Red was not a shameful color, no matter that the new name for cultivation spoke of it as the lowest realm.

Sun Shao stood tall and straight in the den of serpents, the lacquered steel of his armor shining bright, his broad shoulders unbowed, and his crimson hair pooling about his shoulders. Though he bore no weapon here, any cultivator with eyes could see the shadow of his spear in his spirit, as much a part of him as his arms or legs.

No, he thought, seeing the soldiers lining the hall from the corner of his eyes, patches of red scale visible here and there, red was the color of soldiers. And there was pride in that. Pride that he now walked with, his twin-plumed helm held respectfully under his arm.

Whatever his thoughts on its inhabitants, the palace of Zhengjian was truly magnificent. Columns of red cedar taken from the Emerald Seas lined the halls, white marble quarried from the Celestial Peaks abounded, fluttering silk grown in the Ebon Rivers decorated the walls, and jewels mined from the broken wastes in the east were inlaid in the walls and floors. One could almost imagine this the capital of an Empire, and to many, it was.

It was also a terrifying place. From both sides, behind the lines of ceremonial python caste guards, eyes as cold as assassins’ blades regarded him. Those swaying serpents, in white, in blue, in violet, in black, all saw his lone walk toward the dais at the end of the hall with murderous calculation. He would be lying if he said that regard did not make sweat break out on even his diamond flesh.

To them, his Sun family were but crippled runts of the nest, long having lost the power that slept in Bai blood, like the many minor families which lived among the lakes and reeds and rivers. He should have been nothing, and yet, it was he who stood here, and not a single one of them. Let them think of him as an upjumped mouse swaying in a serpent's scales. It was the suffering and discipline of soldiers which gave softer folk like them the ability to scheme and plot at all. He was Sun Shao, and he did not shy from the duty to his home!

At last, the long, long walk came to an end, and Sun Shao knelt, placing his helm on the floor and bowing his head. His liege lord, Bai Fuxi, exalted Duke of the Thousand Lakes, sat high on his Throne of Still Waters. It was a square and blocky thing, seemingly carved from dull blue-black stone, high backed and without decoration or cushion, greatly at odds with these resplendent halls. Yet, it was a piece carved by mighty Yao himself in the days of myth, carved from the mystery that lay at the bottom of Lake Hei where only those of unparalleled might and will could reach, below even where Grandmother Serpent slept now.

The deathly miasma of the throne stung his eyes and itched at his nose, despite his distance from it and despite the might of the fifth realm within him. Only a cultivator strong in the blood of Grandmother Serpent could ever sit upon such a thing and not die.

Arrayed around Bai Fuxi were his favored children, four daughters and one son. Only the youngest there, Bai Enlai, was low enough in cultivation to match Sun Shao. The rest exceeded his.

The Duke watched him kneel silently, yellow eyes burning in a pale face. His robe was resplendent in white and black with stylized embroidery of coiling serpents curling along wide billowing sleeves. A simple crown sat atop his long coiffed white hair, holding it back from his face. He seemed ageless like a painting of a deity.

Sun Shao kept his shoulders straight, stilled the trembling of his calloused hands under the awful weight of the man’s gaze, and bowed, touching his forehead to the soft white carpet. “My lord has called, and this devoted soldier has answered as swiftly as his humble means might allow. I am honored beyond by your notice, O Great One, and honored more still to be allowed in the presence of the Great Lord.”

He spoke those words from his heart. No matter how cruel they could be, the White Serpents had sheltered and protected this land for eons since before even the earliest pages of history. His people, his family, and his clan could never have existed without them. So what if their descendants were sometimes haughty beyond their means? No family could be fully beyond impetuousness in their youths. He told no lie when he spoke of the honor that was to kneel before the Duke of Bai, the Lord of the Lakes.

“It would reflect poorly upon me if I was not aware of events of significance in my lands.” Bai Fuxi’s voice was soft and cool like the whisper of silk pulled over a polished blade. “And such a battle as the one that you partook in at Hubei Gorge is no small event. Tell me, how did you bring victory to our people after my great grandnephew shamed himself so utterly?”

Among the observers, a tall, pale woman with bloodless lips and narrow eyes stiffened, and Sun Shao felt pain pricking his back. He supposed she was the patron of that young master. Whatever her anger though, one must always take responsibility for their actions.

“The soldiers of the Bai clan are without comparison in all the world,” Sun Shao said. “They require only organization and a courageous lord to lead them, and they may smite ten times their number in barbarians.” He paused then, unsure.

“And…” said the Duke, leadingly.

“I was merely unsure if Your Grace would care for mere small unit tactics,” Sun Shao said. “The terrain of the gorge allowed me to stretch out the barbarians’ lines and repeatedly bait their vanguard into poor position.”

“You sacrificed men to die like beasts while you dithered and circled,” said one of the Duke’s children, a tall woman with white hair shorn uncharacteristically short. “What part of this is courage? Have you not just said that our armies are worthy to face any rabble head on?”

Sun Shao breathed out harshly, scenting the blood that lay always on his breath. “Sacrifice is courage, my lady. Each of the men in those squads knew what I was asking of them, just as they knew what would happen should the barbarians breach the gorge. Your men are brave, my duke, if they are but reminded of what lies at stake when their courage falters. The Thousand Lakes are our home, and we of the marches would spill an ocean of our own blood to defend it.”

The woman looked as if she would speak again, but the slim hand of Bai Fuxi rose, and like a blade, it cut off any sound that could have emerged. “You are not Bai. You are not capable as we are. In the face of this weakness, it is virtuous to use what is available to you. I find your conduct… pleasing, Field Commander Sun. Though this victory was costly, the lands of the Vale of Thorns lie unplundered, barely even touched. It is as you say. There is no shame in sacrificing for my Thousand Lakes. There is certainly much less shame than playing games with one's duties to it and allowing a feckless child a vital command.”

The Duke’s gaze was sharp, and the pressure of his terror like a fell wind over the court, but Sun Shao knew it was not for him. Some of the cold gazes on his back averted themselves. Cloth rustled, and heads turned and lowered throughout the court.

Sun Shao grit his teeth. He did not care for this, the games of lords. He was a soldier. To toil and sacrifice was his lot. He knew on some level though that whatever his desires, he was now a larger piece on the board.

“So it is that I revoke the generalship of the western march, the third army, and the levy of the Vale of Thorns and Hubei Gorge,” spoke the Duke, cold eyes scanning the observers and even flicking to one or two of his children. “It is clear to my eyes now that I cannot entrust this duty to one who remains in Zhengjian and its environs. Nor may I ask that any of my resplendent kin to go and live among the flies and the vines and the jungle mud. Therefore…”

Duke Fuxi gestured.

“Rise, Sun Shao, Marquis of the Northwestern March. I name you commander of its forces, governor of its lands, and keeper of its people. I name you my Scarlet General. Let the red try where the white has failed.”