Order came slowly.
And it did not come willingly.
In the week since our arrival, I had done what I could.
The Southern Watch, once little more than a drunken collection of old swords and shattered pride, now stood every morning in formation. Their backs were not straight — but they stood. Their blades were dull — but they moved.
I replaced two corrupt captains. Appointed three men who still remembered what duty felt like.
They bled for it.
And they began to follow.
Not out of love.
But out of fear.
And something else.
I held court each morning in the cracked assembly hall.
Peasants brought forward disputes. Food shortages. The rot in the grain silos. Tax ledgers missing whole years.
I listened. I gave orders. I signed decrees.
For a moment — for the first time — I was building something.
Something that felt real.
But Dongxia does not stay silent for long.
The manor is old. Too old.
The stonework beneath the floors doesn't match the rest of the city. The foundation bears carvings no one here can read.
When I questioned the scribes, they told me the original plans of the estate were burned fifty years ago.
No one remembers why.
Three days ago, a soldier patrolling the lower storage rooms said he heard a voice beneath the floorboards.
It didn't speak a language he understood.
It just repeated a single sound.
Not word.
Sound.
Like breathing that had learned how to shape itself.
He asked for reassignment.
He didn't come to drill the next morning.
They found him sitting in the stable.
Silent.
Eyes open.
Whispering to the walls.
I sent him back to the capital for "medical leave."
But the rot is spreading.
And it's not just in the walls.
In Ling An, the rain fell straight down — silent, clean, obedient.
In the Hall of Records, Wu Kang stood beneath the ancestral mural, watching the seal pressed onto the silk petition.
Red wax.
Black brush.
Five ministerial stamps.
"Summon Prince Wu An back to the capital for urgent review of military conduct and misuse of resources."
"During the investigation, all lands and inherited titles shall be placed in custodial protection."
They would call it a formal request.
But it was an arrest in all but name.
Wu Kang did not smile.
But his fingers tapped once on the wood of the table — deliberate.
"How soon until the summons arrives?"
"Five days by courier," Sun Lian replied.
"Give him seven. Let him taste stability before I cut it from his tongue."
He walked to the window.
From this height, the entire southern quarter of the capital lay below — the red tile roofs, the open gardens, the faceless movement of people who would never know how their empire shifted.
"He's doing better than expected," Wu Kang said.
"He's stabilizing Dongxia."
"Yes. And that's the problem."
He looked down at the petition again.
"Do not kill him. Not yet."
"And if he refuses?"
"He won't," Wu Kang murmured. "He'll obey."
A pause.
"That's what makes him dangerous."
Dongxia Province
The wind changed on the ninth day.
It smelled like copper and rain.
But it hadn't rained in days.
Shen Yue had been quieter than usual.
Which is saying little.
She walked the manor grounds at night. The servants said they saw her standing in front of the sealed tunnel beneath the old cellar — hands clasped, eyes closed.
As if listening.
When I confronted her, she only said:
"I'm trying to understand it."
I didn't ask what "it" meant.
We resumed drills that afternoon.
The men obeyed. They moved faster.
But when they struck the dummies — they bled.
Old straw targets, long dried.
Split open with rusted steel.
And still, they bled.
Just a little. But enough.
I burned them without ceremony.
Shen Yue watched from the balcony.
She didn't blink.
That night, I walked through the empty corridors of the manor again.
Not in fear.
But in familiarity.
The stones here do not shift like normal walls. They breathe.
The cracks do not spread like decay. They widen with intent.
In the deepest room, beneath the old library, I found a stair.
It wasn't on the plans.
No guards had reported it.
Just stone. Spiral. Descending.
Each step dustless, as if someone still used them.
I stood at the top and stared into the dark.
I didn't descend.
Not yet. But I listened.
Nothing.
Then— A sound.
Not whisper. Not language.
Soil grinding against itself. And behind it, a voice that didn't belong to a throat. Calling not a name. But a memory. I stepped back.
Closed the door. And locked it.
That same night, a letter arrived by courier. The seal was unmistakable. Red wax.
Five marks. My summons.
Return to the capital for review.
Surrender your office and fief.
Leave Dongxia behind.
I folded the letter slowly.
Let the wax smear.
The guards did not see my hands shake.
But Shen Yue did.
She stood at the doorway.
Her voice flat. Her tone unreadable.
"Will you go?"
I didn't answer.
Because the truth was already crawling beneath my skin.
Something here remembers me.
And I remember it. And I am not leaving yet.