Chapter 12: Bro Got the Politician DLC

By the time the evening meal was finished, the kitchen had settled into the slower rhythm that came after a long service. Fires were being banked, knives washed and returned to their racks, and the great pots that had filled the room with steam for hours were gradually carried away to be cleaned. The heat lingered beneath the rafters, along with the smells of roasted meat, ginger, wine and woodsmoke, but the frantic movement of earlier had faded into something quieter.

Charlie remained at his station for a while, partly because he was tired and partly because standing for too long still made his legs feel as though they belonged to someone else.

Yu noticed.

"You should go upstairs."

Charlie glanced toward her. "I’m not sure I can make it upstairs."

"You managed the stairs yesterday."

"Yesterday I wasn’t carrying half my body weight through my knees."

Yu gave him a look.

Charlie sighed and reached for one of the wooden supports. "I’ll manage."

He had barely made it beyond the kitchen doorway when his left leg suddenly gave way.

The wooden support scraped hard against the polished floor, and for one unpleasant instant his balance shifted beyond anything his weakened body could correct. His shoulder was already turning toward the wall when Yu caught him by the arm and steadied him.

"Careful."

"I had it."

"You were falling."

"I was adjusting."

Yu looked at him.

"To the floor?"

Charlie opened his mouth, searching for an answer that might preserve some dignity, but the approaching footsteps from the adjoining corridor spared him the effort.

The master appeared around the corner.

He had evidently just come from bathing. A towel was wrapped around his waist, another had been wound around his head, and a layer of dark cleansing paste covered most of his face, leaving only his narrowed eyes and the outline of his mouth visible. He stopped when he saw them.

Charlie stopped as well. Yu’s hand was still around his arm.

For several heartbeats, none of them spoke.

The corridor seemed unusually quiet at that hour. Most of the household had retreated to their own rooms, leaving only the faint crackle of lanterns and the distant movement of servants somewhere deeper within the manor. In that silence, Yu’s small laugh sounded much louder than it ought to have.

The master’s eyes narrowed.

Charlie glanced at him, then at Yu, and finally became aware of what the scene must look like from his perspective. He was leaning heavily against Yu, one wooden support crooked beneath him, while the master stood there fresh from the bath looking as though he had walked into something he very much wished he hadn’t seen.

Whatever conclusion the man reached, he apparently decided it wasn’t worth voicing.

His gaze dropped instead to the wooden supports and then to Charlie’s legs.

"Be careful with those."

Charlie straightened as much as his balance allowed. "They’re doing their best."

"They aren’t healed yet."

There was no anger in the warning. No threat, either. The bluntness of it almost made Charlie pause.

"I know."

The master adjusted the towel around his waist, gave Charlie one final look, and continued down the corridor. His bare feet made almost no sound against the floorboards, and within moments he had disappeared around the corner.

Charlie watched the empty corridor for another second.

"Let’s keep going before he changes his mind and decides to hit me again."

They continued along the corridor, though Yu kept close enough to catch him if his legs failed again. Charlie found the arrangement mildly irritating and, at the same time, difficult to object to. The weakness had become an unpredictable companion. Sometimes his legs held for several minutes without complaint; other times a simple turn was enough to send a tremor through his knee.

Charlie could feel it most clearly when he was tired. Something unfamiliar seemed to move beneath the ordinary ache in his muscles, buried deeper than bone and yet somehow connected to every movement he made. .

They had reached the next turn when a servant appeared from the opposite direction.

He stopped immediately upon seeing Charlie, bowed, and waited.

"Charlie Kirk?"

"Yes?"

"I have a message for you."

The servant produced a small folded letter sealed with dark red wax. The seal bore a simple mark, pressed deeply enough into the wax that the edges remained sharp.

"From whom?"

"Zhao Renguang."

Charlie accepted the letter.

If you are willing, meet me tomorrow afternoon at the eastern pavilion beside Lotus Lake. I would like to speak with you.

Charlie read it twice. There was no explanation of why. No hint about what he wanted. He folded the letter along its original crease.

Yu had come closer while he was reading.

"Who is it?"

"Renguang."

Her eyes moved to the letter and then back to Charlie. "You know him?"

"I met him today."

Yu gave him a look that lasted just long enough to make Charlie suspicious.

"What?"

"You’ve already managed to meet Zhao Renguang?"

She seemed to reconsider asking how. Whatever had happened, she probably understood by now that trying to reconstruct Charlie’s day was an exercise in futility.

He tucked the letter into his robe.

"Do you know anything about him? Something that might explain why he’d want to speak with me."

Yu thought for a moment as they resumed walking.

"He’s important. People talk about him constantly."

"I gathered that."

"There are plenty of rumors, too."

Charlie gave her a tired look.

"I’ve already heard the one about his children splatared acros the city."

Yu actually stopped for half a step.

"You’ve heard that?"

"Someone mentioned it earlier."

"And you believed it?"

"No."

"Good."

They continued toward the stairs.

"Although," Charlie added after a moment, "I’m beginning to wonder how many children a man would actually need before that became a practical problem."

Yu laughed.

Charlie looked back at her.

"I was serious."

"I know."

He shook his head, though the corner of his mouth betrayed the beginning of a smile.

"Anything else?"

"Not much that I know for certain. He’s well known in Liangjing. Some people admire him. Others dislike him."

Charlie considered that as he reached the first step.

"That sounds inconvenient."

"For him?"

"For everyone."

Yu smiled faintly but said nothing.

"You’re going to meet him?"

Charlie glanced down at the stairs beneath his feet.

"Yes."

"Then be careful."

He looked sideways at her.

"That seems to be everyone’s favorite advice."

"It’s good advice."

Charlie didn’t answer. He continued upward, more slowly now.

By the time he reached his room, the manor had settled into the muted quiet of late evening. Farther away, someone spoke in a hushed voice before the sound disappeared behind another wall. Outside, Liangjing remained awake.

The city never seemed to sleep completely. Beyond the manor’s walls came the distant rattle of a cart crossing stone, the faint cry of a vendor making one final attempt to sell whatever remained of his evening stock, and, somewhere farther off, the dull ring of a bell marking an hour Charlie had no particular way of measuring.

When he opened the door, he found Biggie already asleep.

The pig had somehow claimed the most comfortable portion of the room and sprawled there without the slightest concern for anyone else’s needs. One ear twitched when Charlie entered, but otherwise he remained completely indifferent to the world.

Charlie stood over him for a moment.

"You know," he murmured, "I think I’ve accidentally made a political connection."

Biggie snorted without opening his eyes.

Charlie lowered himself carefully onto the edge of the bed. His legs ached from the walk, and the exhaustion that followed was deeper than simple fatigue. He leaned back against the wall and looked toward the dark window, where the faint reflection of the room’s lantern moved whenever the flame shifted.

"And somehow," he added, "I suspect that’s going to become my problem."

Biggie shifted in his sleep, apparently unconcerned by the political implications of anything. Charlie reached inside his robe and touched the folded letter.

He still didn’t know what the man wanted, but somehow he doubted it was merely another argument. Renguang had watched him closely during the debate, had gone out of his way to speak with him afterward, and had now sent a personal invitation before the day was even over.

Charlie had spent enough time around politicians to know that people rarely went to that much trouble without a reason.

He looked toward the window again.

Whatever that reason was, he would find out tomorrow.