TW: Abuse of Power, Violence, Blood, Death, Toxic Mindsets.
A.N. - Takes place decades before the events of the movie. Some of the dialogue is written in Romanized Mandarin Chinese.
Lanterns hung from thin strings attached to the tall ceilings glowed with flames of cranberry-red, each cradled by metal and bowl-like sheets. Tapestries that depicted East Asian flora draped the inside of the tower and contrasted with the blue and red symbols adorning the elegant walls. The top floor was lined with broad windows, the tracery of which allowed natural light, both the sandy glow of the sun and the silver waves of the moon, to flood onto the polished tile, and it reflected all visitors in the rosy tint of dusk.
Silverback gorillas were stationed in a circle around the throne, facing outwards. A stone spear rested with its blunt end on the ground in the hold of their massive, sinewy hands, which were larger than the skulls of most Gongmen City residents. The duo who guarded the top of the long staircase that stretched from the bottom of the tower to the upper floor greeted the king with snorts.
Upon reaching the final steps, a pair of tan antelope flocked to the king. They donned teal and mocha robes that flaunted flowery and ornate patterns worth more than the average lifetime income of the peasants, and porcelain plates containing the dew of ginkgo trees were clutched in their hooves. Servile inquiries about his health and appetite gushed from their mouths like excitable children swarming their parents.
The king scrunched his eyes and waved a hand at them as he passed as if shooing insects. Words never pausing, the courtiers shifted their attention and offerings to Shen. The prince recoiled and quickened his pace, but the commander approached the plates with a curious sniff and a lolling tongue. His jaws snapped shut around vacant air as the antelope hugged the food to their chest with disdainful and repulsed expressions.
Ears flattening, the wolf observed the courtiers through narrowed eyes and vibrated with a guttural snarl when they scurried to the side of the king. The jingling of rings and piercings in their ears filled the room like bags of coins shaking. From his occasional discussion with the rare wolf whose gaze extended farther than the tip of his weapon, Shen had long since deigned to look upon the antelope's rotund shapes and thought of the peasants whose loose-fitting clothes outlined their skeletons.
The body of his pale blue robe mimicked fish scales, and if one had seen the pattern before the stitches in the embroidery, one would have guessed it belonged to a creature swimming in the ocean. A maroon stripe descended from his collar to his feet, which were obscured by a black ruffle that dragged along the floor. The trim on his sleeves was an ostentatious combination of golden, black and flaming orange.
Shen sauntered behind his father, enjoying the comfort of his silk robe that was a solitary shade darker than the snowy appearance of his plumage. The metal joints in his talons slinked across the wood floor like twin glasses clinking. Paws slapping the floorboards and claws scraping them after each step, the commander marched beside the prince.
As the king turned to peer at his son, his eyes crinkled in disgust. "Keep them out of the throne room. Please, Shen." Exasperation bore heavily upon his voice, and he planted a hand on the end of his beak as if holding his nose. The courtiers surrounded him with their aromas of peaches in a desperate attempt to relieve his besieged nostrils from the lupine stench of the commander.
The wolf bowed his head and curled his lips, exposing his fangs with a quiet growl. He ambled back down the staircase only when the prince gave a slight nod of his head.
Shen's gaze idled on the stairs to the throne for a moment longer before he offered the majestic peacock a look of tepid sincerity. "What is to be done about it, Father?" His voice carried no indictment or demand for action, merely a wish to understand the expected fate of the bandits.
The king approached his throne with a hand grazing the pristine metal of the armrest. It mirrored the grand tail of the peacock, with its many eyes and sharp feathers reflecting the sunlight pouring in from the ceiling. "These rabble-rousers are guilty of no more than petty thievery."
His short-sighted conclusion drew the makings of a scoff from the prince, but Shen placated his disbelief with an incredulous glance at the peahen approaching his father. The Soothsayer emerged from the same corner as she had a moment prior but chose to settle onto a green mat diagonal to the throne. The top of her head barely reached his jaw, and a silent weight burdened her walk that she neglected to share.
"Another farm was attacked last night," she lamented with the regal poise of a leader addressing the casualties of war. The edge of her violet robe, which imitated the shell of a giant tortoise, was lifted by her hands as she ascended the stairs. "This one, a member of our private supplier." Shen slowly raised his head, an appalled twitch gripping his left eye.
Standing beside her husband, the queen's plumage was a much duller shade of light blue and faded pink. Where the teal rose to just below the top of his neck and evolved into a royal blue, her face was the colour of a decrepit rug stained with dry wine. His crest protruded from the crown of his head like a magnificent folding fan, while her crest was an inconspicuous tuft of thin feathers that resembled acupuncture needles.
Like dogs heeding the dinner bell, the antelope wobbled up the stairs to the throne and doubled over in a series of pants. They recovered after a moment of wheezing and presented the dew of the ginkgo trees to the queen, who lethargically accepted it with a distrait glance across the room. His parents continued the debate in hushed whispers, but Shen turned with a swish of his tail and rushed to the balcony.
The tips of his hand feathers rested on the balustrade. A tapping began as he rapped his fingers against the wood, beak opening as if preparing to declare a grand message to an invisible crowd. Before he could reach a definitive conclusion on his words, the tired voice of his mother gave him pause.
"Shen, something troubles you?" Her tone of caution and hesitant approach, as though she expected a particular answer, startled the peacock. She joined him on the balcony, and despite her inquisitive gaze, Shen refused to look her in the eye. He merely hummed, a sound that brought a twinge of despair to the queen's sunken face.
A cool breeze that flowed from the marketplace swayed her short feathers and carried with it various aromas of cooked rice and dumplings. Watching the city, the peahen acquired a distant uncertainty in the affair that drew her gaze to the guardrail of the balcony. "I worry the raids will not end with gold."
Shen looked askance at her and blinked, his eyes drifting to the edge of Gongmen City, where the elaborate craftsmanship of the towers and cobblestone roads dissolved into wetlands and huts. "Fret not, Mother. This blight upon the kingdom shall be lifted soon enough."
The queen turned to her son with a distinct weariness but mustered a feeble smile. "I pray your words are true, Shen." She continued to observe him with her mouth slowly opening, but the prince strode out of the throne room before she could voice her thoughts. Hanging her head, the peahen allowed an anxious sigh to slip from her beak.
As metallic clanks descended on the wood stairs that creaked beneath the force of Shen's steps, the commander turned with a twitch of his ear. The peacock strode past him without offering a direct look, merely a tilt of his head. "Gather your best men," he ordered in a calm tone that courted secrecy and discretion. "When the city sleeps, meet me at its border."
* * *
Before the wolf could crack the stone against the side of your head, a metallic feather soared out of the darkness and impaled the centre of his back. The stone rolled from his grasp and tumbled across the ground, his mouth agape and countenance frozen in a look of shock. His hand continued to hover in a raised position as if his body were unable to acknowledge the attack.
Legs gradually dragging him forward until they pulled his torso towards the ground, the wolf collapsed on top of you. An agonized grumble was his sole expression of pain, and the stink of an unclean dog punctured your nostrils.
A smooth voice sharpened by irritation and disappointment broke the fragile lull in the raid. "'Petty thievery'. Oh, Father, your naivety is pitiable." The sheen of white plumage gleamed in the outskirts of the light's breadth, and a pair of red eyes emerged from the darkness shrouding the dirt path to the city.
Before the rogues could threaten this interloper, a trio of wolves clad in red and black shoulder guards lurked beside him. A whoosh followed the display of a large, crescent-shaped tail that sported a wall of red and black, eye-like shapes. Mouths opening and ears deflating, every rogue with the ability to move retreated a few steps.
"Prince Shen?" exclaimed the rogue nearest to the paralyzed one. He tucked his bushy tail between his legs when the commander delivered a snarl that scorned him for his misuse of the royal service. Shen opened his hand in the direction of the wolf who had addressed him, and the commander lunged forward on all fours. As he tackled the rogue and slammed his head into the grass, the two bodyguards pounced on a pair of wolves moving to intervene.
The commander's robust paw and claws squeezed the rogue's face, gales of pungent breath that stunk of raw meat and roadkill enveloping his nose. A cacophony of whimpers, barks and growls pervaded the night as three rogues fought their captors, while the remaining four began to flee. Swells of dirt wafted into the air like frozen waves.
Shen pursued the wolves in a serpentine manner, and with a swing of his arm, a volley of feathers that resembled sleek daggers brought two of them to the ground. The final duo scrambled to retreat into the shadows, expelling yelps when a glint of steel emerged from the peacock's robe. He dragged the blade across a rogue from his upper back to his abdomen in a motion so graceful it seemed to imitate a ballerina twirling on the stage.
For the last wolf, Shen leapt and hovered above him with an outstretch of his tail -- briefly obscuring the light of the moon -- before tucking it and using the force of his descent to propel the sword through the canine's heart. The breastplate that had sworn to protect his life shattered like glass, and for a sweet moment that passed no faster than a blink in Shen's eyes, the night had achieved peace once more.
"What should we do with these?" Teeth clenched and body unsteady from the belligerent rogue underneath, the commander grunted the question at his prince.
Face speckled with blood, Shen turned slowly as if reassessing the situation. In a voice no higher than a grim whisper, he commanded, "Dispose of them." The commander's ears lowered in an expression of surprise, and the bodyguards, smelling a twinge of uncertainty, looked to him for confirmation.
Licking his chapped lips, the muscular wolf directed his attention at the snivelling rogue. Before he could attack, the rogue cried, "Wǒ zhīdào hěnduō shìqíng!" The other two captured wolves flung the bodyguards off of them with a swift kick in the stomach and jumped to their feet.
The rogue beneath the commander turned his head to observe them, his eyes widening in terror. "Bié kàojìn wǒ!" As he writhed like a rocking horse, his former comrades brandished battle-axes. They were quickly tackled by the bodyguards, and their weapons clattered to the dirt. The wolves sunk their fangs into their fellow canines' throats after a murderous glare from Shen.
A scarlet light flooded the battered land, as did the putrid stench of copper and iron. "Speak! Speak!" encouraged Shen, beckoning with a repetitive movement of his arms. "Since your comrades seemed so eager to silence you!" One of the bodyguards had swiped a torch from the fresh corpses and presented it to their commander.
The red glow of the torch -- like a fiery sunset -- illuminated the haggard face of the rogue, blood trickling and glistening down his chin. "You're gonna tell me who your boss is, or I swear on the royal family you'll never see another sunrise." As the torch neared his face, the fur lining his snout began to sizzle. The wolf flattened his ears and bared his teeth with a pained whimper, but his attempt to pull away by kicking his feet through the dirt only earned a look of wry amusement from the commander.
"Bù! Bù! Wǒ bú shuōhuà," muttered the rogue after he spat a droplet of blood onto the ground. A strangled groan burst from his cracked lips when a muscular hand clenched his neck and slightly lifted him.
The commander looked into his crinkled, swollen eyes with a steady intensity, tightening his grip as the rogue's paws struggled to reach the earth. "You best start singing if you want to take your next breath." The two bodyguards glanced past the captive wolf at each other, their heads and shoulders bobbing with mischievous chuckles.
The canine atop you had succumbed to his paralyzed lungs many minutes ago. While his carcass had yet to secrete the stench of decay, a combination of sweat and flames produced a stink rotten enough to supplant it. He was knocked off of you and sent tumbling across the earth by a metal foot, and a lithe silhouette appeared among the clouds of smoke and ash billowing into the night sky.
Shen fanned his tail and draped it over you like a blanket. The sun had long retreated behind the flat stretches of the marsh and allowed the silver reign of the moon to glimmer across the gentle waves that lapped the edges of the city. There was no biting coldness seeping into the air that night, except for the tranquil rage found in the eyes of Shen.
A kindness arose from his strict decorum when his gaze lowered to meet yours. The sudden weight on your head drew a timid gasp as you feared another round of pain. Instead of a mouthful of dirt or a kick in the jaw, his touch was ghostly and promised a certain immunity from future wrongs. The feathers that had struck the life out of a wolf pack and stained the earth with their blood caressed the top of your head as if they were the warm sheets coating a bed made of the softest silk.
"You are safe now," he whispered, and despite the stench of fresh battle and multitude of aches rattling your body, you wanted to believe it.
"Xièxiè, Prince Shen." It was a phrase that you recited over and over again in stifled, choked breaths as if it were a mantra. As the peacock guided you to a stable position, your hazy eyes fell upon him in a way that spoke of your incomplete faith in his words before you aired it. "These wolves did not come for money like the first."
Unable to conceal his bewilderment, Shen stuttered, "'First'?" His satisfaction in the outcome dampened, for the news was eerily consonant with that of his mother's fear.
You staggered closer to the remnants of your house and, following a long look that deepened with grief and uncertainty about where to rest your head that night, shook your head. "They bore yellow and the horned mark."
Shen tilted his head from side to side in short, abrupt motions.
"Answer me!" came a gruff voice from the scene of two bodyguards restraining the final rogue, who dangled in their grasp with a bloody nose. The commander stood in front of them and landed a punch on the rogue's stomach. Saliva flew out of his mouth as his head lurched forward, but he released nothing more than a defiant whimper.
The peacock slowly looked in his direction, smile falling and gentle demeanour vanishing.
"Bù! Nǐ bùnéng ràng wǒ shuōhuà!" The familiar argument returned.
Fur bristling, the commander smacked the rogue with his claws. "You're a disgrace to the entire royal guard! Coming out here and terrorizing a farmer -- it makes me sick to even look at you!"
Snorting and groaning to clear his throat, the rogue snapped his jaws with a string of drool plunging into the earth. "Tāmen bù shì wǒ de rén! Tāmen bù shuài! Tāmen bù cōngmíng!"
Before the tirade could culminate, a metallic feather gored the centre of his neck. The wolf slackened in the hold of the bodyguards until they were the only force keeping him from dropping to the dirt. The commander recoiled slightly and watched his body slip lower.
"He had nothing to say," declared Shen, and he swept towards the collection of wolves with impatient steps and a vexed scowl. "We meet at the neighbouring farm tomorrow night."
When the bodyguards released a series of whines, the prince whirled around. The commander was quick to draw the unsavoury attention away from his henchmen. "We just did a week's worth of training in half an hour, so we probably won't be at our best-"
Shen stomped directly in front of the muscular wolf, his limbs quivering and his eyes full of madness. "Tomorrow night! Tomorrow!" His beak opened to spew more iterations of the same order, but he paused upon seeing you amble in the opposite direction of the neighbouring farm. Shen spared a distracted glance at the blood and corpses littering the ashen farmland.
"I can't afford any more delays."
* * *
A courtier idled on the balcony of the throne room, their gaze fixed on a rice warehouse down the street that seemed diminutive from their high altitude. While the churning of wagon wheels rolling over stones mixed with quiet chatter in the smoky night air, no light peeked through the black windows. Slim moonlight provided a faint blanket of silver light that diminished further with each tile, for every lantern but those hanging above the throne had been extinguished.
The sound of coins hitting the floor echoed in the desolate room. Whipping around with a gasp, the antelope examined the darkness like a thief searching for homeowners. A glimmer of white slinked past the edge of their vision closest to the throne as the noise followed the unknown visitor. As if only then recognizing the presence of the courtier, the silhouette stopped and turned to confront them.
"Fetch me a rag," hissed an unsteady voice struggling to remain below a yell. The courtier was tersely stunned by familiarity before they plucked a grey cloth from their robe and dashed to hand it to the prince. Though shadows cloaked his body, the dark splotches staining his face and neck were like eternal tattoos among his white plumage. Questions threatened to spill from their lips, but Shen retreated down the stairs to his quarters.
While in the corridor leading to his bedroom, a tranquil voice spoke from behind him. "You return late tonight, Shen." The Soothsayer was patient with pronouncing each word and imbued them all with an accusatory awareness.
The peacock spun around with wide eyes, only to duck his head and turn his back to her. "Yes," murmured Shen as he patted the rag against his neck, "I had some trouble with the wolves." His gaze darted across the tapestries of ancestors lining the walls as if fearing that one would spring to life.
Narrowing her eyes, the Soothsayer gripped her beard and stroked it the way one might stroke a cat. "The same wolves of whom your father spoke?"
Shen's agitated breaths and frantic glances at his environment ceased like a conductor ending the symphony with a wave of his baton. "Don't try to ensnare me in one of your traps. The private affairs of a prince are not for your ears, Soothsayer."
The goat lowered her hand and acquired a look of sour determination. "But perhaps they are for my eyes?" A silence enveloped the corridor, sending a tremor through Shen's form and crushing his ability to be restful. Untold pressure and implicit threats drew his head towards the Soothsayer, and she met his vindictive aura with unyielding resolve.
Before he could act on his defensive instinct, the door to the adjacent bedroom began to slide open. Red light poured into the darkness and blanketed the prince in a crimson hue. He fled into his chamber, yanking the door shut and remaining in the dark as if he had never been awake at all.
The tired faces of the king and queen emerged, their shadows cast upon the wall and their eyes bleary. "Shen?" mumbled the peahen, but her scan of the corridor proved fruitless.
The king looked at both ends of the corridor as if expecting a commotion to erupt and approached the Soothsayer when no courtiers leapt out of the shadows. His hands were tucked into his sleeves, and he kept his back straight and his head elevated despite the fatigue still fresh in his body. "What is the purpose of this disturbance?"
A moment of deliberation passed between the Soothsayer's acknowledgement of the peacock and the next stroke of her beard. She peered at the queen and the door to Shen's bedroom, gradually surrendering to a mournful sigh. "A troubling prophecy has revealed itself to me."
It seemed to pull the queen from her weary state, for she turned to the goat with crinkled eyes and a quivering beak. The king watched the Soothsayer with a combination of uneasiness and slight tilts of his head. He stepped away from their door and motioned for her to resume the conversation inside, shutting it once all three of them were out of the corridor.
Sorrow heavier than the avalanches that plagued the mountain trails crumpled her face, crinkling her eyes and pulling her mouth into a downcast line. The Soothsayer raised her hand and, with quiet and continual grief, stroked her beard. "I fear that Shen has travelled a most wicked path on this very night." As she resigned her gaze to the floor with a modest shake of her head, the king opened his beak slightly in disbelief.
"His heart is touched by a dark affliction. It is a path that can lead to nothing but pain and war."
* * *
As you approached the centre of the room, multiple rogues snarled and bowed their ears. Tails were erect as they glared in fervid detestation like ravenous predators awaiting the opportunity to catch their prey alone. One barked "snitch" with a gnash of his fangs, and before he could acknowledge the flash of white and grey, Shen stood in front of him with a metallic feather poking his neck.
The peacock's tail had unfurled to its full length, obscuring the wolf's vision of you and encasing him in a prison of red and black symbols. The sharp tip of the blade was hidden in his fur and pierced his skin like a needle, and the carmine eyes scrutinizing his terror were opened unnaturally wide. When Shen spoke, it was narrowly more than an agitated mutter. "Do not poison them with your gaze."
His finger quivered with suppressed rage. A tremor rattled his entire body as if he were a bomb seconds away from exploding, a sight that prompted the commander to glance between the prince and the rogue. "Prince Shen," began the wolf with an assertive strength, but his voice dropped to one of apprehension as the peacock snapped his head towards him with an unblinking stare. "The prisoners are ready for the line-up, sir."
Gradually, Shen withdrew his feather and straightened his posture. He tucked his arms into the drooping sleeves of his robe, and his beak that had been contorted in a scowl closed into a serene smile. "Ah, yes." Crinkling his eyes as if watching his scheme take shape, he marched to you while shouting, "Let us not tarry any longer!" The peacock extended a hand in the direction of the rogues, softening his voice. "Farmer, if you will."
Many of the captured wolves met your inspection with bared teeth and silent wishes to end your life. You stopped after a few brief moments and turned to the prince to indicate that you had reached a verdict, wringing your hands from the uncertainty caused by their palpable malice. Instead of examining the wolves himself to validate your analysis, he looked at you as if the answer were clear and indisputable.
"It is them, Prince Shen." As these words left your mouth, the wall torches that once blazed like miniature infernos seemed to darken. Whimpers burst from the rogues, and Shen accepted your conclusion with a slow nod of his head. The commander and his henchmen tightened their hold on the prisoners when they began to squirm.
A rogue opened his mouth to howl, but the cry turned into muffled gurgling as a metallic feather impaled his throat. The wolf collapsed soon after, earning shaken and unnerved looks from the rest of the pack. Taking a short step back, the commander twitched his ear and peeked at Shen with slightly widened eyes. The peacock was peering over his shoulder at the corpse with frenzied satisfaction.
He whipped around with a flourish of his robe, arms outstretched as if to deliver a rousing speech to the army. "Does anyone else wish to cry for help?" It was a double-edged question -- balancing on the thin line between rhetorical and a test of bravery -- that promised varying degrees of the same fate no matter how it was answered, but a rogue was forced to gamble when his eyes darted to those of Shen.
The peacock seemed to glide across the room like a spectre. As the blade prepared to strike, the wolf tumbled onto his haunches and held his paws in front of his face in a pathetic attempt at defence. "It was an order! No one was supposed to die! The boss just wanted us to rough 'em up a bit, I swear!" A sharp object zoomed through the crevices in his fingers and pressed against his snout.
"On your life?" The voice carried a deadly stillness, but the hint of intractable fury brimming underneath the surface was louder than the most discordant firecracker.
Drawing his legs and tail to his waist, the rogue sniffled and resisted the tears threatening to cascade down his cheeks. "Yēyē!"
Shen sheathed the feather and cocked his head with pride. "Then you won't mind spending the remainder of it on the front lines, digging trenches and stacking bricks until your back snaps."
Frenetic whimpers and pleas for mercy spewed from the wolf as a pair of guards seized his arms and hauled him to the door. As he was dragged past you, he offered a regretful look that was reminiscent of a wild animal realizing its doom just before the trap came down upon its head. A rogue lunged from out of the ranks of the prisoners and called, "Āngzàng de pàntú!"
The commander raised a paw to strike him, but a metallic feather embedded itself in the rogue's stomach. He fell to the ground in a mess of whines, scarcely resisting when a guard pulled him back into his cell to bleed. The final rogue flattened his ears and attempted to retreat behind iron bars but was caught by the maniacal stare of Shen.
He watched the canine with the occasional tilt of his head as if daring him to make a sound. When the wolf's gaze darted to you, the prince stepped in the way of it and began a slow approach. His speckled tail started to unfold, and his pace rapidly increased until he seemed to slide across the floor.
As a pristine set of claws grasped his neck and threw him onto his back, the rogue stammered in a voice that grew progressively constricted, "I'll tell you where my boss is!" The weight on his torso shifted as dark blotches materialized in the corners of his vision. "They -- he meets us at the old rice warehouse. The one on Black Dragon Alley!"
Despite this information, Shen continued to lower a shaky blade towards his eyes. The wolf maneuvered his head in various directions to avoid the tip of the metal. "Tā ràng wǒmen jiào tā Zhāng Míng!" A terrifying numbness was spreading throughout his body, a cold blanket of ice following.
After the peacock released him, it took several seconds for his nerves to revive and plunge him into a fit of gasps and pants. "Zhāng Míng," repeated Shen with playful distaste. "To think I'm hunting wolves like vermin, only for the nest to be right under our noses!" Removing his paws from his face, the rogue peeked at him like a child investigating a loud noise.
"So, I'm … I'm clean? My ledger is clear?" The hope that he would live had barely exited his mouth when a sharp feather pointed at his snout. It pricked his black nose, a mere fraction of the damage that the peacock, standing atop his chest and fighting a twitch in his eye, wished to instill.
The feather twitched nearer, and in a voice softer than the gentle tide coasting the city harbour but relishing a taste of insanity, Shen whispered, "Posthumously."
Gaze dropping to the floor in an instant, the wolf searched for whether relief or dread was the correct reaction. "Shénme-"
His confusion was ended by the slice of a blade across his throat.