by E. M. Hardy
If he were still human, if he were controlling a human body, Martin would have been panting with all the effort he put into his argument.
For her part, the Empress kept her eyes closed while she drew in short, sharp breaths within her relatively tiny lungs. She was so focused on keeping her temper in check, so dedicated to controlling her outburst, that Martin doubted she heard a single word he said.
“Martin Fuller. We have tolerated your impudence these past months because of the valued services you have provided to the Red Throne. Securing alliances with the Bashri emirates, distributing aid to our provinces hardest hit by plague and famine, this has bought you plenty of goodwill. However, this disobedience, this unrepentant defiance, endangers the unity and security of our Empire. Your actions and your belligerence constitute a betrayal of our trust, and we have had enough of traitors infesting our court.
“As such, we place your constructs under the direct control of the General of the White Tiger Shen Feng.”
“Your Highness!” blurted out Shen Feng. A sharp glare from the diminutive woman shut him right up, causing him to lower his head in disgrace before she continued as if she heard nothing.
“You will consider yourself subordinate to him in all matters. You will obey him without protest, follow his orders without question. This is your last chance, Martin Fuller.” The Empress turned her nose up as she spoke, glaring at Martin’s walker from the bridge of her nose. “We tolerate much because your heart is in a good place, but do not presume to countermand our orders—especially when it comes to matters as vital as the defense of the Empire.”
Martin, however, did not respond. His walker simply stood there, gazing at the empty air as his focus wandered elsewhere.
“When the General of the Black Turtle Guo Zhenya arrives with the khanate hordes, we will have the numbers to sweep the Taiyo and the Sahaasi off the face of our Empire. We have no need to play diplomats with snakes that—”
***
Martin’s focus shifted to an eyeball, one patrolling the borders of the northernmost obelisk within the Empire’s territory. Sparse vegetation gave way to rolling fields of grass broken up by the occasional rocky outcrop and gravelly mound.
Martin’s eyeball spotted a team of Imperial horses riding fast from the borders the Empire shared with the Khanates of the north. Their coats shone with slick sweat, every breath labored from what looked like a nonstop gallop. The three riders were just as bad, with one of them sporting a bloody bandage over his shoulder. He recognized the colors of the General of the Black Turtle, meaning that these soldiers were part of the General’s entourage as he went north to call on the northern khans for aid.
But wait… why only three horsemen? And why were they riding for their lives without the rest of the General’s entourage? And what happened to the Horde of Khanate horsemen that should be accompanying them?
He zipped closer with his eyeball, and the riders began frantically waving the minute they spotted it. Sensing the urgency of the situation, Martin urged the eyeball to fly even faster toward the riders.
“The Empress must know,” the closest rider gasped, the second his eyeball got within hearing distance. “She must know!”
Martin listened to the desperate man’s words with growing horror as he finally grasped the nature of the Maharaja’s roundabout warning.
***
“—have proven themselves traitorous in the past.”
“General Guo Zhenya is dead, and the khans have turned against you.”
Martin focused the eyeless gaze of his walker upon on the Empress, relaying the escaped horsemen’s words as soon as they left their lips. He wanted oh so much to gloat at her, to revel in the shocked expression on her face. He wanted to scream and point a finger at her, shouting ‘I told you so!’ from the top of his lungs.
He instead crossed his arms, shaking his as he rattled off the details of his report.
“I count three survivors from the army that Guo Zhenya took with him to call upon the Khans. This report is from… Lieutenant Xian Hai, Corporal Qian Da, and Private Wu Meng. They say that none of the Khans responded to their smoke signals. The general wasn’t surprised since the nomads tend to roam further north this time of the year. He decided to push deeper north, bring his army with him just in case. They were then hit in a nighttime raid by martial artists aligned with the Order of Rats. Survivors say they melted into the shadows, allowing them to bypass the sentries and pickets.” Martin craned the neck of his walker to sneak a peek at General Shen Feng, who winced at Martin’s last statement. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but instead clicked his jaw shut as he furrowed his eyebrows, waiting for Martin to finish his report.
“The army managed to put down the Rats, but not before they killed Guo Zhenya and most of his senior officers. The camp was still recovering, with junior officers attempting to restore order. They said it was a suicide attack, aimed directly at the army’s leadership. Khanate horsemen rode the rest of the army down later that day. Not the Khanate Horde in its entirety, but enough riders to overrun Guo’s forces. The three survivors counted… ten banners? They say that’s about fifty thousand riders, stomping down the five thousand cavalry Guo Zhenya brought with him.” Martin went silent for a few more moments, absorbing the rest of the survivor’s story. “The nomads chased them as far as the border between the Grass Seas and Imperial territory, pulling back and riding back for their grasslands. Looks like they’re not interested in attacking Imperial territory... at least not yet.”
“Ancestors,” whispered Shen Feng, his face ashen as he found himself no longer able to hold his tongue. “The General of the Black Turtle and his army, lost. The Khans, betraying their oaths and joining with traitors. The Empire stands alone.”
“No,” replied Martin, shaking his head. “The Empire doesn’t.”
The general’s eyes shone with hope, but the Empress cut him off before he could even speak. “Is this the truth, Martin Fuller?” demanded Empress Zi Li, regaining her bearings and staring imperiously at Martin’s walker. “Or is this some flimsy attempt to try and win back our favor after your brazen disobedience?”
Martin’s walker stood up to face the Empress, his painted eyes boring into her defiant gaze. “Let me make one thing clear, Empress Zi Li,” Martin hissed back, no longer able to stomach playing humble in front of the paranoid snake before him. “My main concern is preparing your people, the people of this world, against the invaders. I want people to come together, band together so we are all strong enough to fend off what will come. And I can’t do that if you’re going to treat me as nothing more than a glorified conscript you can boss around. If you would for one goddamned minute stop acting like I am your enemy, then I would be more than happy to help prevent what is most likely to be the utter and complete annihilation of your people!”
Martin panted not with effort, not with fatigue, but with the sheer frustration at the Empress’ paranoia. She was the type of person that hated losing control, that wanted to choke anyone that didn’t kowtow to her whims. Her obstinacy started to grate on his quickly-evaporating patience, and he was more than willing to get into a shouting match with her if it meant forcing her to see things his way.
The Empress was poised to shout back, most probably to refuse Martin’s offer and tell him to get out of her sight, but the strangest thing happened. A masked Balancer fell prostrate on two knees, facing the Empress and bowing her head low to the ground with arms outstretched. Martin recognized this Balancer as Cui Dai, who continued to bow low and say nothing. Other masked Balancers visibly started at their compatriot’s sudden gesture and they stared at one another in confusion. It lasted for only a short few moments as they seemed to pick up Cui Dai’s intent, and they joined her in prostrating themselves before the Empress. Shen Feng watched the interplay, understanding dawning on his face before he too joined the Balancers in their prostration.
Martin gawked at the surreal scene,
wondering what all this was about. He shifted his gaze to the Empress, whose previous mask of fury became one of frustration. Brows furrowed, breaths shallow, she turned a disgusted gaze at Cui Dai and the other Balancers.
“What is the meaning of this?”
Cui Dai hesitated for a few moments, grinding her mask hard into the tiles of the court. “Your August Highness, You of a Thousand Years, this humble one begs You: give us leave to confirm or refute the clay man’s words before you render your judgment. This humble one has contributed to hunting down the Order of Rats after Your assumption to the throne, and suspects that the Rats have been whispering into the ears of the Grass Peoples for many years. It is entirely possible, Your August Highness, that the nomads may have chosen this moment to break their most sacred vows of vassalage.”
Cui Dai inhaled deeply, her voice wavering at the thought of defying the Empress. Martin, however, recognized the roundabout way that the Balancer agent helped him out here, which is why he stepped in before the Empress started declaring her own Balancers as traitors.
“Fifteen thousand walkers, Empress Zi Li,” Martin said, “Fifteen thousand shock troops that you can consider disposable. Fifteen thousand extra bodies to take the blows, cuts, and shafts instead of the men and women sworn to your service. Fifteen thousand clay husks that need neither food nor water nor sleep, and can be renewed far faster than flesh and blood.” Martin inhaled deeply with his walker, projecting as much honest commitment as he could through the walker’s blank face. “And I can use them best if you give me the freedom I need to operate on the field. You just need to trust me—trust that I move for your benefit and the benefit of the people who trust you with their lives.”
Empress Zi Li remained standing, scrutinizing Martin’s walker from head to toe. She turned her gaze to the still-kneeling forms of her loyal Balancers and the General of the White Tiger. “Very well,” she said, as she exhaled slowly, tiredly, defeatedly, before sitting back down on a cushioned chair. “Tell us what you have in mind.”
The news about Guo Zhenya’s death and the betrayal of the khans finally convinced Zi Li to rethink her hardline stance of bringing the fight to the Sahaasi Dominion and closing the doors to diplomacy. She was giving him leave to conduct the negotiations, seek out the armistice and eventual peace treaty that he’d been fighting for. This was what Martin wanted all along… so why did he feel as if there was something very suspicious about the Empress’ sudden, painless change of heart?
Chapter 10
“I see that Ye Heng’s plans have come to fruition.”
Martin’s walker nodded curtly, trying hard to ignore the Maharaja’s smug smile as they treated in the no-man’s land between the Dominion army and Martin’s fortress. “Yes, they have. Now I have to ask: is your earlier offer still on the table?” Martin sorely wanted to slap the widening grin on the man’s face, but this was not the time for posturing.
“Please don’t toy with me, Maharaja Venkati. I need to know if you were speaking the truth about your desire for peace, or if I need to eliminate you as a threat before moving on to the Shogunates.”
The young Daimyo standing beside the Maharaja bristled at Martin’s threat, but the heavily-tattooed leader of the Sahaasi Dominion cut him off before he could voice his discontent. “The original offer still stands,” he stated simply. “My peace and my trade, Martin Fuller, in exchange for your peace and your trade. Give me this, and I will let you focus on dealing with Ye Heng’s rebellion.” Martin nodded, forcing his walker to reflect none of the anxiety he felt within his core.
“I have to ask,” the Maharaja pressed on, as he stroked his moustache, twirling the tips with his fingers. “Did the Khanate Horde push its attack into Ren territory, or did the nomads scatter back to their steppes?”
Martin thought about his answer for a few seconds, not quite sure how much he should respond. A quip? An outright lie? A distortion of the truth? No, he chose the version of the truth that would best suit him.
“Not sure I can trust you with that information, Venkati. What would you do with the information?”
The Maharaja shrugged, his carefree grin disappearing and replaced by a frown half-hidden by his generous beard and moustache. “Just curious. Not that it matters to me whether Zi Li or Ye Heng comes out on top. Either way, I will have to consolidate my forces and reinforce my borders. Once they are done fighting with one another, they will be too weak to threaten my lands, demand my subservience once again.” The Maharaja’s smirk returned, and he twisted his moustache with even more gusto. Martin began to understand Ishida Daimyo’s not-so-hidden disdain for the big, bushy man’s tic. “You are the only real threat to my rule right now, Martin, which is why I made my offer to you. I will leave you and yours alone in this war, as long as you leave me and mine alone when you finish it.”
Martin nodded curtly with his walker. “And what of General Qiu Ja and her surviving troops? What will become of them?”
The Maharaja turned around to face his camp, scanning its borders until he found the tent housing the captive General of the Vermillion Bird. “Let me take back what I said earlier, Martin. I believe that I would much rather the Empire come out on top of this battle of yours. That way, I have some leverage over the Empress, make her think twice about trying to fold the Sahaasi back into the Empire. Qiu Ja is flimsy leverage considering the Empress’ willingness to cast her aside, but flimsy leverage is still better than no leverage. As for Ye Heng? I have absolutely no doubt what he plans to do once he is finished with the Empire.”
The Maharaja cast a sideward glance at the Daimyo seated beside him. The man stiffened under Venkati’s gaze, but he simply scowled as he stood tall with his arms crossed. Martin easily picked up on the implication that the Shogun would turn on his ally once he was finished with him. No surprise there, considering Venkati refused to push through with his attack—leaving the Shogun to fight on his own.
And yet, something else was off here. The Daimyo known as Ishida was reacting with far less heat than he should, considering Venkati’s tirades against the Shogun. Come to think of it, Martin realized that the overly-serious young man wasn’t as loyal or fanatical to his leader as Martin first thought. If that was true, then the various factions with Taiyo may not be fighting this war with the same enthusiasm as their Shogun.
“So worry not,” the Maharaja continued, “for I will take care of the good general and her people… as long as the Empire doesn’t try pushing its luck.”
Martin nodded again, satisfied with the Maharaja’s response and ignoring the implied threat. Truth be told, he was immensely relieved with the Maharaja’s answer and hoped that he would hold up to his end of the bargain.
The Empire was in a really bad position, even with the Empress finally relenting and allowing the General of the White Tiger Shen Feng to sortie out of the Imperial heartland. The Khanate Horde had yet to commit to attacking the Empire on its own turf. True, the nomads ruled the Grass Seas with their mounts, riding everywhere they pleased. Their nomadic lifestyle, however, meant a limited ability to stockpile food and other essential supplies. The Empire with its fertile farmland, numerous salt quarries, and deep deposits of metals normally supplied the Horde with whatever it needed to wage a campaign. Without that aid, the nomadic khans couldn’t sustain a prolonged campaign into the heart of the Empire.
If they attacked, they would do so in one mighty swoop—capturing Imperial farming villages, pillaging the land for supplies, and driving as deep into Imperial territory to do as much damage as they could before riding back home. The survivors of the ambush counted out thousands of attacking horsemen, enough to overwhelm the small army that Guo Zhenya brought with him. However, the survivors emphasized that it wasn’t the Horde in its entirety. Either some Khans decided against turning on the Empire, or only some of them were able to bring their forces together in time for the attack.
But this was a matter that required a great deal of time and effort
to root out—two things that neither Martin nor the Empire had a lot to spare. Better to assume the worst until the Balancers managed to return from their investigations up north. This was why the General of the White Tiger Shen Feng had sent a significant number of his people to reinforce the garrisons along the borders of the steppes. They would soon fall under the control of a new General of the Black Turtle, and be responsible for defending the Empire’s northern borders. Martin would also send a sizeable number of walkers up north, help man the garrisons up there.
If that army could hold the line long enough, the raiding khans would eventually exhaust themselves and retreat. Worst case, they could slow down the raiders long enough for reinforcements to arrive. Martin helped out with this by sending a swarm of dolls to help fortify the various garrisons, build walls and dig ditches to slow down any attacking force, and lay down roads to help Shen Feng’s men assemble wherever they were needed. Martin also built more obelisks northward, allowing his eyeballs to range further out and give Shen Feng more time to react to a Khanate horde, should one come riding down to attack.
And then, there was the eastern campaign against the Shogunate’s main forces.
The General of the Azure Dragon Bai Yu reported that his forces were barely holding off the Shogun, and that he would only last a few more weeks under the relentless attacks. He had been on the retreat every step of the way, bleeding men and women as they did everything they could to slow down the Shogunate army. The Shogunate army pressed its attack even more vigorously once they learned of General Guo Zhenya’s fall and the decision of the Khans to turn on the Empire. The eastern front was collapsing, and it needed help as soon as possible.
Which was why Martin pulled back all but a few hundred walkers from the fortress. The rest of his walkers were running north and then east for all they were worth. He propped up ‘dead’ walkers all along the walls of the fortress—clay sculptures that Martin occasionally shifted around in the dark of night. He hoped that Venkati kept to his word, but it didn’t hurt to let the Maharaja believe Martin still had enough walkers to pose a threat to his flank. Martin had learned that promises were nice and all, but they were even better when you had something to back them up with.