Victory was a bitter ash in my mouth. We had spent the rest of the day and much of the morning burying our dead. The Wolves and the Escorts who had fallen were laid to rest in neat, single graves on a gentle, grassy slope overlooking the village, each marked by a name and a hometown carved into a simple wooden stake.

  Further, on the very hill overlooking the village itself lay the men who had followed Lady Feng's desperate call, buried in their own rows. The bandits and the village guards, united in death. Lady Feng herself kneeled before it, a small, desolate figure in her muddied blue silk dress, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs that wracked her entire body. The tears had long since stopped coming down, exhausted after a full night and much of the morning.

  Lu Chengfeng approached her, his usual stoic expression softened by concern. He stood behind her and knelt to her.

  “It is a hard thing, the first time,” he said, his voice a gravelly rumble. “But you will grow accustomed to it. It took your father time, too. In time they will be pieces and the board and you will command them with your heart at ease like he does.”

  Her head snapped up, and she looked at him with a look of raw, wounded betrayal that made the hardened commander flinch.

  “They are not pieces,” she yelled horsely, “They had names. They had families.” She gave the graves a deep kowtow, and curled up into a ball.

  Lu sighed, a sound of weary resignation, and turned to me. “The Youzhou general is waiting.” He motioned to a waiting pair of Wolves to watch over the girl.

  In a large tent pitched just outside the village General Cui BoFeng sat opposite me wearing a simple white linen tunic. He looked tired but held himself with a somber and professional gravity.

  He began, his voice quiet but steady. He gestured with his cup toward the village. “General Yan was a mentor to me. A hard man, but an honorable one. His death will be felt deeply.”

  “His honor did not extend to the villagers he was prepared to slaughter,” I replied, my voice equally quiet, but firm.

  Cui did not flinch from the accusation. He gave a weary nod. “He believed himself to be righteous. His methods were… severe. But his cause was just.” He met my gaze. “We never took an ounce of grain that was not our own. How do you propose we conclude this affair?”

  “Your army will withdraw to YouZhou,” I stated simply. “You may take with you all of the wealth of the Song clan. You may burn his ancestral temple and his home to the ground but you will not harm a single person in this village. Not Song's family, nor his servants, nor the peasants who farm his land. They are innocent.”

  “Are they truely?” General Cui asked, He considered this for a long moment, his eyes searching my face. “And in return?”

  “Three complete sets of your heavy infantry armor.”

  A flicker of understanding, and an appreciative smile finally touched his lips. He knew exactly what the armor was for. “You intend to bring the war to Song's doorstep in Chang'an,” he said. It was not a question.

  He leaned back, his gaze becoming distant. “The Great Tang has lost its way, Officer Zhang. The court is a nest of snakes and scorpions, the land is bled dry to fund their decadence, and good men die for the ambitions of worms like Song.” He looked at me and I could see in his eyes he believed this. “A reckoning is coming and I pray it is one that forges a better world for the common man, not the gilded few.”

  He rose to his feet and gave me a formal martial salute which I returned. “You have my word. The village will be spared. The armor will be delivered to your camp by noon. We will take Song's stolen silver and leave this place to its ghosts.”

  Back in the village square, the people spat upon the Song family with cold stares and muttered curses. Song's mother knelt with her family on the village square and watched her temple and home burn, her face reflecting the firelight, her hands clutched the hands of her two youngest grandchildren who cried.

  I approached them, the villagers parting before me. I knelt before the old matriarch, ignoring the filth on the ground and the murmur of incomprehension it generated. I produced three thin, leafs of pure gold from the hollow Buddha's lotus pedestal.

  I pressed the gold into her trembling hand. “It should be enough for you to find passage to a new home, far from here.”

  The old woman stared at the gold, then at me, her eyes brimming with tears. “But… why?”

  “Your son's crimes are his own,” I said, rising to my feet. I looked at her family, huddled together in their fine, useless silks. “Your safety here is… uncertain. Our camp can offer you sanctuary, until you decide where your road leads next.”

  Unfortunately, our peace was shattered by a brush. Magistrate Han, his initial relief having curdled into terror at the scale of the incident, proved immune to my suggestions of discretion. A veritable political firestorm on his doorstep. Despite my best attempts to persuade him otherwise, a rider was to be dispatched north, carrying a detailed memorial to the Dragon Throne, a report containing an unsanctioned army, a dead general, and a rogue Imperial Guard officer would soon land squarely on the Emperor's desk. I had to move quickly.

  That evening, in the command tent, we made the hard decisions.

  “We must split our forces,” I said, the words heavy in the lantern-lit tent. “A single, large force is a threat. Smaller, mobile units can blend into the terrain.”

  Wei Jin would remain in JiangNan with Layla to train new recruits and a portion of the veterans to help him. Lu Chengfeng and the main body of the Wolves and Escorts would follow us west, back to the relative safety of the Qin mountains. From there, Xiao Kai, Xiao Qi, and I would make the final leg of the journey to the capital.

  Black Wind Ridge would become our new base of operations with Lu and Wang Er in command. It was also the only place I could think of to keep Lady Feng safe, and far from the capital's intrigues and her fugitive status.

  Both escort companies were still officially sanctioned to operate in these areas, a perfect cover to recover in the short term. The smiths worked with a quiet reverence, carefully separating the hollow golden Buddha from its lighter ornate pedestal. Thirteen golden lotus leaves that adorned its base, I took with me.

  The rest of the pedestal was broken down, its considerable gold distributed amongst the men as a reward for their valor, with a large portion set aside for each of the two force's operational funds. The hollow body of the statue itself, the greatest and most audacious piece of Song's stolen wealth, was carefully wrapped in layers of cloth and secured in the false bottom of my wagon along with the northern armor.

  I found Layla by our wagon train as we packed, joining in the effort of loading supplies. The sight of her stopped me in my tracks. She was wearing a pair of simple, soft cloth boots.

  “The stones of the road are cold,” I remarked, a gentle tease in my voice.

  She looked down at her feet and laughed, though quickly a thoughtful expression took over her face. “They are uncomfortable,” she admitted. “And feel like a prison, I may not keep them.” She looked up at me, and her green eyes were clear and serious. “But it is time to try new things. There is no one I need to appear exotic for anymore.” She glanced towards Wei Jin, who was busy reviewing the camp ledgers, “And my feet are no longer the tools of my trade.” There was a somber tone in her voice when she said that. Then she brightened up a little, “My fingers have become more callused than my toes.”

  The journey north was a somber and rapid affair, and we traveled quickly as we took most of the horses. We arrived at the Black Wind Ridge compound four weeks later. Lady Feng had begun eating again, but something clung to her like a shadow. She moved through the camp like a ghost, her youthful exuberance extinguished. I found her by the small stream that ran near the compound, staring into the clear, running water with a thousand yard stare.

  “You have to be strong now,” I said softly, sitting beside her on the grassy bank. “Not just for yourself, but for them.” I nodded towards the men training in the distance. “Grief is a heavy stone, but you cannot let it drown you. You must grow, and learn. Only your heart and mind together can find a better way than what laid before. And know that those who follow you do so by their own choice.”

  She didn't look at me, but I saw a single tear fall from her cheek and disappear into the stream. “I will try,” she whispered.

  The next morning, Xiao Kai, Xiao Qi, and I prepared our wagon for the final leg of our journey.

  "It's time to head out!" I said, brightly to conceal my uncertainty. "The capital awaits!"

  “Master,” he said, his voice firm. “I must stay here.”

  I turned, surprised. “But the capital…”

  “My apprentices can manage my shops,” he cut in, his gaze flicking towards the small tent where Lady Feng was secluded. “And any role I have to play in support of you and Lady Chen is tangential at best. But Lady Feng… she is alone. Commander Lu and Wang Er are good men, but they are… a bad influence, and poor company for a young lady.” His ears turned a faint shade of pink. “She needs a friend. Someone to keep her company, and to ensure the ledgers are balanced correctly.”

  I looked at him, at the earnest loyalty in his eyes, and I could not argue. He was a young man who could make his own choices. I patted him on the shoulder. “You are a good man, Xiao Qi. Take care of her.”

  From where I stood, I could see Xiao Kai's eyes behind her mask, watching Xiao Qi as he strode away. She shook her head.

  Under a summer sky the color of washed-out silk, Xiao Kai and I departed. We took a single, unassuming wagon and my now seasoned warhorse. As we rode out of the gate, I saw Xiao Qi standing beside Lady Feng. He was pointing to something on a map and then to something along the ridge, and for the first time in weeks, I saw the faintest glimmer of interest in her eyes.

  The road to Chang'an felt like a homecoming. We traveled quickly at a brisk even pace, needing only to stop to rest our horses. The now two week-long journey was the most peaceful I had known since my arrival, clear of roaming bands of displaced peasants and bandits. And Xiao Kai was the finest of travel partners.

  We spoke for hours as the wagon rumbled on, the scenery rolling by. We debated the finer points of Mohist philosophy versus Confucian ethics, her arguments grounded in the classical texts. She told me stories of her childhood in Luoyang, of a stern but loving father who brought tutors to teach her the sword as earnestly as they taught her the histories. In turn, I told her more of my “hometown,” painting pictures of a society where all children were schooled and women could be generals and scholars, a concept that she found both scandalous and deeply fascinating. I remarked that given her experience, it should feel just about right.

  She spent most of the journey with her face bare to the sun and wind, the porcelain mask hanging at her side. She only needed to wear it on the rare occasions we passed another traveler or a village. At night, she slept in the relative comfort of the wagon bed, while I set up my small tent a respectful distance away.

  We were a day's ride from the capital when Steward Feng found us. We had made camp at the familiar, Spirit Stone temple. The Lao Zi statue had been restored, I imagine paid for by the good Stewards purse. He moved with his usual unnerving silence, but there was a stiffness in his posture, a faint, almost imperceptible slowness that had not been there before. He met us in the courtyard, his obsidian eyes taking in our simple camp before settling on me.

  “It is time,” he said, his voice flat. He took a single, slow breath, and I saw a flicker of strain, of deep weariness, cross his features before it was locked away again. “I have been… occupied. Song's ‘Final Five' were more troublesome than I had anticipated.”

  A faint, bitter smile touched his lips. “As four they are no longer a concern. But it has taken me some time to purge the poison from my body.” He motioned to the inner courtyard where presumably Jìngxī and Língzhú rested. “The temple keepers have been of great help in that regard. Tomorrow, we will put an end to this.”

  The official report Censor Wang later filed with the Ministry of Justice was a masterpiece of legal clarity and damning evidence. A day after our return to Chang'an, acting on a sealed warrant, he and a hundred of Censorate agents stormed the sprawling estate of Vice-Director Song.

  They found the first piece of evidence in the center of Song's main courtyard. There, placed on a stone pedestal like a grotesque piece of art, sat a life-sized, hollow golden Buddha weighing as much as a human would have. It was dressed in a complete, immaculate set of Youzhou garrison heavy armor, its gleaming steel plates a stark contrast to the soft sheen of the gold. A second and third set of the same illegal armor were discovered in the locked chamber in his private armory.

  Consorting with a frontier army. Unimaginable corruption. Not to mention the illegal possession of not one, but three sets of military-grade armor. Each was a capital crime in its own right. Together, they were a death sentence from which not even the Chancellor's favor could offer a reprieve.

  The Censor's report did not mention the rumors of a brief but violent disturbance in the estate's northeast wing, where two masked figures were supposedly seen leaping across rooftops and battling with four others. Nor did it note the faint, easily overlooked marks of a ladder's feet in the soft earth of the flowerbeds beneath the southwest wall, a wall that bordered a quiet, side alley.

  Of course, it also didn't mention my back pain, from carrying a life sized statue that, though hollow, still weighed as much as a man. Nor the three sets of heavy armor I was forced to lug over the wall whilst my companions flew lightly across the rooftops.