(F/N) rose at first light the next morning. From outside he could hear the rest of the camp beginning to stir as well, the first sounds of life echoing throughout the large field. Standing from his cot, he moved over to the entrance of his tent and lifted back the folds to allow the warm light of the rising sun to bathe over him. As the sun peaked over the horizon, its light slowly creeping across the campground, he heard the sound of light breathing from just outside his tent. Ducking through the canvas opening, he only needed to take a single step outside to find its source. Curled in a ball on the ground just outside lie the girl, hugging her knees close to her chest, shivering in her sleep.

A thin smile crept upon his features as he released a single quiet chuckle. He couldn't help himself. She was persistent, and every bit as stubborn as her mother. He silently commended her courage, even if it was more foolishness than bravery. Bending down, he gently picked her up and carried her back inside. He laid her on his cot and covered her with the blankets. He would come back in a few hours and they would talk more. Until then, he didn't want any of his people stumbling upon her. She'd be safe in his private quarters. Fastening the clasps on his vest and attaching his sword to his hip, he threw on his coat and ducked once more out of his tent.

Yang awoke some time later, the sun's light seeping through the tarped ceiling above. It took her a moment to register where she was, the sleep still fogging her mind. The soft sound of scratching caught her attention and looking to her left, she saw (F/N) sitting at a desk on the far side of the wall, a fountain pen gliding across the surface of a scroll of yellowish-brown parchment.

"You're persistent, I'll give you that." He said, not taking his eyes off the letter he was writing.

"Where am I?" She asked, sitting up in the bed. "How'd I get here?"

"Look at your surroundings and make a deduction."

"Why'd you bring me here?"

"Would you have preferred for me to leave you for my men to find?" He asked, refreshing his pen in an ink well. "There's food on the table." He pointed towards a small circular table in the middle of the room. "Eat while I finish this letter."

Moving towards the table, Yang picked up the wooden bowl that contained a warm thick stew, meat and vegetables sitting just under the surface. Her stomach began growling as soon as the aroma reached her nostrils. She hadn't realized how hungry she was, and she eagerly picked up the bowl and began eating. She watched (F/N) write for a while, watching his eyes focusing on the paper before him. His desk was kept very orderly, a stack of papers on the left side of the table beneath a stone carving of a bird on a plinth acting as a paperweight, and on the right, an inkwell and a small candle.

She watched him for a few more minutes before turning her gaze to examine the rest of the room. Hanging on the wall behind his desk was a vertical strip of parchment, framed, with Chinese calligraphy painted upon it. She wished she knew what it said. Beneath the painting and a little to the left was a tall bookcase filled with numerous texts, several missing and stacked on a small bedside table that also housed another candle, this one extinguished, and an incense burner in the shape of a phoenix. On the opposite wall stood a small mahogany wardrobe, a jade statue of a dragon sitting atop it. Next to the entrance was a wooden peg where she assumed, he hung his jacket, and above it, a mount for his katana, which was currently leaning against the table next to his right leg. Other than these few items, the room was bare. It seemed too large for how little it held; most of the space being left empty.

She set down her now empty bowl and noticed that the scratching sound had stopped. Looking over, she saw him rolling up the scroll and tying it with a length of twine before stamping it with a wax seal. Tucking it inside his inner left breast pocket, he stood and picked up his sword and slipped it through a loop in his belt. Pushing his chair in as he moved out from behind his desk, he started towards the folds of the tent.

"Come with me." He said with a wave of his hand.

She ducked out of the tent behind him and followed a few steps behind. As they walked towards the rest of the camp, she wondered how she had managed to sleep through all the noise. The rhythmic sounds of steel being sharpened and hammers pounding against an anvil penetrated through the hundreds of chattering voices.

Deeper in the camp they came across a crowd gathered in the center of several tents and small collapsible wooden workshops. In the center was a man and a woman, their arms locked around each other's necks and waist as they wrestled. The onlookers cheered as the man tackled the woman around the waist, knocking her to the ground. Keeping a firm grip on the mans shirt collar, she pulled him down and placed a foot on his hip, launching him over her head. As they got closer to the inner edge of the ring, Yang realized she recognized the woman fighting. She was in the tent last night, one of the seven who had been gathered around the table.

"Celine." (F/N) called.

"I'm in the middle of something." She said as she ducked under a punch, a smirk on her face. She was clearly enjoying herself.

"Then finish it."

She frowned in annoyance, like a child being interrupted in the middle of their favorite television show. Sidestepping a punch, she planted her left foot behind her opponent's body and jumped, bringing her right leg swinging around, scissoring the man in the chest and back of the knees. Both lying on the ground, Celine quickly threw a backfist to the man's face, breaking his nose and knocking him unconscious. 

"What?" She huffed.

"Has Alastair returned with his party from Jion?" (F/N) asked.

Celine took a swig from a water jug and nodded.

"He reported back just over an hour ago." She said, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. "He's probably back at his tent by now. Anything else?"

"No." (F/N) said. "That will be all. Thank you, Celine."

Celine nodded and walked back into the ring as two men dragged her unconscious opponent away.

"Who's next?" She shouted at the crowd.

"Who was that?" Yang asked as she watched the woman square off with another challenger.

"Celine Rouge." (F/N) answered. "She is my minister of war and commander of my armies."

"And who were the people she was fighting?" Yang asked, increasing her pace to keep up with (F/N)'s long strides.

"Challengers." He replied. "Warriors who hope to take her place on the council and become my Wrath."

"People can do that?" Yang asked in disbelief. "They can just challenge the general and replace her?"

"No member of the council is guaranteed their position without contestation." (F/N) explained. "The weak provide a foundation for the strong. If someone amongst the camp can prove themselves superior against one of my ministers, they may claim their title and responsibilities, as well as all jurisdiction, comforts, and assets that come with the position. Of course, the challenges one must face to win a seat at the table varies with each respective position. To become my minister of war and command my forces in battle, you must best my current Wrath in open combat." (F/N) went on. "Celine defeated my previous Wrath over five years ago. She was only a few years older than yourself at the time, but since then she has proven herself to be a capable warrior and tactful strategist. In her tenure as my Wrath she has been challenged thousands of times, and not once has she been bested."

"What happens when someone does beat her?" Yang asked.

"If she is defeated, she must step down from the council and sacrifice her title and all the power and authority that comes with it. She'll be given one week's worth of supplies and then be exiled from the Family and barred from all my territories."

Yang nodded once and continued to follow (F/N) in thoughtful silence.

"And what happens if someone challenges you?" She asked after a few seconds.

"Only one of the seven sins has the right to challenge me." He replied. "My minister of trade, my former envy, was the last, and only person to have ever challenged me for the title of Head of the Demons."

"How long ago was that?"

"Seven years." (F/N) answered.

"And no one has challenged you since?"

He shook his head. "None."

"Why not?"

"As the Head of the Demons I have many under my command. The title comes with an unimaginable amount of wealth and power. It is alluring to many, so I understand why you would think I must frequently defend my title. But challenging me is not like challenging one of the sins." He continued. "The vanquished is not merely excommunicated from the clan or banished from my lands, no. Those who challenge me must be prepared for a fight to the death."