The Qilin Fellowship
Pale gray clouds drifted across the Marukani sky, catching the sunlight up in their folds and spreading it out, away from the fields. The cool sea air rode in with the clouds, a deceptively soft counterpoint to the heat of summer. In the top floor of the Pagoda of Infinite Strategy, a Solar Exalt watched the sky and sipped his tea. He said, "a storm is coming."
"Yes," said Red Feather, commander of the Qilin Fellowship.
The Exalt, Storm of Amber, turned towards the sky-child. "Do not let your scale become the first strike of lightning."
"Lord?"
"Abbot Goruk and his monks will seek to goad you to violence. You must not let them. Your presence in Varsi gives us two weeks warning when Ma-Ha-Suchi moves. Violence in the street will see the Voivode toss you out on your ear. Send us your signals, keep your men in check, do your duty."
"A scale of Tiger Warriors, lord. Six amalgamated commanders... We could - "
"Do nothing!" Storm of Amber hit his fist against the window ledge. "Goruk broke The Promise, defeated Nameless Ravine in single combat. He thought his five monks would at least hold back the rest of the circle, and he has been recruiting more men since then. Fight them and your scale dies."
Red Feather bowed his head. "My grandfather would not have bade his warriors stand by while men threw him insults."
"And for his intemperance, your grandfather's army was driven from the field in shame and his Essence scattered." The Exalt stood. "You pride your eyes, Red Feather. Use them to see the wisdom in my words. When your hammer strikes, it will be upon a foe it can crush."
Insolence
Hasud the Stone was not first among Goruk's disciples. He had not mastered the complex and holy postures of any of the five Immaculate styles. Indeed he was not even a child of the dragons, merely the cast-off by-blow of one so blessed. But he had not let the meager enlightenment his heritage granted him go to waste. Hasud had disciplined his Essence, practiced hard and, finally, mastered the Terrestrial Hero Form.
