I think it's safe to assume that basically all chapters are difficult to write at this point so I'll just stop repeating myself. Haha...
Here is Shen, as promised. I've been pretty good about updates recently. It helps that I've gotten several totally amazing reviews that really motivated me a lot and put me in the writing mood.
I should probably start keeping track of all the references that I make, because I make a lot, though many of them are pretty subtle. There's a vague ref to Avatar: The Last Airbender, and one to How To Train Your Dragon. I also did a hell of a lot of wiki-walking research on metalworking and old guns. I am very aware that they take really long to make and require a lot of testing before they're good to use, but I kind of handwaved that for the sake of plot. If any Shen backstory seems to sound like someone else's headcanon, that's cause I lose track of what's canon and what's this author's or that author's so I hope that's not considered art theft...
Anyway, hope you like it!
Summary: The paths Shen took in the past seem only to lead deeper into darkness. But through the eyes of those who have woven themselves into his life, a new story unfolds-one leading away from old misery and guilt-that may yet bring him redemption. Slight AU. Chapter 11-Shen is busy with a new invention...perhaps a little too busy.
Oh almost forgot. Thank you to all the anonymous reviewers! I'm always sad that you're anon because I like to be able to discuss the reviews and thank you personally. Either way, your feedback is very appreciated and also makes me write the next chapter faster because I want to thank you as quickly as I can and I can only do it in an update. Lol.
Chapter 11.
Shen.
For days, Shen had kept himself awake long into the night, stuck in the war room. He could feel the familiar ache deep inside him that warned him of impending illness, but he chose to ignore the sensation in favor of continuing his project. He had been working since he returned to Gongmen after battle, but his progress had stagnated for a while. Inspiration had struck him again just after the argument with the peahen, and he had worked furiously on a new, updated design for a weapon. Finally, he had finished the plans. All he needed in order to proceed now was…
"My lord," a voice softly called through his bedroom door. "My lord, the materials you requested have arrived."
Shen lifted his head groggily from his pillow, rising slowly out of his nest-shaped bed. He could feel the weight of his sleep deprivation pressing down on his back, but the announcement from the servant jolted his mind into alertness. Shen swept out of bed and hastily changed out of his sleeping robes, tucked his knives into their hidden compartments and swung the door open.
The pig servant who had woken him jumped in surprise at Shen's dramatic appearance. "G-good morning, sir," he stammered.
"Yes, isn't it?" Shen drawled, towering over the servant and scanning the hallway, the soft morning sun panning through the open windows. It had been a while since a morning pleased him so much. "Where are they, then?" he asked off-handedly.
"We've dropped them off in your factory, my lord. The Wolf Boss said you would probably want them there," the servant said.
"Ah, good." He looked at the nervous servant, and waved him away. "You may go now," he said with mild impatience. The pig bowed and hurried down the hall. Shen stretched his wings in pleasure. Time to get to work.
The fireworks factory was already alive and running by the time Shen got there, molten metal glowing and sparks flying with each breath of the bellows. The wolves hustled about, and Shen surveyed his cannon collection which had slowly replenished itself since he had put the factory to work again.
The wolf Hao bounded up to him. He was always appropriately apprehensive whenever Shen was present in the factory—which was often. The wolf bowed before reporting stiffly, "Lord Shen, Boss informed me you would be arriving this morning for the materials. We placed them up in the balcony area. Let me know if you would like them moved."
"That should be suitable," Shen said, allowing himself a crooked smile. At that moment, not even the tediousness of his inferiors could put him in a bad mood. Shen made his way up the bamboo steps, basking in the fiery warmth of the assembly line as he moved. Crates of metal and wood were waiting for him at the top, and Shen took a moment to inspect their quality.
Hmm, this is good metal, he thought, tapping an iron slab with his knife. And walnut wood! Excellent!
During the battle with the barbarians from the north, Shen had realized some key weaknesses to his weapons. They were slow to reload and fire, and aiming was cumbersome, due to their weight. Since he had returned, he had been brainstorming and calculating the plans for an upgrade. Shen spread out his scrolls across the table, revealing dozens of sketches and measurements littered on the paper.
With the assistance of a gorilla, Shen brought the iron slabs down to the furnace to begin casting them. Melting down the metal would be a tedious task, but Shen always found himself so relieved to be in the warmth of the factory. Fire was so powerful and alive; he loved the way the red light shone on his death-colored feathers, making him feel rejuvenated, integrated with the barely controlled destruction in the flames. That was the beauty of fire—one wrong move, and it would burn its own master. It was all about control, and no one had better command over fire than Shen.
After keeping a careful surveillance on the gorillas pouring the metal into the casting molds, Shen turned in for the night, satisfied at the progress he'd made.
The following day, Lang accompanied him to the factory. It was time to forge. Together, they spent the day pounding the heated iron into the shape of a gun barrel, the wolf wielding the hammer and Shen directing his strikes. They worked in this way for three days with little rest, often splitting the job. The wolf did the heavy labor while Shen worked on casting the delicate parts of the weapon.
"Sir, are you feeling alright? Maybe you should get some rest. You're looking a little pale," Lang said.
"There's no time to rest. The new weapon is almost finished," Shen replied. His body was aching the way it would after a long day of training. It had been a while since he'd done his own forging, but he could not leave such a precise task in the clumsy, incompetent hands of his servants.
"At least go outside and get some real air," the wolf insisted. Shen waved a dismissing wing.
"I've spent my life in the smoke. This is real air," he said with a scoff.
Lang shook his head in resignation. "Whatever you say, sir."
If Shen ever cared to admit it to himself, he was exhausted, but the idea of giving in to the weakness of his body was absolutely repulsive to him. He may have been born weak, but his mind had always been sharper than everyone else's. He was the one who always dared to push the limits of knowledge and curiosity, and what was his reward? Nothing but rejection, he thought as he filed the components of the gun to the proper fit. No one, not even my own parents had faith in me. They expected darkness from me. Never mind that I had always done as they wished. Never mind that I had always tried to please them. If you expect me to play the part of monster, then monster is what you will get! Are you pleased now?
"Here, sir," Lang said, interrupting his internal diatribe. The wolf held up the silver barrel. The length of the entire piece reached half of Shen's height, and it was heavy in his hands, but the measurements were all correct.
"Workable," he said, taking it to his table where the smaller attachments lay. In truth, the wolf had done good work with shaping the barrel. Lang was the only one he could still rely on to produce enough quality to meet his standards. As he lifted the barrel onto the table, he felt something give way, and his vision darkened.
He heard Lang shout his name before he collapsed into unconsciousness. Damn…
Shen awoke in his bed, which was feeling quite welcoming to him at the moment. He tried to push himself into a sitting position, but a wave of dizziness forced him back down. Shen coughed, cursing inwardly as he did. No, I can't succumb to this. I'm not a child anymore.
"See, being stuck in the dark all the time is just no good. It's horrible for complexion too…" Lang said stepping into the room followed by a goat servant.
"Just shut up," Shen groaned. He stuffed his face into his pillows while blindly beckoning for the servant to bring over the tray with hot tea and rice that he was carrying.
Shen turned over in his bed to take the tray. The tea was strong and refreshing, and he felt his mind clear almost instantly. He realized he had underestimated just how worn out he had been.
"What was the big rush to make the weapon anyway?" Lang asked.
"I had been waiting for a long while to be able to create something like it. Once I perfect its design, every soldier of mine will be able to wield one. They will all have the lethal firepower of cannons for themselves. Then I will truly be unstoppable," Shen said. "I have no choice but to hurry. In the rebuilding process, I am at my most vulnerable. Wise opportunists will take advantage of it."
"Not everyone is out to get you," Lang muttered.
"That's a naïve thought to entertain. It'll be the end of you," Shen said, draining his teacup. He picked up the rice bowl and began eating. "In any case, most of the strenuous labor is done. We'll resume tomorrow morning. Don't be late."
"But sir, are you sure about that? We've been working for over a week in that blasted sauna. A day off would be helpful," the wolf protested.
"What, dog? Getting out of breath?" Shen asked with a patronizing smile.
"Hey, I'm not the sick one here—"
In a flurry of feathers, Shen leaped out of the bed and toppled the wolf to the ground. "Sick?" Shen spat. "Let me get this into your furry, tick-ridden head: I am not sick. How do you like this for sick?" he hissed, brandishing a knife and pressing his talon down on the wolf's chest.
Lang stared up at him with wide eyes and the two eyed each other for several long minutes of tension. Shen inhaled deeply, composing himself again. More and more often, his tenuous self-control would snap—or would be on the verge of snapping. Shen could command fire, but it seemed his mind was a different story. Pathetic, he thought. Lack of control is for weaklings and simpletons. He stepped off of Lang, sheathing his knife wordlessly.
"Truly, I'm much improved," Shen said, coating his voice in false cheer. "I will see you in the factory tomorrow morning, and I don't want to see you a minute sooner."
Lang got to his feet, nodding to confirm he had received Shen's implicit command to get out of his sight and stay out.
When the bedroom door shut, Shen was left alone to his thoughts. He removed his knives, one by one, until all thirty of them were laid out on the bedside table. Shen picked one up and dropped into the bed, twirling the silver blade between his fingers.
Illness was insidious. It walked hand in hand with his color, breathing down his neck and pressing in from all sides. I have been branded from birth. No matter what I do, no one will ever see me differently. No matter who I try to become, everyone always assumes the worst.
Shen never understood why his mother and father had reacted the way they did when he destroyed the panda village. More than once, he had overheard them lament that they could not bear to become too close to him, their own child, since he was so poor of health, so certain to die young. Yet when he sought to avert his own destruction foretold by the prophecy, they rejected him. Shen refused to believe the Soothsayer's words were true: that they died from broken hearts. He trembled with anger at the thought. If his parents loved him so much, why did he never feel that love in his entire life? After years of brushing him to the side because of "duties," why did it take his permanent banishment to make them realize they could not live without him?
Shen and Lang worked the next day on fitting the parts of the miniature cannon together. Shen could see the wolf watching him carefully, as though he might drop into a dead faint at any moment. The gesture annoyed Shen, but he vowed to keep his anger in check. Such a primal emotion should not control his actions. Shen welded the metal components onto each other and fixed the finished barrel to the wooden stock. He smoothed out the rough carving-which had been done by a subordinate wolf to save time-and sanded down the splinters. The finished product was a sleek, four-foot long hand cannon. Shen admired the weapon with pride.
"Time to test it," he said, striding down from the scaffold where he and Lang had been working. He tipped a packet of gunpowder down the barrel and packed an iron ball inside it. He exited the factory, many of the workers stopping the production line to follow and watch the demonstration. With a flick of his talons, he struck a flame and ignited the matchlock, aiming out to the sea.
The rifle exploded with force, bright sparks and thick plumes of smoke bursting out of the end of the barrel. Shen had to step back quickly to steady himself from the recoil which tipped the gun upward with incredible force. He dug his claws into the ground for grip. The smoke cleared, and Shen was sure he now had a bruised shoulder from the kickback, but he was pleased. The wolves and gorillas clapped, looking impressed by this new invention.
"It worked!" Shen murmured, eyes widening with glee. He lowered the rifle toward the ground, still staring in awe at the results. All he would need to work on now was aiming properly.
He fanned his tail up, parting the smoke. "Imagine what I could have done for you," he said quietly, thinking of his parents. But too late now. There's no turning back. All I asked for was acceptance for who I am. I suppose I got what I deserved for choosing to rely on other people to do something for me. Well, for all the things I have done wrong, everyone else, and especially you, Mother and Father, you only have yourselves to blame for what I am. You feared for my life, so I lived for you. You worried that I was fragile, so I became strong for you. You were concerned for my future, so I defied fate for you! If that makes me a monster, it was all because of you.
"You did this," Shen said under his breath as he stared out at the horizon, watching the sun steadily sink into the ocean. Another day was ending, never to be repeated. There is no turning back. I must tend to the future.
Next up is Min.