Chapter One

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The Plum Tree Teahouse owed its popularity as much to its location as its unique menu. Situated at the intersection of Maker's and Market Way on one side, with a private foot bridge leading the Queens' promenade on the other, it was the very heart of the capital. Traders and courtiers mingled at long tables in the main room sampling either regional specialties or imported delicacies.

Legends claiming the negotiations to merge the peninsula's four kingdoms took place in that room were summarily dismissed by Corranna's official historians. However, the thick mists hiding the place during the last battle of succession remained part of living memory. No visit to the city of Lesou was considered complete without sharing cups at the Teahouse, or at least people watching from the many nearby street cafes.

The teahouse's second level accommodated private parties and only select clients could arrange advanced seating. Go San Jin hesitated to trade on his father's reputation but he had been pressured by his former classmates to secure a table. He found it embarrassing to walk past the line of seniors in both age and rank to be admitted at the side door. The other boys seemed to revel in the attention.

"Oh, I bet half of them are wondering who we are," the shortest ruffled out the stiff skirt on his richly embroidered outer robe. Most of the other also straightened and preened.

"If they have to wonder then they are probably not worth noticing," the tallest drawled. He did not display many obvious signs of his wealth, other than fine tailoring and a faint accent picked up from recent travel. Throughout their school years, Hwan Ja-Kyung decided who to accept into their inner circle so the others understood his comment as a sign to proceed with more discretion. Few in their group exuded the same sense of causal privilege as the Assistant Treasurer's youngest son but they tried to take the special services that came with a reservation under the name of a senior minister in stride.

Looking around the table, San Jin wondered why he had felt so obligated to this group. Since they had gone their separate ways a few months ago he had come to wonder if the bonds from their school days were based on anything more than having common advisories. Unreasonable teachers and bullying classmates originally pushed their group together in middle-school and they had stuck together right through to the state examinations and first qualifying tournaments.

He fixed a slight smile on his face and busied himself with the menu. The banter between the other boys seemed the same as when they last all met. For that matter, it seemed the same as most of their school days. It wasn't long before his seat mate bumped his shoulder and asked, "Is it official?"

"What?"

"That you are Champ-Jin," he joked and the other boys parroted him.

"Oh. Nobody, especially not my little brother like a hundred times a day, has tried one," San Jin moaned. He supposed some teasing should be expected. He had just hoped it would be a bit more original. He discretely twisted his signet ring so the stone would not show. The ring was a present from his family in recognition of his achievements and its emerald could still flash unexpectedly as it tuned with his other stones. It was not a comfortable process and it made him wonder if it contributed his general discontent with the gathering.

"I guess you are in heavy duty training. I mean you were almost harder than Ja-Kyung to get in touch with and he was sailing around Indachine for months on end."

"Yes, well, I still have a classics tutor, practice with our house guard, sessions at the dojo, and a slate of fencing students. It can be a bit hectic." San Jin shrugged then asked the others what they had been up to. Most of them were enjoying a break before starting in at a local college. It made sense but only underscored the gap that grew as he moved from qualifier, to finalist, and now aiming to compete next year's champion league.

A commotion along Market Way distracted him from his classmate's gossip about their former rivals. An old couple with a pushcart seemed to be having trouble. A pair of guards started yelling at the couple and then struck the old man. Most of the onlookers took this as a sign to clear off but a heavier set man with a cane seemingly sided with the peddlers. One of the guards made a threatening gesture but his partner stopped him then they both bowed to the man with the cane. The guards then impatiently gestured for a couple of boys from the lunch line-up to help move the pushcart to a nearby alley. The heavier set man nodded then proceeded to the teahouse's special entrance. Once inside he headed to a table overlooking the canal where two finely dressed men waited.

"Do you know who that is?" San Jin's seatmate whispered excitedly.

Before San Jin had time to venture a guess the boy across from them jumped in, "That's Field Marshall Lie Wen-Hou, or I guess he is just Knight-Master now."

The name caught Ja-Kyung's attention and he dropped his languid posture. "Well spotted," he said then whispered under his breath, "Not a total waste of time after all."

San Jin flushed at this remark and then started counting down to when Ja-Kyung would bring their small alumni gathering to a close.

The adults across the room were not oblivious to the attention they had attracted. The one with a closely cropped beard nodded acknowledgements to a few of the other diners. Jia Ying-so had a wide-range of associates from his role as a talent scout for the most select academies in the Capital. He expected approaches from eager parents whenever he was in public. Today, as they waited for their former comrade-in-arms, his frowning companion warned off all but the most persistent.

Across the table Doak Zhong-mi furrowed his brow he watched his friend struggling up the stairs to the balcony. It had been close to a year since he last saw Wen-Hou laying on a stretcher while medics tried to set a shattered leg. Dark memories started to flood his vision. A gust of wind spun the falling petals from a nearby tree into a small spout and dropped them on Zhong-mi's lap. He jerked himself back to the present and scowled at the man across from him.

"Up to some of your usual tricks, Ying-so?" Wen-Hou tapped the table with his cane.

The bearded man stood and offered a slight bow before breaking into a wide grin. "It is so good to see you up and about my friend." He gripped Wen-Hou's arm tightly to helped him settle on the low bench. Wen-Hou grunted slightly and waved down at his leg. "They say it will get better. I just need to stretch and strengthen but it is still a slow process."

"So, what was that all about?" Ying-so gestured toward Market Way.

"What? Oh, out there?" Wen-Hou took a slip of water. "Bloody stupid guards trying to bully the couple with a broken-down cart, like that is going to get traffic moving any faster. No sense. No respect. Where do they get those thugs from?" His raised voice attracted some sharp looks but he scowled back.

"You know it is less of a matter of where the guards come from, than what they are taught once they are here," Zhong-mi said and unconsciously flexed his muscles. He was fighting trim and wore an armoured vest under his cloak. The plain scabbard indicated his sword was a well-worn tool, not a decoration. Since his army days were not far behind him, he was ready to start itemizing the short comings in cadet preparations.

Ying-so held up his hand to interrupt a building tirade. "Your complaint is only partly true. The local guard command will tell you they only get the dregs from the qualifiers. Of course, the Prince's Training Yard gets top pick then the Academies select the more profitable candidates from the remainder."

"You know any maker will tell you it is a poor craftsman who blames his tools," Wen-Dou was only half teasing. He studied his friends a bit closer then said, "Tell me how things are for the two of you."

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