Jianghu Reentry
In the shadowy depths of a grand corridor dulled with ashen marble streaks a maroon ribbon those width could scarcely cover it all. Low intensity light globes dot the way for Achilles von Zähringer. This young man walked briskly through flanks of oceanic blue plasteel pillars. For Achilles, it would be impossible to discern the size of this corridor altogether as the light globes provided only a modest frontier against the unknown.
Perhaps this is what the lousy old fool wants, Achilles thought. To intimidate his visitors: to make them fear what could beyond: a conservative’s worse nightmare. Let them relish on this uneventful walk and let them think before they enter the belly of the beast. Achilles scowled. There could be truly anything. More of these guardsmen and assassins could be lurking if Zhuo demanded it. And here I am, defenseless as a babe!
Achilles was searched for weapons before entering Zhuo’s palace. If his trusty accomplice ,Adrian here, was here, he would’ve objected despite the futile nature. But his dear friend was light years away, and for that matter of his summoning, Achilles hastened pace.
There was the clatter of metal plating behind Achilles. It was the janissary, the elite guard division of the Emperor’s Varangian Guard. Their moment of exercise and the time it took for them to keep up with his brisk walk provoked a grin from the young blond noble. For them, Achilles thought, this is merely perhaps an exercise against tyrannic boredom.
Achilles probed their minds, all too excited to learn of their concern for the majordomo: ‘He could be preparing for an attack on the majordomo’ so they preoccupy themselves with, And they would be right.
Oh, were that the case! But there is a time—a time for everything, Achilles said, boasting inwardly. I’ve waited twelve years and I could wait twelve more for my revenge. But I wish for Zhuo and the Emperor to die on my terms . . . not theirs!
Such amusing thoughts preoccupied Achilles’s thoughts until he reached the end of the corridor—the double bronze doors adorned in golden ivory. Two bulky men clad in pristine white armor jumped from the shadows. The metallic halberds they brandished, their fiery orange blades kept him at bay.
It has been a long time since Achilles actually used his spatial matrix and did not detect them in time. So detached was his exile on Helene that he scantly could keep his skills sharpened. It didn’t help he only had ample time since his departure to brush up on his latent Neo sapiens prowess.
“Step no further,” the one on the right said, a stern demand. Achilles, by his approximation, was no less than ten paces away when he stopped. The halberd they both wield were maybe two meters in length. Had Achilles failed to heed his words immediately, the Zähringer line would’ve been extinct for good this time right then and there.
The left janissary sentry took a step back, his steel helmet resembling that of a frog; its only silt an abyss, but nonetheless, Achilles glared into the silts of the right janissary who no doubt locked eyes with him. The left janissary spoke into an open hatch at the door, and nodded his head. The hatch shut, and the janissary assumed his sentry, halberd at half-rest.
“You will not need to wait long,” the left janissary said. The peculiar helmet muted the nuances of his voice. True to the man’s words, both janissary stepped on the edges of the maroon carpet as the groaning of the vast door opened. Achilles felt a brush on his shoulder, prompting him to take a wide step and fall in line.
Six janissary emerged from the wickedness that lay within. In the square middle a lone frail figure was dragged along by the arms. Achilles could not make out much as they stride by undeterred, but he could make out her skin as cinnamon under the dusky light globes. They wore loosely fitted tan garb binded by dark fastenings. Achilles could only afford to wince at the burns this individual may succumb to.
In perhaps response to Achilles’s thoughts, there echoed the thrashing and drawn out wails of the woman. The poor soul, Achilles thought.
The door remained open. And the unwarranted slap of a halberd’s butt spurred Achilles on. He could feel the collective desire, the intent with the eagerness to carry out the order to strike him down if he showed any sign of restraint. The murderous intent that swelled within in. It made Achilles sick.
Here the maroon silk ended and where Achilles strode across the chamber hall tall and wide enough for titans, his loud demands for audience now gratified with each step. Tall and mighty as the chamber was, it was a rather gloomy cavern-like room lit only by orange-tinted light globes at the four ends of the audience chamber. The walls were a deep red with black bordering. volcanic hues of dusk of dawn pierced through four slim rectangular windows to Achilles’s right. Just outside on the terrace were a patrol of janissary. From his vantage Achilles spotted the unmistakable profile of laz gun carbines.
Achilles’s attention turned to the stepping stone of his ambition: the majordomo Zhuo Moneo. The majordomo sat upon a raised platform atop four flights of stairs. Obscuring most of Achilles’s present view of the beast were a plastone gray table and the remains of his last supper. Oh, how Achilles yearned for it to be his last supper.
Zhuo paid no attention nor addressed his guest as he gorged on food. And this angered Achilles who, without prompt, took to the stairs and jumped onto the platform. A more immediate vantage revealed the larger profile of the man and four janissary stationed around him. To Zhuo’s left, perhaps a sweep away, sat a cloaked janissary with arms crossed: No halberd, but he surely saw the unmistakable ceremonial hilt of a short sword. Achilles took only two long strides before the janissary closet to him gestured for Achilles to stop.
“Stop!” The janissary to Achilles’s further right demanded it this time. Achilles took several steps toward the table.
“You will go no further than that,” the squatting one uttered. He heard the rattling of armor plating on the steps. A third janissary emerged behind Zhuo’s suspending chair, his cloak thrown aside to reveal a pellet handgun.
Finally, Achilles stopped just five paces just before the table—and Zhuo. It was not a large table by any means nor a long one. Achilles could opt to lunge across the table if he wished his outfit unkempt. The janissary be damned!
Presently, Achilles got a better glimpse of the man—of this foul devil in human’s skin. Behind the plasteel gray table and enjoying the last of his supper, Zhuo paid no attention to his guest. Zhuo was a plump man whose silky black robes and tidy white tunic obscured his waste. He was focused, still, on the gourmet pseudo meat he feasted upon with luxury.
It only served to disgust Achilles.
The majordomo forked a few into his mouth and reached over for a silver goblet to wash it down. Only then did Achilles receive due attention: Zhuo sat the cup down and with a relieving sigh, trained his faint emerald eyes on Achilles. Throughout all this, Zhuo remained calm despite the janissary collective concern for his immediate safety.
And here I am, Achilles said inwardly, even the hurling of a knife at this range could fasten this fool’s end. A glance at the patrol outside. But I cannot outrun laz guns. Or could I?
“I trust your journey was safe,” Zhuo said, his baritones voice rumbling in the vastness of the chamber. “That you were treated as any loyal subject of the Emperor should be.”
“I am glad I wasn’t brought here chained,” Achilles said. He did not bow nor kneel. The answer and Achilles’s posture made the janissary increasingly uneasy. But without Zhuo’s signal they could do nothing. Oh how I imagine the sickening pleasure you would feel if I was, Achilles said, joyously, he flashed a smirk at the majordomo. How you wish you could gesture your pitiful guards to cut me down! I bet you fantasize it, you sick old man.
Zhuo crept a sagging, bulgy smile.
“What is the nature of my summoning?” Achilles demanded. “Rather broadly why is it I am recalled from exile?”
“Our Emperor demanded it,” Zhuo said.
“And in return for this amnesty, what does does the Emperor expect of me?”
“This was not disclosed to you?” Zhuo said. He didn’t bother glancing at his janissary. Achilles couldn’t get a probe on the man. It frustrated him. Was he too weak? Was his mind fortified against Neo sapiens?
“I was not informed,” Achilles said. He turned partly to look away at the janissary. The natural orange lighting did little to deanonymize the guards, but gave their armor an awesome glistening hue.
“By the decree of the Emperor, there will be an Arrière-ban,” Zhuo said. Electric excitement spurred Achilles to spur his gaze back at Zhuo. Achilles watched as the majordomo heaved himself up from the grandeur hover chair. It sank for a moment as gravity demanded it before it bobbled back to stationary position. Achilles was at a loss for words, and perhaps this curiosity warranted the widening of Zhuo’s sickly grin.
“What could possibly warrant such a thing?” Achilles asked. Zhuo made his way around the table to the perturbed Achilles. Achilles could sense this made the guards incredibly nervous: but Zhuo made no gesture towards them.
“Six days ago, our imperial embassy in Durazzo was approached by the Doge’s most trusted liaison officer, who informed us of a rebel fleet marching on Ishtar fortress.”
Achilles was intrigued. It was clearer to him now Zhuo did indeed dare approach him. Achilles said: “And this demanded an Arrière-ban... why?” More importantly, Achilles added inwardly, I was summoned for this?
“Through intrigue the Imperium became aware they number nine million men,” Zhuo said. His awkward limp only thinly veiled by the long black imperial garments he wore. Achilles stood up straight once those words sunk in.
“And you believe those vile merchants?” Achilles asked.
“They are imperial subjects,” Zhuo said in a calm baritone tone. “The only province to enjoy full autonomy—but loyal imperial subjects nonetheless.”
Achilles dwelled on the matter for a moment before he spoke. “And if I refuse this Arrière-ban...?”
“I can assure you will not leave alive,” Zhuo said. He looked up, and through the black-and-white beady veil of the majordomo’s imperial black square cap revealed a ghastly grin across his asymmetrical hideous features—and Achilles was forced to study it.
The entire right side sagged and was a grapey purple compared to the rest of his profile yet exposed by the volcanic dusk: no doubt a result of terrible court politics. Those small eyes with faint greens and a great black mane withering halfway and blending in slightly with his white tunic. “You will not return to Helene nor exile,” Zhuo said, coolly.
Achilles broke off eye contact with the majordomo to focus briefly on the janissary whom edged closer. If Achilles were to maim or kill Zhuo here and now, he would follow him down the river Styx. There would be no Elysium for this crochet old fool.
Die now, or die later, Achilles thought.
Achilles asked: “is this too, a stipulation by His Majesty, the Emperor—or by your person?”
“You impudent fool!” A janissary shouted. The room’s surging rage was electrifying. Achilles found himself overwhelmed by the fierce duty these men have for the majordomo.
“I consider it bold for the Emperor to recall me from exile,” Achilles said. He studied Zhuo intently as Zhuo nodded and strutted chubby fingers on his bulging belly. How I yearn to spill these nasty guts upon these stairs! Achilles thought.
“The Emperor deemed your martial skill too important to simply let you . . . Ahh . . . simply rot, rot away in solitude, on Helene.”
“You do not agree with him?”
Zhuo did not bat a eye. “Do you forget who and what I am, boy?” Zhuo said. “I am the majordomo. If the Emperor wishes it; I will it.”
“His Majesty, the Emperor, is merciful, as are you, majordomo Maneo,” Achilles said. A slight bow. Internally, Achilles winced.
“Very good... very good,” Zhuo said. “I do not wish to explain before the Imperial Diet nor the Emperor himself why I have slain a capable... and promising . . . military admiral. You leave for the Cilicia Domain, and join up with the armada mobilizing there; in the Trebizond system.”
“How many have answered the Arrière-ban thus far . . . my lord?”
Maneo thought about this for a moment, then said: “Four fleet admirals, His Majesty, the Emperor, and the Crown Archduke. Some Four million men.”
Achilles studied the bulging mass of the man as he probed the politics behind the generous amnesty. I am the Emperors worse nightmare and his trump card, Achilles thought, it’s desperation but it’s mutual benefit nonetheless. I can get closer to him—show merit and act swiftly on the heels of victory before he can execute me once the threat has subsided.
“And my former fleet?”
Zhuo smirked, he said: “Of course, your estate will be reinstated and so you will be given command of your fleet in due time.”
Achilles bowed slightly again and said: “Thank you my lord,” hiding the venom in his tone. To the stiffed gasp of some janissary, Achilles pulled himself away from the majordomo without being dismissed and headed for a opening past the stunned janissary.
“Majordomo Moneo?”Achilles asked, now off the platform and heading for the closed grand doors..
“I suppose you wish to know of that women?” Zhuo asked. Achilles’s silence as he strode across the chambers prompted the majordomo to continued: “consider it... ah... a gift from Adrian. He took over suppression duties in the Bulakbashi system. He sent her as a message they were taken care of.”
Achilles paused upon hearing Adrian’s name. He turned to ask: “A Golden Sash rebel?”
“Yes: a member of the Hashishin.”
Museum cultists, Achilles thought. I thought I wiped them out... but my carelessness is what forced me into exile on Helene. But if Zhuo said it’s true then Adrian is still alive. Achilles breathed a sigh. “Can I expect Adrian to accompany me in the upcoming campaign?”
“Perhaps,” Zhuo said, a stroke of his brushy painted beard as he continued: “there is perchance the fleet will combine to form the nucleus of yours.”
Achilles was rather surprised by this suggestion as it meant Zhuo didn’t flirt the idea but was willing to let him overcome this temporary but extreme measure.
Perhaps the fool ponders a countermeasure to this, Achilles thought as he steeled himself out of the opened double doors without being formally dismissed. But it will do him no good!