When the Runan messenger arrived he moved like someone who had practiced humility before the mirror. High collars, black fur, and a dozen petitely cruel courtesies—everything about him said that he had been raised to measure men and value them by weight. A few villagers watched him with the cautious politeness owed to strangers who smelled of coin.
He delivered the message posture-perfect: Lord Runan's offer of patronage, protection, and training in exchange for registering the Willow Child's progeny under Runan's seal once born.
Shi Yi's laughter was short and jagged. "Registering future children," he scoffed. "Do they put them in ledgers like payment slips?"
Huo Ling'er's fingers played idly with a flame that tasted of morning heat. "Some men think the world is a ledger," she said. "They count lives like beads. Heaven has a different math."
Liu Shen uncurled a branch slowly, eyes older than any village elder's memories. She did not speak quickly; when she did her voice carried the weight of seasons. "We do not bind blood to ledgers."
The messenger smiled as if to offer that same old courtesy, but it was brittle now, a thing meant to hide claws. "Lord Runan's intentions are honorable. He offers… stability."
Shi Hao's jaw tightened. He knew the type—men who offered "stability" with the undertone of "and in return you will owe me." "If he truly sought stability, he would come with seed, not handcuffs," he retorted. The messenger bowed, polite as ever, and left a sealed replica of Lord Runan's signet at the village edge like a sleeping viper.
That night, the village met in murmured clusters. The elder paced and rubbed his beard as if trying to smooth out a worry he had no name for. "An offer like that can be woven into protection if one knows how to hold threads," he said. "But what if the thread strangles?"
Granny Cheng's knuckles clicked on the staff as she replied, "Those who offer protection from a height will always look down at the little ones. A guardian who looks down will eventually command."
Liu Shen's leaves rippled with an old humor. "We do not deny aid to the weak, but we also do not sell our roots. If Runan believes we will bow for silver, he forgets that willow roots tangle and choke the hand that tries to pluck them."
Shi Yi spent the evening sharpening a blade in tiny increments, a physical outlet for his temper. Huo Ling'er insisted on staying out late by the forge, stamping out sparks like a small, defiant bonfire. Shi Hao walked the perimeter with Bai'e, listening for the night's noises the way a man listens for the first hints of rain.
Outside the village, beyond hearing and sight, Lord Runan's halls fluttered with the rumor. He stroked his jade artifact and smiled with the fine cruelty of a man used to hunting things that never learned to look up. "If they will not join willingly," he murmured to the map in his hands, "we shall make them aware of the consequences."
Back beneath the willow, the village's plan began as small as a seed: foster stronger alliances, demonstrate impenetrability, and give Runan no clean opening. But even small plans must be tended. They could not know yet who would water the roots and who might poison the soil.
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