Unexpected Theology Lesson
The Fourth Fang of the Ninth Scale of the First Marukan Legion was accustomed to being shouted at by Amalgamated drill sergeants in fine steel armor. The Fourth Fang of the Ninth Scale of the First Marukan Legion was accustomed to being shouted at by Water-Exalted intelligence agents and a Fire-Exalted high warlord, with raw elemental vortices swirling around them. The Fourth Fang of the Ninth Scale of the First Marukan Legion was accustomed to being shouted at by the Chosen of the Sun wearing elaborate First-Age armor, with blinding solar essence illuminating the sky.
However, Blacksaddle mused, the Fourth Fang of the Ninth Scale of the First Marukan Legion was NOT accustomed to being shouted at by a bald monk in a simple white robe. Especially while the Fang was on a 72-hour leave pass. They had stopped by a roadside yurt-shrine while en route to God Crossing, and suddenly a monk was shouting at them.
Admittedly, the monk was glowing. A lot.
"Silence!" shouted the monk.
"You offered me sacrifices of mead and grain. Sacrifices! Of mead! Did you even bother to read the Sutras that my son crafted?"
Blacksaddle's had instructed his best scout, Clearfield, to stand guard outside the shrine; drawn by the commotion, Clearfield poked his head inside the tent flap. The eagle-eyed scout squinted at the glowing, shouting figure. "Who is that? He looks familiar... could he be the monk that sparred with Nameless Ravine atop the battlements of the Plum Blossom estate last week?"
"I don't know," Blacksaddle whispered back. "We gave the usual offerings to the Spirits of the Road, and to Hiparkes, and to the Sweet Voice of Brass and Glory, and to Chokhan the Martyr, and suddenly this monk appeared and started berating us. He's not the keeper of the shrine. He's not even Marukani. Though he does look an awful lot like..."
Blacksaddle's eyes suddenly grew wide, and he dropped to his knees and bellowed: "Marukani First Legion Ninth Scale Fourth Fang Atten-SHUN! Obedient Deference Posture - Execute!" As one, the warriors within the tent dropped to their knees and bowed their heads.
The monk nodded in approval. "You have discipline. This is good. Your commander shows initiative; this is to be commended. Perhaps my son and his brothers have trained you better than I thought.
"Your mistake, all of you, is in your offerings. Remember who I am! Remember how I lived my life! It is true, that the new Reformed Immaculate Path will bring this Time of Tumult to an end, and restore the Mandate of Heaven to the world. It is true, that the Reformed Immaculate Path stipulates that it is right and good to give appropriate offerings directly to the Gods of one's family, one's land, and one's purpose. However, I lived a life loyal to the old ways - indeed, I gave my life for the old ways. And the old ways do not permit me to receive offerings. Therefore I refuse to accept that which is laid before me. Go, remove it from this shrine, for it is unworthy in my sight. Give it to a widow, an orphan, or a blind man, for such a gift is like an offering to the Immaculate Path itself."
The monk turned his back to the soldiers and faced the shrine and began to chant an ancient Sutra. Blacksaddle kept his eyes averted his eyes and didn't move a muscle. After an hour had passed, the monk turned towards the soldiers once more.
"Corporal!"
"At your command, Lord Kussir!"
"You and your men are dismissed". With that, the monk vanished into thin air, leaving the shrine-yurt bathed in shadow and candlelight.
