@yrsillar Here is a new omake for the omake throne.
All this updates about rats and expression have inspired, and so I present to you all

A Rat's Longing​

A cheerful melody resounded from the side of the street. An upbeat tone that drew the attention of the passerby, who turned their heads and congregated around its source. There, a rather nondescript young man was playing a guzheng. Donning a plain and somewhat frayed grey robe, his fingers danced along the strings with grace and confidence.

The musician was certainly skilled on his own merits; there was no doubt of that. But if one paid attention, and had the right senses, they could notice the faint traces of Qi riding along the notes. Nothing as strong or sophisticated as to be called a technique, just enough to grab that little bit more of interest from the mortal folk.

Mei Bilu, for that was the boy's name, was a wandering musician, living off the spare coin his audience deigned to throw his way after his performance. Which, considering the ability he was born with, amounted to a decent sum. Well, he may refer to it as an "ability", but it wasn't anything so grand.

It was just something he got from his mother. A trick to turn their songs into something more, to make them resonate with whoever listened to them. His mother brazenly used her gift, as well as her other assets, to gain the favour of the rich and powerful, at least by mortal standards. But she grew conceited. Greedy. She got it into her head that she could grasp more. Deserved more. Nothing was ever enough.

So, she decided to aim for a cultivator next. The young master of a baronial house she had deemed as an easy target. As it turns out, that kind of external influence is one of the first things nobles protect themselves against. And they don't take it kindly to "low-born harlots" trying their luck with their sons.

His mother was swiftly apprehended and imprisoned. Suddenly, all the support she had amassed disappeared like a morning haze under the sun. All doors he knocked on remained closed, all the backs he called to remained unturned. Suddenly, Meili Bilu was alone in the world, with only his guzheng to his name.

He learned his lesson well. When it truly matters, one can only trust in themselves. Reaching above one's station, yearning for that which isn't meant to you, could only lead to ruination. It's best to be satisfied with what is in front of you, relaying only in what you could get with your own two hands. So, he decided to earn an honest living, plying his trade while traveling from one town to the next.

Well, a mostly honest living, in any case. Bilu thought to himself with a wry smile, as he stepped into a side alley after finishing his piece and his companion rushed out of the shadows of an abandoned crate. He knelt down and placed his hand on the ground to allow his little friend to more easily climb to his shoulder.

What greeted him was a rat. At first glance, they didn't appear that much different from a common rat you could find in any corner of any city. Matted grey fur, large pointy ears with a chunk bitten off from the right one, black eyes swirling around, constantly scanning their surroundings. But maybe the most eye-catching feature was the loaded coinpouch they held in their mouth.

"Great job as always, Jie". He praised, stroking the top of the rat's head with a finger and taking the pouch with his other hand. He relished in the comfortable weight settled in his hand, not a bad haul at all. This should be enough to last until they arrive to next town over, maybe even to purchase a spot on a merchant caravan. Always safer to travel with one of those.

He had no intention of forcefully extorting the coins out of his audience with his ability. Everything he received was given willingly. But if his dear friend took it upon himself to contribute and snatched one or two coinpouches while everyone was distracted with his performance, well, he wasn't as boorish as to refuse.

Meeting Jie was the only truly good thing that had happened to him during his journey. Their encounter was not something extraordinary, not really. Not the kind of story songs were written about. Bilu found him one night no different from any other, while he was looking for a good spot to sleep on in a back alleyway. There he found a bizarre sight. A rat, breathing laboriously on a puddle of their own blood, surrounded by the corpses of their kin. Farther out, even more rats hissed and snapped, but not daring to come closer.

Jie was born different from the other rats. Stronger, smarter, kinder. They should have been a leader that protected and provided his nest. They certainly tried to. Braving the markets to brings bigger pieces of food and sharing it with the others. Scaring off the cats and birds that encroached upon their burrow. Jie wanted their family to be safe and prosper, to lead them to something better.

But that's not how the world works. Not for humans. Certainly not for rats. The other members of his nest couldn't understand the concepts of gratitude or loyalty, nor could they comprehend what Jie was trying to do for them. They only saw a rat that had grown bigger and fatter than them, and that had left their back unguarded. The only reason Jie survived was that no rat wanted to take the risk of delivering the coup of grace, preferring instead to wait until they bled out to feast on their corpse.

The rats dispersed as soon as Bilu appeared. At first, he just intended to leave as well, but then his eyes met Jie's. He saw they pain of betrayal, and the resignation to his fate. Against his better judgement, he scooped the little thing off the ground and took them away before treating the surprisingly docile rodent with what meagre supplies he carried on himself.

Since then, Jie had been a faithful and earnest companion. A much-appreciated company in an otherwise lonely journey through the Emerald Seas. They learned quickly to follow commands, how to hide inside his clothes and all the tricks to snatch a few loose coins unnoticed. At this point, Jie was easily more skilful than himself.

"Well, Jie. I think it's time for us to move on. I don't want to stay longer than necessary and start attracting attention" Bilu said aloud as he made his way towards the other end of the alleyway.

"Oh, truly? What a shame, I had wanted to listen to a couple more of your songs" a feminine voice sounded from behind him.

Bilu spun around with a start, alert and ready to bolt at a moment's notice. Not even a couple a meters away there was a woman standing with her left cheek resting on her palm, a pouty expression on her face. She was quite tall and with a darker complexion than most of the people he saw so up north. Half of her hair was the darkest black while the other was the purest white; the same happened with her eyes, though the colours were inverted. Her attire was both monochromatic and colourful at the same time, an eclectic combination of several shades of white, black, grey and silver arranged in a dizzying pattern that hurt trying to make sense of.

"Who are you?" he asked cautiously. The woman was clearly a cultivator. He had to be careful not to offend her, but he didn't want to involve himself with her anymore of the necessary either.

"Just a traveling musician, just like yourself" she responded with a white crescent smile that almost shone with its own light in the shadows of the alleyway. Bilu didn't buy it even for a moment. He could hear her talk, see her right in front of him, but some part of him kept telling him that there wasn't anyone there. It gave him the creeps.

"And may I inquire what my esteemed colleague wants to ask of me?" he asked he surreptitiously attempted to slid his feet towards the opposite exit. A smirk and a quick glance down from the woman put an end to that.

"I was simply passing by, returning home after a gig, when I noticed a curious tune drifting in the wind. In a fit of fancy, I decided to take a look, and that's when I saw you playing by the street. I was in a pretty good mood and was feeling generous; I felt it would be quite a shame for such a talent to waste away on the streets, so, I decided to make you my apprentice".

Bilu slowly blinked, uncomprehending. What the hell was she talking about? No way he was going anywhere with this strange woman. He had too much common sense for that. So he tried to make an excuse that wouldn't anger the eccentric cultivator.

"Uhm, thank you, er… Senior. But I'm not really interested in improving my music further. It's fine for it to be just good enough to squeeze a living out of and..."

"No point lying to me child" the woman suddenly turned stern. "Do you think I'm deaf? That I can't hear the longing in the background of your songs? The elation when the listeners applaud you? That you are satisfied with how things stand?"

Bilu recoiled as if struck. Those simple words pierced him as a dagger. He tried to deny them, but he could not, for they were true. His response came out as a stutter.

"That's… I-I don't… And even if I wanted to, I can't…" his powerless muttering was interrupted.

"Well, words weren't ever the most efficacious with our kind, were they?" the mysterious woman asked lightly.

A pan flute appeared in her hand and she put it in front of her mouth. Bilu braced himself for whatever was coming, and the woman softly blew. Suddenly, Bilu was no longer in a dark, damp and dirty alleyway.

He was in the sky. Flying freely, feeling the wind gently caress his face and keeping him airborne. The joy of freedom. Of traveling and exploring. Of visiting new places, meeting new people, making new friends. Drinking together, laughing together, singing together, going on adventures together. The bitter yet joyful tears at the farewell, promising to meet again. The eager journey back to home, full of stories and memories. The warm embrace of family, welcoming him back. Stories shared over food and drink. A flame crackling on the hearth. The feeling of belonging.

Bilu felt a warm drop fall into his hand. He blinked, and he was back on the alleyway. He absently brought his hand to his cheek. He was crying, he noticed distantly. Jie was nuzzling against him, worried. Bilu's eyes slowly refocused and he glanced up at the colourless woman in front of him. She had lowered her pan flute, and was watching over him with kindness in her gaze.

"Who are you?" Bilu asked again, barely a whisper.

"My name is Ling Wusè, but you can address me as Mistress".

"I am not concerned. You will convey the truth of the Sundering Vale to your compatriots," Dzintara said plainly.

"I will," Ling Qi said. Her mind was already racing for the words she would use.

"It's a sublime ancestor. Don't poke it," Sixiang murmured, falling silent for a moment as Ling Qi pushed the memory of her recent conversation to them. "Seems like Pappy Sun came to that conclusion himself, maybe?"

She gave a small nod. That was probably the core of it. She was glad that Dzintara was not showing any real anger or concern. But, if she thought of it from that frame. No one would take seriously a threat to their Sublime Ancestor.

…Well there was the business of the Purifying Sun. But barring the apocalyptic, that confidence was probably not wrong.

"...And the beasts which emerge from… her. These two headed, flying things. Are they… sacred?" Ling Qi asked, knowing that some had already been hunted by the Sun.

"The Zmeya? Those with only two heads are nothing, merely the Axemother's perpetual wrath made manifest. They exist only to gnaw the demon for a time and then cease, denying her cycle," Dzintara said. "Even we are not fully safe from them though they will not approach a proper settlement."

That was good, although…

"Kinda implies there are those with more heads," Sixiang commented. "So those ones are sacred?"

"A Zmeya with more than two heads is not a mere beast. They are… one path, a middling stage, to 'ascension', in Fryja's Way," Dzintara said carefully. "They will avoid humans who do not speak with her Voice unless pursued to their lair. Unless your conquerors do something very foolish, it should not be at issue."

"Indeed, I believe your current mantle may be advanced on that path, should you choose to make that sacrifice," Jaromila said. "Though perhaps a warning not to pursue such sightings may be in order?"

"Of course," Ling Qi said. She almost bowed again, but stopped herself. It was difficult to break habits like that, even if she knew bowing too often came across as servile to the foreigners.

"Now, answer my question. What sort of-" Dzintara visibly paused, and Ling Qi sensed that the next word to come from her lips would have been an insult to the Western Territories sanity. "...People, would live within the demon, if not her own worshippers. That creature is not dead. Do not deceive me. We would have felt such a thing."

"As far as I can discern, the Red Jungle's mind is still alive, yes," Ling Qi said. "As for the Sun…"

She was glad to have Sixiang back, to help her articulate what she had learned of the Western Territories. To paint the picture of them as devoted warriors and not servants of the Jungle.

By the end, Dzintara had not stopped frowning, and had crossed her arms over her chest, but Ling Qi was beginning to get a read on the cranky woman. She didn't much like what Ling Qi was saying, but she wasn't angry or suspicious either. It seemed that their debate had allowed the other woman to accept the sincerity with which she spoke.

"It seems a doomed project to me. You cannot kill the demon in the way they describe. Anything taken from her is tainted, that is why the lesser Zmeya do not return to Fryja, but simply become rock and ice and dust when their time expires. They eat without hunger, live without growth, and die without giving nourishment. They are cold manifest. This is the path to defying the Flower Demon."

Ling Qi frowned a little. Hadn't Ji Rong said something about a skull? Was that hunter going to be disappointed when his prize crumbled, or was something odd going on?

"You wanna ask?"

She wasn't sure she did want too, what would they do if the latter was true?

"Is that what cold and winter is to you? It seems to me that winter should be renewing. It withers and kills and freezes to make room for something new come spring."

"That is true enough of winter. I speak only of cold. Cold is the shearing biting blade, stillness and endings," Dzintara said.

"It is at that, but I feel it is more transitory than that, even the frozen mountaintops will wear down and crumble in time, gaining warmth. I do not feel Cold can truly be final like you describe."

"Then you have never been to the depths of the south where the ocean freezes, that have never known a day of spring, let alone summer, where one could dig down a league and find only more ice. Where the Sun does not see and the moon does not go," Dzintara said. "That is what Fryja brought with her, those are the axes she wielded, in severing the pass."

Ling Qi thought of Grydja, and the cold that had chilled even her. The Deeper darkness she had glimpsed there, the total cessation of all things. "I suppose I do not associate that with cold completely, but rather Ending alone."
"As you like. Your mantles are not mine," Dzintara said.

"Yes," Jaromila agreed, speaking up after her silence. "But we are wandering a little, ladies."

"It's true. I am sorry for getting sidetracked on personal cultivation. Though your perspective is useful for learning about your home?"

Dzintara pursed her lips. "The Twisted pines is not as martial as our conversation might seem. This is a battle mantle, and my perspectives in it are some steps from what is common."

"I see then, the Twisted Pines seemed like it should be a fierce place, from its descriptions," Ling Qi said.

"It is. No land in the Polar Nations is kind, and the stalking shadows of the Twisted Pine are more active than the dangerous of the other regions," Dzintara said. "We are foresters and hunters, but also farmers. We produce the things that cannot be wrested from frozen tundra or boiling bog."

"The Emerald Seas is also a place of dense forests and hills," Ling Qi said. "Though it is warmer. The beasts of the deep forest object to being disturbed but we have carved our towns and cities out, cut the roads between them. It is constant work to keep them clear."

Dzintara studied her, and then gave a short nod. "This is familiar to me. You should know that we are not merely opposed to outsiders. In the far west, our lands connect with the southernmost thrones of the lands of Khusan. We trade and fight as the Princes there play their game of thrones. This is one reason I am wary of you. It is my experience that foreigners ruled by waking gods are fickle and quick to break agreements."

"I cannot speak for other foreigners far away, but I think on the scale of mortal matters and low cultivators, my land is not one to swiftly break an agreement once made. Indeed that is one reason our conflict with the Cloud Tribes is so long lasting. Agreements with them are seen as worthless, broken with the turning of a year or season."

"There are few Cloud Men near us, due to Fryja's wrath, though it is known that there are kin to their kind who went west, and wrested a throne or two in Khusan. These are known to us and no worse than the other foreigners."

"I see," Ling Qi said, looking to Jaromila.

"I do wish my husband were here to speak on this, but it is my understanding that Tribes do keep to agreements well, but lacking settlement which tribe is where, which tribe occupies a stretch of mountain graze, changes swiftly and without warning, and it is not in their culture to give new neighbors warning. The tribes driven out, because they have been driven out, the winners because they expect their neighbors to follow these movements and approach if they wish to make pacts," Jaromila said.

And it was not in the Imperial mindset to expect rapid changes to land occupation.

Well that might be the root of it, but in truth the countless millenia of grudges that laid upon the tribes and the foothills alike probably mattered more.

"I trust the expertise of my comrades in the center and the east on their plans for settlement and integration. The Twisted Pines do not lack for people. Even with the demons influence gone, my people are hearty and passionate, with no lack of food and abundance," Dzintara said with a shrug.

"You gave the impression that you saw those as evil things."

"They are when taken to the point of a mindless cycle. The Flower Demon is so vile and difficult to slay because its power rests in the fundamentals of living a human life," Dzintara said. "This is why fighting her must be a sacrifice of utmost discipline, to become a thing of killing, unchanging cold even while you yet breath. To be willing to protect your kin while severing yourself from them forever."

"There is a reason why your land produces almost as many Crows as it does mighty weapons," Jaromila said sadly.

Dzintara's lips thinned and she gave a short, sharp nod.

Ling Qi found that thought both alien and deeply unpleasant, like Elder Ying's melancholic way but many times more severe. She closed her eyes for a moment, tried to imagine a mindset where she could scoop out her own heart and become nothing more than a weapon.

"Do you really want to imagine something like that?" Sixiang murmured.

She could just barely put herself in such a mind. The brief flash of cold rage that had washed over her when she had heard one of the ith's disgusting beasts had dug into her mother's basement during their first assault.

Yes, take that moment and stretch it, make it unending, and she might be able to break herself into that mold. But it would be a breaking. She could feel an ache, a twisting to even consider it.

She put the thought aside. "I see, and what concerns do you have Dzintara, what interests do the Twisted Pine have?"

"You know the material concerns. I am not going to pretend they do not exist," her opposite said.

"Kind of ya," Sixiang said, leaning over her shoulder. It was funny, Sixiang had made themselves absolutely spindly to be able to loom over her shoulder like that. "Well if things work out, its not like too much will be moving over the mountains for awhile."

"Yes, I will want to see our interests represented here regardless. Toll agreements reached before any roads are considered," Dzintara said bluntly. "But also established limits on settlements in the western wall. There are few Cloud Tribes there but many sacred places. I will not negotiate away our peoples 'cultivation'."

"I understand," Ling Qi said. As she had guessed, the west really was going to be a sticking point, due to her limited power. "I think that establishing trust here and a resolution system would be the best for ensuring any such deals have teeth. If my people become convinced that yours are good partners that opens more roads for us."

That was going to be the core of the summit. All the trade and cultural ties and exchanges of knowledge were secondary. Establishing this place as something more permanent and getting both sides to support whatever dispute resolution system was made here… that was going to be the crux of whether this lasted beyond a ceasefire.

Still they needed time, and some kind of buy in to keep the Western Territories at low hostility too. The situation with their Sublime and its… fragments seemed like the biggest flashpoint. If the Sun were constantly under attack by beings they now knew to come from the Twisted Pine and not the jungle, tempers would fray.

However their very nature made her certain the Twisted pine would be reluctant to offer much on them, so she would have to choose carefully what she tried to fish for. Warding rites against them would be good, since Dzintara had said they could be dangers even to the Pines, and something that could not be abused, but she didn't know if it would be insulting to ask such a thing.

The other option was simply pursing information on the beasts and allowing the Sun to develop countermeasures based on them, but that could certainly be more abusable, and was just as likely to be insulting. She could just leave the matter lie though. The Pines did not seem to mind a few of the creatures being killed and the Sun were not antagonistic over it yet.

Perhaps she was overthinking things, and should simply leave this matter for the primary negotiating table.

[ ] Rites or rituals which could be used to keep the mindless Zmeya away from work sites.
[ ] Information on the ranges and habits of the mindless Zmeya which the Sun could use to avoid their ire.
[ ] Let it go for now, exchanges can be negotiated at the map table.