The Dragon Republic (The Poppy War #2) - R. F. Kuang Page 0,185

democratic transition. I know the vision you dreamed of for this nation and I know I may have destroyed it. But my first obligation is not to the unborn people of this country’s future, but the people who are suffering now, who pass their days in fear because of the war that you have brought to their doorstep.

I defect for them. This is how I will protect them. I weep for you, my student. I weep for your Republic. I weep for my wife and children. You will die thinking I have abandoned you all. But I do not hesitate to say that I value the lives of my people far more than I have ever valued you.

Chapter 28

The Imperial Navy was due to reach the Red Cliffs in forty-eight hours. Arlong became a swarm of desperate, frantic activity as the Republican Army hastened to finish its defensive preparations in the next two days. The furnaces burned at all hours, day and night, turning out mountains of swords, shields, and javelins. The Red Cliffs became a chimney for the engines of war.

The blacksmith sent for Rin the evening of the first day.

“The ore was a marvel to work with,” he said as he handed her a sword. It was a lovely thing—a thin, straight blade with a crimson tassel fixed to the pommel. “You wouldn’t happen to have more like it, would you?”

“You’d have to sail back to the island,” she murmured, turning the blade over in her hands. “Root around the skeletons, see what you find.”

“Fair enough.” The blacksmith produced a second blade, identical to the first. “Fortunately, there was enough excess metal for a backup. In case you lose one.”

“That’s useful. Thank you.” She held the first blade out, arm straight, to test its weight. The hilt felt molded perfectly to her grasp. The blade was a tad longer than anything she’d ever used, but it was lighter than it looked. She swung it in a circle over her head.

The blacksmith backed out of her range. “I thought you’d want the extra reach.”

She tossed the hilt from hand to hand. She’d been afraid the length would feel awkward, but it only extended her reach, and the light weight more than made up for it. “Are you calling me short?”

He chuckled. “I’m saying your arms aren’t very long. How does it feel?”

She traced the tip of her blade through the air and let it pull her through the familiar movements of Seejin’s Third Form. She was surprised at how good it felt. Nezha had been right—she really was much better with a sword. She’d fought her first battles with one. She’d made her first kill with one.

Why had she been using a trident for so long? That seemed so stupid in retrospect. She’d practiced with the sword for years at Sinegard; it felt like a natural extension of her arm. Wielding one again felt like trading a ceremonial gown for a comfortable set of training clothes.

She gave a yell and hurled the sword toward the opposite wall. It stuck into the wood right where she’d aimed, perfectly angled, hilt quivering.

“How is it?” asked the blacksmith.

“It’s perfect,” she said, satisfied.

Fuck Altan, fuck his legacy, and fuck his trident. It was time she started using a weapon that would keep her alive.

The sun had gone down by the time she returned to the barracks. Rin moved hastily through the canals, arms sore from hours of lugging sandbags into empty houses.

“Rin?” A small figure emerged from the corner just before she reached the door.

She jumped, startled. Her new blades clattered to the floor.

“It’s just me.” The figure stepped into the light.

“Kesegi?” She swiped the swords off the ground. “How’d you get past the barrier?”

“I need you to come with me.” He reached out to seize her hand. “Quick.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“I can’t tell you here.” He bit his lip, eyes darting nervously around the barracks. “But I’m in trouble. Will you come?”

“I . . .” Rin glanced distractedly toward the barracks. This could go terribly badly. She’d been ordered not to interact with the refugees unless she was on duty, and given the current tensions in Arlong, she would be the last to receive the benefit of the doubt. What if someone saw?

“Please,” Kesegi said. “It’s bad.”

She swallowed. What was she thinking? This was Kesegi. Kesegi was family, the very last family that she had. “Of course. Lead the way.”

Kesegi set off at a run. She followed close behind.

She assumed something had