Position & Power

Kwan emerged from his office, eyes worn and heavy. Night after night working on this case. Now it was done, and thus, time to take it to the Magistrate for approval. Bu Jinom was not only evading the taxes on his manufactory, but he was using said factory to produce Spirit Artifacts without a royal charter.


Kwan's slippers thumped softly as he shuffled down the corridor of the Magistrate's compound. He wasn't worried that it would be approved - quite the opposite in fact. Kwan did good work, there was no question about it, the problem for Kwan was that he did all the work. Hours of scouring every record and codex, comparing the official tax records to the manufactory's logs, ledgers and lists, for days and nights and weeks on end.


He turned his weary eyes to the walled courtyard, trail twisting through the garden, flowing through orchids, camelias, and to the small pond in its center. Perched there on a branch, a starling pruned its wing. Kwan stopped, his still feet causing a loose board to creek. The little bird took wing over the wall, and left him.


Tap tap tap. He knocked on the grandiose door to the Magistrate's office. He stood there waiting, tapping his foot with papers in hand. There he waited... and waited - the large doors were a stone for all the response he was getting.


Knock. Knock. Knock. He wrapped firmly on the door.


A groggy voice finally answered. "What do you want?! Who is it?! Do you even know what time it is?!" Kwan did, in fact, know what time it was. It was nearly noon, and the Magistrate had been busy drinking himself into a stupor while he had been tying up loose ends in his reports. The slob had probably fallen asleep right there at his desk.


"It's Kwan, Eminence. I have the dossier on Bu Jinom prepared for your review. May I enter?"


There was grumbling and shuffling on the other side of the door, and after a minute Kwan was bade enter. The Magistrate was a mess. His robes were disheveled and stained, marks lined his face and hand from where he had passed out on his desk, and an empty bottle lay on the floor next to him where it had tipped off its desk.


"I've checked over everything, we were correct. Ji-" the Magistrate put up a hand to cut him off. "Fine, fine. You'll receive your next assignment tomorrow." He flipped through the stack of papers quickly, hardly sparing it a glance. Arriving at the back page, he placed two fingers on the line for his signature. Previously lost in the messy ruffles of his clothes, his Nurong's pendant began to glow. The bright Tin-Ha light filled the room and, for a moment, the cool blue light smoothed his nerves, Kwan's tension receding like a gentle wave melding back into the water. Trickling down his fingers, the luminescent blue ink flowed onto the page. The glow faded from his signet as he lifted his fingers again, the signed seal faintly luminous on the page.


He rose from his chair and brushed himself off. "Clean this up... and take the order to down Dungan's office for service". He walked to the back of the room, drew aside a curtain, and left through a concealed door. Kwan heard the faint click of the lock as the door closed in front of him.


Kwan seethed as he moved to clean up the room. His anger roiled and turned over in his stomach... but he straightened the room as he was bade all the same. On the desk, peeking out from behind the freshly signed report, seal still aglow, there was another document. He pulled the single sheet of paper out from behind the freshly signed packet. It was short.


There will be no more warnings.


There was no embellishment, no signature or special letterhead. He stared at the short note for a long time, trying to will the words to reveal their secrets to him.


There was a click from behind him as the lock was undone. Kwan jumped, and then quickly tucked the papers back under the stack. "What are you doing in my office?!" The Magistrate demanded. "Tidying up like you requested, eminence". "Well... get out I changed my mind". Kwan could smell the stink of liquor on his breath from across the room. "Yes, eminence". He bowed and touched hands to forehead, then made his exit.


It was too early in the day to go to sleep, so he did what he always did when he needed to forget about his situation. He headed down the cobbled streets in the growing heat of the day, and found himself at the entrance of the Ten Peaks Gentlemen's Club. Deep red paint standing tall in defiance against its blue sky backdrop, water cascading down from the upper levels into a pond just on the other side of its walls.


The door swung shut behind him as he entered the palatial tower, and a small shrewd-looking man smiled up at him. "Mr. Yi! Welcome, would you like to visit the baths first or shall I escort you to your usual parlor?"


"I'll be heading to the baths first, Tahm" he said with a sigh, It's been a long few nights and I want to loosen up before I blow off some steam. The valet swept out his arm with a bow, "Right this way, sir".


He'd already had two drinks by the time he left the baths, his edges were sanded and his humor much improved. He bounced up the stairs to the second floor, and an attendant escorted him to a private parlor where Shurang waited for him with a carafe of sweet peach wine.


"Where have you been, love?" he pouted. "It's been ages since we spent any time together".


"Holding the weight of the entire county on my back. I write, I tally, I execute... then I do it again."


"There, there sweet thing, your efforts will bear fruit soon". Shurang said with a smile, he opened himself and beckoned Kwan to him.


Kwan collapsed into the arms of his companion. He was so firm, his arms solid, yet soft. Shurang gently stroked his hair, and whispered sweet assurances in his ear. Kwan finally had someone who cared about his troubles for once. Someone who he could talk to who would actually side with him, and not with the Nurong Scholar-Official, honorable and wise, the building block of government guiding civilization out of barbarism.


Shurong picked the carafe back up, giving it a little swirl before he poured them each a cup. "I know that look Kwanee, forget all of that for now, you can relax here - forget all that ails you and just stay here with me".


"Yes...", Kwan smiled a little as he picked up his glass. "I think we'll celebrate!" took a swig of his wine, took Shurang's face in his hands, and pulled him forward into a kiss.


-----


His head was going to explode. He was laid out on a long devan, he thanked his fortunes that there was no sunlight in this room - only some candles burning on a stand. The wicks were very worn - how long had he slept? He had been throwing yooch and drinking with Shurang. The door clicked open and through the fog in his bleary eyes he saw two men in dark clothes enter. Their footsteps pinged off the inside of his skull like a musket ball striking a wall. They were followed by a figure clad all in red robes. He strode into the room, silently, as if on a cloud, and sat down in a plush chair across from him.


"You are in a lot of trouble, Yi Kwan. It appears that you haven't been paying your tab. In truth, it's quite the opposite - this is your fourth visit this month and you have exhausted your credit with us. We require that you pay your debts to us before we render any more services.


His splitting headache made it difficult to focus on the magnitude of what the man was saying. He put his hands over his eyes and tried to sit up. "Mmff... who are you, exactly? What's going on?"


"I am the proprietor of the fine establishment. Now, how will you be closing your balance with us?


"How much is it? I make payments every time I come in - it couldn't be as much as you claim."


"Indeed, you have paid off some of the interest, but you us - you drink my wine, fuck my whores, and gamble rather poorly." He unfurled a scroll and the Red Man read off a series of astronomical numbers.


Kwan thought the pounding in his skull would push his eyes out of his head. He bolted upright, ignoring the lurch in his head for the pit in his stomach. "What?! I can't pay that off in a year! This is outrageous - it can't possibly be true".


The red man signaled to his attendant. He took two steps towards Kwan, and then he was on the floor. His head swam and holes dotted his vision. The pain rushed in, his right ear pounded, then burned, then rang where the man hit him. Kwan grunted and shuddered against the pain crushing up against his aching head.


"It's true, my sweet thing. You're in big trouble... but I'm glad you had so much fun at the gambling tables last night". Kwan vaguely remembered the clattering of the long wooden dice, but that voice - Shurang? Kwan looked up, and there he was. Standing by the door, a flat, wistful smile lining his face.


The red man leaned forward, fingers coming to a point in front of his smug mouth. "I have a proposition for you. I have it on good authority that you have been digging into certain... shall we say financial discrepancies for His Eminence the County Magistrate. You will remove the records from the compound and bring them here, then all will be forgiven".


His dismay must have shown in his face, because the two gray figures stepped forward, large veiny hands curling into fists. "Stop!" Kwan squeaked. "I'll do it."


Kwan passed the next few days in a fog. He completed his own tasks with a circumspection that was not typical of him. His stomach turned over every time he thought about the hole he found himself in. He could see the hand offered to him, but it was the same hand that had pushed him into this pit. Even still, thinking about the fallout his eminence would endure when the basis of his prosecution, the work Kwan had assembled himself, fell away entirely.


Several evenings after the night of his blackmail at the House, he returned home to find Shurang sitting at his table drinking a glass of their favorite peach wine. He gave Kwan a sultry smile as he raised his glass. "Good evening Kwanni. I have some matters of business to discuss with you". Kwan's heart hurt. He had probably always known that the slim man was the club's creature, but now he simply couldn't refuse to think about it. He sat.


"Good, sweet thing." Shurang said in a sickly sweet voice. "Tomorrow you are going to fulfill your end of our little bargain. First, you will bring any accoutrements from your little office and give them to one of my associates. Then you will remove your report from his eminence's chambers." How could he expect him to walz into the Magistrate's office, rifle through his things, and take his report back as though it weren't signed, sealed, and stored for trial? Shurang's soft laugh rang pleasantly against Kwan's tired ears. "Oh my sweet thing, no need to look so perplexed. You're a clever boy aren't you? I'm sure you can figure out something sufficient. After all, you have no other choice". He raised up his glass and drained it dry


The next morning, an opportunity readily presented itself. An aide came into the room and told Kwan the Magistrate required his attendance immediately. A pit formed low in his stomach - did he know? Why would he need to see me immediately? Why now? But he pushed himself up all the same and shuffled to his audience chamber.


As he was admitted to the room, his entrance was greeted with the sound of shattering glass as another empty bottle crashed into the wall beside his head. "I TOLD YOU TO HAVE THE CASE ON MY DESK BY YESTERDAY AFTERNOON!" The fervor of his accusation was dampened by the slurred words and heavy eyelids. Kwan breathed in and collected himself. "You signed it last week, your eminence. Perhaps you filed it away within your desk?"


"Why would I put anything in here for the whole world to see?" he grumbled. "If you're lying I'll have your head, Kwan-tahb". The magistrate got up and stumbled to the door to his private quarters and disappeared into the back room. Now, he thought. The bound papers he needed were shoved haphazardly into the second drawer, like he threw them in and shut it without a thought as to what they were.


Kwan scooped the jumble of documents out of the drawer. Before he could move to exit, the magistrate's seal began to shine. The light grew in intensity. Then, it flowed from the page and up his arm. It burned him with a searing cold that grew up his arms like ivy up one of the courtyard trellises. Kwan tried to stifle his scream, but he couldn't stop the grunts and whimpers that escaped from his throat.


The magistrate burst back through the door. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING!" Kwan tried to make for the door, but the searing pain in his arm had him frozen in his spot. He tried to look down, and the bright blue pain that had been blinding him began to fade. His skin was scored with characters that marked him from the tips of his fingers up to his elbows. Thief. Burglar. Criminal. Not to be trusted. The accusations were branded onto him and marked him for what he was.


The Magistrate was sobered and straight now, and the aquamarine light shining from his pendant shone through his robes. He advanced on Kwan, fist meeting his face. "GUARDS! THIEF!" he yelled. Kwan scrambled to get up, but the magistrate kicked him in the ribs. His stomach heaved and he fell back over onto his side. "THIS IS TREACHERY! GUARDS! DAMN YOUR SOULS COME IN HERE NOW!" he bellowed.


Only one guard opened the door. He was calm when he closed it behind him and stepped lightly forward. The Magistrate was huffing, red in the face, and only a little bit less angry. "Where are the rest of you?! Arrest this man now! He attempted to steal official documents from my own desk!"


It was like Kwan's arms were made of molten lead. They burned and stung him relentlessly, gluing him to the floor by the weight of his agony. The guard swaggered towards him, then in shock, walked right past Kwan and plunged a dagger several times into the Magistrate's side as he pulled him close, muffling his agonized cries. The dying official shivered and moaned as blood spurted from his wounds, and then he became very still. The false-guard laid him silently down on the ground and wiped his bloody dagger on the Magistrate's robes.


Turning to Kwan he said in a voice that was sultry and mocking through his echoing helmet. "Not so clean as I prefer but it seems our little job is done, hmm Kwanni?" He pulled down the visor masking his face, and Shurang stared out with a sly grin. Kwan stayed pinned to the floor, the pains that assailed him just moments before wiped away by his shock.


Shurang looked away from Kwan and towards the door. "Kacha," he almost whispered, "it's done". Another false guard came in, locking the door behind him. Kwan could only see his eyes through the visor. He seemed pensive. His eyes wandered from the blood on the floor, to the Magistrate's face, to the luminous words that wrapped Kwan's arms up past his elbows. The two of them dragged the Magistrate back into the door, and when Kwan stayed there dumbly, Shurang took his hand and led him into the back room too. The blood that Shurang left on his hand was still warm.


Inside, the one called Kacha told Kwan to strip. When Kwan just stared without answering, Shurang's hand went to his knife and his eyes went steely. From there Kacha went to the closet and pulled out a fresh robe and handed it to Kwan as Shurang stepped back out to the antechamber to straighten up. Then Kacha plucked the Magistrate's pendant off and handed it to him too.


Kwan's hot heavy arms prevented him from dressing himself, so they pulled the fine robe roughly over his head and pinned the pendant over his heart. Kacha took Kwan's head firmly in his hands and bade him be still. He traced his fingers over the contours of Kwan's while he hummed. His fingers tickled as they dragged along his face, like they were molding clay or swirling through hot wax.


When Kacha took his hands back, Shurang looked Kwan over with a discerning eye. His lip curled up in a smile and he winked, "Not bad work, boy, and not a bad look for you either Kwanni". He pulled out a mirror and handed it to Kwan. The Magistrate's uncanny visage stared back at him from inside the looking glass - Kwan dropped it in shock and it shattered as it hit the floor.


Days turned to weeks. They started sending Kwan missives - things to omit from reports, where the tax collectors were to miss, and competitors to target in reports back to Chinseong. He had all of the position he had striven for, but none of the status it should have imported on him. Someone had replaced him in both personage and role - whoever it was, they surely reported back to Shurang or the Red Man. He found himself turning further and further to his cups. The only times he could find peace were when he was too far gone to think.