Unintended Cultivator
Book 11: Chapter 32: Something That Sits Right In Your Soul

Sen had listened with the kind of focused attention most commonly seen in predators watching prey, while Glimmer of Night told him about what Ai had been doing recently. Part of him knew that the conversation would have been boring, even painfully tedious for anyone else who might have been listening. She was a little girl and, barring her association with the sky monster and her ever-present flock of willing bird minions, her life wasn’t the sort of thing that would be interesting to an adult. Yet, he drank in every detail like a parched man finally given water. He had asked about a hundred questions more than any sane person would have tolerated, desperate to hang on to that fleeting feeling of connection a little longer. It told him something about Glimmer of Night’s patience that the spider had simply answered as many of the questions as he could.

He had spoken to Ai over the communication core he had brought with him, which was always a balm to him. However, it was also a difficult thing to arrange. He had duties that he couldn’t or, at least, shouldn’t ignore. Nor did those duties arrive on a neatly arranged schedule. She had mortal needs like food and sleep, along with her ongoing education. All of those things drastically limited how much time they could spend talking. There was always a hesitancy and awkwardness to it for him, knowing as he did that someone was sitting there in the room to monitor the other cores. Ai wasn’t inhibited by it, but she also wasn’t carrying around secrets. Sen had to watch every word he spoke.

He supposed that Glimmer of Night’s improvements on the communication cores would solve that final problem. Auntie Caihong had claimed one of the cores, and she understood the need for privacy better than most. Still, as much as he had loved hearing about Ai and her small misadventures in the world, it had also left a dull ache inside of him. Sen had eventually released the poor spiderkin from his low-level interrogation. There were still things they needed to talk about, but everyone wanted to relax after a long journey. They could talk more the next day. Plus, Sen wanted to be alone.

He had found himself on top of the city walls, looking down at the army. I suppose I should call it my army, thought Sen. He had been trying to learn more about how the army worked, if for no other reason than so he’d be able to ask a relevant question now and then. It was slow learning for all of that. He’d started to realize that a lot of what made the army an army wasn’t formal or a procedure. It was more like a sect in that they had a small society of their own developed over centuries of existence. Sen could see parts of it. However, much of it, maybe even the most important parts, remained opaque because he wasn’t really part of that society. He never had been.

That lack of personal insight made it hard for him to gauge whether they were improving or not. He shook his head. Much as he hated it, he’d simply have to rely on others to tell him if the army was ready or not. Still, he took a little comfort in the solitude. The guards stationed on the wall were also kind enough to give him room to be alone. Or, he thought a little grimly, they’re too afraid to approach me. He spent nearly thirty minutes on the wall, staring into the distance, and letting his thoughts and feelings tumble freely for once.

Constant demands on his time and attention consumed his days and evenings. Even when he resolved some problem or shifted it to more appropriate hands, new things replaced them. The need to train, do alchemy, and start thinking about how to advance his body cultivation swallowed his nights almost whole. That entire collection of tasks also demanded almost unwavering focus. He needed to remain ever-vigilant against the nobles, half of his generals, and their constant schemes. He also needed to try to interpret what news they received of the spirit beasts. A task made no easier by how often the information came second or even third-hand, and often weeks after the fact.

Cultivation had always been a jealous master who punished the inattentive. Being careless with his considerations of body cultivation could prove crippling at the nascent soul stage. Especially since he’d started to suspect that there were no manuals to guide him. He’d need to talk to Master Feng or, if things became truly desperate, Elder Bo, to be sure. Yet, he hadn’t been able to find any evidence that such manuals even existed. It didn’t help that none of the nascent soul cultivators available to him, or even their sects, had done more than dabble in body cultivation beyond the early refinement all cultivators did. For reasons beyond his comprehension, it seemed that body cultivation was generally passed down in families or clans.

With all of those concerns pressing in on him, there simply weren’t that many opportunities to let his mind wander. So, he took a little pleasure in letting that happen this once, even if his thoughts didn’t necessarily take him places he wanted to go. He was even left in peace for nearly half an hour before someone came looking for him. His first instinct was to tell them to go away, but he’d been working hard to build a relationship of mutual respect with General Mo. Sen might have even been tempted to call it a friendship, but he had the impression that calling it that would make the general uncomfortable. He wasn’t going to throw that work away because he was feeling surly and guilty.

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“Lord Lu,” said the general as he came over to stand next to Sen.

“General Mo.”

“Surveying your troops?”

“I wouldn’t know what I was looking for,” said Sen. “I suppose they do look a bit more orderly and disciplined.”

“I know that you weren’t enthusiastic about giving them extra time to train, but it is paying off. It will mean fewer deaths later.”

“I’m not questioning the need for it,” said Sen. “You told me they needed more time, and I believe you. I’m just painfully aware that every extra day we spend here means an extra day that spirit beasts get a free hand elsewhere. It’s not so bad in this kingdom right now, but the world is bigger than our borders.”

General Mo grimaced a little and said, “That’s all true. I see the same reports you do. At least, I see most of the ones about the spirit beasts. I know that we’re trading the lives of innocents who don’t live here to spare the lives of ones who do. But, to be blunt, it’s my job to do that.”

Sen gave the general a sharp look and asked, “In what way?”

“My responsibility is to lead those men and women,” he waved at the camp below, “as well as I can and bring as many home as I can when the fighting is done. That is in the service of protecting,” he waved his hand at the city inside the walls, “all of the people who live here and in the kingdom. I know you plan to eventually conquer everything, but you haven’t yet. You said it yourself. We need to secure our borders first. That means doing things like advising you to let people in other kingdoms die while we prepare as well as we can. At least, within reasonable limits. After all, we can’t save anyone if we’re all dead.”

It was Sen’s turn to grimace. He knew that the general was right in practical terms. Sen just hated how it felt. He decided to turn the conversation to something the general might be able to help him with.

“Do you have children, General Mo?” asked Sen.

The old general blinked a few times before he caught up with the subject change.

“I do, Lord Lu.”

“Did your duties ever take you away from them when they were young?”

A somber expression passed over the general’s face when he said, “They did.”

“I find myself in that situation now. I understand the necessity. Only a madman would willingly bring a child into this viper’s nest of a city, given any other choice. Especially since I know I’ll be leaving to go to war very soon. I just—” Sen trailed off, not certain how to explain himself.

“You don’t know what to do with the guilt,” filled in General Mo. “You feel like you should be there. To guide them and to protect them.”

Sen thought it over before he nodded.

“Yes, I think that probably sums it up.”

General Mo sighed when he said, “I wish there was a simple answer I could give you. There isn’t. It was easier for me because I didn’t really have a choice. On the surface, you do.”

“Except, we both know that I don’t. Yes, I could just go home, but I suspect that wouldn’t lead to an outcome anyone wants.”

“True enough. So, you can take some small comfort in that. You’re doing it because there isn’t an acceptable alternative. It doesn’t give you back any of the things you miss, but nothing can do that. In the end, though, you just have to find something that you can live with. It doesn’t need to be a good reason. It doesn’t even need to be a rational reason. It just needs to be something that sits right in your soul.”

“Can I ask what reason you settled on? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

The general let out an amused snort and said, “Suncakes.”

Sen was flummoxed by that answer. He hadn’t known what the man would say, but naming a pastry wasn’t even on the list of possibilities. Maybe, I didn’t understand him properly, thought Sen.

“Suncakes? The pastries?” asked Sen, trying to confirm what he’d heard.

“It sounds mad, I know. My son loved them when he was a child. Couldn’t get enough of them. That’s still true, now that I think about it, which isn’t my point. The point is that I decided that the best way to ensure he could always get the treat that he loved was to do my best to make sure that no other kingdom could mount a successful invasion. As long as I did that, there would always be bakers to make suncakes.”

Sen stared at the general before slowly asking, “General, are you playing some kind of misguided joke on me?”

“No. I knew it didn’t make any sense at the time. That didn’t matter. What mattered was that it gave me something to hang onto. Something that didn’t cripple me with guilt or fear the way protecting their lives might.”

“I see,” said Sen. “Thank you, General Mo. I appreciate your advice about this.”

“I hope it helps.”

“I’m certain it’s too much to hope for, but I don’t suppose you just came up here to chat.”

“I’m afraid, I didn’t.”

“Of course. So, what’s on fire this time?”

General Mo looked around to check the position of the guards on the wall before he lowered his voice and said, “I’m pretty sure Kang intends to launch a coup or, barring that, to take the troops under his command and leave the city.”

Sen closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and said, “In the future, you can feel free to interrupt me when you’re coming to me with something that important.”

“I’m relatively confident he won’t do it today. So, I decided we could spare ten minutes to keep you from losing your sanity.”

Sen couldn’t even muster any indignation at that.

“I’m starting to think that sanity is overrated.”

“Don’t,” advised the general. “It might feel that way now, but it won’t be after the war. Besides, aren’t you going to live for a few thousand years? That’s a long time to be insane.”

Sen thought about Fu Ruolan and said, “That’s a very fair point. Alright, let’s go somewhere private so you can finish telling me about why I’m going to have publicly behead that fool.”