Yuyan made no exclamation as she found herself suddenly enveloped in mist, obscuring everything around her.

The same could not be said of the ponies, who let out a cacophonous medley of curses, yelps, and grunts as they suddenly found themselves unable to see more distant than their forelegs could reach. Even the horned rabbit that had started meeping in alarm. But while Yuyan could understand their surprise – the fog seemed to come out of nowhere, descending as they’d passed through a particularly thick cluster of trees, obscuring the path Guang had taken – she couldn’t help but sigh inwardly.

Although the devil, Carnelia, had proven herself to be a grating travel companion, Yuyan felt confident that her fellow concubine wouldn’t undermine her in their upcoming encounter. For all that they were at odds, the redheaded woman had her own reasons for wanting this meeting to go well. If it didn’t, and things escalated to the point of their lord having to involve himself, Carnelia also stood to lose face.

She’s beautiful, intelligent, acerbic, and has her own agenda, mused Yuyan with a touch of bitterness. It’s like she’s Teumessia with crimson hair. But at least she won’t embarrass me-

“Damn it, Spinner, stop trying to fan the fog away! You’re just swirling it around more!”

“Ow! Valor, let go of my tail!”

“Do NOT stop biting Woodheart’s tail, Valor! Remember what happened last time we were in a fog bank with her?”

“Hff hrff hi hoo! Hi hdhnt hnd hr ho hthr hr hee hkd!”

“Meep meep!”

-but I doubt I can say the same about these mares.

Fortunately, Carnelia’s mental voice rang out a second later, the redhead further back in the fog bank.

I’d advise you all to be quiet and comport yourself in a more dignified manner. I’ve spotted at least three different scrying sensors trained on us, and I’m fairly certain that not all of those tall shapes surrounding us are trees.

That was enough to make the mares quiet down, peering into the fog suspiciously as they followed Yuyan in silence, Carnelia bringing up the rear.

Less than a minute later, they emerged from the fog bank, and Yuyan heard the mares all draw in sudden breaths at the tableau that appeared before them.

The representative of Yen-Wang-Yeh had brought a court worthy of their station.

Encircled within a ring of fog was a clearing, within which a large open-air octagonal pavilion had been erected. Two stories high, its construction was so fresh that the scent of lumber still hung in the air, the new coat of paint on the roof glistening slightly in the late light.

Yet it had already been consecrated, the top of it bearing the image of a large helmet wrapped with ribbons, the symbol of Yen-Wang-Yeh. Fulu – talismanic scriptures written on vertically on a small piece of paper – were posted on each of the pavilion’s eight sides, denoting the structure as being territory belonging to the Celestial Bureaucracy.

Further out – approximately halfway between the pavilion and the ring of mist – were paifang, freestanding archways, facing each of the cardinal directions, carved with symbols dedicated to the Four Auspicious Guardians, and Yuyan knew that if the paifang were anything like those of her childhood home, they were layered with defensive spells.

Nor was the place lacking in occupants.

Four tiger-headed men stood at attention at each of the paifang, a guandao – a large polearm – held at their side. A number of crimson moths, each one the size of a small dog and whose wings flashed with small crackles of bluish sparks, fluttered about the open area between them and the pavilion, where the stumps of trees had been cleared and the grass freshly cut. Several were congregating around the clusters of lotuses that had been freshly transplanted around the pavilion, and Yuyan could see that their stems had a humanoid configuration.

Several more figures occupied the pavilion itself.

Near the edge was a black-haired woman in an immaculate robe playing a sanxian – a three-stringed lute – and singing softly. Although her features were homely, the music itself was beautiful to hear, the strings of the sanxian played expertly by the delicate spider-legs emerging from her back to reach around and carefully pluck each note. Across from her was another woman, this one with white hair and frost on her poorly-fastened robes, smiling as she whispered something to a scowling Guang. And at the center of the pavilion...

Yuyan’s eyes narrowed as she caught sight of a four-tailed fox-woman that she didn’t recognize, giggling as she cut a lychee and served the pieces to a small, ugly little man reclining in a chair that was twice as large as he was.

His wrinkled skin was mauve, his narrow eyes were yellow, his black hair was stringy and greasy, his legs were too short and his arms were too long, all of which marked him as a wayang, a race with a reputation for being conniving and insincere.

Keeping her hands relaxed despite their behind hidden in the opposite sleeves of her robe, Yuyan strode forward, knowing that a wayang being the presiding officer of her clan’s supposed debt was a bad sign...and that he had a vixen with him was a worse one.

Striding toward the nearest paifang, she came to a stop as the chiao – for that was what the tiger-headed men were called – guarding it crossed their guandao in front of her, blocking the way.

“Who seeks to enter the pavilion of Lord Zhixiang Wubian,” bellowed the tiger-man in Tianyu, “third deputy minister to Jiang Shunfu, undersecretary to Chen Shimei, vice director of the Fourteenth Authority of Righteous Discipline, as appointed by His Exalted Magnificence Yen-Wang-Yeh!”

Yuyan resisted the urge to snort at the proclamation. Guang’s having gone back ahead of them meant that “Lord” Wubian – though a functionary of such minor stature was far from deserving of such a title – was undoubtedly aware of exactly who she was, as well as why she was here. This entire exchange was nothing more than him flaunting his status.

But Yuyan had plenty of experience with minor officials who wanted to make an impression, and she knew that the way to get what she wanted from them was to humor their arrogance, rather than mocking it.

“I am Pimao Biyu Hai Yuyan,” she replied, making sure her voice was loud enough to carry to the pavilion. “And I am here to discuss the matter of my clan’s debt with Lord Wubian.”

The chiao glanced behind her. “And with you?”

“These horses are my honor guard, and the woman is an associate of my clan.”

It was a non-answer, designed to offer an acceptable reply without saying anything of substance. By itself, that kind of guarded response wasn’t conducive to the productive meeting she was hoping for, but it was enough to make Wubian – who prior to now had been entirely focused on the four-tailed vixen feeding him – glance their way.

When he caught sight of Carnelia, he blinked once, pausing midway through chewing his slice of lychee as his eyes looked the brachina over from top to bottom.

Next to him, the vixen glanced their way as well, and Yuyan didn’t miss the momentary scowl that crossed her face as she caught sight of the beautiful redhead.

“Your retinue must remain here,” announced the chiao, unaware of what was going on behind him. “Only you may pass.”

“I must have my associate with me,” replied Yuyan. If Wubian was the sort of wayang to be distracted by a beautiful woman, that was an advantage that had to be exploited. “I have no objection to leaving my honor guard here, as I am certain that Lord Wubian’s protection is more than enough to guarantee my safety, but her presence is necessary to resolve this matter promptly.”

She let that sit for a moment, then frowned ever-so-slightly as she looked at the chiao, despite his being two heads taller than her. “Or is it your wish to waste Lord Wubian’s precious time?”

An uncertain look crossed the chiao’s face at that, glancing at his counterparts, who looked equally unsure of how to respond. Not that Yuyan expected anything less; the chiao were great warriors – each one was personally trained by Hujiang, a xianxia in service to Guan Yu, the Celestial Bureaucracy’s god of war – but they weren’t known for their intelligence.

And just as she’d hoped, their confusion was evident to Wubian, who looked up at the vixen and murmured something.

The four-tails managed to keep her expression steady this time, smile fixed firmly in place as she said something in reply, offering him more lychee.

But this time Wubian waved the fruit away, sitting up more as he spoke to the vixen again, who straightened up and bowed to him before turning toward Yuyan.

“My husband will permit you and your associate to approach,” she called out.

Outwardly, Yuyan’s response was to smile at Wubian and offer a deep bow of appreciation as the chaio uncrossed their blades.

Inwardly, however, she was reeling.

While all foxes were versed in the intricacies of their society through simple exposure, Yuyan had received an education worthy of the heir of a noble house. Despite her being encouraged to study her particular application of beauty – the unconventional choice of ki manipulation – she had still been expected to learn numerous other fields, all in preparation for the day when she’d become the wife of the next head of the Pimao Jingzhi. Eloquent speech had been one of those fields.

Which was why she recognized that same level of eloquence when the four-tailed vixen had spoken just now.

A kitsune would have had a slight accent, reflecting their having their own dialect of Tianyu.

A huli jing would have used a copular verb, rather than a stative one, in honor of the founder of their first noble house.

A yeu ho would have used the humble vernacular, rather than the respectful vernacular, because the few noble houses they had lacked the standing to study Tianyu intently enough to learn the difference.

Which meant that Wubian’s wife was a kumiho.

But that shouldn’t have been possible.

That the vixen was able to speak so well didn’t necessarily indicate that she was heir to a noble house. It was common for an heir’s younger sisters – assuming she had any – to also receive such training in case something happened to their elder sibling. Such vixens were often married off to high-ranking members of other houses, or even foreign dignitaries of eminent rank and position.

Wubian, however, was none of those things...

“The four of you need to stay here.”

Carnelia’s voice snapped Yuyan out of her daze, straightening up as she turned to the four mares, their mouths already open in protest.

“Please do not argue,” she murmured, switching back to their language. “Lord Wubian, the functionary I have come here to speak to, has granted Lady Carnelia and myself permission to approach him. The four of you and your horned rabbit, however, must remain on this side of the archways.”

A round of dubious looks was exchanged between the four then.

“That’s a really stupid idea,” offered Shadow Star bluntly. “If something happens, these tiger guys will be between us and you.”

“‘Don’t split the party’ is rule number one for adventurers,” agreed Valor Stronghoof. “I know we’ll still be able to see you from here, but we’re still outnumbered.”

“I think Valor’s more right than she knows,” added Woodheart. “I’m pretty sure I saw those lotus flowers moving, and I don’t mean in the breeze. Plus, those moths seem to be generating static when they flap their wings.”

“You know, maybe it would be better to head back and resolve the whole debt thing by mail,” offered Spinner Talltail. “I find that a lot of problems are a lot easier to deal with when you can claim that the message was delivered late, or the notice was smudged, or Littleknight ate it when we weren’t looking.”

Woodheart frowned. “Littleknight doesn’t eat paper.”

Spinner smirked. “Don’t mention that the next time we swing by the Unspoken’s temple back in Viljatown. I hit the gambling hall there a while back, and I still owe-”

“I appreciate your concern,” interrupted Yuyan, not wanting to keep Wubian waiting. “But as you came here for the purpose of assisting me in this matter, I require you to trust my judgment. Can you do that?”

Another round of looks was exchanged between the four, and this time she saw begrudging resignation on their features.

“Just make sure you’re right about this being nothing more than a conversation,” replied Shadow Star at last. “Because if a fight breaks out, I’m setting off these fireworks I brought along” – she patted the bag at her side – “and I’m betting someone will see them, guess that something’s gone wrong, and get Lex.”

Carnelia frowned. “I’d rather you hold off on that. If worse comes to worst, I have a plan.”

Spinner Talltail raised a brow at that. “A plan...to actually get us all out of here safely? I ask because – no offense – devils have a reputation for playing word games.”

A ghost of a smile crossed Carnelia’s lips at that. “Yes, a plan to get us all out of here safely. Now hang back and try not to make a fuss. With any luck, we can get this resolved and be back before moonrise.”

The four gave half-hearted murmurs of assent, stepping back from the paifang.

Giving Carnelia an appraising look, Yuyan gave her fellow concubine a brief telepathic thank you before turning and walking toward the pavilion, the devil falling in behind her.

Despite her poor relationship with the brachina, Yuyan found herself grateful for her presence.

Almost as grateful as she was worried about the presence of the vixen up ahead of her.

Someone of Wubian’s status should never have been able to marry a kumiho vixen, particularly not one with four tails. As a third deputy minister to an undersecretary to a vice director of one of the lower-ranking Authorities of Righteous Discipline – the name for where those who had died in disgrace, carrying some dishonor with them, or who had otherwise been found unworthy of passing onto a more reputable afterlife were sent for punishment and correction – someone of such little importance wasn’t fit to speak to a four-tailed kumiho vixen, much less marry one.

And yet somehow he had.

Nor, for that matter, did he warrant such impressive accommodations. The fact that he had sixteen chiao to guard this place alone was more than he was worth, to say nothing of the various adornments decorating the area, let alone the pavilion itself.

Which meant that Wubian either had some sort of impressive hold over someone with means...

Or he was a puppet.

It was with that disturbing thought in mind that Yuyan reached the edge of the pavilion, bowing and saying a prayer to Yen-Wang-Yeh before straightening up, waiting to be invited inside.

Author's Note

Yuyan comes face-to-face with the person overseeing her clan’s supposed debt, only to find that he has a fox-bride of his own!

Why does Wubian have a wife so far above his station? And what does that mean for Yuyan and the Pimao Jingzhi?