The main hall of the Tribunal had suddenly felt very empty — and so the heart of Vice Minister of Finance Mei Xinqu, who was shoved through the doors with his hands bound, went very cold indeed.

Not that it had been warm before. From the moment he saw Deputy Chief Tribunal Officer Zhang Tang leading a company of Black Cavalry through his gates, the cold had set in. Now it was merely cold on top of cold — one might say he was cold to the bone.

He could claim to be the first man since the founding of Great Ning to receive the honor of the Tribunal dispatching the Black Cavalry to his door. Though to be fair, had he not held a senior third-rank post, neither the Black Cavalry nor a Deputy Chief would have been warranted.

“Your Majesty!”

Mei Xinqu caught sight of Li Chi seated within and rushed forward, dropping to his knees with a thud.

“This subject is guilty — but this subject has been wronged, Your Majesty!”

Mei Xinqu knelt there knocking his forehead to the floor repeatedly. Before long his brow had broken open and was bleeding, yet he seemed to have entirely lost the capacity to feel pain.

Li Chi watched the man with blank indifference, letting him kowtow until his forehead split open and bled.

Mei Xinqu knocked and pleaded, insisting he had known nothing — that whatever his steward had done, he too had been kept in the dark. He even ventured a theory: might the steward perhaps be an enemy of Great Ning who had placed himself in Mei’s household deliberately, to frame an upstanding court official?

Li Chi didn’t know precisely when he had stopped feeling anything watching scenes like this — the weeping, the prostrations, the desperate protestations. Perhaps it was a disposition cultivated over time. Or perhaps… it had always been in him.

“Ye Xiaoqian — go and close the doors.”

After a long silence, Li Chi gave the order.

The commander of the Inner Imperial Guard, Ye Xiaoqian, stepped out through the hall’s main doors and pulled them shut behind him from the outside.

Alone now in the hall with only a weeping official between them, the chill in the air felt sharper. The cold of winter could be warded off with padded robes and a brazier, but what armor could Mei Xinqu put up against the cold that radiated from Great Ning’s Emperor?

“Two years ago, when We were still in Shu Prefecture, Xu Ji sent men to kill Lu Chonglou.”

Li Chi rose and began to pace slowly around Mei Xinqu as he spoke, his voice unhurried.

“Those men failed to kill Lu Chonglou. They also disappeared. Do you think they truly disappeared?”

Li Chi asked.

Mei Xinqu instinctively raised his head to look at Li Chi. The fear in his eyes had climbed to a new height — and not because of anything to do with Lu Chonglou.

Without waiting for an answer, Li Chi continued his slow circuit. “Guan Mo did not die — you have probably known that for some time now. He framed Lu Chonglou, and We did not have him killed. Have a guess as to why.”

Mei Xinqu did not dare speak. Not a single word. His whole body was trembling.

Yet his mind was racing through a thousand twists and turns. He thought he saw the faintest thread of hope for survival.

All those people — not dead. Why not dead?

In a flash, Mei Xinqu understood: the Emperor did not want them dead because they would have their use at some future moment — and that future use would certainly be connected to Xu Ji.

And so, in that instant, he allowed himself to think that he too would not die — that the Emperor would keep him alive as He had kept Guan Mo, to be deployed at the crucial moment.

“This subject truly knows his crime now — please, Your Majesty, give this subject a chance at redemption. Whatever Your Majesty commands, no matter the task, no matter the hour, this subject will walk through fire and flood—”

Li Chi’s pacing stopped. He looked down at Mei Xinqu. “Walk through fire and flood, you say? Why wait for some future occasion?”

Mei Xinqu flinched again.

Li Chi said, “You were thinking — if We could spare those others, We can spare you as well?”

Still not waiting for a reply, Li Chi returned to his seat and continued, “You are wrong. You nearly caused the death of one of Great Ning’s founding Dukes. You nearly caused the death of a Tribunal Qianban. And you still dare to imagine that you might live?”

Li Chi said, “Cheng Wujie is a man We regard as a brother. Fang Xidao has served Us from the very beginning. You — what is there to say?”

Li Chi beckoned Mei Xinqu with a finger. Mei Xinqu immediately shuffled forward on his knees to present himself.

Li Chi reached out and gripped Mei Xinqu’s jaw, gave it a sharp twist and a pull — and Mei Xinqu’s jaw was dislocated.

“We have no wish to hear you speak further.”

Li Chi called toward the door: “Ye Xiaoqian — come in.”

Ye Xiaoqian pushed the doors open at once and bowed. “This subject is here.”

Li Chi gestured toward Mei Xinqu. “He has expressed his willingness to walk through fire and flood for Our sake. Find somewhere to lock him away — We look forward to seeing how Minister Mei proposes to do that from a prison cell.”

Ye Xiaoqian bowed. “This subject understands.”

He hauled Mei Xinqu up by the collar and dragged him out of the hall.

Not long after, Mei Xinqu was thrown into a small outbuilding in the rear courtyard of the Tribunal. And in his wake came Inner Imperial Guards, wordlessly carrying armloads of firewood, bundle after bundle, tossed in after him. Mei Xinqu, his jaw hanging useless, could not even scream.

Then a torch was put to it, and the outbuilding was no more.

Ye Xiaoqian watched the fire catch and burn, watched it burn down to nothing, watched the charred remains in the ashes. His expression did not change.

Only when he had seen it through did he turn and leave. He returned to the main hall of the Tribunal a short while later.

“Your Majesty.” Ye Xiaoqian bowed. “The cell holding the dangerous criminal Mei Xinqu caught fire for unknown reasons. The building has burned to nothing. Mei Xinqu has burned with it.”

Li Chi looked at Ye Xiaoqian. “How did you come to be so derelict in your duties?”

Ye Xiaoqian pressed himself lower. “This subject is guilty. This subject awaits Your Majesty’s punishment.”

Li Chi rose. “Dock his pay for three months.”

Ye Xiaoqian said, “This subject receives the punishment.”

Li Chi walked out. In the Tribunal’s outer courtyard, a great black mass of Tribunal officers all dropped to their knees as one.

“Zhang Tang.”

Li Chi called out. Zhang Tang hurried over. “Your Majesty — this guilty subject is here.”

Li Chi said, “The Empress charged you with overseeing the Tribunal. Look what it has become in so short a time. You are demoted to Baiban. Elder Ye will assume temporary command of the Tribunal’s affairs.”

Zhang Tang kowtowed. “This subject’s true crime was worthy of death. This subject thanks Your Majesty for his mercy.”

Li Chi paid him no further attention, nor the kneeling ranks of Tribunal officers, and reached back to take Tang Pidi’s arm. “Let’s go.”

They left, and said nothing about what was to be done with the members of Mei Xinqu’s household who had been brought in alongside him.

Zhang Tang glanced at Elder Ye. Elder Ye sighed softly. “Are there many more buildings in the Tribunal that can burn?”

Zhang Tang looked at Elder Ye. After a moment, he too let out a rueful laugh.

Not long after, word spread through the court, high and low: Mei Xinqu had been imperious and undisciplined, his management of his household servants lax and negligent — and those servants had gone arrogant and lawless in turn. Outside the walls of Chang’an, they had fallen into a conflict with the founding Duke Cheng Wujie, and then launched a sudden ambush, leaving the Duke gravely wounded.

Such wanton, lawless conduct could not be forgiven. His Majesty had therefore issued an Imperial Decree ordering that Mei Xinqu and all members of his household be taken to the Tribunal for trial.

And as fate would have it, Mei Xinqu had set fire to himself in his cell — a death by guilt.

It was the sort of story no one quite believed, of course. First-rate martial artists in Tribunal custody had no means of taking their own lives; how could a civil official manage it? But naturally, no one dared question it.

Whether it had been self-inflicted or not, the burning was a fact.

*The Eastern Warm Chamber.*

Li Chi sat cross-legged on the brick bed, slowly exhaling. Tang Pidi and the others standing nearby gave the slightest bow at once.

“Old Tang, stay. The rest of you — back to your duties.”

Li Chi glanced at Tang Pidi as he spoke; the others bowed, withdrew, and left the Eastern Warm Chamber.

“Old Tang — are We too ruthless?”

“Your Majesty is not ruthless.” Tang Pidi replied. “Today and in the days to come, what Your Majesty does is for the people of future generations — for the future of Great Ning.”

Li Chi said, “We went to see Cheng Wujie. The reason he went outside the city was this: many of his former soldiers had been coming to his estate to file complaints against Xu Ji, and he had been sending them all away with a scolding. He was worried that if it continued it would come to great harm, so he rushed out of the city hoping to consult with you.”

Tang Pidi did not respond to this. Instead he raised a different matter.

“The Nineteen Guard battle divisions have been delineated according to Your Majesty’s edict. The Eighteen Guard Generals have likewise been appointed per the edict and can take up their posts at any time.”

Li Chi made a sound of acknowledgment.

“Tomorrow We will announce this from the court.”

Li Chi looked toward the window. “Let the generals go to the various circuits and take command.”

Tang Pidi bowed. “This subject too should leave Chang’an. As long as this subject remains in the city, some people will never dare go too far.”

Li Chi made another sound, then said, his voice carrying a slight heaviness, “You have spoken of leaving Chang’an many times before, and We have never permitted it. This time, We permit it. Where do you wish to go?”

Tang Pidi answered, “To the northwest.”

Li Chi nodded. “The northwest is good. The Western Frontier has always been undermanned. Even with a Western Frontier General now appointed, and a Western Frontier Armory established, the northwest is vast and sparsely populated — filling out the troops is not the work of a moment.”

He looked at Tang Pidi. “We give you three years. Go and build a Great Northwest Camp from nothing — train soldiers, train the men you want to train.”

Tang Pidi bowed. “This subject obeys. This subject has one further impertinent request.”

Li Chi asked, “What is it?”

Tang Pidi said, “This subject’s younger brother, Tang Ancheng — may he accompany this subject to the northwest to train soldiers. He has no cause to remain in Chang’an either.”

Li Chi considered briefly, then shook his head. “This We will not permit. He is to remain in the Capital Circuit as General of the Jiazi Camp. Of the Nineteen Guard Generals We designated, eighteen were filled — only the Jiazi Camp was left open. It was left open for him. He will take up his post there. His family may remain in Chang’an.”

Tang Pidi thought on it. There was clearly deep meaning in the Emperor keeping Tang Ancheng in the Capital Circuit in command of troops.

So he bowed. “This subject obeys. This subject defers entirely to Your Majesty.”

To keep Tang Ancheng in the Capital Circuit commanding the Jiazi Camp — the most elite fighting force of all — meant that if anything truly happened in Chang’an, Tang Pidi’s heart could be at ease.

Li Chi rose and walked to Tang Pidi’s side. “Give Us three years, and We will summon you back. Then, the two of us—”

Before he could finish, Tang Pidi said, “Wherever Your Majesty needs this subject to be, there this subject will be.”

Li Chi paused, then let out a long, heavy breath.

The two men stood shoulder to shoulder and fell into silence.

Not long after, yet another piece of news — one that could only be called earth-shattering — began to pass through the mouths of every official in the court, great and small.

It was said that the Great General-King Tang Pidi, enraged over Duke Cheng Wujie’s grievous injuries, had personally killed two men in the Emperor’s presence.

Afterward, Tang Pidi felt that his act had offended the Imperial Majesty and requested in person to be sent to the northwest frontier to drill troops by way of penance.

His Majesty had agreed. The Great General-King might very soon be leaving Chang’an for the wild and desolate northwest.

Desolate it certainly was — just north of the Nalan Steppe, where it bordered the western reaches of the Northern Desert Wastes.

In years past, the Tiehu tribe of the Outer Steppe, with its hundreds of thousands of cavalry, had twice invaded through precisely this corridor to assault the Nalan people.

Upon learning that the Great General-King was to be sent to such a place — a land so barren that even birds would not bother to relieve themselves there — the court collectively sighed. Everyone expressed their sympathies.

For this was the Great General-King — the man most trusted by the Emperor, close to him as flesh and blood — and yet he was being dispatched to that wasteland in the northwest.

Later, someone added that it had likely been made worse by the Empress’s presence at the scene. The Great General-King had not only killed in the Emperor’s sight, but in the Empress’s sight — and the Empress was nearly in confinement. Of course His Majesty would be furious.

Hearing this, people nodded to one another: no wonder, no wonder. This was the Great General-King — His Majesty had already spared him out of brotherly feeling. Any other man would not have gotten off with mere reassignment to the northwest frontier.

But there were sharp-eyed observers who noticed something else in all of this.

The Nalan Steppe was known as the Inner Steppe. Borjitechi now held sway in the Outer Steppe. Between the Outer and Inner Steppes lay the Northern Desert Wastes.

If the Great General-King was being sent to this corridor between the steppes to build a great camp — ostensibly to reinforce the Western Frontier — was it not equally a matter of keeping watch over both the Inner and Outer Steppes?

With the Great General-King stationed between the two steppes at the head of an army, what upheaval could the steppes possibly produce?

And as long as the steppes remained at peace, Great Ning would have a steady and unbroken supply of warhorses into the future.

Moreover — one only had to think for a moment to understand what kind of troops the Great General-King would be building in that new camp.

In the corridor between the Inner and Outer Steppes, with no shortage of warhorses to draw from — what sort of soldiers could he possibly be training?

Perhaps in three years, Great Ning would truly possess, in the northwest, an iron cavalry so formidable that even the steppe horsemen would tremble at the name.

And then, at last, the Great General would have realized his lifelong dream of ten thousand iron riders.

—