Chapter 415
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Chapter 415
With the forge banked and her tools put away, Mila hung up her apron, kicked off her long, leather boots, and sauntered out into the smithys courtyard where Papa sat poring over the details of her latest work. Leaving him to his studies, Mila stretched her arms over her head and worked the kinks out of her shoulders and back. The cool evening breeze felt good on her skin, but it was still warmer than she liked, and she looked forward to a long, refreshing bath to wash away the sweat and grime. Summer had only just begun, but already she found the days uncomfortably hot, a dry, blistering heat which left her sticky and irritable. Though she had no issues working next to a burning forge, it wasnt the same as a stifling summer haze. The flickering incandescence of a lit flame filled her with fevered vigour and exuberance, while the sweltering summer sun made her want to go back to bed and sleep through the worst, two wholly different types of heat despite what most would believe.
Merely the thought of baking beneath the summer sun was enough to make Mila tired and vexed, so she laid down on the cool, comfortable grass and stared up at the Heavens. The large moon and twinkling stars looked a little different from the view she was used to, though if asked to explain how shed be hard pressed to say. An apt summary of what life in Central was like, where things seemed familiar enough at first glance, yet dissimilar enough to be mildly unsettling. The food, the clothes, the customs, and even the language were all slightly off and Mila yearned for the familiar trappings of home. She missed traipsing through verdant forests and climbing over majestic mountains, swimming in roaring rivers and exploring twisting tunnels. There were so many unique vistas to take in back home, a scenic view no matter where she turned, but here in Central, there was only clear, shimmering water and tall, swaying grass in every direction as far as the eye could see.
This be good work. Jolting Mila out of her melancholic daze, Papa flicked her latest creation with his fingernail. The heavy flail rang with an audible hum and he nodded in approval, giving it a few more flicks along its length and producing a new sound each time. Daresay its some of your best, lass. Youre a rare talent, one not seen in a hundred millennia, and it wont be long before you surpass this old man. Might be time you put me out to pasture and took over me duties.
Beaming from his glowing praise, Mila sat up and hugged her Papa tight, her arms unable to wrap all the way around his prodigious belly. Dont be silly Papa. I wouldve never gotten this far without your guidance and Im still a long ways from matching your skills. I spent half the week working out the measurements and two more days to craft it, while you made at least two dozen weapons in the same time frame.
Bah. Snorting in feigned anger, Papa swatted her head lightly and stroked her hair, his palm so large it covered half her skull. Neat trick you got there lass. You open your mouth and horse farts come out, aint ever seen anything like it. Been learning diplomacy, have you? No need to worry, this old mans ego wont shatter so easily. I been churning out nothing but standard spears with nothing fancy about em, but every time I look over, youre working on something new and exciting, like this here flail. Dont think theres a blacksmith out there who could do what you do, and I know blacksmiths. This braided cord here, you get the idea from Joranis weapon?
Yup. I wanted to see if I could make a better version after Rain wrote about how instrumental Jorani was during their first patrol. The hardest part was figuring out how everything would look when laid out on the anvil, but once I had that plotted out, things fell into place. It was more difficult to assemble than I thought and I almost bungled it a few times, but everything worked out. Its a flail with an adjustable chain length, measuring three meters at its longest and doubling as a mace when wholly retracted. Taking the weapon in hand, Mila twisted the base of the haft to show him while narrating the complicated crafting process.Read latest chapters at nov(e)lbin.com Only
Papa could joke about horse farts all he liked, but his centuries of experience were nothing to sneeze at. If there was a mistake or deficiency in her methods, then Papa would see it, and as usual, he didnt disappoint. A masterpiece to be sure, but youll want to choose its wielder carefully. It dont look too heavy for a mace, but theyll need a strong arm to wield it with all that chain tucked inside. Your candidate cant be too big either, the weapon's too small for someone my size to use in any of its forms, not to mention Id be liable to brain myself with it, so you want someone cautious and precise, someone who thinks twenty steps ahead and plans for ten. Then...
These were all things Mila never considered when crafting the flail, more concerned about whether she could do it rather than if she should. Ever since Rain introduced the concept of multi-function weapons, shed been obsessed with the idea and devoted every free moment to designing the ultimate, all-purpose Spiritual Weapon. Rains glaive Unity lacked an extreme close combat option, and by utter fluke, shed come close with her third Spiritual Weapon, Paragon, but due to its unique requirements, there werent many Martial Warriors capable of unlocking its full potential.
The latter which delighted Mila to no end. Paragon was her weapon, and there might never be another like it.
After committing his critique and suggestions to memory, Mila and Papa headed home for a bath, a meal, and a long nights rest. Such was life here in sleepy SuiHua, though the lack of excitement could be seen as a blessing in disguise. Nine months had passed since the West was lost and three months since the Imperial Grand Conference, but the Defiled had yet to gather for a concentrated push into Central. While this gave the Empire more time to prepare for the impending invasion, Milas heart ached for the people of the West, no doubt suffering beneath the heel of Defiled subjugation. Many of those poor souls would likely embrace the Fathers lies and take up arms against the Empire, and she couldnt blame them. The Emperor failed his sacred duty to protect them and abandoned untold numbers of the Mothers faithful children, leaving them with no hope of rescue or reprieve. To make matters worse, even more souls gave their lives constructing the walls, towers, and border forts which were supposed to protect them, a sad state of affairs if there ever was one. A multitude of new faces arrived in port each day, poor, frightened slaves and labourers press-ganged into service, their lives ready to be consumed by the war efforts of the Empire. Add in widespread food shortages, the death toll on the front lines, and the occasional Purge of dissidents, radicals, or traitors, and the Empires losses no doubt numbered in the hundreds of millions.
A staggering cost in lives and the war had yet to truly begin. What would their losses be like when the Defiled grew bored of subjugation and turned their attentions east? Could the Empire even survive against a united army of Defiled? What could be done to improve their odds? All this and more left Mila with a pounding head and heavy heart. These were matters beyond her comprehension, issues for the likes of the Marshals and Generals of the Empire to contemplate and deliberate over. The problem was, now that Mama was one of those vaunted Generals, Mila wanted to help but didnt know where to start. She couldnt even offer emotional support, what with Mama stationed two-hundred kilometres away to oversee the construction of the citadel. One of three massive superstructures, the citadels would form the backbone of Centrals defences, a headquarters, troop training ground, rest area, workshop, and supply depot all in one place, which meant steep construction costs in both gold and blood. Though she carried herself with cold disdain, Mama was a kind and compassionate woman who likely shared all of Milas woes, except hers would be compounded by her part in all of it.
Mila prayed they would be reunited soon, else she feared Mamas heart would break from all her guilt and misery.
Then there was sultry, seductive Yan. With her defined, sculpted features, pale, jade-like skin, and plump, cherry-pink lips, her appearance was reminiscent of the fairies of myth, the Mothers true daughters crafted in Her own image who descended from the Heavens to aid Her Chosen Sons. Granted, those were made up stories to elevate the wives and concubines of those legendary heroes, but were one to paint Yan as a hornless, long-haired maiden, it would undoubtedly become a textbook portrait of classical beauty. Not only this, but she was closest to Rains heart, his best friend and most trusted confidant. Even without her insurmountable beauty or wide, provocative hips, Mila was no match for Yans raunchy humour or her throaty, captivating laugh.
Speaking of classical beauties, one couldnt forget Zheng Luo. While Yan fit the profile of a fairy from Heaven, Zheng Luo might well be one, her features flawless and physique unmatched, a slim, buxom goddess with long, slender legs and shapely, elegant feet. As if physical perfection werent enough, the Imperial Servant possessed a brilliant mind and admirable work ethic, labouring tirelessly day and night in her office on the second floor to grow Rains budding merchant undertaking into a veritable enterprise. Under her brilliant management, Rains income had finally surpassed his expenditures, no mean feat for a profligate squanderer and bleeding heart philanthropist like him. Whats more, no matter what they needed, Zheng Luo could procure it. Whether it be outrageous quantities of preserved shrimp for Rain, first rate binding materials for Papa and Mila, or Runic Inscription supplies for Taduk, if it took longer than a few days to arrive, Zheng Luo would all but kowtow in apologies for the lengthy delay.
Last and least of all was Mila, a dour, jealous, harridan of a woman who nagged and threatened her betrothed about every minor detail. With hair which tangled like a rats nest and pale skin dotted in ugly freckles, she couldnt compare in attitude nor beauty. Small wonder why Rain would praise Lin, sleep with Yan, goggle at Zheng Luo, but only tell Mila to not be jealous. Such was her lot in life, to be the shrew and bully in Rains otherwise perfect marriage.
Even wary and watchful Li Song wasnt immune to his charms, willingly delivering herself to his power so she could fight at his side...
Stupid Rain and his stupid, licentious ways. Why couldnt he be more like Junior Martial Brother Fung? They werent even betrothed, yet he wrote a poem or sonnet everyday for that ice queen, Ryo Seoyoon...
Discouraged and disheartened by her bath-time revelations, Mila stewed in silence until it was time for dinner. To welcome Yan, Charok cooked a sumptuous feast and Papa, Taduk, and even Yans bodyguard Kyung joined them, but Mila was in no mood to celebrate. Perhaps noticing her low spirits, Lin sat down beside her with a pot of fruit wine, smiling her toothy smile as she poured Mila a cup. Warmed by the rare show of consideration, Mila drank it down and inwardly scolded herself for her catty and hateful thoughts, further proof she had the worst personality among her future sister-wives. Barely able to taste Charoks delicious food, her foul mood continued to plummet as the night wore on, drinking every time she found more proof of her failings. Maternal Yan making sure Tali and Tate ate all their vegetables, Zheng Luo dining with perfect poise and impeccable manners, or Lin repeatedly refilling Milas cup no matter how quickly she downed the fruity alcohol. They were all so beautiful and perfect. How was Mila supposed to compare?
Something cold and wet pressed against Milas lower back and she yelped in surprise, spilling her cup in the process. Frightened by her reaction, Banjo shrank away and took his cold, wet nose with him, his gaze lowered and eyes sad because he knew hed done something bad, but wasnt sure what. Feeling remorseful about scaring Banjo, it disappeared when Mila saw Papa feeding Baloo on the other side and she snapped, Stop feeding the animals table-scraps! Its not good for them and it encourages them to beg. With the floodgates opened, her ire burst out as she flew off the handle, venting her frustrations on the people around her. Taduk, youre a grown man. Stop pushing your vegetables around and eat them. Zheng Luo, this is a family dinner not a formal event. No one will be offended if your eating area isnt spotless. Tate, dont think I didnt see you throwing your eggplant to Jimjam. Hes a cat, he wont eat it, and it could make him sick if he does. And you. Turning to Kyung, the only person at the table still eating, Mila scowled and asked, Were you raised by wolves?
Rather than answer, Kyung responded with a throaty growl, pulling his bowl close as if ready to fight to defend it. None of this kept him from stuffing his mouth, inhaling rice, meat, and vegetables as quickly as his chopsticks delivered it. Incensed by his shameless reaction, Mila slammed her chopsticks down and stood to beat him senseless. Outside, you manner-less cur, lets see if a guard trained by Great Teacher Du Min Gyu fights as well as he eats.
Mila please. Intercepting her on the way over, Yan grabbed Mila by the waist and pleaded, He means no offence, hes never tasted Charoks cooking before and got a little too excited. Kyung, theres plenty to go around so please behave yourself. Come sister, sit down, theres not need for violence at the dinner table.
Papa and Charok chimed in to smooth things over, so Mila shot Kyung a glare and returned to her seat, her cheeks burning from the alcohol and embarrassment. The spilled wine had been wiped dry and her cup filled once more, so Mila downed another cup and glowered at the unrepentant Kyung, wishing she could Send and tell him how lucky he was Yan had stopped her from trouncing him. So what if he proved himself Alsantsets match two years ago? Even though Mila had been cooped up in the forge for the better part of a year, that didnt mean shed neglected her Martial Path. In fact, creating so many Spiritual Weapons had honed her senses to the extreme and helped her make great strides along the Martial Dao, specifically with regards to controlling her Blessing. Though she Awakened at a young age, Mila had yet to reveal it to the world at large, but when she did, her name would rise to the Heavens as she claimed her place as Number One Talent in the Empire.
Whatever, so what if Mila wasnt the best wife? She had plenty of other admirable qualities and Rain loved her so he would have to accept her flaws. Even if he placed her last in his heart, if he dared treat her poorly, then Mila would beat him to a pulp and complain to Mama and Papa so theyd beat him too.
Might makes right, in war and in love.
Chapter Meme
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Chapter 415
With the forge banked and her tools put away, Mila hung up her apron, kicked off her long, leather boots, and sauntered out into the smithys courtyard where Papa sat poring over the details of her latest work. Leaving him to his studies, Mila stretched her arms over her head and worked the kinks out of her shoulders and back. The cool evening breeze felt good on her skin, but it was still warmer than she liked, and she looked forward to a long, refreshing bath to wash away the sweat and grime. Summer had only just begun, but already she found the days uncomfortably hot, a dry, blistering heat which left her sticky and irritable. Though she had no issues working next to a burning forge, it wasnt the same as a stifling summer haze. The flickering incandescence of a lit flame filled her with fevered vigour and exuberance, while the sweltering summer sun made her want to go back to bed and sleep through the worst, two wholly different types of heat despite what most would believe.
Merely the thought of baking beneath the summer sun was enough to make Mila tired and vexed, so she laid down on the cool, comfortable grass and stared up at the Heavens. The large moon and twinkling stars looked a little different from the view she was used to, though if asked to explain how shed be hard pressed to say. An apt summary of what life in Central was like, where things seemed familiar enough at first glance, yet dissimilar enough to be mildly unsettling. The food, the clothes, the customs, and even the language were all slightly off and Mila yearned for the familiar trappings of home. She missed traipsing through verdant forests and climbing over majestic mountains, swimming in roaring rivers and exploring twisting tunnels. There were so many unique vistas to take in back home, a scenic view no matter where she turned, but here in Central, there was only clear, shimmering water and tall, swaying grass in every direction as far as the eye could see.
This be good work. Jolting Mila out of her melancholic daze, Papa flicked her latest creation with his fingernail. The heavy flail rang with an audible hum and he nodded in approval, giving it a few more flicks along its length and producing a new sound each time. Daresay its some of your best, lass. Youre a rare talent, one not seen in a hundred millennia, and it wont be long before you surpass this old man. Might be time you put me out to pasture and took over me duties.
Beaming from his glowing praise, Mila sat up and hugged her Papa tight, her arms unable to wrap all the way around his prodigious belly. Dont be silly Papa. I wouldve never gotten this far without your guidance and Im still a long ways from matching your skills. I spent half the week working out the measurements and two more days to craft it, while you made at least two dozen weapons in the same time frame.
Bah. Snorting in feigned anger, Papa swatted her head lightly and stroked her hair, his palm so large it covered half her skull. Neat trick you got there lass. You open your mouth and horse farts come out, aint ever seen anything like it. Been learning diplomacy, have you? No need to worry, this old mans ego wont shatter so easily. I been churning out nothing but standard spears with nothing fancy about em, but every time I look over, youre working on something new and exciting, like this here flail. Dont think theres a blacksmith out there who could do what you do, and I know blacksmiths. This braided cord here, you get the idea from Joranis weapon?
Yup. I wanted to see if I could make a better version after Rain wrote about how instrumental Jorani was during their first patrol. The hardest part was figuring out how everything would look when laid out on the anvil, but once I had that plotted out, things fell into place. It was more difficult to assemble than I thought and I almost bungled it a few times, but everything worked out. Its a flail with an adjustable chain length, measuring three meters at its longest and doubling as a mace when wholly retracted. Taking the weapon in hand, Mila twisted the base of the haft to show him while narrating the complicated crafting process.Read latest chapters at nov(e)lbin.com Only
Papa could joke about horse farts all he liked, but his centuries of experience were nothing to sneeze at. If there was a mistake or deficiency in her methods, then Papa would see it, and as usual, he didnt disappoint. A masterpiece to be sure, but youll want to choose its wielder carefully. It dont look too heavy for a mace, but theyll need a strong arm to wield it with all that chain tucked inside. Your candidate cant be too big either, the weapon's too small for someone my size to use in any of its forms, not to mention Id be liable to brain myself with it, so you want someone cautious and precise, someone who thinks twenty steps ahead and plans for ten. Then...
These were all things Mila never considered when crafting the flail, more concerned about whether she could do it rather than if she should. Ever since Rain introduced the concept of multi-function weapons, shed been obsessed with the idea and devoted every free moment to designing the ultimate, all-purpose Spiritual Weapon. Rains glaive Unity lacked an extreme close combat option, and by utter fluke, shed come close with her third Spiritual Weapon, Paragon, but due to its unique requirements, there werent many Martial Warriors capable of unlocking its full potential.
The latter which delighted Mila to no end. Paragon was her weapon, and there might never be another like it.
After committing his critique and suggestions to memory, Mila and Papa headed home for a bath, a meal, and a long nights rest. Such was life here in sleepy SuiHua, though the lack of excitement could be seen as a blessing in disguise. Nine months had passed since the West was lost and three months since the Imperial Grand Conference, but the Defiled had yet to gather for a concentrated push into Central. While this gave the Empire more time to prepare for the impending invasion, Milas heart ached for the people of the West, no doubt suffering beneath the heel of Defiled subjugation. Many of those poor souls would likely embrace the Fathers lies and take up arms against the Empire, and she couldnt blame them. The Emperor failed his sacred duty to protect them and abandoned untold numbers of the Mothers faithful children, leaving them with no hope of rescue or reprieve. To make matters worse, even more souls gave their lives constructing the walls, towers, and border forts which were supposed to protect them, a sad state of affairs if there ever was one. A multitude of new faces arrived in port each day, poor, frightened slaves and labourers press-ganged into service, their lives ready to be consumed by the war efforts of the Empire. Add in widespread food shortages, the death toll on the front lines, and the occasional Purge of dissidents, radicals, or traitors, and the Empires losses no doubt numbered in the hundreds of millions.
A staggering cost in lives and the war had yet to truly begin. What would their losses be like when the Defiled grew bored of subjugation and turned their attentions east? Could the Empire even survive against a united army of Defiled? What could be done to improve their odds? All this and more left Mila with a pounding head and heavy heart. These were matters beyond her comprehension, issues for the likes of the Marshals and Generals of the Empire to contemplate and deliberate over. The problem was, now that Mama was one of those vaunted Generals, Mila wanted to help but didnt know where to start. She couldnt even offer emotional support, what with Mama stationed two-hundred kilometres away to oversee the construction of the citadel. One of three massive superstructures, the citadels would form the backbone of Centrals defences, a headquarters, troop training ground, rest area, workshop, and supply depot all in one place, which meant steep construction costs in both gold and blood. Though she carried herself with cold disdain, Mama was a kind and compassionate woman who likely shared all of Milas woes, except hers would be compounded by her part in all of it.
Mila prayed they would be reunited soon, else she feared Mamas heart would break from all her guilt and misery.
Then there was sultry, seductive Yan. With her defined, sculpted features, pale, jade-like skin, and plump, cherry-pink lips, her appearance was reminiscent of the fairies of myth, the Mothers true daughters crafted in Her own image who descended from the Heavens to aid Her Chosen Sons. Granted, those were made up stories to elevate the wives and concubines of those legendary heroes, but were one to paint Yan as a hornless, long-haired maiden, it would undoubtedly become a textbook portrait of classical beauty. Not only this, but she was closest to Rains heart, his best friend and most trusted confidant. Even without her insurmountable beauty or wide, provocative hips, Mila was no match for Yans raunchy humour or her throaty, captivating laugh.
Speaking of classical beauties, one couldnt forget Zheng Luo. While Yan fit the profile of a fairy from Heaven, Zheng Luo might well be one, her features flawless and physique unmatched, a slim, buxom goddess with long, slender legs and shapely, elegant feet. As if physical perfection werent enough, the Imperial Servant possessed a brilliant mind and admirable work ethic, labouring tirelessly day and night in her office on the second floor to grow Rains budding merchant undertaking into a veritable enterprise. Under her brilliant management, Rains income had finally surpassed his expenditures, no mean feat for a profligate squanderer and bleeding heart philanthropist like him. Whats more, no matter what they needed, Zheng Luo could procure it. Whether it be outrageous quantities of preserved shrimp for Rain, first rate binding materials for Papa and Mila, or Runic Inscription supplies for Taduk, if it took longer than a few days to arrive, Zheng Luo would all but kowtow in apologies for the lengthy delay.
Last and least of all was Mila, a dour, jealous, harridan of a woman who nagged and threatened her betrothed about every minor detail. With hair which tangled like a rats nest and pale skin dotted in ugly freckles, she couldnt compare in attitude nor beauty. Small wonder why Rain would praise Lin, sleep with Yan, goggle at Zheng Luo, but only tell Mila to not be jealous. Such was her lot in life, to be the shrew and bully in Rains otherwise perfect marriage.
Even wary and watchful Li Song wasnt immune to his charms, willingly delivering herself to his power so she could fight at his side...
Stupid Rain and his stupid, licentious ways. Why couldnt he be more like Junior Martial Brother Fung? They werent even betrothed, yet he wrote a poem or sonnet everyday for that ice queen, Ryo Seoyoon...
Discouraged and disheartened by her bath-time revelations, Mila stewed in silence until it was time for dinner. To welcome Yan, Charok cooked a sumptuous feast and Papa, Taduk, and even Yans bodyguard Kyung joined them, but Mila was in no mood to celebrate. Perhaps noticing her low spirits, Lin sat down beside her with a pot of fruit wine, smiling her toothy smile as she poured Mila a cup. Warmed by the rare show of consideration, Mila drank it down and inwardly scolded herself for her catty and hateful thoughts, further proof she had the worst personality among her future sister-wives. Barely able to taste Charoks delicious food, her foul mood continued to plummet as the night wore on, drinking every time she found more proof of her failings. Maternal Yan making sure Tali and Tate ate all their vegetables, Zheng Luo dining with perfect poise and impeccable manners, or Lin repeatedly refilling Milas cup no matter how quickly she downed the fruity alcohol. They were all so beautiful and perfect. How was Mila supposed to compare?
Something cold and wet pressed against Milas lower back and she yelped in surprise, spilling her cup in the process. Frightened by her reaction, Banjo shrank away and took his cold, wet nose with him, his gaze lowered and eyes sad because he knew hed done something bad, but wasnt sure what. Feeling remorseful about scaring Banjo, it disappeared when Mila saw Papa feeding Baloo on the other side and she snapped, Stop feeding the animals table-scraps! Its not good for them and it encourages them to beg. With the floodgates opened, her ire burst out as she flew off the handle, venting her frustrations on the people around her. Taduk, youre a grown man. Stop pushing your vegetables around and eat them. Zheng Luo, this is a family dinner not a formal event. No one will be offended if your eating area isnt spotless. Tate, dont think I didnt see you throwing your eggplant to Jimjam. Hes a cat, he wont eat it, and it could make him sick if he does. And you. Turning to Kyung, the only person at the table still eating, Mila scowled and asked, Were you raised by wolves?
Rather than answer, Kyung responded with a throaty growl, pulling his bowl close as if ready to fight to defend it. None of this kept him from stuffing his mouth, inhaling rice, meat, and vegetables as quickly as his chopsticks delivered it. Incensed by his shameless reaction, Mila slammed her chopsticks down and stood to beat him senseless. Outside, you manner-less cur, lets see if a guard trained by Great Teacher Du Min Gyu fights as well as he eats.
Mila please. Intercepting her on the way over, Yan grabbed Mila by the waist and pleaded, He means no offence, hes never tasted Charoks cooking before and got a little too excited. Kyung, theres plenty to go around so please behave yourself. Come sister, sit down, theres not need for violence at the dinner table.
Papa and Charok chimed in to smooth things over, so Mila shot Kyung a glare and returned to her seat, her cheeks burning from the alcohol and embarrassment. The spilled wine had been wiped dry and her cup filled once more, so Mila downed another cup and glowered at the unrepentant Kyung, wishing she could Send and tell him how lucky he was Yan had stopped her from trouncing him. So what if he proved himself Alsantsets match two years ago? Even though Mila had been cooped up in the forge for the better part of a year, that didnt mean shed neglected her Martial Path. In fact, creating so many Spiritual Weapons had honed her senses to the extreme and helped her make great strides along the Martial Dao, specifically with regards to controlling her Blessing. Though she Awakened at a young age, Mila had yet to reveal it to the world at large, but when she did, her name would rise to the Heavens as she claimed her place as Number One Talent in the Empire.
Whatever, so what if Mila wasnt the best wife? She had plenty of other admirable qualities and Rain loved her so he would have to accept her flaws. Even if he placed her last in his heart, if he dared treat her poorly, then Mila would beat him to a pulp and complain to Mama and Papa so theyd beat him too.
Might makes right, in war and in love.
Chapter Meme
Chapter 415With the forge banked and her tools put away, Mila hung up her apron, kicked off her long, leather boots, and sauntered out into the smithys courtyard where Papa sat poring over the details of her latest work. Leaving him to his studies, Mila stretched her arms over her head and worked the kinks out of her shoulders and back. The cool evening breeze felt good on her skin, but it was still warmer than she liked, and she looked forward to a long, refreshing bath to wash away the sweat and grime. Summer had only just begun, but already she found the days uncomfortably hot, a dry, blistering heat which left her sticky and irritable. Though she had no issues working next to a burning forge, it wasnt the same as a stifling summer haze. The flickering incandescence of a lit flame filled her with fevered vigour and exuberance, while the sweltering summer sun made her want to go back to bed and sleep through the worst, two wholly different types of heat despite what most would believe.Merely the thought of baking beneath the summer sun was enough to make Mila tired and vexed, so she laid down on the cool, comfortable grass and stared up at the Heavens. The large moon and twinkling stars looked a little different from the view she was used to, though if asked to explain how shed be hard pressed to say. An apt summary of what life in Central was like, where things seemed familiar enough at first glance, yet dissimilar enough to be mildly unsettling. The food, the clothes, the customs, and even the language were all slightly off and Mila yearned for the familiar trappings of home. She missed traipsing through verdant forests and climbing over majestic mountains, swimming in roaring rivers and exploring twisting tunnels. There were so many unique vistas to take in back home, a scenic view no matter where she turned, but here in Central, there was only clear, shimmering water and tall, swaying grass in every direction as far as the eye could see.This be good work. Jolting Mila out of her melancholic daze, Papa flicked her latest creation with his fingernail. The heavy flail rang with an audible hum and he nodded in approval, giving it a few more flicks along its length and producing a new sound each time. Daresay its some of your best, lass. Youre a rare talent, one not seen in a hundred millennia, and it wont be long before you surpass this old man. Might be time you put me out to pasture and took over me duties.Beaming from his glowing praise, Mila sat up and hugged her Papa tight, her arms unable to wrap all the way around his prodigious belly. Dont be silly Papa. I wouldve never gotten this far without your guidance and Im still a long ways from matching your skills. I spent half the week working out the measurements and two more days to craft it, while you made at least two dozen weapons in the same time frame.Bah. Snorting in feigned anger, Papa swatted her head lightly and stroked her hair, his palm so large it covered half her skull. Neat trick you got there lass. You open your mouth and horse farts come out, aint ever seen anything like it. Been learning diplomacy, have you? No need to worry, this old mans ego wont shatter so easily. I been churning out nothing but standard spears with nothing fancy about em, but every time I look over, youre working on something new and exciting, like this here flail. Dont think theres a blacksmith out there who could do what you do, and I know blacksmiths. This braided cord here, you get the idea from Joranis weapon?Yup. I wanted to see if I could make a better version after Rain wrote about how instrumental Jorani was during their first patrol. The hardest part was figuring out how everything would look when laid out on the anvil, but once I had that plotted out, things fell into place. It was more difficult to assemble than I thought and I almost bungled it a few times, but everything worked out. Its a flail with an adjustable chain length, measuring three meters at its longest and doubling as a mace when wholly retracted. Taking the weapon in hand, Mila twisted the base of the haft to show him while narrating the complicated crafting process.Read latest chapters at novelbin.com OnlyPapa could joke about horse farts all he liked, but his centuries of experience were nothing to sneeze at. If there was a mistake or deficiency in her methods, then Papa would see it, and as usual, he didnt disappoint. A masterpiece to be sure, but youll want to choose its wielder carefully. It dont look too heavy for a mace, but theyll need a strong arm to wield it with all that chain tucked inside. Your candidate cant be too big either, the weapon's too small for someone my size to use in any of its forms, not to mention Id be liable to brain myself with it, so you want someone cautious and precise, someone who thinks twenty steps ahead and plans for ten. Then...These were all things Mila never considered when crafting the flail, more concerned about whether she could do it rather than if she should. Ever since Rain introduced the concept of multi-function weapons, shed been obsessed with the idea and devoted every free moment to designing the ultimate, all-purpose Spiritual Weapon. Rains glaive Unity lacked an extreme close combat option, and by utter fluke, shed come close with her third Spiritual Weapon, Paragon, but due to its unique requirements, there werent many Martial Warriors capable of unlocking its full potential.The latter which delighted Mila to no end. Paragon was her weapon, and there might never be another like it.After committing his critique and suggestions to memory, Mila and Papa headed home for a bath, a meal, and a long nights rest. Such was life here in sleepy SuiHua, though the lack of excitement could be seen as a blessing in disguise. Nine months had passed since the West was lost and three months since the Imperial Grand Conference, but the Defiled had yet to gather for a concentrated push into Central. While this gave the Empire more time to prepare for the impending invasion, Milas heart ached for the people of the West, no doubt suffering beneath the heel of Defiled subjugation. Many of those poor souls would likely embrace the Fathers lies and take up arms against the Empire, and she couldnt blame them. The Emperor failed his sacred duty to protect them and abandoned untold numbers of the Mothers faithful children, leaving them with no hope of rescue or reprieve. To make matters worse, even more souls gave their lives constructing the walls, towers, and border forts which were supposed to protect them, a sad state of affairs if there ever was one. A multitude of new faces arrived in port each day, poor, frightened slaves and labourers press-ganged into service, their lives ready to be consumed by the war efforts of the Empire. Add in widespread food shortages, the death toll on the front lines, and the occasional Purge of dissidents, radicals, or traitors, and the Empires losses no doubt numbered in the hundreds of millions.A staggering cost in lives and the war had yet to truly begin. What would their losses be like when the Defiled grew bored of subjugation and turned their attentions east? Could the Empire even survive against a united army of Defiled? What could be done to improve their odds? All this and more left Mila with a pounding head and heavy heart. These were matters beyond her comprehension, issues for the likes of the Marshals and Generals of the Empire to contemplate and deliberate over. The problem was, now that Mama was one of those vaunted Generals, Mila wanted to help but didnt know where to start. She couldnt even offer emotional support, what with Mama stationed two-hundred kilometres away to oversee the construction of the citadel. One of three massive superstructures, the citadels would form the backbone of Centrals defences, a headquarters, troop training ground, rest area, workshop, and supply depot all in one place, which meant steep construction costs in both gold and blood. Though she carried herself with cold disdain, Mama was a kind and compassionate woman who likely shared all of Milas woes, except hers would be compounded by her part in all of it.Mila prayed they would be reunited soon, else she feared Mamas heart would break from all her guilt and misery.Then there was sultry, seductive Yan. With her defined, sculpted features, pale, jade-like skin, and plump, cherry-pink lips, her appearance was reminiscent of the fairies of myth, the Mothers true daughters crafted in Her own image who descended from the Heavens to aid Her Chosen Sons. Granted, those were made up stories to elevate the wives and concubines of those legendary heroes, but were one to paint Yan as a hornless, long-haired maiden, it would undoubtedly become a textbook portrait of classical beauty. Not only this, but she was closest to Rains heart, his best friend and most trusted confidant. Even without her insurmountable beauty or wide, provocative hips, Mila was no match for Yans raunchy humour or her throaty, captivating laugh.Speaking of classical beauties, one couldnt forget Zheng Luo. While Yan fit the profile of a fairy from Heaven, Zheng Luo might well be one, her features flawless and physique unmatched, a slim, buxom goddess with long, slender legs and shapely, elegant feet. As if physical perfection werent enough, the Imperial Servant possessed a brilliant mind and admirable work ethic, labouring tirelessly day and night in her office on the second floor to grow Rains budding merchant undertaking into a veritable enterprise. Under her brilliant management, Rains income had finally surpassed his expenditures, no mean feat for a profligate squanderer and bleeding heart philanthropist like him. Whats more, no matter what they needed, Zheng Luo could procure it. Whether it be outrageous quantities of preserved shrimp for Rain, first rate binding materials for Papa and Mila, or Runic Inscription supplies for Taduk, if it took longer than a few days to arrive, Zheng Luo would all but kowtow in apologies for the lengthy delay.Last and least of all was Mila, a dour, jealous, harridan of a woman who nagged and threatened her betrothed about every minor detail. With hair which tangled like a rats nest and pale skin dotted in ugly freckles, she couldnt compare in attitude nor beauty. Small wonder why Rain would praise Lin, sleep with Yan, goggle at Zheng Luo, but only tell Mila to not be jealous. Such was her lot in life, to be the shrew and bully in Rains otherwise perfect marriage.Even wary and watchful Li Song wasnt immune to his charms, willingly delivering herself to his power so she could fight at his side...Stupid Rain and his stupid, licentious ways. Why couldnt he be more like Junior Martial Brother Fung? They werent even betrothed, yet he wrote a poem or sonnet everyday for that ice queen, Ryo Seoyoon...Discouraged and disheartened by her bath-time revelations, Mila stewed in silence until it was time for dinner. To welcome Yan, Charok cooked a sumptuous feast and Papa, Taduk, and even Yans bodyguard Kyung joined them, but Mila was in no mood to celebrate. Perhaps noticing her low spirits, Lin sat down beside her with a pot of fruit wine, smiling her toothy smile as she poured Mila a cup. Warmed by the rare show of consideration, Mila drank it down and inwardly scolded herself for her catty and hateful thoughts, further proof she had the worst personality among her future sister-wives. Barely able to taste Charoks delicious food, her foul mood continued to plummet as the night wore on, drinking every time she found more proof of her failings. Maternal Yan making sure Tali and Tate ate all their vegetables, Zheng Luo dining with perfect poise and impeccable manners, or Lin repeatedly refilling Milas cup no matter how quickly she downed the fruity alcohol. They were all so beautiful and perfect. How was Mila supposed to compare?Something cold and wet pressed against Milas lower back and she yelped in surprise, spilling her cup in the process. Frightened by her reaction, Banjo shrank away and took his cold, wet nose with him, his gaze lowered and eyes sad because he knew hed done something bad, but wasnt sure what. Feeling remorseful about scaring Banjo, it disappeared when Mila saw Papa feeding Baloo on the other side and she snapped, Stop feeding the animals table-scraps! Its not good for them and it encourages them to beg. With the floodgates opened, her ire burst out as she flew off the handle, venting her frustrations on the people around her. Taduk, youre a grown man. Stop pushing your vegetables around and eat them. Zheng Luo, this is a family dinner not a formal event. No one will be offended if your eating area isnt spotless. Tate, dont think I didnt see you throwing your eggplant to Jimjam. Hes a cat, he wont eat it, and it could make him sick if he does. And you. Turning to Kyung, the only person at the table still eating, Mila scowled and asked, Were you raised by wolves?Rather than answer, Kyung responded with a throaty growl, pulling his bowl close as if ready to fight to defend it. None of this kept him from stuffing his mouth, inhaling rice, meat, and vegetables as quickly as his chopsticks delivered it. Incensed by his shameless reaction, Mila slammed her chopsticks down and stood to beat him senseless. Outside, you manner-less cur, lets see if a guard trained by Great Teacher Du Min Gyu fights as well as he eats.Mila please. Intercepting her on the way over, Yan grabbed Mila by the waist and pleaded, He means no offence, hes never tasted Charoks cooking before and got a little too excited. Kyung, theres plenty to go around so please behave yourself. Come sister, sit down, theres not need for violence at the dinner table.Papa and Charok chimed in to smooth things over, so Mila shot Kyung a glare and returned to her seat, her cheeks burning from the alcohol and embarrassment. The spilled wine had been wiped dry and her cup filled once more, so Mila downed another cup and glowered at the unrepentant Kyung, wishing she could Send and tell him how lucky he was Yan had stopped her from trouncing him. So what if he proved himself Alsantsets match two years ago? Even though Mila had been cooped up in the forge for the better part of a year, that didnt mean shed neglected her Martial Path. In fact, creating so many Spiritual Weapons had honed her senses to the extreme and helped her make great strides along the Martial Dao, specifically with regards to controlling her Blessing. Though she Awakened at a young age, Mila had yet to reveal it to the world at large, but when she did, her name would rise to the Heavens as she claimed her place as Number One Talent in the Empire.Whatever, so what if Mila wasnt the best wife? She had plenty of other admirable qualities and Rain loved her so he would have to accept her flaws. Even if he placed her last in his heart, if he dared treat her poorly, then Mila would beat him to a pulp and complain to Mama and Papa so theyd beat him too.Might makes right, in war and in love.Chapter Meme
