The sun was jaggedly bright to Liao’s eyes. He hadn’t slept last night. How could he, knowing that death drew closer each day?

The prince sat beneath a roofed terrace overlooking the event, another day of sordid prestige and faded glory for the Dynasty. He wished it would rain again, just so he could shut out the world. Until he would die, along with everyone else in his twisted vision.

His sister’s elbow suddenly dug into his side, causing Liao to yelp and flinch.

“Grow up, Feia,” he scowled.

“Believe me, I would have loved to be firstborn but we’re stuck with you,” his sister retorted. “At least look at them.”

“You couldn’t get mother to join us?” the prince asked.

“You know as well as I do what she’s doing.”

Sleeping, breathing Incense, or drinking? Liao had long given up on such questions.

He stifled a yawn along with his dread, looking down to the pavilion. It was a small courtyard, a wooden platform erected for the Shadai monk to perform over. A crowd of officials and high ranking soldiers sat and watched, murmuring. The monk knelt over the squared straw matting, seemingly meditating. Surrounding him were four men, each disciples, garbed in the colored tunics of their local Schools.

It was something Liao had seen many times before, every year as the Shadai monks made their pilgrimage through the capital. A trial duel was a test, of sorts; arranged by the Shadai Order to check the martial strength of the people. Their Order was a brotherhood set in the Daosung mountains, sovereign ground sacred to even the Emperor himself. What Liao knew of the monks was that they were all master martial artists.

He heard one man yell, quite the animated character, “We stand to represent our Schools and here is a man of the Shadai Order, meditating? You disgrace us, and your Order!”

This time Liao yawned. What musty tome could he read in the imperial library, what forgotten secrets would he discover? Nothing in this spectacle, at least.

The pontificating man finally stopped pontificating, shuffling closer to the Shadai monk. His right leg reared back to kick the kneeling monk's head. Except the sitting man had caught his ankle; with one hand. The disciple, wearing a scarlet tunic, was thrown to the matted floor. His comrades attacked instantly after. The monk crouched and spun to sweep one man, punched another in the gut, and held the last by his neck with one hand before slamming him to the ground.

There was only stunned silence as the monk bowed.

He spoke, a commanding voice that rang clear, “I am Renshu. Where are your martial masters?”

One man in the crowd stood, extending a greeting with one hand against his fist. “I am last to represent the teachings of Wei Tung.”

Liao watched with growing interest. He hadn’t heard a monk speak directly to a martial master in a trial duel, until now.

Renshu beckoned him up to the platform. “Is there no one else who will answer my call?” The man waited. After a moment of silence, he said, “I challenge you.”

The martial master, dressed in a gilded scarlet tunic, set into a fighting stance. Renshu, though a large man, dashed with deceptive speed to grab the master by his throat and raise him off his feet. He then slapped him. Once; Twice; Thrice; cracks of smacking flesh that echoed across the courtyard. The master’s face quickly reddened with his bruising, his pride shattered, though he wasn’t conscious to care. Renshu dropped him to crumple to the floor.

He pointed to the crowd below. “The Shadai Order is disappointed in the lack of discipline. The lack of strength. The lack of courage found among you. I apologize to the Dynasty for this shameful offense.”

The man stepped off the platform and strode out.

“What in Allmother’s Gaze was that?” Liao asked.

“He found our people weak, brother,” Feia answered. “He saw the Dynasty as weak.”

Liao thought of his dream, the vision of his sister falling down the throne alongside their mother and father, their blood trickling past its steps. The prince blinked. He rose to leave.

“Where are you going?” Feia demanded.

Liao didn't answer.

He would talk to this Shadai monk. If there was something he could learn from him, anything, perhaps it might stop his vision. The prince found Captain Huli standing outside the doors with the other imperial guard, all resplendent in their golden lamellar armor.

“Gongwei.” Huli greeted Liao by his honorific title and bowed.

“Captain,” Liao said, “take me to the Shadai monk.”

The man took the lead, two other guards following them. It was a short walk to the guest wing of the palace. Captain Huli rapped on a door.

Liao heard the man’s muffled voice, “You may enter.”

Huli opened the door for his ward. The prince held out a hand when the guard stepped in to follow. “It’s alright, Huli.”

The captain nodded and closed the door.

Renshu was meditating, again, sitting cross legged on a mat. He stood and bowed. “Gongwei. You grace me with your presence.” His tone was even and diplomatic, yet there was a stern edge to his words, like a soldier's greeting.

Liao smiled, keeping the distance between them. “You said you found the martial schools weak. I can understand that, but how can they compare to your strength, after all the brews you have drunk, perhaps even an elixir?”

Renshu stared. Brown eyes near black, piercing and unblinking. He stepped towards the prince as he said, “Everyone has a choice to be strong. The Emperor mandated that the Shadai Order ingest such substances, approximately fifty years ago. I was near your age then. Granted that choice, I made my decision when I joined the Order.”

The monk must have been over seventy years old, Liao realized – he had taken a step back as the man moved towards him.

The monk offered an open hand. “My name is Renshu. I am honored to meet you, Prince of Qei.”

Liao stepped forward and shook his hand. People weren't usually so forthright to him; but this monk was anything but usual. His grip was like a pincer, as expected from such a man. He stood an imposing height, broad in shoulder beneath his brown robes, his tan head shaven above his black beard. Liao had never seen a monk with facial hair, more commonly found among bandits or village folk. His dark gaze glittered with a knowing some men had; the power to kill near anyone in their sight; the same gaze as Liao’s father. The prince felt fear looking back at such a man, both of them knowing he wasn't in control, not truly.

“I must ask,” Renshu said, “why did you grace me with your time?”

"Maybe I wish to be strong as well," Liao replied.

"You wish to receive martial instruction?"

"Not that—well, yes. But the brews and elixirs your Order possesses. I wish to purchase them. What is your price?"

The monk looked back at the prince, silent.

"Name your price," Liao repeated, mustering strength in his words.

"We are prohibited from giving any substance unless decreed by the Emperor himself."

The prince smiled, though annoyance gritted through his teeth. "You're refusing me?"

Renshu shook his head. "I follow the Emperor's mandate."

Anger burning off his unease of the man, Liao murmured, "You never did answer my question. How is it fair to fight mortal men not possessing such gifts?"

"Perhaps those gifts were never earned."

The prince blinked under the monk’s unrelenting stare. “I see. Tell me then—if you had the power to stop everything you loved being taken away from you, would you do everything in your power to stop it?”

“The Shadai believe that one cannot control what is around them, just one’s self.”

“You say that like you don’t believe in it.”

“I believe once you achieve self-mastery, that mastery can be used to affect others, to a point.”

“And what point is that?” Liao asked.

“Death,” Renshu answered with a flat certainty.