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There will always be a need for a man of your talents, Zhaowu had said, and Wenchang had known that was both true and not true.
There would always be a need for someone to stain their hands with blood. Someone willing to sacrifice their honor, their reputation and their soul for the greater good.
Or just someone who didn't mind a bit of cruelty, who hadn't been raised to be civilized.
Wenchang didn't find it particularly difficult to imagine Tigerhill ordering a planet scoured of all life, just because its citizens had dared defy the Regent.
And, as a politician, it wasn't as if Zhaowu would let his personal dislike get in the way of using a man like that.
And how much need will you have of me then, Lord Regent?
Wenchang knew what he would do in Zhaowu's place: a public disavowal of Wenchang's actions, followed by a swift trial and execution - or possibly a suicide. These things were easy enough to arrange.
All very neat, very civilized. And with the best interests of the Empire at heart, of course.
Lies. Wenchang doubted Zhaowu was any more concerned with the Empire than he was.
But some people were. Once Princess Jing came of age, Zhaowu would have to act. There was no place for an Empress in Zhaowu's plans, no place for some young girl claiming the power Zhaowu had taken for himself.
That was Wenchang's one chance. If he timed it just right, if he dropped a word in the right ears at the right moment ...
I will get Hongyang. The Queen of Eastocean. And with her, her armies. Her strategic acumen. A fighting chance.
He might still die. Zhaowu had his own loyal attack dogs, his own armies. He would find a replacement for Wenchang soon enough, someone else to do his dirty work.
Still. A small chance was better than no chance at all.
And if I win, perhaps I might prove you wrong, Lord Regent. Perhaps there can be an Empire that has no need for men such as you or me.