Jang Geon sat on a stump beside the tent, soaking in the hard noon sun.
Across the way, Sad Wolf was romping with the children. At first she’d only gone along because she had to, but now she was the one more excited, springing up and down. Bright light washed the kids as they chased between grass and river, and in that glitter there was both a pastoral calm and a raw, pulsing life.
It was the kind of scene that made you stare without thinking.
“She’s a bright one,” a voice said.
Red Wind had come up beside him. Jang Geon smiled faintly. Seeing the smile, Red Wind chuckled under his breath and went on.
“So—did the Elder tell you?”
“I heard. He wants me to teach you how to face martial world types…”
Jang Geon murmured it without taking his eyes off Sad Wolf and the children, replaying what he’d heard inside One-Eye Cloud’s tent.
“…One day a few Central Plains men came into this valley, led by a young tribesman we’d posted down in the lower village. Out of nowhere they told us to sell this land and promised a pile of Central Plains silver. But our tribe has lived in this valley and the nearby village for over a hundred years. We shift a little with the seasons, sure, but in the end this valley is our home. Why would we sell it? If we did, where would we go? And before that—can land be bought and sold just because we say so?”
The Central Plains man promised even more money. The young tribesman who’d brought them tried to talk the tribe around, saying there’d never be a better chance. Sell the valley and go live in the Central Plains city.
“We left that Swift Raven brat in the lower village too long. He soaked up something rotten and started mouthing off, and I wanted to beat some sense into him. Anyway, the Central Plains men left after hearing our no—quietly, or so we thought.”
The young man who led them out called his people backward idiots and left with the Central Plains men. Not long after, those men came back—now twenty-odd strong.
“…They told us they’d already paid and purchased this land and ordered us to get out. We said what the hell are you talking about, and they shoved a piece of paper at us…”
It was a deed stating that the young tribesman Swift Raven had sold the valley’s rights and taken five hundred silver coins. The same man who’d cursed his people had sold the whole tribe and run.
Jang Geon could see the shape of it. They’d exploited the fact that these natives didn’t think of land in terms of private title.
To them the land was held in common—belonging to all the people and to their ancestors—and at the same time not truly owned at all, only borrowed from nature. One day they would die and return it all, even what they had borrowed for a while; so the idea that someone “has” a patch of earth and someone else does not was hard to grasp.
The Central Plains men made a paper that named Swift Raven the land’s “owner” and transacted on the spot. From the tribe’s point of view it was absurd, but on paper the people here had to leave. The Central Plains men had, after all, paid the land’s “owner” and bought the rights.
Jang Geon asked which body had recognized that document—whose seal was on it.
“What was it called… some kind of guild.”
“The Trade Guild?”
“Ah! Right. The Trade Guild. A tribe that protects merchants’ rights and movement of goods, they said?”
They waved those papers, but there was no way the tribe would accept them. In the end the Central Plains men had to leave the way they’d come, all in a clump. The tribe numbered in the dozens and most adults were sturdy.
But One-Eye Cloud had seen the look in the head man’s eyes as he withdrew: naked greed and a will that wouldn’t quit. Leaving then was just to build a pretext. It wasn’t hard to foresee that when they came again, blood would follow.
One reason One-Eye Cloud hadn’t thrown Jang Geon out was the thought that, whatever his exact level, the man could at least teach them how to deal with martial artists.
Back from his thoughts, Jang Geon spoke without looking away from the playing children.
“Deals that crooked are forbidden by the Trade Guild and the Martial Alliance—and by the Empire, for that matter. Odds are the Central Plains man who drew up that paper is in on it with some local Guild members and they mean to cheat you. Send someone to the Martial Alliance branch.”
Red Wind, staring at the same scene, folded his arms and answered slowly.
“The nearest branch head isn’t especially good or bad. If he takes a bribe from that Central Plains man, he’ll still end up ruling for us. It’s his job. The problem is that bribe will buy him just enough time to drag his feet. And in that time our whole tribe can be slaughtered.”
Jang Geon turned his head and looked up at Red Wind.
“…You speak our tongue well and you seem to know Central Plains ways.”
“Before Swift Raven, I was the one posted in the lower village to watch the Central Plains folk. The kid—he read faces, quick and sharp, so I passed the job to him… and here we are. I’ll blame myself for not reading him right.”
His face twisted, bitter. If he’d lived hard among strangers for his tribe, then he was a man who loved his people deeply—and to be betrayed by one of them, that stung. Jang Geon looked back to Sad Wolf and the children.
“Use this as the chance to get proper papers in your own names. Even if you dodge this one, the same thing will keep happening.”
Hearing that, Red Wind looked at Jang Geon this time.
“…You’re not going to ask?”
“Ask what?”
“Why that Central Plains man wants this valley.”
“Well. Watching how he acts, it’s probably nothing grand.”
Red Wind hesitated, then said it.
“Word is there may be a gold vein somewhere in the valley. To hunt it, they need to rip everything up—so they want us gone.”
Jang Geon snorted.
“If it’s gold, that counts as something.”
“You gave us those silver coins. They say you need more than a dozen of them to get even one gold coin. Gold must be precious to you people, no? Then it’s more than ‘something.’”
Jang Geon didn’t answer at once. In his eyes, Sad Wolf and the children kept laughing. She must have felt his look; she met his eyes and opened into a bright grin. He met those golden eyes and gave her the faintest one back.
“Some gold is worth more than other gold. To me, anyway.”
At that, Red Wind looked where he looked. For a while they stood in the noon light and watched the children run. Red Wind felt he might understand what gold Jang meant.
“By tomorrow I’ll move my arm without much trouble. Then we’ll see what can be done.”
“…All right. I’ll tell the people. Thank you. We’ll repay you.”
Jang Geon only dipped his chin. From that small motion Red Wind still couldn’t read the man’s skill—but he could feel he meant to help.
They stood a while longer, letting the noon sun soak in as they watched the children.
****
The next day Jang Geon followed Red Wind to an open patch at the village edge and met the ten strongest warriors here. Red Wind was the oldest; the rest were all young, hard-bodied men and women. Sad Wolf was among them.
She caught his eye and gave him a shy hello. He answered with a glance and then swept the line of tribe warriors.
After a moment of taking them in, he asked Red Wind:
“Is this all who can fight?”
“As warriors, we’re all of us.”
“…Out here, the blades you can hire won’t be much. But there’ll still be more than a dozen of them easily.”
Red Wind nodded.
“If we’re only ten, some of us may have to take two or three apiece. We’re fine with that. Truly.”
While Jang Geon weighed that answer, the biggest man in the group blurted out:
“If that worries you, have a go with me first. Let’s taste that famous martial skill of yours.”
He rolled his shoulders and showed off elastic muscle as he stepped forward. Jang Geon looked at the crooked grin and gave a thin smile. Starting this way wasn’t bad.
“The taste might be hot.”
“Heh. When Sad Wolf dragged in that corpse you, I figured you were all swagger.”
The warriors had drifted and murmured even when Jang Geon and Red Wind walked in, but when Jang didn’t back off they quickly spread out and sat on the ground. In a breath a round fighting ring took shape. Even Red Wind sat among them—it looked like they’d meant to test Jang this way from the start.
Jang Geon smiled again, lightly. He drew the sword at his waist, scabbard and all, and leaned it against a tree at the edge of the clearing. He rolled his right shoulder once and faced his opponent. Best not to push the right arm.
“I’m Mountain-Climbing Bear. In our valley, only Red Wind is stronger than me. What’s your name, martial man?”
“Jang Geon.”
“Good. Jang Geon. Show me that vaunted skill.”
Mountain-Climbing Bear shrugged off the shirt he’d thrown on, sank his knees, and folded his body. The flash in his eyes and the hands floating up said he’d shoot in and clinch the moment he saw an opening. A style that made good use of his weight and strength.
Compared to that, Jang Geon only stood at a slant, left hand raised to chest height. Nothing special.
Maybe he thought he was being looked down on; Mountain-Climbing Bear snorted loud and charged like an angry bull. He lifted both arms quick to cover his head, protecting the vitals from any counter. The gap closed fast.
Jang Geon’s whip-crack spinning back kick grazed him like lightning.
The arms guarding his head meant nothing. Jang’s foot drew a supple line like a lash, slipping under the blocked forearms and smashing the jaw. Mountain-Climbing Bear went skidding and thought: Did he hang a chunk of iron on that foot?
He’d clearly gotten clipped by the toes, but his skull rang with a high, long beeep like he’d been hit with a hammer. Still, he hadn’t earned the name Bear for nothing. He tumbled, planted both hands, and surged upright.
And even with his head buzzing he charged again. Big move, so there had to be an opening.
Jang Geon received the mass smoothly, caught him at the belt, and flipped him back. Mountain-Climbing Bear’s hands, reaching to clamp Jang’s body, lost their marks because of the man’s faint, slippery sway. The Bear ended up rolling forward in the air and skidding out again.
Dusty now and red-faced, Mountain-Climbing Bear huffed. Jang Geon stood where he’d started, calm as at first. The Bear spat a metallic thread of saliva to the side.
Then, looking at Jang, he settled into a sprinter’s crouch and hammered both fists into the ground.
Jang felt a strange tingling crawl up through his soles in that instant. As if the ground itself were being dragged toward those fists.
“Mountain-Climbing Bear!”
Red Wind shouted—and the Bear shot in three times faster than before, ramming for Jang’s midsection.
Jang reacted on reflex, driving his knee up under the man’s solar plexus with inner energy behind it.
A drum-burst sound thoomed; a faint ring of dust rippled out from the impact point. The clearing went quiet.
“…Jang Geon?”
Red Wind, startled, called his name—and Mountain-Climbing Bear, knocked senseless, flopped to the dirt. Jang Geon brushed his clothes and looked at him.
“Interesting skill. Mind explaining it?”
“…The Bear?”
“See for yourself. Looked like that force cushioned him.”
Red Wind hurried over and checked him. Just as Jang said—out cold, nothing worse. Red Wind straightened, awe on his face, and looked up at Jang.
“You’ve got some hands on you.”
Jang Geon only grinned.