v8c4: Into the Ravine (Patreon)

Thankfully, there weren’t any immediate shouts that I was the Messiah and the Grand Ravine would be mobilizing to fight the Emperor for me, which would have been… awkward.

Instead, we were introduced to the other elders and people who were called “Clan Heads”. There were quite a lot of them, and I nodded along, trying to remember all of the Mongolian-sounding names. He also introduced us to his family; his son, Ganzorig, his wife Oyuuma, and his grandchildren that were in attendance, that included Tarkhan and Sarnai.

‘None of them used their ‘shield names’, Tianlan said, sounding pleased. ‘If they introduced themselves with a traditional name that would mean they didn’t trust you.’

Next, we were guided through the fortress and onto a long sloping hill into the Ravine itself. The view was spectacular as we descended, the strata of rocks forming lines in the walls, half-covered by the horizontal trees that hung from them.

Horizontal trees that were covered with people. The group on top of the Ravine seemed to be only half the number of those who had come to see us. Entire families were perched on tree trunks, having picnics or just watching this strange man and his big carriage enter their home. Younger kids were tied to their parents by a rope around their waist, while older kids had used those rope-dagger tools to make themselves swings, hanging underneath the tree trunks.

It looked really fun, especially when I caught a couple of kids basically going full Tarzan, swinging between trees.

It was actually a bit of a walk to hit the bottom of the Ravine, and when we arrived… I could really appreciate the place. I expected it to be hot and kind of stuffy, but instead a pleasant wind blew, tousling our hair.

“The air here is wonderful,” Bi De said, breathing deeply.

“It truly is,” I agreed, and Baatar and the other members of the Grand Ravine seemed to stand up straighter. The sky above seemed wonderfully blue, and the greenery made everything look just a touch fantastical.

We soon arrived at the feasting grounds, where hundreds of what looked like yurts had been set up. Washy was already waiting for us. It was beside the river that ran through the valley, the waters crystal clear… and our gluttonous dragon lounging like a prince while attended to by what looked to be several chefs. Washy had a cup of tea in one hand, and had a bundle of herbs in the other. He sniffed it with great relish, nodding along to whatever the man was saying.

The herbs looked nothing like what we had, and I had a feeling that we were in for a treat... and some entertainment. What appeared like a jousting list was in front of the main table, but with archery targets, and there were what looked like canoes in the river.

Our seat was of course at the head table, which was arranged so we could see everything. The river, the list, and the trees above. Washy didn’t even have to move, being close enough to the table he could lean back slightly to see us. “Tarkhan and Sarnai, shall attend to you, Master Rou, Lady Hong,” Baatar said.

“I have heard only good things about them both,” I said, giving them both a smile. “You have my thanks for defending our daughter, Tarkhan, and Xiulan always speaks well of your assistance, Sarnai.”

Both of the cultivators puffed up at her praise. Tarkhan, whom we had known as Guo Daxian the Younger back then, had joined the fight immediately against the Shrouded Mountain Sect when he had heard Tigu had gotten kidnapped.

“You Honour me with your words, Master Rou. It was my honour to come to her defense,” Tarkahn said, pressing his fist over his heart. It was the arm with the tattoos. His bandanna was off his head as well, and tied around his arm. “Tigu reached out her hand in friendship during the tournament. Only scum would strike such an earnest gesture away.”

Sarnai just went red.  She did that a lot, from what I saw at the Dueling Peaks. She was a pretty nervous girl.

I nodded to them both and we sat back as the rest of the seats filled up. It again seemed to be more of a family affair; there were plenty of kids at the tables, and the mood was surprisingly light for what was effectively a state visit… but honestly I preferred it that way.

When the tables filled, Baatar rose, and a horn blew. All conversation ceased.

“My brothers and sisters! Sons and daughters of the Grand Ravine! It has been too long since we have been able to gather in such numbers and share a meal with friends. Friends who greet us in the manner of our forefathers; who come under the banner of the true blue sky,” Baatar began, his voice echoing through the Ravine. “Today, the earth has so blessed us. Today, we welcome Master Rou, Lady Hong, their family, and our cousins from the north. Let us show our friends our warmest welcome!”

The answering cheer rattled the Ravine.

And then things began. It started with thirty Grand Ravine cultivators soaring over our heads, their rope-blades lashing out as they swung from tree to tree like Spider-Man, flipping into aerial acrobatics that made the people below cheer more. Eager kids started jumping up and down, raising their hands—and some of the Grand Ravine cultivators swooped down to grab said hands, taking the children up into the air as they shrieked with laughter.

I was immediately surprised at the instant inclusion of mortals into their routine, and the easy way the cultivators just grabbed them with big grins. In the other sects, even the Hermetic Iron Sect, there was a certain distance between cultivators and mortals that seemed to be less here. Baatar’s “brothers and sisters” apparently included even those without cultivation potential.

Which… I suppose if you had been fighting for thousands of years to keep your people and culture from being swallowed up, not having as big a gap between people was rather natural. A mortal had more in common with you than any cultivator from outside the Ravine.

And then the throat singing started. The whistling, reverberating vocalization bounced off the ravine’s walls, echoing into the distance.

I felt a smile form on my face as we watched the show.

And then the food started to come out. Back home, the Nezin tribe mostly ate what everybody else ate, save for the occasional bits of cheese; but here? It was undeniably stepping into another culture. Washy was practically giddy, clapping his hands together and wiggling in place as he took in the smells that had filled the air.

“Hmn. Man, this stuff smells amazing,” Gou Ren said.

“Our cousins know the good stuff when they smell it!” One of the Elders shouted, and that got several cheers.

Their bao were baked instead of steamed, filled with lamb and caraway. They had entire goats cooked with superheated river stones. There were stuffed tree marmots; the nearly twenty pound rodents that lived in the Ravine walls tasted great. There was horse meat and hand-pulled noodles, stews made of yak, and the thing every culture seemed to have, a roasted chicken. Gou, Yun, and Suyan really like the meal; all three of them simply intent on eating.

All of it was hearty fare, meant to fuel you for long distance travel—and here you needed it. From one end of the Ravine to the other would have you walking at least three thousand Li; and that was taking the straightest path. It didn’t count the sixty thousand Li worth of side passages.  The place was a maze.

They also, to my surprise, had absolutely titanic worms. The things could grow to about six feet long, and they were grilled like coiled sausages. I swear Big D’s eyes sparkled when he saw the things, and he absolutely demolished the one he had been given. He slurped it like an entirely too long spaghetti, and demanded seconds. This feat was apparently impressive, as he got several cheers.

There were also quite a few vegetarian options; they had something that almost tasted like curry, made with a kind of lentil that grew in the Ravine, and a bunch of stir-fried vegetables that were basically several varieties of bromeliad that clung on to the horizontal trees. Foraging in the Grand Ravine was certainly a vertical affair.

And then there was a slight hiccup. One of the things I had been looking forward to was seemingly missing.

“I heard the Grand Ravine had several fine cheeses,” I said, hopefully.

“We had been informed that the smell offends Lady Hong,” Baatar replied. “The plan was to serve it later, so we did not bring it close.”

Meiling glanced over. “It is fine. We are guests in your home, and compared to other things… cheese is not so offensive.” She gave me a little glare for that, my transgression with the fish still not forgiven. “Mayhaps I have simply not had any good cheese?”

“Are you making fun of my cheese-making skill?” I demanded.

“Of course not, my dear husband,” Meiling replied, her voice all sugar. “Though the Muza Rela was quite good, and did not smell at all…”

Baatar laughed at the byplay… and then the cheese came out. Meiling’s nose mostly stayed unwrinkled, along with Zhuye. There was one kind that both of them eyed warily, and Zhuye hid his face from, which immediately disappeared… and I made a note to try it later.

The rest were great. It was interesting how the different milks changed the flavours; horse, goat, yak, and cow, each one was so different. Some were served with, to my surprise, a different kind of strawberry than the ones we had recently from Yellow Rock Plateau. These were tiny things, crushed into a paste on top of goat’s cheese.  They had a cheese that was melted over their version of burgers; one that was grilled on sticks of wood—and then we hit the holy grail.

The absolute, most perfect, squeakiest cheese curds I had ever had the pleasure of biting into,  that were already served in thick yak gravy.

They nearly had poutine.

“These… would go very well with fried potatoes,” I declared. “I must have the recipe for this gravy as well.”

“This one is quite good,” Meiling agreed, nodding.

And through it all, the show went on. There were races in river boats; horseback riding and archery contests. And like before, everything featured the normal people of the Ravine. There were beautiful musical instruments, prints, and wood work, as well as metalworking and jewelry. All of it had the same base, the geometric designs that made up their tattoos, but the way they wove things together was interesting.

“Oh, I have a pair that look just like these,” Meiling said, looking at a pair of earrings that had feathers attached to them. “Auntie Hu Li made them for me.”

“Indeed, Honoured Mother Hu Li made some for me as well!” Xianghua boasted.

“You name her Aunt?” one of the women we had been introduced to—Oyuun,Tarkhan’s mother, asked, her voice full of curiosity.

“Yes. She helped take care of me after my mother passed,” Meiling said with a fond expression.

“Mother-in-law is the best,” Biyu said, nodding along. “She’s very fun.”

“Aunt Hu Li is very kind,” Suyan even chimed in in that quiet voice of hers.

“She must be a powerful cultivator, to command such respect,” someone else mused.

“Aunt Hu Li is a mortal,” Xianghua corrected, easily.

“Not like that would stop her from tanning our hides,” Yun Ren said.

“Don’t I know it,” Gou Ren grunted.

The table was filled again with laughter.

===

Baatar had a wide smile on his face as the feast progressed.

It was going splendidly. Master Rou was eating his fill with gusto. It was not the pecking of a man trying to be polite. Master Rou ate an entire plate of curds and gravy, then asked for seconds. His laugh was loud and boisterous.

The others too, were clearly enjoying themselves, and the atmosphere was one of peace and camaraderie. He was surprised at how effortless it was. How easily their food was eaten, and how their art was praised. And not with empty platitudes, either.

It was genuine admiration.

Even if the topics were light for the moment.

And then, Master Rou paused. The feast was winding down, and slowly, he turned. He looked to the northwest, at the canyon wall.

He looked directly at the location of the most sacred place in the Ravine.

And then he turned back to his meal.

Baatar swallowed. For a moment, a flash of nervousness overcame him, before he pushed it aside. This was the Voice of the Earth, come to them as a friend. Of course he would know of the golden spire of rock that they had protected… wouldn’t he?

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Edited by:  BargleNawdleZouss,