openmisc | Pagan/Huaisang

A few years ago. He’d been young then, but he remembers that the Min Sect Leader had pulled away from the world. Isolated himself, put up walls.

“Because of the war?” he prods gently. “I didn’t think the Wen made it down this far.”

Or that Wen Rouhan would have the guts to challenge the Min.

"No."

He clears his throat, urging the horse on. He walks ahead of Huaisang, not looking at him.

"I had a family once. My wife, Ishwari. Our children, Lakshmana and Ajay."

He stares ahead, jaw set.

"I kept them secret from the world. Your father knew, but no one else. I would reveal them when I was good and ready. But someone found out. Crossed the border and killed Lakshmana, still in her swaddling clothes. He was chased out before he could get to my son, but we never found who did it."

Nie Huaisang is stunned. He knows so much about the dirty little secrets of the cultivation world, but this is the first he’s hearing of this. It was so secretive that Nie Mingjue hadn’t even known - and he’d been one of the Min’s strongest allies.

He looks at Pagan for a long while, shocked and angry on his behalf, but mostly just terribly sad. It all makes so much sense now though, the Min isolation from the cultivation world, the reputation of the Min Clan of being harsh and brutal.

He speaks after a while, measuring his words very carefully. “Do you have theories on who could have done such a thing?”

He nods. "It could have been any of the great clans. They had their reasons to set my kingdom back and knew they couldn't get to me any other way. I don't know who knew about my family."

And he hates that.

"There are those who would have looked down on my family. Outsider's to our world. Ishwari is - beautiful. Tall. Dark and beautiful skin with long hair she kept wrapped. Ajay is a strong boy, nearly thirteen now, I think. And Lakshmana was - "

He stops himself, knuckles white on the reins.

Any of the great clans - not the Lan, surely, with their focus on peace and genteel cultivation, or the Jiang, who at the time were either still run by the kind and generous Sect Leader Jiang or no one at all. Not the Nie, of course, they never would cross a close ally.

It left the Jin or the Wen.

He can read Pagan’s posture, the tightness in his face. He frowns. “How old was she?” he asks softly.

He wants to know what happened to his wife and son. They were still alive - are they not now? But one question at a time.

He lets out a breath. "We had been preparing for her second birthday," he tells him softly.

She wasn't even two. Whoever had crept into Min Pagan's family home had murdered a baby. He feels himself visibly recoil, disgusted and horrified. There had been atrocities committed during the war with the Wen, young disciples butchered, the dead raised, people tortured -- but murdering a child for whatever political purpose it had served is one of the worst things he'd ever heard.

"And your wife? Your son?" he asks softly, almost dreading the answer.

"Alive. Living safely across the borders where no one dares to go. She cannot stand to look at this place any longer. And a boy needs his mother."

It was the lie he told himself to let them go. Ishwari's grief could not be quieted. To deny her the home she had grown up in and the boy she loved would have killed her. And Pagan would not do that to her. He had said his goodbyes to them, tearful over his son, and let them go. The last thing he told Ishwari was that he would personally kill the one who had broken her.

Alive, but estranged from him. Suddenly a lot of things start to click into place about Min Pagan and his place in the cultivation world. Suddenly Nie Huaisang actually seems him, instead of just some facade he’s always known.

He looks at him with a quiet, thoughtful expression, then turns his head away to look at the gates of the Min Clan and those old familiar halls he used to know as a child. Things are different now, for him, for Min Pagan. What must it be like to have to make that sort of sacrifice for one’s family and one’s clan?

His brother would have understood. Did Pagan know just how sick he was in the end?

“Does this place haunt you as well?” he asks thoughtfully, without any innocence behind it. He’s wise and knowing, and upset for his clan’s closest ally.

And Pagan speaks to him in a manner befitting an ally. A friend. Someone in his closest confidence.

"No. I sealed off everything for her," he mutters. "Aside from her shrine, done in the way of Ishwari's people."

It would haunt him, he realizes. His Da-ge does haunt him.

“I’d like to see it some day.”

He realizes how it sounds, but he’s sincere. He wants to pay his respects to Min Pagan’s daughter - and he’s fascinated by this side of him, this unexpected story that’s emerged.

"I - think I would like that."

But that's all he can say because they've made it to the gates, to the way it opens up to the mansion near the mountain. The people are a mixture of ones who look like Pagan and Huaisang and those who are from the other side of the border, which isn't so much a border this far out but an invisible boundary that no one really notices. The Min's have been able to seamlessly integrate his people, his cultivators and his culture, with those of their neighbors. Pagan has been the most successful in this.

He dismounts, gesturing for Huaisang to do the same.

"Come, you're tired. Let me show you to your room."

Nie Huaisang’s glad that Min Pagan will grant him such a private thing. He’s even more glad to change the subject - it was a heavy topic, and Nie Huaisang needs a little time to think.

The realm of the Min is more bustling than he remembers, and a lot more diverse too. He takes it all in as they walk up to the Min family quarters, letting servants take his horse and returning the polite bows to the people he passes.

Shennongjia is a beautiful place, but Pagan has no eyes for it now. He does, as they approach the doors, point out a flock of colorful birds standing along the wall.

"They nest there when it's warm," he tells him with a smile, but continues walking into an open wing, doors covered in cloth to let the cool air circulate.

They’re very beautiful birds, but Pagan is right, Nie Huaisang is tired. He walks into the airy chambers, similar but very different in the way they feel since he was a child exploring these very rooms, head swiveling to look at all the art and carvings on the high walls.

It is far from the modest lands of the Lan. The White Cloud Fortress is decorated in reds and golds, the colors blending together in all the art and walls.

"Sleep well, A-Sang. If you need anything, Sunder is just outside the door."

The rooms that Min Pagan house his guest is are impressive, bright and rich but not obnoxious like the gold of the Jin. Nie Huaisang bows to his host and then shuts the doors, immediately sending a butterfly to his advisors asking about the whereabouts of certain Jin and Wen disciples during a certain period of time.

It’s a wide net to cast, but he’s determined to figure out who did this to his friend and closest ally.

Pagan doesn't sleep well that night. He spends his time at Lakshmana's shrine, bent in prayer as he fashions a new bell for her. It's well after midnight when he stands up, legs shaking, and retires to his room to fall asleep face down on the bed.

Nothing about that shows in the morning. He's up bright and early, whistling a little as he walks through his home, off to ensure that Huaisang is awake. He has a full day planned for them.

Nie Huaisang sleeps well, as far as his usual sleep schedule goes, and he wakes early in the morning to wash and dress and rebraids his hair. He leaves the room and nearly runs into Min Pagan himself, smiling in apology for almost knocking him over.

"Good morning, Sect Leader Min," he says with a coy bow at the wait.

"There you are!" he declares, returning the bow. "Come, I had quite the meal prepared for you this morning. Moong Dal Chilla," he declares, as if that might mean something to the younger man.

He knows the word ‘dal’ - lentils, if he remembers his time on the border when he was a child. But the rest is a mystery, and he’s eager to try whatever delicacy Pagan’s set out for him.

“You’re too good to your guest,” he says with a smile, taking his signature fan out from his sleeve.

"We aren't known for our hospitality, but that's because no one comes to visit," he laughs, as if he didn't just take him through an illusion of a rock in order to get here.

He leads him through the halls to a raised table with seats around it. Ishwari had insisted on the table, and Pagan had accommodated her, of course. He gestures to one of the cushioned chairs and the table, set with their breakfast.

The raised seats are strange, but Nie Huaisang doesn’t say anything about the custom. He takes his seat, feeling wobbly, and looks down at the yellow pancake with a smile.

“This looks delicious,” he tells him. And the tea! So fragrant! Nie Huaisang picks up his cup and inhales appreciately.

"Eat them as you wish. And the tea is spiced so - be careful," he warns with a laugh. It's warmed with cinnamon, after all.

"I can handle a little spice," he says, "I'm from Hebei, after all." He's no Jiang, but he can handle peppercorns and turmeric here and there!

He picks up his cup and sips carefully, warned by the smell of the spice. It's delightful and warm, and he smiles as he sets it back down.

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