Quan Caihe leaned against the floral timber balustrade, breathing the night air of the northern mountains. Shanjing, capital of the newly surrendered kingdom of Beiguo, had not been touched by the gore of their war. Here the antique palace towered proud over the luxurious valley city, a beautiful mixture of natural greens and holograph lights, of glinting waterfalls and spotless fibersteel architecture. The rulers of Beiguo had lived in modest opulence, having both the advancements of modern civilization and the beauty of age-old natured—quite contrary to the capital of Quan Caihe's own kingdom, which leaned more toward the cybernetic modern. A shame the Beiguo lords had run like mice when the kingdom surrendered; Caihe would have liked to offer them a peaceful burial in this lovely place.

Of course, on this continent there were lovelier lands. Legendary ones. Untouchable ones, shrouded in the myths of blood-stained ghosts. But for tonight, Caihe was satisfied with the balanced magnificence of Shanjing.

"Your Grace. Your generals are ready for you."

She peered over her shoulder at the bowed soldier. This one had been wounded in the recent final battle. The artificial flesh of his right arm had been removed to keep it from rotting, revealing only scratched machinery beneath. Not uncommon after this campaign into the north: just an hour ago, Caihe had spotted another soldier on a crutch, a leg all metal, wire, and limp. At least they felt little pain.

"Thank you, Gulong. I'll be there soon."

The soldier bowed and left.

Caihe took a final look at the afterdusk skyline. Straightening the folds of her silk dress, she made her way to the private upper meeting hall of the palace. A jovial murmuring seeped through the half-opened doors. Upon Caihe's entrance, someone's laughed turned into a cough. Six men and a woman began to push out their seats and rise.

"No need," said Caihe, waving a hand.

They had gathered in an atmospheric room, the pillars and the furniture all polished darkwood. A bonsai plant greened the corner; a monochrome mountain hologram sprawled the east wall, birds flitting scripted through the image. The solar lights, presented in clear lamps, mimicked the softness of fire. Warm shadows cast powerfully across the long table.

Caihe took her seat at the head of this table. She surveyed the table before she spoke.

"I called you all here tonight because there are some things that shouldn't be said only in crowds."

The seven waited. There had once been ten at the beginning of this great intercontinental war, filled with inevitable loss and sacrifice. From the coast of southern Yincheng below the millennia old Long River to the sprawling plateaus of the far west, they had waited like this for her every command. Perhaps now they expected the same—a new order. But it wasn't for war that she had assembled them tonight. It was for immortality.

She met each pair of eyes, and then an eye without a pair.

"Thank you."

A struck pause followed her weighted words. The generals with two eyes glanced at each other. A lost, uncomfortable shifting began.

"Your Grace..."

"You don't have to say anything," said Caihe. "You've spoken more than enough through your actions. You've given me the unity of a whole continent." Almost a whole continent. "It's been a hundred and twenty-four years since we've had unity across the land. A decade ago, I couldn't have dreamed of restoring it." False. "It's by your courage and faith that we've come this far."

"It's by your strength," said her third general, appearing emotional. "Your Grace, we came this far because we followed you. Your steps paved the road. The honor of being a part of this journey—Your Grace, we should be thanking you."

The table rippled with agreement.

Caihe smiled. They had forgotten that three months ago, two of them had been on the verge of mutiny. But victory was a powerful medicine indeed.

"I've received your gratitude a hundred fold by your blood and your sweat. Now it's time for me to give you my gratitude. When we return to the capital, you'll have the expected rewards and more. But you deserve more than that.

"You know that I don't have family anymore. That the Quan name was betrayed and slaughtered many years ago. But we stand at the birth of a true dynasty—as great as the Quan of old and the Tianxin Emperors before them. I've no intention of raising the dynasty alone. So I'd like to offer each of you and your children the Quan name."

Like she'd slapped the moon down before them, the generals balked.

"Don't tell me your answer tonight," said Caihe. "I'll hear it when we've returned to the capital. But there are a few other things as well. General Yan."

"Your Grace?" said an older bearded man, his voice booming even in its polite reservation. He had arrived in the north only a week ago, bringing his forces from the conquered western kingdom of Xijia to reinforce the final push against northern Beiguo.

"You know the west kingdom well," said Caihe, "and we couldn't have Xijia without you. Whether you join my family or not, I'd like to appoint you State Regent of Xijia. Can I expect to have your answer by the time we return to Anzhou?"

The man bowed his head and clasped his hands. "Your Grace, you may have it now. It would be my greatest honor."

"I'm glad to hear it." Caihe turned to the only other woman at the table. "General Wei."

"Your Grace," said the woman, inclining her head. She had led the critical siege of the last standing northern stronghold. She had done it alone too, without relying on detailed orders or reinforcements.

"Beiguo would do well under your oversight."

The woman clasped her hands and bowed her head lower yet. "It would be my honor."

"And General Jun."

She faced the one man who had not stirred at the offer of the Quan name. He sat at the shadowed end of the table, scruff in appearance tonight. Stubble and lazily bunned hair, the loose locks curling with uncanny disregard. His one eye drifted over now, soft and sharp—and surprised.

"Your Grace," he said.

"This war would have dragged on another decade without your insights on the enemy," said Caihe. "You may have started a foreigner, but you've served us faithfully for five years. And no one can deny your talent. I think it's time we restore to the court a position suitable for your skills." She arched an eyebrow. "General Jun, I'd like to appoint you Imperial Chief of Intelligence."

The man paused. Said, "I'm honored. I'll think on it as you wish, Your Grace."

The rest of the room shared glances, quiet reservation. Caihe only smiled.

"Then that is all. Please consider my offers, generals. And rest well tonight."

The generals bade their respectful farewells and left. Only the last man she'd addressed remained in his shadowed seat.

When the doors had shut on the two of them, Caihe leaned back in her chair and waited for the man to speak.

"It's a bold move," he said eventually.

"What is?"

He glanced her way. "To elevate a traitor."

"Are you one still?"

He smiled. "I have a history, no? You wouldn't have Beiguo and Xijia's secrets otherwise."

Caihe chuckled, rising. She skimmed her fingertips along the polished darkwood table as she approached her company. At his side, she pulled away the adjacent chair and leaned against the table. The skirt of her dress brushed the fabric of his trousers.

She gazed down at the general. He was a rugged fellow, handsome when his face turned leftward. Handsome to some people even when he didn't turn, but that part of his face was marred with an old, deep scar that halved his eyebrow and crossed the sealed hollow where an eye used to be. He scared children with that face, even when he smiled, even though his smile was a soft one. And he was always smiling too. The damaged left corner of his lips never lifted as high as the right. Perpetually crooked.

They say that those who never frown can never be trusted.

Quan Caihe mirrored his smile, but with more grace and symmetry.

"It's true," she said. "A man like you is a gamble wherever he goes." Yulai, Guilin, Xijia, Beiguo—he had certainly gone many places, unashamed to lay that slithery history before her. "And so far, you've played them all. Quite brutally too, no?"

"I have."

No pride, no guilt. It was a matter of fact.

Pleased, as ever she was by his ungilded talent, Caihe reached for the old jade pendant at her general's collar. A twined dragon, detailed to the scales and billowing mane. She had never seen him without it. Rubbing it now with the man so compliantly enduring, she felt a satisfying sense of possession.

"It's pretty. May I have it?"

"With all due respect, Your Grace, no."

She dropped the pendant and laughed. When the pleasure had simmered, she propped a foot on his chair, between his legs, and leaned forward.

"The dragon is the champion of the gods," said Caihe. "Of dynasty and the epitome of power. Is that what you are after? Betraying nation after nation. And yet this pretty pendant of yours seems more like a sentimental aesthetic than any real desire." She cocked her head. "What is it that you really want, Jun Musheng?"

"Not much, Your Grace. To live a little longer, I suppose."

"A bold lie. Everybody wants something."

He was quiet, his one eye unwavering.

At last he smiled, that eye half-lidding. "Only one then, Your Grace. The integrity of peace."

"The integrity of peace?"

A permanence, he likely meant. A noble thing to wish for—and nearly appropriate. The windlike, untethered intensity of this man had always seemed bound for something as beautiful as a noble wish. But among the lust of insatiable men, an everlasting peace could never be.

Caihe laughed. "I see. Your dream is an impossible one, so you live chasing its mirage. Something like that?"

"You could say so."

Caihe raised an eyebrow.

"I had you pegged for practical. You're a mysterious man after all."

"And yet you want me to handle the new empire's secrets. Wouldn't you be wary of what a mysterious man might do with those secrets, Your Grace?"

"Naturally. But you stand at the pinnacle of this continent now." She wrapped her hands around the arms of his chair. Her hair fell over her shoulders, the soft ends brushing his chest. "What could you do next, Musheng? Kill me? Take the regency?" She lifted her fingers to his halved eyebrow, skimming the soft hollow beneath, the scarred flesh. "But you don't have the eyes of an emperor, General. There is no lust in them. Your dream might be impossible, but in my empire, you can find the mirage you've been chasing. Peace at last, and perhaps for centuries to come."

"At last?" he said.

Caihe withdrew.

"You're right. I misspoke. The continent's not whole yet."

Musheng lifted his good eyebrow. "I wouldn't recommend it, Your Grace. As beautiful a trophy as Guilin is, that place is guarded by a merciless god. He'll damn you if you cross his land with ill intentions."

"Oh? You sound scared."

"For good reason. If you are going to invade Guilin, I'm afraid I can't follow."

Caihe cocked her head.

"Did he take your eye?"

Musheng didn't say anything.

"And only an eye," she said then, smiling. "A pitiful damnation. Or was it that you had the skill to escape his wrath?"

"It was luck," said Musheng, "and you won't have it, Your Grace."

"But I have you."

She pushed off the table and walked around his chair. Behind it, she smoothed the wrinkles of his autumn jacket. She rested her hands on his shoulders, feeling them tense. Kneaded those muscles, hovering in their intimate space.

"Don't you want revenge for your eye, Musheng? Don't you want to see this merciless god again? To see him mortal, and to take from him what precious things he took from you?"

A breath escaped his throat. A soft, strange sound.

Caihe pressed her lips to his ear.

"Follow me there. Lend me your insight again. I'll bring that god to your feet, and you can do to him whatever your heart desires. And when we are done, I'll give you peace. I'll give you as much of your dream as this world can make possible."

Musheng closed his eye.

Caihe slipped her fingers through his hair and pulled his head back. She kissed his mouth, thrilled by the soft, then strong, then desperate reciprocation.

When they parted, and his eye flickered open. A rich, dilated black. She gazed down at him.

"Our brilliance is greater than myths and gods. Believe in me, Jun Musheng. The legends of Guilin will become mortal again."