The Dragon Republic

by R. F. Kuang

  She couldn’t help but stare at his face while he talked. Up close his scars weren’t so unsettling, but rather oddly compelling. She wondered if it hurt him to talk.

  “What is it?” Nezha asked. He touched his cheek. “Ugly, isn’t it? I can put the mask back on, if it’s bothering you.”

  “It’s not that,” she said hastily.

  “What, then?”

  She blinked again. “I just . . . I’m sorry.”

  He frowned. “For what?”

  She stared at him, searching for evidence of sarcasm, but his expression was open, concerned.

  “It’s my fault,” she said.

  He stopped rowing. “It’s not your fault.”

  “Yes, it was.” She swallowed. “I could have pulled you out. I heard you calling my name. You saw me.”

  “I don’t remember that.”

  “Yes, you do. Stop lying.”

  “Rin. Don’t do this.” Nezha stopped rowing to reach out and grasp her hand. “It wasn’t your fault. I don’t blame you.”

  “You should.”

  “I don’t.”

  “I could have pulled you out,” she said again. “I wanted to, I was going to, but Altan wouldn’t let me, and—”

  “So blame Altan,” Nezha said in a hard voice, and resumed rowing. “The Federation was never going to kill me. The Mugenese like to keep prisoners. Someone figured out I was a warlord’s son, so they kept me for ransom. They thought they might leverage me into a surrender from Dragon Province.”

  “How’d you escape?”

  “I didn’t. I was in the camp when word got out that Emperor Ryohai was dead. The soldiers who had captured me arranged to trade me back to my father in exchange for a safe exit from the country.”

  “Did they get it?” she asked.

  He grimaced. “They got an exit.”

  When they reached the hull of the warship, Nezha hooked four ropes to the ends of the rowboat and whistled at the sky. Seconds later the boat began to rock as sailors hoisted them up.

  The main deck hadn’t been visible from the rowboat, but now Rin saw that soldiers were posted at every corner of the ship. They were Nikara in their features—they must have been from Dragon Province, but Rin noticed they did not wear Militia uniforms.

  The Seventh Division soldiers she had met at Khurdalain wore green Militia gear with the insignia of a dragon stitched into their armbands. But these soldiers were decked out in dark blue, with a silver dragon pattern visible over their chests.

  “This way.” Nezha led her down the stairs to the second deck and down the passageway until they stopped before a set of wooden doors guarded by a tall, spare man holding a blue-ribboned halberd.

  “Captain Eriden.” Nezha stopped and saluted, though according to uniform he should have been the higher rank.

  “General.” Captain Eriden looked like a man who’d never smiled in his life. Deep frown lines seemed permanently etched into his gaunt, spare face. He dipped his head to Nezha, then turned to Rin. “Hold out your arms.”

  “That’s not necessary,” said Nezha.

  “With all due respect, sir, you are not the one sworn to guard your father’s life,” Eriden said. “Hold out your arms.”

  Rin obeyed. “You’re not going to find anything.”

  Normally she kept daggers in her boots and inner shirt, but she could feel their absence; the Cormorant’s crew must have removed them already.

  “Still have to check.” Eriden peered inside her sleeves. “I’m to warn you that if you dare to so much as point a chopstick in the Dragon Warlord’s direction, then you’ll be shot full of crossbow bolts faster than you can breathe.” His hands moved up her shirt. “Do not forget we also have your men as hostages.”

  Rin shot Nezha an accusing glare. “You said we weren’t hostages.”

  “They aren’t,” Nezha said. He turned to Eriden, eyes hard. “They aren’t. They’re our guests, Captain.”

  “Call them whatever you like.” Eriden shrugged. “But try anything funny and they’re dead.”

  Rin shifted so that he could feel the small of her back for weapons. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

  Finished, Eriden wiped his hands off on his uniform, turned, and grasped the door handles. “In that case, I’m to extend you a welcome on behalf of the Dragon Warlord.”

  “Fang Runin, isn’t it? Welcome to the Seagrim.”

  For a moment Rin could only gape. She couldn’t look at the Dragon Warlord and not see Nezha. Yin Vaisra was a grown version of his son without scars. He possessed all the infuriating beauty of the House of Yin—pale skin, black hair without a single streak of gray, and fine features that looked like they had been carved from marble—cold, arrogant, and imposing.

  She’d heard endless gossip about the Dragon Warlord during her years at Sinegard. He ruled the richest province in the Empire by far. He’d single-handedly led the defense of the Red Cliffs in the Second Poppy War, had obliterated a Federation fleet with only a small cluster of Nikara fishing boats. He’d been chafing under Daji’s rule for years. When he’d failed to appear at the Empress’s summer parade for the third consecutive year, the apprentices had speculated so loudly that he was planning open treason that Nezha had lost his cool and sent one of them to the infirmary.

  “Rin is fine.” Her words came out sounding frail and tiny, swallowed up by the vast gilded room.

  “A vulgar diminutive,” Vaisra declared. Even his voice was a deeper version of Nezha’s, a hard drawl that seemed permanently coated in condescension. “They’re fond of those in the south. But I shall call you Runin. Please, sit down.”

  She cast a fleeting glance at the oak table between them. It had a low surface, and the high-backed chairs looked terribly heavy. If she sat, her knees would be trapped. “I’ll stand.”

  Vaisra raised an eyebrow. “Have I made you uncomfortable?”

  “You bombed my ship,” Rin said. “So yes, a little.”

  “My dear girl, if I wanted you dead, your body would be at the bottom of Omonod Bay.”

  “Then why isn’t it?”

  “Because we need you.” Vaisra drew out his own chair and sat, gesturing to Nezha to do the same. “It hasn’t been easy to find you, you know. We’ve been sailing down the coast of the Snake Province for weeks now. We even checked Mugen.”

  He said it like he’d meant to startle her, and it worked. She couldn’t help but flinch. He watched her, waiting.

  She took the bait. “What did you find?”

  “Just a few fringe islands. Of course, they had no clue of your whereabouts, but we stayed a week or so to make sure. People will say anything under torture.”

  Her fingers tightened into fists. “They’re still alive?”

  She felt like someone had taken a bar to her rib cage. She knew Federation soldiers remained on the mainland, but not that civilians were still alive. She’d thought she had put a permanent end to the country.

  What if she hadn’t? The great strategist Sunzi cautioned to always finish off an enemy in case they came back stronger. What would happen when Federation civilians regrouped? What if she still had a war to fight?

  “Their invasion is over,” Vaisra reassured her. “You made certain of that. The main islands have been destroyed. Emperor Ryohai and his advisers are dead. A few cities on the edges of the archipelago remain standing, but the Federation has erupted into frothy madness, like ants pouring out of a hill once you’ve killed the queen. Some of them are sailing off the islands in droves, seeking refuge on Nikara shores, but . . . well. We’re getting rid of them as they come.”

  “How?”

  “The usual way.” His lips twitched into a smile. “Why don’t you sit?”

  Reluctantly, she drew the chair out as far from the table as she could and sat at the very edge, knees locked together.

  “There,” Vaisra said. “Now we’re friends.”

  Rin decided to be blunt. “Are you here to take me back to the capital?”

&
nbsp; “Don’t be stupid.”

  “Then what do you want from me?”

  “Your services.”

  “I’m not murdering anyone for you.”

  “Dream a little bigger, my dear.” Vaisra leaned forward. “I want to overthrow the Empire. I’d like you to help.”

  The room fell silent. Rin studied Vaisra’s face, waiting for him to burst into laughter. But he looked so terribly sincere—and so did Nezha—that she couldn’t help but cackle.

  “Is something funny?” Vaisra asked.

  “Are you mad?”

  “‘Visionary,’ I think, is the word you want. The Empire is on the verge of falling apart. A revolution is the only alternative to decades of civil warfare, and someone has to start the ball rolling.”

  “And you’d bet on your odds against the Militia?” Rin laughed again. “You’re one province against eleven. It’ll be a massacre.”

  “Don’t be so certain,” Vaisra said. “The provinces are angry. They’re hurting. And for the first time since any of the Warlords can remember, the specter of the Federation has disappeared. Fear used to be a unifying force. Now the cracks in the foundation grow day by day. Do you know how many local insurrections have erupted in the past month? Daji is doing everything she can to keep the Empire united, but the institution is a sinking ship that’s rotted at the core. It may drift for a while, but eventually it will be dashed to pieces against the rocks.”

  “And you think you can destroy it and build a new one.”

  “Isn’t that precisely what you want?”

  “Killing one woman is not the same thing as overthrowing a regime.”

  “But you can’t evaluate those events in a vacuum,” said Vaisra. “What do you think happens if you succeed? Who steps into Daji’s shoes? And whoever that person is, do you trust them to rule the Twelve Provinces? To be any kinder to people like you than Daji was?”

  Rin hadn’t thought that far. She had never bothered to think much about life after she’d killed Daji. Once she’d gotten Altan’s revenge, she wasn’t sure that she even wanted to keep living.

  “It doesn’t matter to me,” she said.

  “Then think of it this way,” Vaisra said. “I can give you a chance to take your revenge with the full support of an army of thousands.”

  “Would I have to take orders?” she asked.

  “Rin—” Nezha started.

  “Would I have to take orders?”

  “Yes,” Vaisra said. “Of course.”

  “Then you can fuck off.”

  Vaisra looked confused. “All soldiers take orders.”

  “I’m not a soldier anymore,” she said. “I put in my time, I gave the Empire my loyalty, and that got me strapped to a table in a Mugenese research lab. I’m done taking orders.”

  “We are not the Empire.”

  She shrugged. “You want to be.”

  “You little fool.” Vaisra slammed his hand against the table. Rin flinched. “Look outside yourself for a moment. This isn’t just about you, it’s about the future of our people.”

  “Your people,” she said. “I’m a Speerly.”

  “You are a scared little girl reacting from anger and loss in the most shortsighted way possible. All you want is to get your revenge. But you could be so much more. Do so much more. Listen to me. You could change history.”

  “Haven’t I changed history enough?” Rin whispered.

  She didn’t care about anyone’s visions for the future. She’d stopped wanting to be great, to carve out her place in history, a long time ago. She’d since learned the cost.

  And she didn’t know how to say that she was just so tired.

  All she wanted was to get Altan’s revenge. She wanted to put a blade in Daji’s heart.

  And then she wanted to disappear.

  “Your people died not because of Daji but because of this Empire,” Vaisra said. “The provinces have become weak, isolated, technologically inept. Compared to the Federation, compared to Hesperia, we are not just decades but centuries behind. And the problem isn’t our people, it’s their rulers. The twelve-province system is an antiquated, inefficient yoke dragging the Nikara behind. Imagine a country that was truly united. Imagine an army whose factions weren’t constantly at war with one another. Who could possibly defeat us?”

  Vaisra’s eyes glimmered as he spread his hands across the table. “I am going to transform the Empire into a republic—a great republic, founded on the individual freedom of men. Instead of Warlords, we would have elected officials. Instead of an Empress, we would have a parliament, overseen by an elected president. I would make it impossible for a single person like Su Daji to bring ruin upon this realm. What do you think of that?”

  A lovely speech, Rin thought, if Vaisra had been talking to someone more gullible.

  Maybe the Empire did need a new government. Maybe a democracy would usher in peace and stability. But Vaisra had failed to realize that she simply did not care.

  “I just finished fighting one war,” she said. “I’m not terribly interested in fighting another.”

  “So what is your strategy? To roam up and down the coastline, killing off the only officials who have been brave enough to keep opium outside their borders?” Vaisra made a noise of disgust. “If that’s your goal, you’re just as bad as the Mugenese.”

  She bristled. “I’ll kill Daji eventually.”

  “And how, pray tell?”

  “I don’t have to tell you—”

  “By renting a pirate ship?” he mocked. “By entering into losing negotiations with a pirate queen?”

  “Moag was going to give us supplies.” Rin felt the blood rushing to her face. “And we would have had the money, too, until you assholes showed up—”

  “You’re so terribly naive. Don’t you get it? Moag was always going to sell you out. Did you think she would pass up that bounty on your heads? You’re lucky our offer was better.”

  “Moag wouldn’t,” Rin said. “Moag knows my value.”

  “You’re assuming Moag is rational. And she is, until it comes to great sums of money. You can buy her off with any amount of silver, and that I have in abundance.” Vaisra shook his head like a disappointed teacher. “Don’t you get it? Moag only flourishes while Daji is on the throne, because Daji’s isolationist policies create Ankhiluun’s competitive advantage. Moag only benefits as long as she operates outside the law, while the rest of the country is in such deep shit that it’s more profitable to operate inside her boundaries than without. Once trade becomes legitimized, she’s out of an empire. Which means the very last thing she wants is for you to succeed.”

  Rin opened her mouth, realized she had nothing to say, and closed it. For the first time, she did not have a counterargument.

  “Please, Rin,” Nezha interjected. “Be honest with yourself. You can’t fight a war on your own. You are six people. The Vipress is guarded by a corps of elite soldiers that you’ve never gone up against. And that’s not to mention her own martial arts skills, which you know nothing about.”

  “And you no longer have the advantage of surprise,” said Vaisra. “Daji knows you are coming for her, which means you need a way to get closer to her. You need me.”

  He gestured to the walls around them. “Look at this ship. This is the very best that Hesperian naval technology can offer. Twelve cannons lined on every side.”

  Rin rolled her eyes. “Congratulations?”

  “I have ten more ships like it.”

  That gave her pause.

  Vaisra leaned forward. “Now you get it. You’re a smart girl; you can run the calculations yourself. The Empire does not have a functioning navy. I do. We will control this Empire’s waterways. The war will be over in six months at worst.”

  Rin tapped her fingers against the table, considering. Could they win this war? And what if they did?

  She couldn’t help but balance the possibilities—she’d been trained too well at Sinegard not to.

  If what
Vaisra said was true, then she had to admit this was the perfect time to launch a coup. The Militia at present was fragmented and weak. The provinces had been decimated by Federation battalions. And they might switch sides quickly, once they learned the truth about Daji’s deception.

  The benefits of joining an army were also obvious. She’d never have to worry about her supplies. She’d have access to intelligence she couldn’t get on her own. She’d have free transportation to wherever she wanted to go.

  And yet.

  “What happens if I say no?” she asked. “Are you going to compel me into service? Make me your own Speerly slave?”

  Vaisra didn’t take the bait. “The Republic will be founded on freedom of choice. If you refuse to join, then we can’t make you.”

  “Then maybe I’ll leave,” she said, mostly to see how he would respond. “I’ll go into hiding. I’ll bide my time. Get stronger.”

  “You could do that.” Vaisra sounded bored, like he knew she was just pulling objections out of her ass. “Or you could fight for me and get the revenge you want. This isn’t hard, Runin. And you’re not really considering saying no. You’re just pretending to think because you like being a little brat.”

  Rin glared at him.

  It was such a rational option. She hated that it was a rational option. And she hated more that Vaisra knew that, and knew she’d arrive at the same conclusion, and was now simply mocking her until her mind caught up to his.

  “I have more money and resources at my disposal than anyone in this empire,” Vaisra said. “Weapons, men, information—anything you need, you can get it from me. Work for me and you will want for nothing.”

  “I’m not putting my life in your hands,” she said. The last time she had pledged her loyalty to someone, she’d been betrayed. Altan had died.

  “I will never lie to you,” said Vaisra.

  “Everybody lies to me.”

  Vaisra shrugged. “Then don’t trust me. Act purely in your own interest. But I think you’ll find it clear soon enough that you don’t have many other options.”