Snippet #956584

Despite many protests from many people, the General of the Wind refused to work any sort of job that required copious amounts of physical labor. They claimed he was strong enough, but of course they didn't know about the man's illness. Over the course of two years, the rate of infection had sharply risen, a second black tumor-like discoloration appearing on his right side, just above the pelvis area. He had taken to the habit of washing in a rather odd way, declining offers to any public bath and washing in a large barrel filled with rice water. The General claimed it was for good health. It was, the thick, murky pale liquid obscured the black root-like symptoms of his mysterious disease. Just in case anyone happened to pass by.

His stamina and endurance had decreased as well, so to conserve his vitality, he trained every day in a sort of Tai Qi Quan manner, to avoid actively causing his tumors to pain him, and to avoid the appearance he had given himself after surviving the Day of Ashes. Only Mercy knew, and on his bid, he had paid her to seek out any sort of information on his ailment. Of course, her rates remained as high as ever, since there would be no real fighting save for the Children of Fire.

Of course, he did contribute to the haven of Gia. Because of the constant ongoing work, The Wind General had a intimate knowledge of the weather, and many of the buildings were because of his planning, and architectural work. Even in the driving rains and blistering winds the structures would suffer minimal damage, if any at all. It left him relatively free, since many of the buildings only needed the same set of plans. He had also opened up a small armory, using his suppliers from his home city. Stocked up on the plain and the exotic, there was always a weapon that a soldier would fancy. The armor wasn't too bad either. Fong usually worked as a brain. In a sense. Due to his condition, he couldn't work much in menial labor, therefore he often did planned, negotiated, and discussed quite frankly with others. His thought process was incredible, few could keep on the same level as him for long. Of course, the armory was only part of a duo of businesses. The city often had those who were very stressed. Fong used his knowledge of Qi, the power running through everyone's body to relax, and clear the mind. Juggling all these at once was what Fong did to keep himself busy, and to excuse himself for his inability to work with his soldier through physical labor.

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"Calm yourself. Continue breathing in and out as I instructed. There is nothing to worry about." The cool voice whispered, dancing on the wind lightly. It was a small room, where a woman stood, wearing only her undergarments. She stood erect, arms out. A dark haired man, dressed so only his neck, head, and hands showed that he was human. The rest of his body was robed in his preferred dress code- the Chang-shan.

The room was heavy with an invisible force, what the man called Qi. His left hand was positioned so that only his index and middle finger stood straight, the others curled in. Drawing it down the woman's back, he slowly pulled it away, as if excising something heavy- but fragile. It would be another hour before he was finished.

"Thank you! I feel so fresh now!" The woman said, taking the cold-looking man's hand. She paid him the small fee he stubbornly kept modest, and left, almost bouncing in clothes. There were many more doctors, men that had worked with Fong before- but weren't present during the Day of Ashes. They knew what they were doing, and were valuable during the hours where most people visited. Since the sessions took a long time, it helped to have their hands working for him.

"Next patient, please." The man said. No response. His staff must have taken the rest of them. Slowly, he locked up his room, ending his day. He walked next door to the armory, which was doing modest business, since very few wanted to pick up a weapon to wield for their own. He walked upstairs. His abode was small, and situated above the armory. There, he sat behind a large desk where an assistant had brought up some requests for fix-ups within the city. The former General looked through the plans, examining them thoroughly.

It had been a year since Mercy left on her hunt for answers. Her arm had healed during the year she worked with him, which proved to be helpful, if not making her more annoying. She often enjoyed flirting with him, though got slightly put out by his neutral, though somewhat cruel behavior. He wondered briefly how her search was going.