Early the next morning I found myself talking with Captain Wong An, a man five years my senior who wore a blood-red armor and mask over black clothes. He was the right-hand man of General Fei Hong, who had yet to appear.
Captain An had a jolly character that could find or make everything funny, even his own self. Quite a contrast to his appearance and getup.
“Excuse this servant, your highness, but how far along the way of Dao are you?”
“Stop that,” I said, rolling my shoulders. At some point during the night, I must have moved because my back was killing me. “We will be spending quite a lot of time together, call me Shen Mu.”
He laughed out loud “I shall... but only once we leave the palace, your highness. Decorum demands that we address royalty properly. What would my ancestors say should I fail at something as simple as that?”
“They would tell you to never contradict a Prince.”
His laughter was like an explosion of sound in the silent courtyard.