Chapter 6
Faithful to His Realm
From the distant hills cometh a squad of soldiers, escorting a dozen souls into the ethnic market. The villagers hesitate, for they behold familiar visages, then stir into a commotion:
- Not long hath it been since you lamented the loss of your livelihoods, barring your doors and refusing to step beyond. Yet now, what cause hath brought such joy upon you?
- Why do you follow the soldiers?
The questions mount; voices resound throughout the ethnic market, setting the gathering astir. Those newly arrived laugh with great mirth. Among them, an aged elder casteth his gaze upon the Grand Chancellor:
- The Grand Chancellor did arrange all things…
All eyes turn at once to the Grand Chancellor. Murmurs spread as folk speculate and question one another. Thiet Nam's nerves stretch tighter than a drawn bowstring, driving him toward madness at the endless jesting. The heat within him burneth away all thought from his mind. The Guardian of Justice faceth the mischief-maker squarely:
- Cease this roundabout folly!
The Grand Chancellor replieth with indifference:
- You lose your patience, grow angry, and refuse to wait—then who is truly to blame?
The elder waveth his hand, signaling for Thiet Nam to cease his rebuttal. He draweth back a rattan chair, leaneth leisurely against its back, stretcheth his weary frame, and speaketh slowly:
- Interrupt not. Let the other side finish speaking!
The venerable elder speaketh with composure:
- A week prior, a stranger did establish a wagering hall of bamboo within the ethnic market, luring many to partake. They became a blight upon us, and we did wish the soldiers to cast them out entirely. Yet no hand was raised. On the second day, they drove us forth and did enlarge their gamblers' den. That night, the village elder summoned his kin, bidding us gather at his dwelling to hold counsel. He warned us to keep silent, lest we alert the foe. None among us did expect—The Grand Chancellor was there in wait, with players of dice at his side…
The lengthy tale stirreth not his ire as doth the story of the Grand Chancellor beside the dice-players. The crowd casteth furtive glances—first toward Thu Do, then upon Thiet Nam with quiet intent. Thiet Nam painteth the scene within his mind, the details vivid as though he beholdeth the events unfold before his very eyes.
The Grand Chancellor did hand each person a bag of coin, then inclined his head to bid them open it. The crowd did loosen the drawstrings with hesitation, and did gasp upon beholding hundreds of strings of coin within. They cast glances toward the players of dice, then shifted their gaze to the Grand Chancellor, their faces brimmed with confusion.
The Grand Chancellor did smile and did say:
- This coin was meant to compensate your losses in recent days. Hmm… Was the sum too great?
He did furrow and did knit his brows, and did rub his back with indifference, and further did speak:
- Count it as the profit from next week's trade. Whatsoever was lacking, I shall repay tenfold.
All the bags of coin contained a fortune beyond what one could earn in months. None cast a second glance. The venerable elder tied the bag of coin securely and returned it to the Grand Chancellor before kneeling and solemnly declaring:
- Grand Chancellor, I could not accept this!
The others followed suit, returning bags of coin and kneeling upon the ground. These were mere common folk, yet they dared to defy the Grand Chancellor's command. The Grand Chancellor, amused, asked:
- Oh? Why?
The elder clenched his fists, struggling to compose himself, before pointing directly at the players of dice and firmly stating:
- I would not indulge greed nor allow their reckless wagering to run rampant!
Those accompanying him responded in unison, their gazes fixed upon the band of gamblers. Yet the players of dice clapped in admiration, leaving the gathering steeped in stupefaction. The Grand Chancellor curled his lips into a subtle smile and did show favor toward the villagers' decision, deepening the crowd's confusion. The Grand Chancellor, his tone ice-cold, issued a sharp warning:
- Did you imply that I condoned wagering?
Terrified, they crouched low, not daring to lift their heads:
- We… would never dare…
The Grand Chancellor did offer a smile, gesturing for them to rise, and they timidly obeyed.
- The village elder stood surety for your honesty and integrity. Throughout this time, you proved your ability to conduct yourselves with righteousness. Today, you confirmed that I had chosen wisely.
They heard his words, strange and unclear. One looked to another, and they shook their heads in consternation. The venerable elder, summoning boldness, asked:
- What did you mean by that?
The Grand Chancellor ordered a gambler to answer:
- We were the imperial military. The Grand Chancellor ordered us to disguise ourselves as commoners and establish wagering houses. His directive was to seize the market from honest traders and then offer compensation. Only those of true integrity would know to keep such secrets.
The crowd did stare at the Grand Chancellor in sheer astonishment. A soldier then did speak:
- The imperial court did forbid wagering, yet those who did feign to establish wagering houses were left unpunished, drawing forth the true players of dice in pursuit of profit. I did foresee that by tomorrow, the scoundrels would bring havoc. We did resolve to withdraw and let them run amok.
Frowning deeply, the elder did cautiously inquire:
– Grand Chancellor, under peaceful circumstances, why did you resort to such tactics?
The Grand Chancellor did smile and did reply:
– There did exist those whose patriotism did reach unto madness. The nation was life itself. Life, family, loved ones, love, and honor. He would sacrifice all for his country. The interests of the realm did mean everything to him. He did stop at nothing to ensure its peace and strength. From the smallest troubles to the greatest calamities, he did cleanse the aftermath at all costs, heedless of the peril to his own life. Do you believe such a man did exist?
The assembly did burst into brief laughter at the fanciful figure conjured by the Grand Chancellor, then did swiftly kneel to offer their apologies. Only the venerable elder did vaguely grasp the implication:
- Are you in search of that man?
The Grand Chancellor did give a slight nod and did motion for them to rise. Thu Do did clap his hands thrice in praise ere he did declare:
- I did devise this scheme solely to lure that man into appearing. Upon arriving in Lang Chau and beholding such repulsive disorder, he shall surely quell the chaos.
Rubbing his hands together, the Grand Chancellor did flash a sly smile:
- The prey shall take the bait.
The venerable elder did perceive that Thu Do bore a manner open and plain—unlike the rumors that spake of a Chancellor cloaked in gloom. That air of affability did soften the crowd's fear. The elder did await the Chancellor's final word ere he did ask:
- Grand Chancellor, what if that man never reveal himself in the end? How should we respond?
The vision doth fade, and Thiet Nam awakeneth with a start, snapping back to reality. He heareth the Grand Chancellor proclaim:
- Hear me, villagers! All losses shall be recompensed with earnings from wagering.
Supporters of the Grand Chancellor's decree are many, yet voices of dissent rise with equal strength. One among the crowd crieth aloud:
- Grand Chancellor, we cannot accept such filthy coin!
Another doth chime in:
- Yea! This coin hath been cast into the skirts of harlots—foul and defiled. We cannot accept it!
The crowd clamoreth in dispute, when the blunt utterance doth tickle their ears, stirring laughter throughout the ethnic market. Thu Do cleareth his throat thrice, then taketh up a gold ingot and casteth it into the distant midden.
- Whether clean or tainted resteth upon man.
He speaketh slowly:
- If thou commit unlawful acts, can thy coin remain pure?
Next, he taketh another gold ingot, and doth wipe it clean, ensuring every blemish be erased. He continueth:
- If this be earned through sweat and tears, and the wicked purchase thy wares, doth their coin bear filth upon it?
The Grand Chancellor polisheth the gold ingot until it gleameth bright, and declareth:
- This gold is the reward for your labor and diligence!
A homily doth enlighten the hearts of the villagers. None doth hesitate, nor do they scorn worldly possessions, but all do acknowledge their necessity and accept what is rightfully theirs. The Grand Chancellor dusteth off his hands, then turneth to Thiet Nam and asketh:
- And you? What manner of reward doth the one faithful to the realm seek?
Trung Hieu hath held his tongue until now, but suddenly speaketh in a mocking tone:
- Faithful to realm is unconditional. If the one must be rewarded for being faithful to realm, then it is an insult to the one faithful to the realm.
The Grand Chancellor clappeth his hands—each clap spaced apart by a long pause—ere he laugheth in mock admiration:
- Ah, I nearly forgot… he is faithful to realm unto frenzy itself.
The Grand Chancellor, his wife, and their retainers burst into laughter. Yet Thiet Nam remaineth indifferent to this celebration of a successful hunt. Calmly, he remindeth the Grand Chancellor:
- Grand Chancellor, how dost thou intend to deal with the harlots and players of dice?
Today marketh the final day of the one-week term—at last, all waiting yieldeth its rightful outcome. The one faithful to the realm doth devote himself wholly to the matter's resolution. The Grand Chancellor cannot withhold his mirth, and doth tease this singular "Guardian of Justice". The elder doth shrug and speaketh thus:
- I am severing the fingers of the players of dice. As for those who are bringing harm upon the people, I am casting them into exile; and if the transgression be too grave, they are being beaten unto death. The harlots are being sent unto the unto the camp, there to regain their honor—those who are truly repenting are being granted return, to dwell as common folk. But should any be reverting to their former ways, I am letting them live out the life of a moth to the flame…
Through encounters and discourse, Thiet Nam is coming to perceive that the Grand Chancellor possesseth countless schemes—each strange and beyond imagining. He holdeth no will to cavil at the Grand Chancellor's intent to chastise the harlots, yet curiosity is stirring him to inquire with measured tone:
- What do you mean by "living the life of a moth in the night"?
After days and nights of relentless pondering, the Grand Chancellor hath at last found "the one faithful to the realm". No one hath been more elated than he. This overwhelming joy hath misled many into thinking that the old man hath now forgiven those who have spoken recklessly and have disregarded hierarchy.
The man whose power hath overshadowed the realm hath instantly grown furious; his ruddy face hath darkened unto a demonic gray-black. His cold eyes have pierced sharply into Thiet Nam. Moments before, the Grand Chancellor's eyes have shone brightly, as if able to speak and laugh; now they have turned opaque white, devoid of pupils, chilling like an abyss.
Silence.
All have fallen silent. Tran Thi Dung hath stood motionless. She hath witnessed her husband's wrath ascend unto the heavens countless times, yet the wife hath never beheld such a terrifying countenance before.
Silence hath enveloped the space, as though strangling all within.
Thiet Nam's spirit hath been sucked into those strange eyes. The more he hath struggled, the more he hath felt imprisoned in a pit of darkness. His bewildered mind hath fought fiercely to conquer his fear of the dark. That fear hath stirred memories of past suffering.
In days past, whenever he did misbehave, his stern father did mercilessly cast him into a chamber shrouded in pitch-darkness. That darkness became his waking nightmare. In manhood, Thiet Nam did commit a transgression most unforgivable, and from that hour forth, the nightmare did hound him without respite, tormenting his very soul.
The nightmare doth surge upon him too swiftly for any defense. The illusion doth shackle Thiet Nam's reason, conjuring the phantasm that the Grand Chancellor could see through his thoughts and uncover the secrets he hath long buried.
Thu Do doth carefully examine every expression upon Thiet Nam's face. That overwhelming terror is consuming him wholly. Sweat doth drench his body, and his legs are verging upon collapse. The Grand Chancellor neither doth wish nor intend to strip Thiet Nam of his dignity. He doth slowly close his eyes, recalling the fleeting image of a repentant plea. That brief expression maketh the Grand Chancellor vaguely sense that Thiet Nam doth beg not for forgiveness from him—but from another.
Thiet Nam's heart doth suddenly clench. His breath becometh erratic, as though he hath just escaped from the depths of hell. As his consciousness is ensnared and held fast by illusions, the span unfoldeth and endeth as swiftly as the Grand Chancellor's blink.
The formless fear transformeth into an indistinct sensation—as though the cheerful and jesting 'Grand Chancellor' and the menacing Thu Do be two wholly different beings. One is a mortal; the other—a "beast" with a soul so deep, no bottom may be found.
He may be devoured by this monster at any moment—not merely his spirit, but his very flesh. Yet the shadow of fear hath not yet departed, and he is for the time being unable to face any man. Trung Hieu doth furrow his brow, step forward, pat Thiet Nam upon the shoulder, and half in jest, half in concern, speaketh:
- Hey, brother, what manner of beast hath bitten thee this time?
Thiet Nam doth gradually calm himself. He lowereth his head and offereth a respectful apology unto the Grand Chancellor, hoping to divert the crowd's attention:
- I have been terribly rude. My apologies!
He gently patteth Trung Hieu upon the shoulder, thanking him for veiling his own emotion. The brown-skinned man doth exhale and casteth a glance toward the Grand Chancellor. The elder doth glare at Trung Hieu for daring to jest with him, yet Trung Hieu remaineth wholly unbothered, as though he hath spoken naught at all. He blinketh as the Grand Chancellor continueth to stare him down. The elder scratchest his temple, deep in thought, and speaketh unto Thiet Nam:
- Now what kind of reward should I give thee? Tsk... 'tis a hard choice indeed.
Thu Do doth deliberately shift the topic, guiding the crowd into an eager discourse upon rewards. Thiet Nam giveth a subtle nod, inwardly grateful—the Grand Chancellor hath helped him escape the scrutiny of the crowd. The old man lifteth the corners of his mouth, acknowledging Thiet Nam's sincerity.
- Silent for so long, the one faithful to the realm?
Thiet Nam offereth a faint smile:
- I am but a Guardian of Justice. I dare not call myself the one faithful to the realm!
The Grand Chancellor turneth solemnly toward the ethnic market, his voice resolute:
- Every imperial court doth need the Guardian of Justice! For the world shall never run out of troubles to trouble the Guardians of Justice!