The Winds of Tepr

Chapter 56

Kuan stands again in the audience hall of the Behani palace, the warmth of the fire doing little to ease the tension coursing through his veins. The Tanlanzury, Nagyazolgo Altangyibu, sits on his throne, his face serene, his hands resting lightly on the armrests as if the gravity of Kuan's report barely touched him.

"The Shag'hal-Tyn are at your doorsteps, Your Majesty," Kuan says, his voice measured but carrying urgency. "The death of their shaman will no doubt be seen as a declaration of war. I will return to the empire and push for immediate mobilization. The Moukopl army can protect you, but we must act quickly."

Nagyazolgo listens in silence, his sharp eyes focused on Kuan, but when he finally speaks, his tone is calm, almost disarmingly so. "What must happen will happen, Envoy Kuan," he says softly. "There is no need to despair. The eightfold path lightens our fate. The Shag'hal-Tyn will come or they will not, but fear will not decide our path."

Kuan holds back a frown, watching the Tanlanzury with wary eyes. The Behani ruler's placid acceptance, his willingness to leave everything to the hands of fate, grates against Kuan's sense of strategy and practicality. 'He doesn't understand the gravity of the situation,' Kuan thinks. 'Or worse, he understands too well.'

A darker thought worms its way into Kuan's mind as he considers the Tanlanzury's almost passive reaction. Perhaps this is what he wanted all along. The shaman's death, the coming Shag'hal-Tyn invasion—it would free the Behani from their tributary obligations to the empire. The empire was far, its armies distant, while the Shag'hal-Tyn were at the doorstep, and their numbers were growing. Perhaps Nagyazolgo planned it this way, welcoming the chaos to rid himself of imperial influence once and for all.

Kuan's lips press into a thin line. 'If that's the case, why should I care?' he muses. If the Behani wish to destroy themselves, let them. The empire is weaker without them, and that works in his favor. The thought lingers, cold and calculating. He has no loyalty to a kingdom that won't help itself, nor to an emperor who has already shown his hand in betrayal.

His mind made up, Kuan straightens, preparing to excuse himself and leave the palace. But before he can speak, the head monk approaches the Tanlanzury, his voice low and measured.

"Your Majesty," the head monk says, bowing slightly. "How shall we deal with the four children? Their actions—killing the Shag'hal-Tyn shaman—have caused a great diplomatic outrage. Such behavior cannot go unpunished."

For the first time, a flicker of something passes across Nagyazolgo's serene expression. He waves a hand dismissively, his gaze drifting to the fire. "Those who cannot contain their emotions, even in service of faith, are not fit for the palace. They have disgraced themselves."

Kuan's eyebrows rise slightly, but he keeps his face impassive. The Tanlanzury's tone is cold, almost indifferent.

The head monk nods gravely, turning toward the entrance where the four young warrior monks stand, their eyes wide with fear and confusion. "By order of the Tanlanzury, you are no longer part of the palace guard. You are expelled from this place. Go into the world and learn humility. Learn control. Or perish. It is not our concern."

The children's faces pale. Their small bodies, once so full of confidence and discipline, now seem frail, lost.

The head monk's command is final. The children bow their heads, their once-proud warrior stance shattered. The eldest among them, barely a teenager, clenches his fists, his knuckles turning white, but says nothing. They are led out of the hall, their footsteps heavy with the weight of their fate.

Kuan stands silently as the hall falls into a tense, uncomfortable quiet. The Tanlanzury's decision, so cold and swift, echoes in the air. Kuan knows the children's fate is sealed. They will become beggars, wandering the harsh mountain roads, forgotten by the palace they once served.