The petition was written in a soldier's hand, not a clerk's.
He knew it before the chamberlain unrolled it, before the ink caught in the curve of the candlelight. Stiff strokes. Letters pressed too hard, as if the brush were a blade meant to leave scars. Mingyu set the scroll aside after a few lines. Reading wasn't necessary. The intent carried in the weight of the strokes alone.
Sun Longzi wanted a place in the palace. Not as a general. Not as a commander of borders. But as the Captain of the Emperor's personal guard.
Absolute madness.
"Bring him in," he ordered. His voice was too calm, though the air in his chest had gone sharp.
The chamberlain bowed, shuffling backward. A moment later the door opened. Boots struck the stone, not quick, not slow.
