Chapter 60: Envoy Jing Ke

Jing Ke had just completed a circuit of the royal city when Lin Shu’s carriage finally pulled away. The store of stone and iron in the carriage had been exhausted once more, and even the coal supply was running low. After bidding farewell to Jing Ke, Lin Shu set out again for the peninsula to mine for resources.

…

Liaodong’s main city.

Led by a junior commander, the four great beauties of the Inner Cabinet received Jing Ke immediately upon his arrival.

“So it’s you, Jing Ke! You truly came!” Yanfei exclaimed in astonishment. She hadn’t expected that the visitor from the royal city would be this young hero.

Delighted to see familiar faces, Jing Ke grinned. “Aunt Feiyan—no—my respects to the Queen and the consorts—no, my apologies, my respects to the ministers of the Inner Cabinet!”

He nearly stumbled over the titles, for Jing Ni was both Queen, tribal chief, and Grand Chancellor; then there was the High Priestess, the Saintess, and Minister Feiyan.

Yanfei chuckled softly.

In the center of the Inner Cabinet’s hall stood a large round table, and the four women sat together working, with two rows of seats nearby for their subordinates.

After quickly skimming her husband’s printed document, Jing Ni passed it to the Moon Goddess beside her.

“Sir Jing Ke, your word is your bond. You have my admiration,” Jing Ni said, rising to offer a martial salute.

“You honor me, Your Highness! The King is benevolent and righteous—how could I, Jing Ke, ever forget his kindness?” Jing Ke immediately returned the gesture.

Jing Ni smiled and nodded, inviting him to sit.

The Moon Goddess and the others, swift readers all, finished the King of the North’s letter of appointment in moments.

“This is the first time I am appointing an ambassador to Yan,” Jing Ni said. “Jing Ke, in your opinion, what kind of support do you require from the Empire? Manpower, resources? But I must warn you, we cannot spare any scholars at present.”

Having already resolved to serve the Empire for several years, Jing Ke pondered a moment. “Your Majesty, the embassy does not require a large staff or many resources. Two openly and one covertly assigned teams for communications will suffice.”

Jing Ni nodded with a gentle smile—Jing Ke was indeed perceptive.

“Very well, we shall proceed accordingly. The Empire is newly founded, so everything will depend on your ability, Ambassador Jing. That includes recruiting assistants. Yet there’s no need to exhaust yourself; the primary role of the embassy is to facilitate communication between our nations and to announce the Empire’s policies to the world.”

Warmth filled Jing Ke’s heart. “As you command.”

He had heard that Queen Jing Ni had once been a cold and ruthless assassin. Yet now, she felt like a caring elder sister.

“Ambassador Jing, you must be weary from your journey. Rest well before you depart again. The necessary documents and your staff will be arranged immediately.”

When Jing Ke rose, a female secretary came to escort him out.

With his departure, the quiet Inner Cabinet burst into life again.

“Our husband is certainly imaginative! This ‘Ambassador to Yan’—there’s never been such a thing in all the land!” The Moon Goddess shook her head with a smile.

Jing Ni laughed. “Before long, the King of Yan will have another headache.”

The women nodded and laughed softly.

“Not only is the embassy appointed by Yan, but now Ambassador Jing Ke will be stationed day and night in Ji City. Should anything happen in Yan, our Empire will know at once,” Yanfei said, admiring both Jing Ke’s character and the King’s arrangements.

The Little Priestess frowned slightly. “This Ambassador Jing Ke still reeks of wine. I hope he doesn’t cause trouble.”

At the mention of wine, Jing Ni’s brows knit as well. “That’s the King’s own vintage—he must be living rather freely these days.”

The Moon Goddess’s expression tightened. “Hmph! He’s been drinking recklessly again!”

“Elder sister, tomorrow I’ll go supervise the King myself. It’s been some time since I’ve seen little Yan’er and I miss her dearly.”

A pang of longing struck Jing Ni’s heart. She, too, longed to go, but the Inner Cabinet could not do without her.

“Very well, let it be. Still, it’s safer for little Yan’er to remain in the carriage,” Jing Ni said, though she missed her daughter, knowing the child was safest with Shadow in attendance.

One woman sighed, another smiled to herself.

Oh, these foolish women! Yanfei glanced over and noticed that even the usually reserved Lesser Priestess seemed preoccupied.

Why did she, too, suddenly want to visit little Yan’er? Perhaps this was what the Moon Goddess had called affection born of time together.

Yanfei’s heart grew restless—she feared becoming as lovesick as the Moon Goddess.

Rumors had been circulating, and the Little Priestess was curious about the new capital, and whether the King remembered to set aside a room for her.

Each woman lost in her own thoughts, the Inner Cabinet fell silent once more.

…

Many merchants had already departed Liaodong, and with no good wine left in the city, Jing Ke set out for Yan the next day.

His party included two carriages and forty riders. Besides three teams of messengers skilled in martial arts, Jing Ni had also assigned ten nearly two-meter-tall snowland bodyguards to him.

A single snowland warrior was no match for even a mediocre martial artist, but to defeat their thick-skinned, muscular bulk would cost any fighter dearly.

These ten snowland brutes were not only the Empire’s calling card, but also highly effective shields.

As the group neared Liaohai Pass, General Qing Qin was already watching from the city gate tower.

“It really is that lad, General,” Iron Hammer said with a sigh. One more friend lost, another enemy gained.

Jing Ke alighted from the carriage, and General Qing Qin immediately ordered the gates opened. The Liaoxi garrison had already sent word ahead; he had no reason to delay.

“Iron Hammer, make sure they leave. There’s no room for them inside the pass.”

“Yes, sir.” Iron Hammer understood—the General wanted them gone. He himself also harbored a deep resentment for snowland warriors, nomads, and northern traitors alike.

Jing Ke had no intention of lingering. The party pressed on.

A day after the imperial envoys left Liaohai Pass, the troubled King of Yan summoned his senior ministers for consultation.

“Your Majesty, who is this Jing Ke? He seems so young!” an elder minister said with a frown.

The King of Yan was displeased—after all, this ambassador would soon be stationed permanently in Ji City.

“The King of the North sends a mere youth as envoy! It seems they have no capable men at all.”

The King of Yan’s eyes glinted, and he laughed. “Ha! Ju Xin, you see things clearly.”

General Ju Wu frowned, for the name Jing Ke sounded familiar. Lord Yan Chun was secretly pleased—another offense to pin on Yan Dan.

“Your Majesty, though Jing Ke is young, his martial prowess is formidable. He is the disciple of the great general of Wei. In Liaodong, Yan Dan himself honored him as a distinguished guest. He must not be underestimated!”

So that’s who he was! Ju Wu recalled—Yan Dan had written to say he had found several promising talents.

What! Yan Dan again! That scoundrel—how much trouble has he brought to Yan? The King of Yan cursed inwardly.

“Your Majesty, Zhao is willing to form an alliance; their envoy will arrive soon. Shall we recall the crown prince?” a minister suggested.

The King’s expression changed, and Ju Wu hastened to remind him of Yan Dan’s achievements.

“This…” The King hesitated, still resentful.

Ju Xin, at odds with Yan Dan, had no desire to ease his rival’s way.

“Your Majesty, the Yan-Zhao alliance isn’t settled yet. If Prince Dan leaves Zhao now, Zhao might doubt our sincerity.”

The King, regaining his composure, nodded gravely. “Say no more of Yan Dan for now. Who among you will receive the envoy tomorrow?”

Ju Wu shook his head; he would not go.

Ju Xin clenched his fists in anger, making the King even less inclined to choose him.

Le Jian’s eyes gleamed—he was eager to learn more about the northern kingdom. With the North under martial law, Yan’s spies could barely operate there.

“Hmph!” The King’s gaze moved away from the general; he did not want Le Jian to become another Wu Yangjing.

Alas! Le Jian lowered his head and sighed.

Smirking, yet frowning, Lord Yan Chun raised a hand. “Your Majesty, let me go. That way, the envoy from the North will not feel slighted.”

“Very good! My brother knows the needs of the state. You will represent me in the meeting tomorrow. Unless it is a grave matter, you may decide as you see fit.”

The King of Yan would have preferred to execute the envoy rather than meet him.

Lord Yan Chun bowed again, his face showing both anger and resignation. Yet in his heart he was quite satisfied—he had anticipated this meeting with Jing Ke; had he not, that fox Ju Xin might have seized the chance.