Complaining should have never been in Nao-Zai's mind this early in the morning. It's not like he could clamp a hand on his mind and tell it to shut up. He had tried. And failed. It was a busy day in the fortress, after all.

Sweat beaded on the side of his face and poured down his back. He craned his neck to the sky, noting the pointed tips of the pagoda roofs pocking it. The air was humid, even when he was this high up in the mountains of Izeryeo. Summer has never failed to announce its arrival since he enlisted a few years ago. It made him grateful he didn't have to wear any armor over his fenhai today.

The sack weighing down on his shoulder reminded him he had a place to go. Earlier, after he had finished cleaning the stables, one of the generals bumped into him and told him to bring sacks of cement into the other side of the fortress. Some kind of construction going on, maybe? Nao-Zai wasn't privy to the recent developments due to his disappearance. Not that he wanted to. He was forced to after his uncle indubitably signed him up to be shipped off the Dansarun.

He paused, his feet skidding into a stop. Grunts and hisses erupted from behind him as fellow soldiers sidestepped him and the bulging sack jutted from his shoulder. Still, he turned his attention westward, where he guessed Dangrao lay. One of the benefits of living in a mountain fortress, probably. He got to see the rest of the Xuijae Empire laid out flat before him.

Past the hazy carpet of red and brown roofs, clumps of green, striped plains of agricultural land, and the far-off silhouette of more ranges touching low-lying clouds, Nao-Zai's eyes fell towards the single man-made structure rising above all others. The Imperial Palace sat on a mountain like how the Yomaura fortress did, just that the latter was on a higher peak. Amidst all that, only one of its occupants succeeded in making Nao-Zai stop in his tracks and let his thoughts scatter into the four, cardinal winds.

He shook his head and resumed walking. He had crossed over a spot in the walkways atop the walls which sported an arched gate below it. The crenelations mounted with crossbows and small-range cannons whizzed by him. Just a few more meters and he'd reach the steps leading towards the construction site.

The memories of him traveling past Xuijae's borders, passing through Shencai, and having dinner with the gods of Dansarun felt like a century ago. Nao-Zai fixed the sack digging against the crook of his neck and blew a breath. It was already months since he got back to Izeryeo and there were times he still bolted out of bed believing there were blazing swords aimed for his neck, followed by the maniacal laughter of the god who wielded them.

He'd always slap his cheeks and convince himself that danger was averted. The gods were sucked back to whatever hole they crawled out from—he had seen it with his own eyes, after all—and the one responsible for that was now ignoring him.

Kai-Se. The Crown Prince of Xuijae.

The prince was the reason Nao-Zai was plucked out of the fortress and shoved into a tiresome mission of striking a trading deal with the recluse gods of Dansarun. Of course, all of that was a trap to force Xuijae's hand and Kai-Se just had to play right into their hands.

But all was fine. Maybe.

The ride back to Dangrao consisted of Nao-Zai hailing a merchant cart going from the eastern provinces of Shencai to the western ones. He, then, had to stuff a whiny prince who complained about everything inside a dingy space with all the produce and the messy supplies. In the end, Nao-Zai had won out and Kai-Se reached Dangrao in one piece, albeit a little dirtier and worse for wear than the last time anyone in the palace had seen him.

But the point was—Nao-Zai had done his job and Kai-Se, his. Mission was done. After receiving his pay in bags of bound soksen, paper notes used mainly in Dangrao but rarely in Izeryeo, Nao-Zai was basically shooed out of the palace, leaving him on the lonely trek back to the fortress. The last time he saw a sliver of Kai-Se was when his gaggle of richly-dressed maids, eunuchs, and imperial guards ushered him up the grand steps of the Jade Palace.

After that, nothing.

Not a letter. Not even a smidge of correspondence from Dangrao. It seemed like the entire Imperial Palace forgot Yomaura Fortress was even a thing.

Two sentries posted in the roofed outpost nodded at Nao-Zai as he approached them. The roof, being a smaller and shorter replica of the pagoda spires in the Imperial City, covered Nao-Zai's shadow as soon as he stepped underneath its influence. He gave the sentries a brief nod back, sympathizing with the pained expression on their faces. Unlike Nao-Zai, the sentries in the middle of their shifts had to don their full armor. Fortress policy. They had to be ready for any invasion attempts at any point in their shift. It made sense that way.

When he cleared the probably third outpost he had passed through since he left the stables, his thoughts had gone haywire, once more. One thread gripped his attention and refused to let go. He must be deluding himself into thinking Kai-Se thought of him as more than a glorified guard. To the prince, Nao-Zai was probably just one of those dispensable faces he could forget once the contract was over and the hwan—the money—was in the soldier's hands. Well...

That's just how the royals and anyone higher than a mere soldier such as Nao-Zai was supposed to act, right? It's only proper. But Nao-Zai had seen Kai-Se's other sides—the ones the prince had never shown the general public and even his own family. He had watched Kai-Se transform into a street piper and look more alive telling his stories to anyone who would listen than talking to stuffy gods or governors about the latest trade trends. During their travel back, their bickering and their poor attempts at deep conversations suggested their relationship had moved from that of a mere soldier to his charge.

Nao-Zai definitely considered Kai-Se a friend, that much was clear considering he was still wondering how the prince was doing after months of not meeting. That much Nao-Zai could gather based on how every thought of Kai-Se still made him push everything else to the sides.

He shook his head just as the upper landing crept up from the horizon. A lot of soldiers turned a quick arc and disappeared down the stairs. Boots scratched against the dusty stone floor of the walkway, sheathed swords clinked against buckles and belts with each step flitting around Nao-Zai.

When he tackled the stairs himself, he pursed his lips. He should just forget about that...thing. Their romping around the continent, Shinjien, should have never been more than something that's induced by an obligation, brought about by an order from both their higher-ups. Whatever happened in Dansarun, in Shencai, and in the specks of places Nao-Zai had spent with Kai-Se should stay there. Nao-Zai had to get back to his real world just like how Kai-Se went back in his.

"Paekdora!" an authoritative voice speared through his mind, shattering his thoughts into a million, flitting pieces. He looked up from his boots manually treading down the stairs and leveled his gaze to the source of the voice. His mind registered the familiar bearded face, the crinkled eyes, and the hawk-like, ink black eyes.

"General," Nao-Zai blurted. The man might have belonged to the Pyeongjeon family but he couldn't be too sure. That line had been blurred too many times to count. Still, the fact that they still remained in Yomaura Clan proved they still had enough blood to use to their advantage. That or they have enough strings to pull. "What makes you seek a soldier of a lower rank so early in the morning?"

A hearty laugh erupted from the General as he tore from his initial direction to go along Nao-Zai on his way to drop his baggage off. Up ahead, the sound of hammers striking rock and shovels brushing against stone permeated in the air.

"You call this early morning, soldier?" the General said. His actual name eluded Nao-Zai as of the moment. There were too many generals to keep track of in this fortress. "And if you're referring to yourself, you're going to be mistaken. Soon."

Nao-Zai knitted his eyebrows. The sweat skirted down the side of his face and dripped from his chin. Since dawn, he had done nothing but walk around after being given one order after another. "If I may ask," he said, keeping his tone neutral and respectful as he was taught. It was harder when there's a sack of cement weighing him down. "What do you mean by that, sir?"

Another guffaw rang from the General. "You won't be calling me sir after you hear the reason why Jin-Ai sent me on a goose chase around the fortress just for you," he said. "In case it wasn't clear at this point, Jin-Ai told me to tell you he's waiting in his office with news that will delight you."

Nao-Zai frowned. What had his uncle cooked up without his knowledge once again? He bobbed his head at the General. Ah, yes. Jang-Ho. That's his name. Pyeongjeon Jang-Ho. "I'll finish my task and head over immediately."

"Or," a hand slapped the butt of the sack on his shoulder and a grunt followed soon after. He felt the weight slipping off his shoulder. "You could leave this menial task to me and head over now."

Nao-Zai blinked. His hands faltered, unsure of what to do. The sack hung between them like a stretched-out cat. Would he yank the sack back, from a superior, nonetheless? Would he let his superior finish a lowly task such as this? He'd get in trouble either way. What could his uncle have done to elicit this response from a general?

Jang-Ho peeled away from Nao-Zai, the sack now on the General's shoulders. "There we go," he dusted the particles that made it out of the knot. "I'll see you around...sir."

Before Nao-Zai could call the general back to ask what he meant by that, Jang-Ho turned and blended with the non-uniformed soldiers treading in and out. Within seconds, the general was gone—just another face in a sea of them.

Nao-Zai blew a breath and wiped his forehead against his sleeve. He should probably clean up if he's going to see his uncle. After all, as the highest command in the fortress after being included in the Emperor's circle of Ministers, Kangchae Jin-Ai held the power to dispose of him and his family, to banish them from Yomaura and Izeryeo, altogether.

And he wasn't even Nao-Zai's real uncle.

Not in an immediate sense, at least. The Kangchae family was closely related to the Xianzhu clan but that's about it. For all Nao-Zai cared, Jin-Ai was actually a cousin a million times removed. But, yes, for the sake of brevity and simplicity, Nao-Zai just referred to the man as "uncle".

Thankfully, the Minister's office was in the center of the fortress. That way, Nao-Zai wouldn't have to walk from one side and back in a single track. Already, his side had a stabbing but dull ache in it. A shame for a soldier of his famed caliber but wasn't he allowed to be human from time to time?

The Minister's office was on the second floor of a pagoda jutting from the flat ground enclosed by the walls. The pagoda towered past the crenelations, making it vulnerable to any spies telling apart the buildings in the fortress from the canopies. Nao-Zai thought it as a product of his uncle's vanity but perhaps, there was a deeper reason why it was built to be so obvious and so...red.

Indeed, when he craned his neck to the sky to gauge the pagoda's height, only the bright red shingles of the tiered roofs greeted him. Red was supposed to be the color of life and the loss of it, representing the ill omen of death. Why in Amatesu's name did his uncle design his office this way?

As he walked the familiar stairs and corridors with his boots eliciting the same creaks from the wooden floorboards, a sense of deja vu filled him. It's like he had been here for the same reason and he would be having the same conversation with his uncle. Why was that?

When the guards posted at opposite sides of his uncle's office pulled the paper-paned doors out, Nao-Zai was greeted with two things: the low table his uncle currently sat behind and the apparent absence of the various knickknacks he had expected to find inside. Where were those porcelain vases his uncle cherished?

"I know that look, Nao," his uncle's voice tore his attention away from the mat he had never really known the color of because of all the stuff. He had never pegged his uncle to favor the color of olive. "You're looking for something, aren't you?"

Nao-Zai blinked and resolved to fix his gaze on a spot of the wall behind his uncle's head. His spine turned rigid as he straightened his back. Without a sword strapped anywhere in him, he suddenly felt vulnerable and naked in front of his uncle.

"No, sir," he answered, keeping his voice flat and impartial.

His uncle merely hummed and placed the ink-stained brush he had been painting with since Nao-Zai entered. On his desk, Nao-Zai could glimpse thick swirls of their script composing some sort of letter. Or a poem. His uncle had been dabbling in literature for quite some time now, or at least that's the rumor Na-Zai heard from the nosy underlings.

"Think of it as insurance," his uncle explained even without Nao-Zai asking. What his uncle did with his things should never be Nao-Zai's concern. "Since you're here, I assume Jang-Ho relayed the word?"

Nao-Zai nodded. "Why have you called me here?" he asked. "In that manner, no less?"

A snort flitted off his uncle's nose. "Don't get used to it," he said. "You're still a brat to me."

Nao-Zai didn't reply. It's not like he could refute his uncle's sentiments. To Jin-Ai, everyone not past the age of forty was a brat. If he didn't like a person's guts, they're a brat. If a person's part of his recognized family, they're a brat.

"Start packing. You're going to be in Dangrao starting tomorrow," his uncle said.

Nao-Zai's eyes widened so much he felt like they're bulging out of his face. "What?"

His uncle narrowed his eyes. "Congratulations," he said. "From tomorrow onwards, you'll be in the Imperial Guard—leagues higher than the rest of us."

"You didn't think you'd run it past me first, did you?" Nao-Zai stepped forward. This time, he allowed himself to do so. This was the second time his uncle made a move concerning Nao-Zai's life. Once was enough. "And tomorrow? Since when did you know this was going to happen?"

"It's not like the Emperor gave me a choice," his uncle tucked his hands inside his wide sleeves much like how Kai-Se did when he didn't want to talk about something. "I got the missive asking for you specifically last week. Of course, I accepted immediately. I only got the details of your job this morning. So, here you are."

Nao-Zai frowned. "Am I the only one in the missive?" he asked. When his uncle nodded, his gut twinged.

Odd, wasn't it? Of all the qualified soldiers with ranks higher than him and with far more experiences, why would the Emperor know him by name, much less send a missive to the fortress asking only for him?

"I won't go," Nao-Zai decided. Never mind that he was throwing what might be his only chance of seeing Kai-Se again over the other side of the wall. This was his life. Even if he's under the thumbs of high ranks and the Emperor, himself, he should get a say in the missions he accepted. His uncle wasn't his spokesperson nor the one who should make his decisions for him.

His uncle's features flattened out in an even but cold gaze. "Why not?" his tone carried an edge—one that was polished to be gentle but threatening at the same time.

Nao-Zai swallowed against the growing lump in his throat. "B-because I have things to sort out in the fortress," he said. "The new recruits needed training. Not to mention the construction—"

"You don't need to concern yourself with that," his uncle growled in a low voice. It wasn't made to feel aggressive. More like...cold and calculating. "You will go to Dangrao first thing tomorrow to relay our clan's warmest greetings. You will thank the Imperial Majesty for giving you a place in the courts. There is no room for whining."

Nao-Zai opened his mouth to say something but his uncle beat him to it. "Think about the glory this opportunity would bring to the fortress," he gestured to the vague space of his room. "All of this could improve and that includes your family's well-being. Imagine, we can expand the fortress, take up more summons from the ruling clans, and leave a lasting legacy to the generations after us. This is for the Yomaura clan. Not just for you."

"You will have no say in this, soldier," his uncle continued. "When the Imperial Majesty opens his mouth, whatever he tells you, you do it. Otherwise," he leveled his gaze on Nao-Zai, his irises glinting menacingly against the meager sunlight spearing through the open windows of the room. "I might as well send you to hell myself. And you're not going to be the only one."

Nao-Zai clenched his fists at his sides, wanting so much to punch his uncle in his pearly rows of teeth. But a nagging sensation itched at the back of his mind. Why was his uncle eager to get rid of him at this point in time? Sure, nothing was happening in the fortress that needed the attention of many soldiers but his uncle never made threats like this. Those should have only existed in Nao-Zai's mind, so why was he hearing it coming out of his uncle's mouth in real life?

Something was going on and Nao-Zai had neither the power nor the energy to ponder upon it. It might not even be something he could stop on his own. Ignorance was bliss at moments like this.

So, Nao-Zai forced his muscles to relax and for his thundering heart to calm down. "Fine," he said with a sigh. "I'll go to Dangrao tomorrow and work as an Imperial soldier for the time being. But it won't be for the fortress. Or for you."

His uncle's face didn't change from its stone-hard facade. "I'll arrange your transportation and route," he said, picking up the brush again. Dark ink dripped from its fine bristles as he dipped it in a small portion of the calligraphy kit propped in front of him. "Be at the northern gate by dawn."

And that was that. Nao-Zai fumed as he tore away from his uncle's office. What would be awaiting him in that palace? A war with the gods? Heaven coming down upon them? It was the last thing he wanted to deal with after barely surviving the last one.

But complaining shouldn't have been in Nao-Zai's head at this point in time. As much as he denied it, he was still a soldier. If anyone with an inkling of authority above him ordered him to do things, he would. As expected. He was merely a pawn in their elaborate game and wherever the divine hand moved, he would follow.

When he reached his room—a small, cubical space belonging to a whole lot of iterated rows peppering the numerous barracks—he packed what meager belongings he had stacked up since he left his hometown. They fit in a single trunk which functioned as a makeshift table for all these years. Nao-Zai wasn't a sentimental person. He kept what he needed and threw away what he didn't.

Tomorrow, he would be in another world once more. It might be a world of splendor and wealth, but it was also of laws and of watchful eyes. Nao-Zai better learn how to navigate it quickly or he'd meet his doom inside the sprawling walls of the Imperial City.

But, on the bright side, he would have an excuse to barge into Kai-Se's life once again. And for that, Nao-Zai looked forward to hauling his trunk into the horse-drawn cart meant for him and finally stepping foot in the famed spread of what's supposed to be the heart of the Xuijae Empire.