ShazamrockChai Zan always stood on edge. His administrative duties in China's propagation of the ASEAN War led him to regular interaction with Noble Arms Masters. Even still, the Chinese government hadn't supported him with the authority necessary to command respect from those he approached. And so Zan developed a mild paranoia, a mental alarm that signaled whenever a threat was nearby.
On this particular day, Chai Zan passed gently towards his modest personal office, his briefcase in tow. As he entered one end of a main hallway, Zan froze in place, paralyzed by the blare ringing throughout his skull. A Party official if rubbed the wrong way might demand Chai's death, which would be scheduled in a couple days. At least then Chai would have the opportunity to plead for his life, flee the country, or all else failing say his goodbyes to his family. The man who stormed out the other end of the hallway was far worse: Noble Arms Master Ren Zhao. It was cause enough for alarm that this particular Noble Arms Master could end his life with a thought, for his own personal enjoyment. Beyond that, though, Master Ren seemed quite furious today.
Zan scanned for safe, inconspicuous exits and found none. If he could slip by, perhaps Master Ren would be too preoccupied to notice. He forced himself forward. For the first few moments, it appeared that Chai's plan was going to work. Then, at a couple meters' pace, Ren Zhao's gaze jolted to meet Zan's nervous stare. "You! Do you know who I am?"
Chai swallowed. "Y-yes, sir. You are Ren Zhao, Noble Arms Master."
Ren held his chin up and gazed down upon Chai. The foreboding glare was unnecessary but nonetheless effective. "And do you not think I am powerful, and wise?"
"Very powerful and wise, sir."
"Pah!" Ren announced. "If a commoner like you can see this, why can't the highest echelons of the Party?" he shook his head. "Tell me, why did Lingayen fail?"
Paltry supply, abysmal coordination, inadequate counters to defensive forces, and a broad overestimation of the enemy. Obviously. Still, his superiors would never know Chai's assessment. In this environment, honesty meant execution. "I don't know, sir. What is the reason?"
"Lack of sound leadership, poor decision making!" Zan knew the accusatory finger pointed squarely at him was meant for those with higher rank. "They can't see talent; they never could. Mark my words, when they face the fire of combat, China will come to regret the leadership they've chosen in the Zodiac."
Those were treasonous words. Dangerous words, indeed. Still more precarious would be to call Master Ren out on his impetuousness. And so, Ren neither agreed nor disagreed. He bowed a quiet "good morning" and briskly walked off to his office. He heard the master scoff and stomp off to more important matters. Zan had successfully survived an encounter with a Noble Arms Master.
He opened his door, stared at his desk, and promptly dropped his briefcase, jaw agape. His job, his duty, was to assess morale in the army, and to process complaints of various crimes against the state, specifically in the province of Fujian. These complaints came in the form of singular pages, summarizing the issue and providing contact information to discuss the matter directly. If Chai's authority allowed, he was to deal with the situation quietly. He was one of many, in fact, and the even distribution of duties culminated in two or three papers in his tray on any given morning.
The stack today was an inch thick.
"Insubordination!" exclaimed one. "I found misplaced rations on a ship bound for the South China Sea. I demanded that the nearby soldiers seize these supplies at once, and they refused me! I approached the Noble Arms Master on lease and ordered her to discipline the troops, and she gave me an unspeakable gesture. I demand retribution!"
"Desertion!" cried another. "A squadron of soldiers have abandoned their posts, taking their arms and ammunition with them! Two dozen Type 63s are no longer in our control! My colleague in Zhanjiang reports a similar desertion. Take care of this!"
"I posted daily orders on the wall outside my office. Some radical painted 'hao hao hao' over the papers! I am currently addressing the issue, but I need surveillance to catch the miscreant!"
"The soldiers of neighboring garrisons are using official naval communications to spread harmful anti-Chinese propaganda! It's greatly damaging morale!"
The complaints flowed together into a sludge of depressing news, gumming up Zan's mental faculties as to which one he ought to manage first, and how. He put his hands to his face to provide himself time to think in the dark.
Something clicked in his head, and he looked up. Supplies. Men. Ammunition. All in and around the South China Sea. Jammed comms in the area? That couldn't be just a coincidence. Zan parsed through more complaints, looking for a through line. He spent an hour fabricating his theory from the dozens of papers now strewn across his desk. He didn't have the specifics, but he had very, very clear evidence of potential revolt in the ranks. There must have been at least two Noble Arms Masters involved, maybe three, maybe more! Chai had never handled a threat of this magnitude before.
He picked up a phone and dialed a number. It was the highest authority he could contact. Surely his superior wouldn't turn down this valuable information; he would take care of the situation. Right? There must be something. Chai Zan stood up with anticipation, shaking his head, pacing back and forth as the wire on the telephone would allow. He couldn't afford this much anxiety.
"Yes?" demanded the operator.
"Urgent message; take me to the Senior Field Officer. I think there's a splinter group within the People's Liberation Army that's trying to-"
"First Lieutenant Chai?" That voice was not the operator. That voice was not the Senior Field Officer. It was... a calculating voice.
"W-who is this?" Chai stammered.
"Your conspiracy." The phone clicked off.
Chai Zan dropped his phone, speechless. Zan knew just what a Noble Arms Master could do to an ordinary man like himself. Whatever happened, he would be silenced. His report would reach no one. The rebellion will happen, and all China would find out that he knew. He would have had to have known, wouldn't he? And so the blame of this failure would be placed squarely on his shoulders. He would be executed, along with his family. Truly, there was no way to escape death. And so, Chai reached into his drawer and pulled out his service-issue pistol. He had never fired the weapon outside his training. He looked down the barrel, his hands shaking. He loaded it, then held it to his temple. These rebels will not have the pleasure of taking him, or of besmirching his honor. He took a deep breath, welling up what strength he had left, releasing it in one final great shout: "Gòngchǎndǎng wànsuì!"
Thus departed Major Chai Zan of the Central Investigation Department, perhaps one of the last faithful public servants the People's Republic of China would ever know.
On this particular day, Chai Zan passed gently towards his modest personal office, his briefcase in tow. As he entered one end of a main hallway, Zan froze in place, paralyzed by the blare ringing throughout his skull. A Party official if rubbed the wrong way might demand Chai's death, which would be scheduled in a couple days. At least then Chai would have the opportunity to plead for his life, flee the country, or all else failing say his goodbyes to his family. The man who stormed out the other end of the hallway was far worse: Noble Arms Master Ren Zhao. It was cause enough for alarm that this particular Noble Arms Master could end his life with a thought, for his own personal enjoyment. Beyond that, though, Master Ren seemed quite furious today.
Zan scanned for safe, inconspicuous exits and found none. If he could slip by, perhaps Master Ren would be too preoccupied to notice. He forced himself forward. For the first few moments, it appeared that Chai's plan was going to work. Then, at a couple meters' pace, Ren Zhao's gaze jolted to meet Zan's nervous stare. "You! Do you know who I am?"
Chai swallowed. "Y-yes, sir. You are Ren Zhao, Noble Arms Master."
Ren held his chin up and gazed down upon Chai. The foreboding glare was unnecessary but nonetheless effective. "And do you not think I am powerful, and wise?"
"Very powerful and wise, sir."
"Pah!" Ren announced. "If a commoner like you can see this, why can't the highest echelons of the Party?" he shook his head. "Tell me, why did Lingayen fail?"
Paltry supply, abysmal coordination, inadequate counters to defensive forces, and a broad overestimation of the enemy. Obviously. Still, his superiors would never know Chai's assessment. In this environment, honesty meant execution. "I don't know, sir. What is the reason?"
"Lack of sound leadership, poor decision making!" Zan knew the accusatory finger pointed squarely at him was meant for those with higher rank. "They can't see talent; they never could. Mark my words, when they face the fire of combat, China will come to regret the leadership they've chosen in the Zodiac."
Those were treasonous words. Dangerous words, indeed. Still more precarious would be to call Master Ren out on his impetuousness. And so, Ren neither agreed nor disagreed. He bowed a quiet "good morning" and briskly walked off to his office. He heard the master scoff and stomp off to more important matters. Zan had successfully survived an encounter with a Noble Arms Master.
He opened his door, stared at his desk, and promptly dropped his briefcase, jaw agape. His job, his duty, was to assess morale in the army, and to process complaints of various crimes against the state, specifically in the province of Fujian. These complaints came in the form of singular pages, summarizing the issue and providing contact information to discuss the matter directly. If Chai's authority allowed, he was to deal with the situation quietly. He was one of many, in fact, and the even distribution of duties culminated in two or three papers in his tray on any given morning.
The stack today was an inch thick.
"Insubordination!" exclaimed one. "I found misplaced rations on a ship bound for the South China Sea. I demanded that the nearby soldiers seize these supplies at once, and they refused me! I approached the Noble Arms Master on lease and ordered her to discipline the troops, and she gave me an unspeakable gesture. I demand retribution!"
"Desertion!" cried another. "A squadron of soldiers have abandoned their posts, taking their arms and ammunition with them! Two dozen Type 63s are no longer in our control! My colleague in Zhanjiang reports a similar desertion. Take care of this!"
"I posted daily orders on the wall outside my office. Some radical painted 'hao hao hao' over the papers! I am currently addressing the issue, but I need surveillance to catch the miscreant!"
"The soldiers of neighboring garrisons are using official naval communications to spread harmful anti-Chinese propaganda! It's greatly damaging morale!"
The complaints flowed together into a sludge of depressing news, gumming up Zan's mental faculties as to which one he ought to manage first, and how. He put his hands to his face to provide himself time to think in the dark.
Something clicked in his head, and he looked up. Supplies. Men. Ammunition. All in and around the South China Sea. Jammed comms in the area? That couldn't be just a coincidence. Zan parsed through more complaints, looking for a through line. He spent an hour fabricating his theory from the dozens of papers now strewn across his desk. He didn't have the specifics, but he had very, very clear evidence of potential revolt in the ranks. There must have been at least two Noble Arms Masters involved, maybe three, maybe more! Chai had never handled a threat of this magnitude before.
He picked up a phone and dialed a number. It was the highest authority he could contact. Surely his superior wouldn't turn down this valuable information; he would take care of the situation. Right? There must be something. Chai Zan stood up with anticipation, shaking his head, pacing back and forth as the wire on the telephone would allow. He couldn't afford this much anxiety.
"Yes?" demanded the operator.
"Urgent message; take me to the Senior Field Officer. I think there's a splinter group within the People's Liberation Army that's trying to-"
"First Lieutenant Chai?" That voice was not the operator. That voice was not the Senior Field Officer. It was... a calculating voice.
"W-who is this?" Chai stammered.
"Your conspiracy." The phone clicked off.
Chai Zan dropped his phone, speechless. Zan knew just what a Noble Arms Master could do to an ordinary man like himself. Whatever happened, he would be silenced. His report would reach no one. The rebellion will happen, and all China would find out that he knew. He would have had to have known, wouldn't he? And so the blame of this failure would be placed squarely on his shoulders. He would be executed, along with his family. Truly, there was no way to escape death. And so, Chai reached into his drawer and pulled out his service-issue pistol. He had never fired the weapon outside his training. He looked down the barrel, his hands shaking. He loaded it, then held it to his temple. These rebels will not have the pleasure of taking him, or of besmirching his honor. He took a deep breath, welling up what strength he had left, releasing it in one final great shout: "Gòngchǎndǎng wànsuì!"
Thus departed Major Chai Zan of the Central Investigation Department, perhaps one of the last faithful public servants the People's Republic of China would ever know.