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Chapter 4 - Dust Beneath Iron – Part 3

They were cleaning up the last of the banquet dishes when the sound of raised voices rolled across the yard wall from the direction of the reception hall. It sounded like an argument, muffled by distance but heated.

Jang exchanged a curious glance with Jisoo, who was stacking bowls. "What do you think—?"

Before he could finish, a sharp, wordless cry split the air, followed by a heavy crash as if something—or someone—had slammed into a wall. The servants in the yard all froze.

Then a single, clear voice cut through the commotion, carrying across the compound:

"Head Servant Yun! All servants, assemble in the grand courtyard immediately!"

Jang's heart lurched. That voice was Master Lee, one of the Sect's senior instructors. If he was shouting like this… something was very wrong.

Already, servants were dropping what they were doing. Cook Dae hurried out from the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron, confusion and worry etched on his face. Jang, Jisoo, and Won-Il fell in with the stream of grey-clad workers filing out of the yard.

Jang's mind raced as he trotted alongside his friends. Had their work been found wanting? Did it involve the guest? The argument… could a servant have messed up during the feast?

They emerged into the grand courtyard—the broad stone square at the heart of the sect, where ceremonies were held. Now, it was rapidly filling with people. Outer and Inner Disciples ringed the space, looking on with stern faces. At the front, near the raised dais where the sect leaders typically stood, was a cluster of elders and the visiting clan elder, all looking grim. A few yards before them, two figures were kneeling on the ground, held down by guards. Jang recognized one immediately—Head Servant Yun, his gaunt face pale and glistening with sweat. The other was a younger servant girl Jang had seen in the laundry rooms before.

Master Lee stood off to the side, his expression thunderous. It was he who had called the servants here.

Cook Dae whispered hurriedly to those nearby as they took their positions, "Keep heads down and mouths shut."

Jang, Jisoo, and Won-Il slipped into the back of the gathered servants, kneeling as protocol demanded, eyes lowered. But through his lashes, Jang could see fragments of the scene at the front.

Grandmaster Baek was present, silent and towering in his black-silver robes, mask concealing any expression. Beside him stood the visiting Azure Sky Clan elder, arms folded, face like a thunderhead. It seemed the guest was furious, though he held his tongue for the moment.

One of the sect's elder disciplinarians stepped forward. Elder Choi, Jang remembered his name. He unrolled a scroll and his voice boomed across the courtyard.

"This morning's honored gathering has been marred by disgrace. A servant was caught attempting to steal a relic from our esteemed guest!"

A ripple of shock swept through the assembled crowd. Jang heard a few disciples mutter in disbelief and outrage. His own chest tightened—stealing from a clan elder? That was unthinkable. Suicide.

Elder Choi's cold voice continued: "Head Servant Yun, in charge of servant quarters, has been deemed responsible for this failure of discipline under his watch."

Even as he said it, two guards yanked Yun's head up by the hair. The old man's face was desperate, eyes bulging. He babbled something hoarsely—denials or pleas, Jang couldn't tell.

By Yun's side, the younger servant girl was trembling violently, her wrists bound. Jang realized with dawning horror that she must be the thief. He vaguely recalled her—a quiet, small girl, one of the laundry washers. Why in the gods' names would she steal anything, let alone from a VIP? It was madness.

Grandmaster Baek stepped forward then, raising a hand for silence. The courtyard fell deathly still.

In a voice like silk wrapped around steel, the Sect Leader spoke: "Weakness festers where discipline falters. The Ironshadow Sect does not tolerate corruption in its midst—no matter how lowly." He nodded to the guest. "Elder Hwan of Azure Sky, be assured this insult will be dealt with."

The clan elder, Elder Hwan, gave a tight, furious smile. "See that it is," he said, loud enough for all to hear.

Grandmaster Baek's mask turned toward the kneeling pair. "Head Servant Yun," he pronounced, "for negligence and failure to uphold our standards, you shall receive fifty lashes and be stripped of your rank."

A gasp escaped someone in the servants' line. Fifty lashes at Yun's age… it was effectively a death sentence. Yun himself wailed in terror as the guards dragged him forward to the center of the courtyard.

But Baek wasn't finished. His attention shifted to the girl. "As for the thief…" His tone hardened to ice. "Ironshadow law is clear. Theft—especially from an honored guest—warrants execution."

The girl let out a scream, twisting against the guards' hold. "No, please! I didn't—I was forced—!"

Her protest was cut off as one guard struck her in the gut, making her double over with a choking sob.

Jang felt sick. Around him, he sensed Jisoo and Won-Il trembling as well. None of the servants would dare speak up; to defend a condemned thief would be to share her fate. Yet Jang's heart thundered with helpless anger and fear. Forced, she had cried. What did she mean? Who could force a servant to such folly?

Grandmaster Baek raised his hand. A disciple stepped forth, unsheathing a gleaming sabre. Jang had to lower his gaze fully to hide the horror in his eyes.

The Sect Leader's voice carried, cold and final: "Let all here remember: the weak and dishonorable have no place among us."

Jang clenched his teeth, nails digging into his palms as the blade arced down.

He did not need to look to know what happened next. The thud of a body hitting the ground, the keening moan that was abruptly silenced—those sounds would haunt his dreams.

When it was over, Jang dared to lift his head a fraction. Head Servant Yun lay collapsed on the stones, alive but barely, as two men began dragging him away—off to the dungeons, or perhaps to let him die slowly out of sight. Of the girl, only a dark red stain remained spreading across the courtyard.

Grandmaster Baek turned to address the gathered servants and disciples one last time. "Let this purge serve as an example. Ironshadow Sect will not be shamed. We cleanse our own." His gaze swept over them all. "Return to your duties."

Just like that, the assembly was dismissed. The disciples began to disperse in orderly lines, whispers exchanging between them. The servants slowly rose on shaky legs, keeping their eyes down as they scattered back to work, hollow silence hanging over them.

Jang felt Jisoo grip his sleeve tightly as they turned to leave. He looked at her face—ashen with barely contained fury and grief. Won-Il was on his other side, lips pressed tight, eyes wet.

None of them dared to speak here. But as they exited the courtyard, Jang's mind churned. The seed of rebellion is planted in silence, a voice in his memory whispered—a scrap of an old saying he had heard once.

He thought of the nameless boy who'd died in the night, of the servant girl executed just now, of Head Servant Yun's fate. How many more? How long until it was one of his friends? Or his brother? Or himself?

As they stepped back into the shadow of the kitchens, Jang finally let out a shuddering breath. The sun continued to shine indifferent overhead, and the day's duties awaited. But inside Jang Hwan, something smoldered, fragile and furious, beneath the weight of iron.

He would tell no one. He would show nothing. Yet quietly, in that wordless anger and sorrow, a spark glowed like an ember buried in ash—small, but alive.

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