Cabalist Ling Te of House Yung, first of the Ancient Families, moved through his family’s ancestral palace with a grace that belied his size. He was a big man, well-muscled and thick, his broad shoulders stretching the silk ceremonial eru he wore to near bursting. He strode with deadly purpose, his servants shrinking with fear as he neared the throne room where his mother sat waiting.

He threw open the bronze doors that led into the throne room. The gathered courtiers fell into a hush as they watched for the scene to unfold before them, like a crowded theatre waiting for the play to start.

“MOTHER! You have overstepped your bounds this time!” Rage darkened his normally handsome features. His mother looked down at him imperiously from his father’s throne, which should have been his by all rights.

“Ling Te, so nice of you to come visit your mother. To what do I owe this pleasure?” she cooed silkily. His stepfather, Sring Lao, stood behind her, and whispered something in her ear, making her smile even wider, and driving Ling Te’s rage even further.

“You know why I am here! How dare you try to send me away!” he shouted, stalking closer. The Yellow Guards that stood at the base of the pedestal where his mother sat shifted nervously at his approach. They crossed their long spears in front of him, barring him from setting foot on the steps that lead to the throne. Ling Te knew he could rip the flesh from their bones with only a few words, but it would be very disgraceful to the House, and he was not willing to dishonor the House, no matter who sat on his father’s throne.

“I will not be joining General R’tan on the eastern campaign, as you were so thoughtful to recommend.”

“Ling Te, the General needs a skilled Cabalist to attend him, and think of the honor you would bring to House Yung by throwing back the hordes of Terechu!” The Terechu were slovenly, barbaric pig-men that threatened the eastern passes, the only way through the Wei Mountains. If the Terechu captured the eastern passes, traders would be forced to take the longer, more expensive sea route to the city of Hoshin. The pig-men were normally tribal and fought each other more than anyone else. Someone had brought them together into a great horde that the General was charged with defeating by the Council of Ancients, of which his mother sat. Ling Te had no doubt she wanted him gone to solidify her place on the council which was under intense scrutiny due to the strange circumstances of his father’s death.
“Besides,” his mother said, her eyes locked on his tightly, “General R’tan will be taking Orisana with him.” Ling Te felt his heart skip a beat as the rage turned into a sudden need to be sick. Orisana was his greatest weakness and his mother knew it. He had no doubt she was involved in the General’s decision to have his youngest daughter accompany him. Orisana was a fragile, beautiful flower that had no place on the battlefield, what was the General thinking? What leverage did his mother have on the General?

Ling Te briefly considered calling forth a flame demon and letting it destroy the throne room and everyone in it, but then discarded the idea. It would do no good; he knew his mother most likely had some sort of magical protections that he was unable to break. One day, though, he would catch her unaware, and he would take great joy in feeding her slowly to a pain demon. He brought his thoughts back to the matters at hand, although a grisly smile remained on his face.

“Very well, Mother. I believe I will join the General. It will feel good to be away from this stuffy house. Perhaps I will find more about my father’s murderer while I’m away so that I can bring them to trial.” His mother’s face was a mask, but he thought he saw a twitch in one of her fingers.

“Perhaps you will. But you had better be careful, my son. I’ve heard that there are rough men in the General’s army. You wouldn’t want to ask someone the wrong question. Cabalist or not, a dagger in the gut still makes you bleed.” The gallery surrounding them was utterly still, none of the courtiers daring to breathe during the exchange.

Ling Te whispered a few arcane words and black demonfire covered him. The Yellow Guards in front of him nearly fell over in their haste to get away from him.

“Woe to the rough man who tries to waylay me,” he whispered. The demonfire dripped and pooled around his feet as he turned and strode out of the room. He grinned to himself as he heard his mother ordering her servants to fetch water to put out the black flames.

Next Chapter: Chapter 5