were his first kills. How gruesome and brutal they had been. Would Jia-Long look at them with pride, or regret? Finding out which would no doubt be amusing, but finding out what Egill thought, when he finally came over his shock, would be priceless.
In the morning, a red sun rose over the castle, and crows cawed happily at the amounts of flesh they could feast on; and soon they were given five more. A joyous time it was.
Why anons? Why do you leave such wonderful reviews, but no way for me to thank you? Well, here is my attempt: thank you so very much!
A more brutal chapter. I struggled with it a lot, but I think it came out all right. Hopefully you do too.
