Raq’ Mu was shuffling idly through a book, his eyes on the passage Tez’ Mu had just emerged from. He glanced over at Tez’ Mu when he appeared with a searching expression, which soon disappeared.

“I suppose nothing interested our pilferer among the treasures of the lord general Mu,” Raq’ Mu sneered. “How disappointing.”

Tez’ Mu’s mouth went dry. “I—” he murmured, “I wasn’t going to take anything.”

“Then,” Raq’ Mu closed the book he was holding with a snap that made Tez’ Mu flinch. “What are you doing here?”

He did not have an answer.

“So you fell in?” Raq’ Mu scoffed, placing the book back on the shelf. “You hardly wander into my study of your own accord except you are summoned for punishment. Not like Royan’, who regularly greets me, or even Chan’, who comes to play.”

Play? Play?! Chan’ Mu, playing with their father? What kind of play was Raq’ Mu capable of doing? Tez’ Mu’s head was swimming. And did that also mean the monster could have done this herself? Why did she ask him to do it then?!

“Or is it that I am raising a spy under my own roof, in my own name?” Raq’ Mu was still speaking, his eyes were now flashing with some degree of irritation, “After all, with the crowd you mix with in Joavir, someone might have conned you into turning against your own father.”

“No,” Tez’ Mu murmured. It was all he could say, “I’m just—” he swallowed, “looking for something.”

Raq’ Mu stared at him, raising his eyebrows.

“The Arkan,” he gave up, “I...I wanted to see it again.”

“I had no idea you had an interest in craftsmanship,” Raq’ Mu sneered, and put the book in his hand away, “Well, I hope you’ve seen your fill. It’s time to get out of here now,” he gestured towards the trap door.

Tez’ Mu hurried forward, just out of reach of his father should he be intending to swipe at him, and climbed out using the retractable steps that Raq’ Mu had triggered when he had come down. Raq’ Mu was close on his heels.

Tez’ Mu left the secret room quickly and stepped out into the study. His father emerged behind him just as he wondered if he should make a dash for it. He watched as Raq’ Mu sealed the secret entrance shut.

“Well,” Raq’ Mu walked over and sat in his high backed chair, sneering lightly, “What now? Do you want me to call Vin’ Hai to take you as an apprentice or what?”

Tez’ Mu frowned as he shook his head, wondering why his father would have such an absurd idea. The purpose of the portrait was itching at his mind, but he had never gone out of his way to ask his father a question before. He hesitated. Raq’ Mu seemed to be in a fair mood today, though, as he had not spoken so far of punishment.

“I—there—there was a portrait in the storage—”

“Why are you stuttering?” Raq’ Mu, who had closed his eyes and leaned back into the backrest when Tez’ Mu did not reply his question, opened them and frowned. Tez’ Mu caught his breath.

“There was a portrait—of me—in the storage,” he repeated.

“Yes. So?”

“It—it was unfinished. And I was dressed in Miyuan.” Tez’ Mu, in spite of himself, said the last statement with an incredulous tone. Raq’ Mu was not amused.

“That it is unfinished is your own fault. You were not present at the family dinner on the day I arrived.”

Tez’ Mu looked away. Oh. But where in plain sight did the painter hide whenever the Mus had their meals?

“But why…” he paused, pulling in a breath, “Why was I dressed in Miyuan? Ochelon doesn’t even have a treaty with them,” Tez’ Mu pressed. His father sneered.

“We don’t. But that does not stop us from marrying them.”

Tez’ Mu froze. What does that mean? Was he—going to be betrothed to some Miyuan princess? But that wasn’t right. He was already engaged to Keiran’ Ru, the daughter of Lady-general Ru, the third great general of Ochelon.

“Marrying them?” Tez’ Mu couldn’t believe it.

He barely saw Keiran’ Ru, let alone spoke to her, despite attending the same Imperial Academy of Cultivation. Yet, he liked her. She was beautiful, gifted in cultivation, and, most importantly, the heir presumptive of her family.

Tez’ Mu knew he had no real claim to his family’s wealth. The estate would go to his older twin brothers, and Royan’ would also inherit a portion, supplemented by her mother’s Kest lineage, though her true fortune would come from her future as Lady of House Yan. Chan’ Mu’s fate would follow a similar path.

He had nothing to rely on. His brothers would see to that.

Marriage to Keiran’ Ru was his best chance. As her husband-consort, he would gain wealth, power, and security—without the crushing expectations that came with leading a great house.

And now, Raq’ Mu expected him to throw that away for a Miyuan princess he had never even met?

No. Absolutely not.

Raq’ Mu did not care to know what was going through his son’s mind. He turned the book in his hand over.

“Yes. Your grandmother’s family requires your portraits. They want to include you in the royal genealogy of Miyuan; because of my influence no doubt.”

Tez’ Mu blinked twice, then let out a turbid breath. He had forgotten completely that his paternal grandmother had been a Miyuan princess. Perhaps his friends were right, and he really tended to overthink things.

“Oh. I—I had no idea,” based on Raq’ Mu’s expression, he had overstayed his welcome, “I have to go now, Father,” he glanced at the door.

Raq’ Mu let out a humorless chuckle. “You have to go?”

“Yes. Mother asked me to visit the Kest Manor for her. She must be waiting for me.”

“I doubt. I activated a transportation scroll that conveyed Essa-kest’ Mu to her father’s house an hour ago.”

Damn Chan’ Mu.

“Oh,” Tez’ Mu was crestfallen. “I guess I’ll go some other time. Your leave, Father,” he bowed.

“Why are you running away?”

Tez’ Mu blinked, shocked. “I’m—not.”

Raq’ Mu rose. Tez’ Mu stiffened.

“I think you hate me.”

Tez’ Mu was caught off guard. “No, I don’t.”

“Don’t you? You always do stupid things and I always have to correct you and that’s all there is between us. I’m certain you like me less than even your instructors at the Academy—if you like me at all, that is,” Raq’ Mu had crossed to the dusty armor and was looking it over. He pulled the red robe off the shoulder.

Tez’ Mu didn’t know what to say. He hated to admit that Raq’ Mu was right, but whose fault was that?

Raq’ Mu turned and crossed the room. Tez’ Mu shuffled his feet nervously. His father didn’t stop until he stood in front of him. He raised his hand and something billowed over Tez’ Mu’s head. Opening his eyes (Tez’ Mu did not even know when he closed them) he realized Raq’ Mu had draped the red cloak over him.

“Tezihoyi Anraon, son of Mu,” Raq’ Mu placed his hands on Tez’ Mu’s shoulder, “from what it seems, you will have to lead the Mu Army.”

Tez’ Mu blinked. “But—”

“But nothing. Your brothers have founded a mercenary company over in Jahha. I don’t know which one of them will hold on to that and which one will return; but, for deserting the mainland they will have to suffer the humiliation of deferring to you. You will lead the Mu Army.”

Tez’ Mu stared at his father in shock.

“But I can’t—I mean—I have a cultivation bottleneck,” he finally managed to breathe out. Raq’ Mu did not react.

“As long as you keep yourself alive you will surely overcome it one day. It takes more than cultivation to lead an army, and that is what I am going to start teaching you. Do you understand?”

Tez’ Mu nodded, totally speechless. To his surprise, Raq’ Mu’s face relaxed into a smile.

“Good! We can achieve something before the Dowager Queen’s birthday. This is what we’ll do—when is the Academy resuming?”

“On the first day of Rin,” School started on the first day of spring. Tez’ Mu was advancing by one level at the Academy, even though ironically he remained stuck at the same cultivation stage.

“That’s a month after Royan’s wedding. I see,” Raq’ Mu nodded, “on schooldays you are exempted. Every other day at dawn you must come here. I will train you.”

Tez’ Mu held back an outcry.

“Yes, Father,” was all he could say. But no way would he allow Chan’ to get away with this one. “Father,” he shrugged off the robe as Raq’ Mu turned around to return to his seat.

“Keep the robe,” Raq’ Mu said.

“Oh? Yes, Father,” Tez’ Mu piled the robe on his arm, “Um,” he looked sheepish as he wondered how to say it, “Father, have you never wondered about Chan’s cultivation?”

“What’s there to wonder about?” Raq’ Mu raised his eyebrows.

“Well—it’s really strange. Father, she’s—she’s just nine!”

“Starting cultivation early is nothing strange in our House. Several of our ancestors have done the same,” Raq’ Mu waved his hand dismissively, “It’s something to be proud of, rather.”

Tez’ Mu frowned. Not in a hundred years, had the world seen a prodigy like his sister. Her progress unsettled him, and made him suspicious of outside involvement.

But his father would never think otherwise, would he?