Unintended Cultivator
Book 11: Chapter 38: Political Theater

It was clear in the way that people hesitated ever so slightly at the door, the way that their eyes widened slightly, that no one had expected Sen to be openly sitting on the throne. After all, he’d made a point of not sitting on it since he’d arrived. It had been an indulgence he’d allowed himself. A way of sidestepping the new facts of his world. By avoiding that cumbersome piece of furniture, he’d been able to pretend for just a little longer that he wasn’t laying claim to an entire nation under threat of violence. With mere days left until the army marched on an extended campaign of internal and external conquest, however, the time for indulgences was over. As was the time of tolerating the petty squabbling of the nation’s elite.

He recognized the faces of most of the people entering the throne room, even if he hadn’t taken the time to learn all of their names. He saw the young patriarch of the House of Wu. The man had been elevated after Sen gave the previous patriarch the choice between a painless suicide and an agonizing murder that would take days to run its course. The new Wu patriarch refused to so much as meet Sen’s eyes, presumably having gotten the details of that encounter from his father before the man died. I don’t suppose I’d want to look me in the eye after something like that either, thought Sen.

He offered a brief nod to Fong Huifen, matriarch of the House of Fong, and her ever-present servant, Quon. Of all the noble houses in the capital, they had been the ones who caused him the fewest problems. If anything, it seemed as though they had gone out of their way to avoid frustrating him or his purposes. He didn’t know if they had simply decided early on that they’d rather be viewed as people who weren’t his enemies, or perhaps his rather public executions had swayed them. Given his interactions with them in the past, he was inclined to think it was the former rather than the latter.

Fong Huifen had even gone so far as to befriend Grandmother Lu. On the outside, it looked like the usual political gamesmanship. He didn’t doubt for one moment that the Fong matriarch had calculated the value of such a friendship. She would have been foolish not to consider it. It was no secret that Sen held Grandmother Lu in high esteem. After all, he had toppled a great house, forged a new one, and then essentially gifted it to her along with mountains of wealth. Someone as astute as Fong Huifen would not have missed those subtle clues.

On the other hand, he knew Grandmother Lu. She would not have been easily swayed by offers of friendship, feigned or genuine. She also would have been deeply suspicious of all attempts to gain her favor. It was the only practical way to handle dealing with nobles from the great houses. Yet, she assured him that there was a real friendship there, and he took her word for it. He supposed they probably had a lot in common. For all that Grandmother Lu looked like a woman in her early middle years and was enjoying the benefits of body cultivation, she had been an old woman in truth. Older than Fong Huifen by several decades, but someone who could relate to the challenges the matriarch faced.

More nobles trickled in, most of whom received nothing more than a glance from Sen and seemed glad for that lack of attention. Behind them came the army leadership. Whatever minor factions that had existed before seemed to have solidified behind either General Mo, who entered first, or General Kang, who came after looking none-too-pleased to be second. The two camps took up positions on opposite sides of the throne room. The nobles eyed both groups but, with few exceptions, remained at a distance from both. No doubt waiting to see who came out on top in the power struggle.

Sen understood why they did that. He even sympathized a little with their positions. No one wanted to publicly declare loyalty or even friendliness to a group that might find itself abruptly out of favor with a man who had not made a point of sparing people. At least, not that they had seen. Sen had, in fact, spared a great many people he believed were guilty of things because he lacked proof of their guilt. These were mortals, not cultivators he could challenge if he didn’t like them. If he simply declared them guilty, they had no recourse. No higher authority to appeal to, unless they could somehow find a sympathetic nascent soul cultivator more powerful than him. As he thought about it, though, he realized that was now true of most cultivators as well. However, he suspected that they largely had the sense not to give him reasons to cut them down.

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For the next hour, Sen let the people mingle while he occasionally spoke to Jing or the tiny handful of very brave nobles who approached him. He made a point to avoid committing to anything, simply saying that he would consider this or that in the due course of time. It was such a vacuous phrase that he could have meant anything from five minutes to five hundred years, all without suggesting which direction his decision might go. Lai Dongmei eventually entered, bringing the entire room to silence. She ignored the nobles and the military leadership. Something that seemed to disappoint just about everyone. Instead, she walked over and positioned herself on the other side of the throne from Jing.

He was also aware that Misty Peak was hovering close by, having once again hidden herself behind an illusion. She had advised him against this plan, saying that it could create irritating problems in the future that he wouldn’t want to have to fix. Something he found plausible, if not as likely as the fox-woman seemed to think it was. She’d advocated for sending Kang on a suicide mission after the army had marched a fair distance from the city. Sen had given that suggestion more than a passing moment of consideration. That had been his original plan for dealing with the unfriendly generals and even their immediate subordinates if necessary. The problem with that plan was that it would cement Kang’s position as a hero. That was what really needed to go away, not the man himself.

“Seal the room,” said Sen in a voice that carried.

Immediately, every door to the throne room was pulled closed and locked by the servants who had been waiting. They didn’t know what was happening. Sen saw Kang direct a brief, triumphant look at General Mo. Playing his part just as Sen had instructed him to do, Mo simply lifted an inquisitive eyebrow at the other general. Kang’s expression froze as he realized that this might not be what he expected it to be.

“General Kang,” said Sen, pointing at a spot in front of the throne. “Present yourself for trial.”

Sen could see the look of fierce concentration on Kang’s face as the man thought furiously. The general was, no doubt, trying to understand where things had gone wrong. He’d been expecting General Mo to level accusations and charges against him. He had not been expecting Sen to announce an impromptu trial.

“Lord Lu,” said Kang, “I’m certain I don’t know what this is about. If General Mo has presented some baseless accusation against me—”

Sen cut him off with a hard voice.

“General Kang. If you do not present yourself, now, I will take it as a fact that you are guilty and act accordingly.”

Kang visibly swallowed and walked across the throne room. Sen could see the eager, interested looks on some of the nobles' faces. He also noted the poorly concealed expression of dismay worn by the Wu patriarch. I guess I couldn’t really be surprised if there had been some kind of deal between them, thought Sen. They both hate me. A few of the other nobles hid their feelings a little better, but it was hard to hide the beads of sweat forming on some foreheads. Jing might have missed them sitting on the throne. Sen’s vision was more than adequate to pick out the light reflected from those physical signs of guilt and stress.

He wasn’t obvious about it, but he made a point to briefly meet and hold the gazes of those particular nobles. He wanted them to know that he knew. When Kang came to a stop at the place that Sen had indicated, he tried again to act as though he couldn’t comprehend what was happening.

“Lord Lu, I’m sure that there has been some misunderstanding. If we could speak privately, I’m sure that I can explain that any accusations are—”

“Yes, I’m sure that you’re a practiced liar, Kang,” said Sen.

He’d left off the honorific of General, and that didn’t go unnoticed by anyone. Sen proceeded without letting Kang get a word in edgewise.

“The charges are quite simple, if very dire. You are charged with conspiring to discredit a hero of the land. One General Mo Kegong. I’ve brought representatives of the noble houses to bear witness since I don’t expect this to take very long. The trial will commence immediately.”

Everyone in the room knew, or had to suspect, that this was political theater and nothing more. The outcome of this so-called trial had obviously been decided in advance. Yet, despite that knowledge, the nobles did an admirable job of looking shocked. Sen was impressed with their performances. Then again, many of the nobles were from smaller houses. Some of them might have been legitimately shocked. From what Jing had told him, this wasn’t how noble houses and the royalty normally removed a general. They would publicize a general’s supposed and often fabricated indiscretions. Then, the general would be stripped of their rank. Jing couldn’t think of a time in his lifetime when a general had been tried for this actual crime. Maybe their shock was real, mused Sen.

Fixing Kang with a look so hard that it made the man flinch, Sen said, “Let us proceed.”