Never imagine the worst.

Lady Niari’ Ru, Great-General of Ochelon

Tez’ Mu rolled over as the bells rang shrilly just outside his window. As if on cue, the door to his room was pushed open and Sari entered with robes piled on his arm.

“Damn it, Sari, I’m not the groom! Why do I have to be up so early?” Tez’ Mu complained into his sheets.

“You’re the only man in the manor asides my lord general, ke. You’ll be the one to escort her ladyship to House Yan,” Sari carefully placed the robes down on the bed so they wouldn’t crumple, “and also, you have guests. You asked me to deliver three invitations, remember?”

Tez’ Mu got up and rubbed his crusty eyes.

“I have asked a servant to put hot water in the bath,” Sari said as he sorted through the clothes in the order Tez’ Mu would wear them. He folded the inner robe into a neat, small square and handed it over to his master.

“I’m sorry to say this, but hurry.”

Tez’ Mu grinned. His servant’s words were always formal, but their bond was anything but. Since his brothers had left the mainland a few years ago, Sari had become the only one Tez’ Mu could rely on in the Mu Manor. He stopped delaying and dragged himself to the bath.

When he returned a few minutes later, the white inner robe clinging damply to his skin, Sari had set out a light breakfast on the table beside the bed. The soup’s fragrant steam curled in the morning air, but Tez’ Mu barely spared it a glance, opting instead to chew on the bread beside it.

Time might seem to stand still here in his room, but the world outside was already chaotic. He could hear servants scurrying through the hallways with frantic preparation. The house’s butler, Heng’s could be heard above all, his booming voice giving instructions.

The door to the room flew open nearly rebounding from the force of its push. Heng stormed in, an almost crumpled piece of paper in his left hand, his broad frame casting a shadow over the room. His dark skin glistened with the faintest sheen of sweat on his balding forehead, a testament to the morning’s exertion.

“—so many guests! And my lord general can’t be the one to usher them in at the gate!—” he caught sight of Tez’ Mu eating, “My ke! You’re still in bed?!”

Tez’ Mu rolled his eyes. He took a sip of the soup and immediately recoiled, setting it down with a grimace. He stood up and stepped forward as Sari held out a kasa, a dark brown vest coat that would sit under the tudan, a long open tunic robe. Under the tudan robe would be worn leather pants, the kasa tucked into it. As Tez’ Mu did not like the way his tudan robes used to catch on things, Sari had procured for him a belt that would go around his waist and over his shoulder.

The other accessories that would complete his dressing were set on the cabinet table in the room: a spatial ring, its hidden storage perfect for stashing away flowers from the many young female admirers he was sure to attract; gloves because so many people would shake his hand as the bride’s brother and escort; and anti-intoxicant pills slipped into the side pocket of his kasa because he would have to drink a lot, and ancestors flay him if he got drunk.

“Young master, you have to welcome the guests on behalf of my lord general,” Heng said as Tez’ Mu put his arm through the kasa. Sari dropped it over his shoulders before picking up the tudan.

Tez’ My frowned, “What do you mean? I’m escorting Sister Royan’.”

“Well—no one else can do it. The two young lords aren’t here; it would have been my lord Riel’ Mu’s duty,” the butler replied.

“So they’re really not going to come, huh?” Tez’ Mu muttered as Sari adjusted the fit of the tudan. He held out a hand, and Heng crossed the room, buttoning the kasa while holding the crumpled paper between his teeth, “I wonder what mother will think of that. Can’t Chan’ welcome the guests?” he wondered aloud.

Heng snorted despite himself, finishing the last button with a tug. He took the paper from between his teeth.

“Do you want our guests to flee from our gates from fright? I’m certain the young miss’s methods of verifying invitations should not be discussed in broad daylight.”

Tez’ Mu stared at the butler. Heng quickly realized he had spoken too freely and stepped back.

“You won’t have to escort my lady Royan’ Mu until the ceremony begins. You certainly have enough time to welcome the guests. Please, young master,” he added imploringly.

Tez’ Mu nodded shortly, his thoughts elsewhere, and Heng left the room, bowing out swiftly.

“What’s on your mind” Sari had finished buckling the belt and was staring at his face. Tez’ Mu smiled.

“Nothing. Do I have everything I need?”

“I think so. I will be behind you at all times so if you have any request I will take it,” Sari replied.

“Good. Let’s welcome Raq’ Mu’s guests.”

It was the second hour of saorxi, breakfast time. The crisp morning air carried the scent of spiced meat skewers, aged plum wine and roasted duck from the kitchens, teasing Tez’ Mu’s empty stomach. Beyond the manor walls, faint voices drifted in as the first guests arrived, their carriages rumbling over the stone-paved road. Tradition dictated that the earlier one arrived, the greater the honor bestowed upon the host, who, in turn, was expected to provide them with a worthy meal.

As expected, he had not spent two minutes at the gate when the first carriage rolled up, the crest of the Ji family gleaming on its lacquered black door. The horses snorted, their breath misting in the cool air as the wheels crunched over the gravel path. A footman rushed to lower the step, and Muri’ Ji emerged, adjusting the embroidered cuffs of his midnight blue brocade coat. His wife climbed down after him, sweeping the Mu Manor grounds with an impressed gaze.

As they neared the steps, Muri’ Ji’s pace slowed. His eyes lifted to the figure standing above them—Tez’ Mu, framed by the morning sun. The golden light wove through his red hair, deepening its color to carnelian. Against the soft glow of dawn, the vibrant strands shimmered like silk, a striking contrast to his dark skin. With his arms clasped behind his back, he looked every inch the young master of the manor.

Muri’ Ji turned to his wife, murmuring something to her. She nodded, reaching to touch the jade pendant nestled in her hair, ensuring it sat firmly in place, before taking his offered hand. Together, they ascended the seven broad steps leading to the gate.

When they reached the top, Muri’ Ji placed a hand over his chest and lowered his head. “Congratulations, young master, on today’s joyous occasion.” His face carried a wide grin, but his posture was formal. With a firm nod, he added, “This vassal pays his respects.”

Beside him, his wife looked like she would rather bash her fair forehead against a wall than bow to her father’s nephew’s cousin’s son. She surveyed Tez’ Mu with a disgruntled expression, and grudgingly nodded her head.

Tez’ Mu raised his eyebrows, but did not say anything to her. He turned instead to Muri’ Ji.

“Do your people in Ji District not know who you serve?”

Sari coughed quietly. Tez’ Mu glanced at him. The slight shake of his head and pressed lips said it all: Not at the gate, young master. You represent the lord general today. Just welcome the guests; don’t stir conflict before they even step inside.

But Muri’ Ji’s interest had been piqued.

“Which untaught scoundrel offended you, young master?” he asked with a slight patronizing frown.

Tez’ Mu’s expression changed. His voice, when he spoke, was toneless and reserved. “I will speak to you about it later. You must be hungry. Thank you for honoring us with your presence. Please let my servant see you in.”

At the edge of his vision, Sari shifted slightly—too subtle for most to notice, but Tez’ Mu knew the motion well. He wasn’t sure what mistake he’d made, but Sari’s silent disapproval was a familiar presence.

Muri’ Ji himself was stumped at the sudden change in Tez’ Mu’s attitude. He blinked twice before he could reply.

“You’re too polite, young master! This vassal is always at your service. It is my duty to felicitate with your family on this occasion.” He bowed again, inclining his head. His wife pursed her lips and stared down at the pointed tips of her platform shoes. Sari smiled, and gestured to them with his hand to enter the main courtyard, a network of purple hangings and white drapes, the colors of a marriage ceremony.

The Ji couple stepped inside, the drapes billowing gently from the wooden beams above them. The scent of warm jasmine tea and freshly steamed buns wafted towards them from a nearby pavilion, mingling with the lingering traces of morning incense. Heng appeared almost instantly, his gait hurried, as he gestured them to the shaded pavilion where breakfast awaited.

“One down. How did I do, Sari?” After seeing them disappear after the butler, Tez’ Mu turned to grin at his servant. Sari opened his mouth but could not bear to correct him. Even though he did not show it, Sari knew Tez’ Mu was extremely nervous. This was his first time acting on behalf of the family, in his father’s name. There was a lot of pressure on him. Therefore, Sari smiled and gave his master a thumbs up.

“Oh, here’s another one,” three horses were harnessed to the next carriage, and before they even descended Tez’ Mu could already hear the shrieks of the children in it. Shrill laughter and high-pitched shouts spilled out, piercing the quiet dignity of the morning. Something thudded against the wooden panel—perhaps a child’s foot kicking in excitement. He frowned. Children could only attend a formal party after saorxi. It was rude to your hosts for you to assume they had a duty to feed your children as well.

“Which family is that?” Tez’ Mu asked Sari quickly. He could count four young children, all under ten years, an older one about thirteen, and then a somber looking nanny who climbed out after them. There was no sign of their lord and lady anywhere.

“It’s House Il.” Sari replied, as the youngest of the children dashed up the steps, “I should think young miss invited them.”

Tez’ Mu groaned. So Chan’ had friends her age? The littlest child had reached the top, and stared at him with big round eyes as she sucked on her index finger. The others chased after her. She shrieked as one of her brothers caught her around the middle. They both tumbled onto the concrete landing of the steps.

A brief silence, then—

“WAAAAAH!”

The girl clutched her elbow, her tiny fingers smudged with dust and a thin line of blood. Tears welled up in her wide, round eyes, her lower lip trembling violently before she let out another wail.

Tez’ Mu’s face was very dark already. Sari pressed his lips together to refrain from laughter. The nanny and the eldest boy had finally caught up. Glaring at the tangled heap of children of the floor and moving quickly to separate them, the nanny dusted them down quickly with a small towel she carried, then said a few words to them in the eastern kingdom’s tongue.

Miyuan? Tez’ Mu raised his eyebrows. He took Diplomacy and Foreign Languages as one of his subjects at the Academy and could pick out a few words from what she said. But it was weird. House Il was an Ochelon house. Why were the children speaking a language of the eastern kingdom?

The teenage boy stood to one side while all this happened, his eyes cast down, and his arms behind his back. Finally, the nanny approached Tez’ Mu.

“We bring felicitations and salutations of respect from the Honored Lady of House Il.” The woman’s speech was thick with the rolling vowels of the eastern tongue, her voice clipped and firm. As she spoke, her chin lifted ever so slightly, her sharp gaze daring Tez’ Mu to question the ’grandness’ of her little charges.

Tez’ Mu had not fully recovered from the shock of the spectacle, but another carriage had rolled up with a trumpet herald and he wanted to get this little swarm out of the way, “The House of Mu welcomes you,” he said, “Sari.”

Sari took the hint and led them in.

A deep, reverberating trumpet note suddenly rang out, cutting through the morning air, its brassy wail bouncing off the stone courtyard, making a few passing servants jolt mid-step.

Sari turned around quickly. “Young master, I think we will have to go down to welcome this party.”

“Why, because of the horn?” Tez’ Mu asked. He did not recognize the gold filigree insignia on the carriage door.

“That is the Alchemists Guild’s representative, Marquis Huren from Calsour Empire.” Sari replied. At his word, Tez’ Mu immediately raised his feet as he took quick strides, crossing the wide landing and descending the steps quickly. Sari paused for a second before he followed.

Tez’ Mu halted a few feet from the carriage as a squire swung open the door. A tall, light-skinned man emerged, his ornate staff catching the morning light, its polished surface inlaid with faintly glimmering runes. Tez’ Mu bowed, and the man almost exclaimed.

“Absolutely not, my lord! I cannot accept it!” the marquis said at once, bowing even lower than Tez’ Mu had, “it is my honor to witness the happy occasion of Lady Mu, my former fellow disciple.”

“The House of Mu is equally honored by your presence,” and Tez’ Mu gestured towards the steps. Marquis Huren bowed again, then entered the manor with his retinue. Tez’ Mu exhaled, a quiet breath that carried the weight of his lingering nerves, his shoulders loosening slightly.

“I don’t understand. I’m definitely supposed to respect him,” he muttered. Was all his etiquette training upside down? Sari coughed behind him.

“You’re representing Lord-general Mu,” he reminded.

“So what? I’m still a sapling who’s not even of age. I’m sure even Father would defer to him a little. He’s akin to an envoy!”

“He may be, but Lord-general Mu is like a duke, if we are going by the rank system of Calsour. For all the Marquis knows, you are the heir presumptive to the ‘Mu Duchy’. He definitely has to defer to you.” Sari said, then shrugged, then spoke again. “Add that to the fact that the lord general, who you are representing, is the strongest cultivator in the mainland. Even Calsour has not managed to produce more than one Martial Sage.”

“Oh,” Tez’ Mu had no idea Raq’ Mu was that revered even outside Ochelon. It made sense now, why Miyuan would want to include the Mu offspring in their royal genealogy.

“How many more now?” He asked. Sari smiled a little.

“A lot.”

Tez’ Mu groaned.